#i had the absolute honor to see parade this past week

[tulsa24]

YEAH MICHAEL ARDEN!!!

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[aceopmari]

If the Straw Hats Had a Reality Show Dedicated to Pirates Headcanon! Ft: Law!

With how infamous the pirate crew gotten, it was only natural that they were soon granted the rights to have their own reality show, like other famous pirates in the Grand Line and the New World.

Get ready for Keeping Up with the Straw Hats!

Luffy: Whether it was his strength, or his childlike innocence, Luffy was a fan favorite!

He often ignored the producers suggestions to make the show more interesting.

Luffy didn’t like when the producers told him to punch a random person on the street when they were visiting an island.

Was not getting paid, as he owed the producers over 10,000 berris for punching the camera one time in anger, when the director attempted to take his meat away. The director was only making a suggestion for a much healthier diet for the star of the show.

Luffy also skipped out on a lot of confessional sessions. Mainly because he really didn’t have much to hide to begin with. But if he did go, it was mainly to either show appreciation for his crew or to make public declarations:

“Sanji’s cooking the BEST!”

“Do we get free meat with this show?”

“I’m going to kick Mingo’s ass!”

Zoro: The viewers found Zoro amusing! Whether it be him constantly getting lost, or his heated arguments with Sanji. The producers would rush over to him, cameras and all whenever they caught the two together.

Zoro was surprisingly popular with female viewers. They enjoyed watching him sweat whenever he would work out in the crows nest.

Zoro didn’t care about the show really. Just as long as he gets to work out, drink booze, and sleep, he’s good.

The producers always looked forward to his confessionals after he fights with Sanji:

“That damn shitty cook! Just who the hell does he think he is?!”

“That curly brow dumbass is gonna get himself killed one of these days!”

Sanji: Was angry that Zoro was racking in more views from the female viewers than he was!

Why him?! Why not me?!

He kicked the camera man straight in the chin when he told him that Zoro was naturally more popular than he was.

Sanji desperately tried to win over the female viewers by showing off his fighting skills or his culinary expertise.

He was excited when he finally got some fan mail from the fans!

It turned out to be from the okamas though…

If Sanji went to the confessionals, it was usually to cry about why women weren’t interested in him…or to talk shit about Zoro:

“Just what does he have that I don’t on this show?”

“Why aren’t all the beautiful ladies watching me?”

Little did Sanji know, he caught the eyes of Violet and Pudding.

Nami: An absolute slut for the camera! The producers LOVED her!

One couldn’t tell who was using who more. All that mattered was what would bring them more views and more money.

Whenever it was filming time, Nami would purposely wear a bikini without the jeans to draw in the male viewing audience.

Add the extra seductive act she would put on, and nosebleeds would cover millions of transponder snail television screens.

Loved to give tours of the Sunny and show off her designer clothes.

Would parade around the islands, using Momonosuke as an accessory to manipulate the fans into loving her more.

Nami LOVED to take advantage of the fanbase, often subtly asking for gifts mainly money through the fan mail she receives. Next to Robin, she had the most.

Nami became very vain and strict with the crew on how to present themselves for the camera and had to keep members like Luffy in check to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid to cause the show to be cancelled. But just in case, as a backup, she could always start an Only Fans.

One might say that the fame and fortune was getting to her head, as she would purposely start up drama whenever she was out on an island. Would probably steal from a city mayor if it meant she could get the fans taking for weeks.

Whenever she was in the confessionals, it was mainly to complain about Luffy’s or Zoro’s antics.

Would probably shit talk about Robin, although faking it the whole time, to get some drama started:

“Honestly! I wish Luffy would just use some common sense for once!”

“Robin thinks she’s all that! But everyone knows, I’m the prettiest girl on the show!”

“I’ll let you film me in the bath. It’ll cost you 1 million beri!”

Franky: Loved the camera! One sided on the producers part since they didn’t enjoy Franky’s sense of…ahem…style.

He would dance, be loud, or show off his cool body.

If he was in the confessional room, it was to complain openly to the producers on why they did him dirty.

“Hey! I saw last weeks episode! Why did you cut my scene out, bro?!”

Ussop: Although not nearly as popular as Nami, Ussop was interesting enough to get some viewers watching the show, even unintentionally.

Ussop used the show to make himself seem cooler, mainly through the confessionals.

The lies he told caught the attention of viewers worldwide, though very few could sees past his lies.

The producers didn’t care, so long as there were viewers.

“Yes it was I! The Great Captain Ussop who defeated CP9!”

“Wait wait! Cut that out! Cut that scene out! I meant SniperKing!”

Chopper: The Worlds Favorite Cutie Pie!

Choppers looks alone were enough to win the hearts of viewers! Mostly the female reindeer mink.

Combine that with his child like innocence and he’s instantly a popular household name!

On top of that he already has many sponsorships from multiple sweet brands. (Mainly cotton candy ones.)

Choppers pretty shy on camera and often does his usual dance when he’s nervous. The audience eats it up.

He doesn’t gossip. When it comes to confessionals, he’s usually talking about Zoro’s recklessness when it comes to bandages, or Sanji’s nose bleeding habits.

Jimbei: Not particular interested in TV or fame, but used being on TV to his advantage to spread his word and try stop discrimination against fishmen.

The producers found him boring and didn’t look forward to filming him, especially at confessionals…but at the very least, he was able to bring in views due to his former status as a warlord.

Robin: Had many admirers! She enjoyed being on the show. Often is seen on screen on a lavish shopping trip with Nami.

She does her part to make the show more interesting, whether it is be her dark sense of humor or putting her devil fruit powers to good use.

She once used it on a producer when he asked her to do something suggestive for views. After that, the producers never messed with her again, out of fear for their lives.

Not much for confessionals though, except when she’s expressing how amused she is at Luffy’s antics.

She may appeared to be calm and quiet but you better believe that the rumors she would stir up, would get the people talking!

Piers Morgans was having a field day with the headlines:

“Did Cat Burgler Nami Get Breast Implants?!”

“Roronoa Zoro: Honorable Swordsmen or Man Thot?! Gets Caught Sleeping with Wano’s Most Beautiful Woman!”

“Is Monkey D Luffy, Secretly Seeing His Crewmates Sister From the Germa Kingdom?!”

Brook: Fans loved seeing Soul King on screen. In some episodes he’s either playing music or he’s attempting a panty raid in Nani’s room. Which often results in him getting beat up by her every time.

Anything he says in the confessional‘s ends up with his signature laugh.

Law: Made a special guest appearance since starting hiw alliance with Luffy.

You can imagine his look of surprise, when the crew showed up on Punk Hazard with a camera crew and all.

He wasn’t at all interested in being on TV. His famous “I hate bread” made him an instant fan favorite. And meme along the fanbase.

He didn’t like that…

Law hated being followed around by the camera crew on the Thousand Sunny or when he simply just wanted peace. He frequently scolded the producers to stop or told Luffy to call off the cameras, but neither listened.

He only wanted to discuss the alliance plans in private with the crew and didn’t want the producers to catch any of it for the world to see.

As time went on, and Law was getting sucked into the Straw Hat shenanigans. He found himself wandering into the confessional where he would frequently complain about the crew. Mainly the captain.

“Mugiwara-ya will be the death of me…”

“Rorona-ya has no sense of direction…”

“How has the crew survived this long? They don’t ever strategize when it comes to making a plan!”

Viewer Reactions:

Sabo: Enjoys watching his little brother on screen, and always has a good laugh. Koala would often scold him for abandoning his duties to go watch the show.

Hancock: Would briefly abandon her duties as Pirate Empress for the whole day if it meant, she could watch Luffy on screen.

Took up most of his fan mail, and gifts that had meat.

Hancock would be envious of Nami and Robin on her screen, wishing she was their with Luffy.

Mihawk: Reality shows weren’t his usual choice of television entertainment, but he did watch, soley to watch over Zoro’s progress as a swordsmen. He would lie if Perona asked him if he found what he saw the slightest bit amusing.

Ace: He got a kick out watching his little brother on screen. Often laughing at Luffy’s antics. He saw that Luffy’s crew was slowly riding in more views on the reality show The WhiteBeard Pirates had. Ace wasn’t too worried but he knew he had to step it up.

Shanks: Often shaking his head and smiling in amusement at the sight of Luffy on screen. Would sometimes watch the show with Ace as the two spoke fondly of him.

Big Mom: Was furious that Luffy was racking in more views than her crew combined. Everyone used to love Big Mom’s wedding cake special episodes.

“MUGIWARAAAAA!” *Smashes TV*

Garp: Nearly choked on his crackers at the sight of his crazy grandson invading his screen.

“LUFFY NOOOOOO!”

Smoker: If any marine soldier was caught watching, Keeping Up with the Straw Hats, you better believe that he’ll would be raised at HQ. in secret though, he would watch it. Not for entertainment, but more so to study the Straw Hats moves.

Buggy: Screeching out in jealously seeing Straw Hat Luffy was popular enough to be given his own show and not him.

Kid: Was sitting at a bar one night and spat out his drink in anger at the sight of Straw Hat on his screen.

Nearly popped a blood vessel when he saw Law on screen.

“The hell?! Even Trafalgar?! How come those bastards get their own show?!”

Killer remained silent. He knew the reason why the Kid Pirates never picked up the rights to a pirate reality show was because of how scary Kid was.

Dragon: Used the show as a way to keep up with his son. Although in secret, since he didn’t want his army to notice.

Germa 66: Mixed reactions.

“That’s no son of mine.” Judge would say.

Reiju giggled at the sight of the screen. After a mission, she would look forward to watching the show to see her brother.

Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji expressed annoyance and criticized Sanji. Although would never admit that they were each jealous that Sanji got to be on a reality show instead of the Germa Kingdom itself.

Yamato: Wants to be on the show. Not for the fame, but mainly to spread the word and tell the world what a horrible father, Kaido is and spread Oden’s legacy to the world.

[eideticmemory]

the day | matthew gray gubler

In which Matthew is a pisces and you’re a writer.

Word Count: 1.6k.

Warning: Tooth-rotting fluff that I cannot believe I actually wrote. Featuring ‘Lover, you should’ve come over’ by Jeff Buckley, if you wanted to listen while reading.

Matthew never wears his airpods.

They sit there, charging on his desk, all day long, all week long. He doesn’t wear his airpods. You know that, it is a fact. They’re trinkets, decoration, a little bit of a flex, but, Matthew never wears his airpods.

So, the question is: Why the hell has he had them in all week? Every hour, of every day — those little, white airpods hung from his ears like an aura of isolation.

It must be revenge, you thought. It must be his way of coping with the ridiculous amount of time you spend in his office. Alone, putting pen to paper. Initially, he’d peek his head in every once in a while, after you’d been of a bit of a writer’s bender, just to remind you that he loved you. That he was proud of you.

Yet, when it’s your wedding vows sitting on the desk, waiting to be written — when you need him to come in, give you that sweet smile and tell you how much he adores you . . . he’s wearing his airpods.

Matthew never wears his airpods. Your fiancé nevers wears his airpods. And for such a small thing, it’s starting to freak you out. Because one week before your wedding is not the time to do this. Not the time for distance, and insecurity. Not the time for Matthew to be walking around the house, constantly, wearing those fucking airpods.

He coasted his way past the office doors, your eyes following his figure like a light. You trained in on his ears, the white specks clear and visible as he walked right by you. Once he was out of your sight, you released a frustrated huff and set your pen down atop your note pad, put your face in your hands.

You sighed, spoke in a sad and quiet voice, “Matthew Gray . . . what the hell are you doing?”

You didn’t see him at all the day before your wedding. He facetimed you that night to say goodnight, that he loved you, and he would see you Saturday. His voice was so soft, so genuine, so full of love. And all you could focus on was the airpods hanging from his ears.

“I’m ready to marry you, Matthew Gray,” you said. “Are you ready to marry me?”

His face transitioned to a gentle, ever so slightly confused, expression, and he replied, “Believe me . . . I’ve ever been more ready for anything in my life.”

You smiled, “Then I will see you at altar.”

He grinned, “See you at the altar.”

You had stars in your hair. Little clips in the side of your head that made your eyes sparkle. As you were dressed and assisted throughout the big day, you held a crumbled, jumbled, scratched up piece of paper in your hand. It wasn’t perfect, hell, you weren’t even sure it was good. But it was honest, and it was loving, and it took you months to write. Your biggest project yet, if you must say so yourself.

At last call, you were alone, staring at the words as if you didn’t already know each one by heart.

“[y/n],” your friend called. “You ready?”

And, not for the first time, you crumbled the paper up between your fists. Crushed it, smushed it. Threw it to the ground, looked yourself up and down in the mirror. Glitzy, glammy, gorgeous. Dressed in ivory — not white, wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.

You exhaled, whispered, “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

Your hands shook. From the start to the finish of the aisle. You sought comfort in Matthew, never taking your eyes off him. But damn, if he doesn’t look so good that it’s nerve racking. He held your small hands in his palm, told you that you looked beautiful, with tears threatening to roll down his face, already.

He’d insisted not too long ago that you be the first to read your vows. Just the thought made you tremble, anxious at the vulnerability, and the hundreds of eyes and ear waiting to hear what you’ve got. Matthew noticed this, and put his hands on around your forearms.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Hey . . . just talk to me.”

You did. You held his eyes on yours, you recited your poetry, you silenced the entire building. Only pausing to inhale shaky breaths, and to wipe the tears from his face.

“And I love you,” you choked on your words. “And I thank you, so much, for showing me what true love is, Matthew Gray. Thank you for being . . . the absolute love of my life.”

Matthew could only reply would a somber laugh, wiping away the excess tears from his face. “Whew . . .” he breathed out. “Wow . . . how the hell am I supposed to follow that?”

The space erupted in soft laughter.

Your own laughter included.

The two of you were formally introduced as Mister and Misses Gubler, surrounded by a wave of applause within the reception hall. Matthew raised your bound hands into the air, proud, joyful. He had you, he finally fucking had you. Until death do you part.

He left you centered in the middle of the dance floor, illuminated by the soft light, as he made his way upon the stage, located right in front of you.

“Hi, everyone,” he waved. “I’m Matthew Gubler, I’m [y/n]’s husband —“

You laughed along with everyone else, who hooted and hollered at his declaration.

“Thank you, thank you . . .” he smiled. “Thank you all for being here, for supporting [y/n] and I, it means so much.”

You tilted your head at him, his focus finally being directed at you once again. “[y/n] . . . my love . . . I’ve waited forever for this day. Forever. And if you will do me the honors, I’d like nothing more than to dance with you . . . to have our first dance as husband and wife to — to a song that I first heard when I was fifteen. To a song that . . . I’ve been listening to ever since we first met three years ago, a song that . . . has been on repeat in my head in preparation for this moment, right here, right now.”

As you held your hand out for him, gentle guitar flowed from the speaker, though it wasn’t any riff that you recognized. Matthew joined you in the center of the dance floor, pulling you close as you whispered, “Matthew Gray . . . what are you up to?”

“I’m dancing with you . . .” he smiled, setting his hands tightly on your waist, your arms draped over his shoulders. “I’m serenading you.”

Looking out the door,

I see the rain fall upon the funeral mourners.

“Parading in a wake of sad relations, as their shoes fill up with water,” Matthew sang, gently.

“Oh, he’s singer, too,” you giggled.

He chuckled, “Shut up — Maybe I'm too young, to keep good love from going wrong. But tonight, you're on my mind so, you'll never know . . .”

Broken down and hungry for your love,

With no way to feed it

Where are you tonight?

Child, you know how much I need it.

“Too young to hold on, and too old to just break free and run,” setting your head on his shoulder, you let him sing in your ear. “Sometimes a man gets carried away, when he feels like he should be having his fun , much too blind to see the damage he's done. Oh, sometimes a man must awake to find that, really, he has no one.”

So I'll wait for you, and I'll burn,

Will I ever see your sweet return,

Or, will I ever learn?

Lover, you should've come over,

'Cause it's not too late.

Matthew’s grip tightened around your waist, his long arms engulfing you in an effort to get closer to you, closer than humanly possible.

Lonely is the room the bed is made,

The open window lets the rain in,

Burning in the corner is the only one,

“Who dreams he had you with him . . .” slowly, your husband, your husband, looked in your eyes, “My body turns, and yearns for a sleep, that won't ever come.”

“It's never over,” he sang to you. “My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder . . .” following the words with a small kiss to the top of your shoulder. As if in immediate response to the words, and the physical touch, tears began to pour down your face.

“It's never over, all my riches for her smiles,

when I slept so soft against her.”

“It's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter.”

“It's never over,” and these lyrics, he sang with your face in his hands and his lips touching to your forehead. “She’s the tear that hangs inside my soul forever.”

You sobbed, pulled him closed, nuzzled your face into his neck, held on for dear life to the back of his head.

But maybe I'm just too young,

To keep good love from going wrong.

Oh lover, you should've come over.

I feel too young to hold on,

I'm much too old to break free and run.

Too deaf, dumb, and blind,

To see the damage I've done.

Sweet lover, you should've come over.

“Oh, lover, I've waited for you,” when he said this, it wasn’t a melody. It was spoken, softly, soulfully.

“Lover, lover, lover, lover, love, love, love, lover, you should've come over . . . ‘cause it's not too late . . .”

Every word.

No stumbles, no stutters, no faltering.

Matthew never wears his airpods.

But when he does, it’s for a good reason.

[sweetwatersong]

The thing that no one tells you about recuperating from a broken leg and a teenage bomber is how incredibly boring it gets after, say, for no particular reason, four weeks. The point is that Buck is about two seconds from going absolutely over the edge and never coming back when his phone rings. Squinting at the unfamiliar number, he swipes to accept. At least if it's a telemarketer he can get some entertainment this afternoon.

“Hello?”

The voice that answers is one he surprisingly recognizes. “Buckley, it’s Lieutenant Carter at the Academy. How are you?”

“Uh.” His brain stalls out. Fortunately the reflexes ground into him during his training at said Academy take over. This means he sits up straight on the couch, swinging his cast onto the coffee table, and manages to answer with, “Good, ma’am. Thank you for asking.”

He hasn’t spoken to Carter since just before graduating. Honestly he hasn’t ever really expected to talk with her again despite the pivotal role she played in his decision to gun for a scale station. Why in the world is she calling now?

There’s a barely audible snort on the other end of the line. That, too, is familiar from the Academy. “A grounded firefly is often the farthest thing from good, whatever the reason. I’m glad that you’re as well as can be expected, then.”

Her words startle a laugh out of him. “That.. sounds about right.”

Carter hums, the noise that says she sees right through him and, unlike so many other people who have passed through his life, understands what she finds. “You are not the only one who has been there." Then, as brusquely as if she hadn't said anything at all, she continues. "I’m calling precisely because you’re out of the skies. What would you say to assisting at the Academy until you can recertify? We have a new batch of recruits scheduled to start their aerial training in two weeks.”

Buck freezes. For a moment his mind is stuck on the flash of light from the explosion, the scrape of his gloves against Bestia’s scales. How the twisted wreck pinned his leg to her side, pain screaming up his thigh as he screamed with it. “Uh-“

“I don’t intend for them to gawk at you," she says, reading his mind. "Certainly the last thing anyone involved in such an incident wants is to be paraded about or on display. But I believe your past two years would make for good material in an assistant instructor position and as it happens I’m not the only one who thinks that."

He feels his mouth quirk, his eyebrow lift. Would Bobby…? “Am I allowed to ask about that?"

“Buckley.” The exasperation is faint but there. It might even, if he believes his ears, be amused. “You are not the only member of the 118 going stir-crazy while recuperating. However, it is much easier to get you to and from the Academy on a daily basis than it is a heavyweight.”

Warmth suffuses Buck’s chest in a sudden, pleased rush. Bestia thinks he should be involved. She made the suggestion, or at least agreed to it. She -

“I- I guess,” he manages, trying to catch the thread of the conversation again. “I can’t drive, but I can ask my sister, or Bobby, or get an Uber, or-“

“Walk?” Carter suggests. This time she is unmistakably amused. “The Academy would of course cover your transportation costs. The course starts on the fifteenth and runs for the usual four weeks. We’d adjust your schedule as necessary, adding on time as your health improves. Not to mention you’d have access to the training facilities yourself during that time, although I know you wouldn’t use them until you were cleared to start thinking about recertifying."

He grins and it's sheepish even though she can’t see him. Hope is starting to taste like spring water on his tongue, feel like a break of blue sky between the wildfire smoke. “I wouldn't dream of it. And, uh, I really appreciate the offer, Lieutenant Carter. I’d be honored to accept.”

“Good.” Her satisfaction says she never had a doubt about his response, although given who he is, she probably didn’t. “I’ll inform my supervisor and send you a proposed schedule. We’ll start with two hours a day the first week and go from there.”

Buck has a protest ready on his tongue – he can do more, be more, accomplish more than just two hours – when Carter continues. “We’ll keep Bestia informed, of course.”

His jaw snaps shut. The odds of the gold dragon approving of anything more strenuous are absolutely zero, not to mention that what Bestia knows, the other 118 Wings will inevitably know. There’s no way he’s equipped to deal with the Disappointment™ of that many full grown dragons, even if most of it will come via FaceTime.

Then, “And my station? Are you going to tell them too?"

In their own ways, despite the mad press of their own lives and the jobs they still hold, his team has been keeping him company during this new, long fight in his life. Suddenly Buck doesn’t know if they’d be proud of him stepping into this role, into doing more than just - existing, healing, whatever - or if they'd have reservations. If they'd object.

“Buckley,” Carter replies, and her gentle tone makes him sit up straighter and listen. “Who do you think reached out to suggest an appropriate workload? They, more than anyone else, understand what it means to be grounded.”

Just like that he can breathe again.

“Yeah." Buck swallows, exhales. Starts life over again with the knowledge that she's right. "Uh, Lieutenant Carter?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you,” He tells her, and because she, too, knows what it's like to be denied the skies, doesn't particularly mind that his whole heart slips out with it.

[laequiem]

She kills my self control - Chapter 8

/ Includes dialogue from The Cruel Prince, Chapter 21-22.

“Crawl," Jude blurts out.

A shiver went from the tip of my tail to the top of my spine. In my most indulgent fantasies, I am the one ordering her to crawl. In my worst nightmares, it's the other way around. Once again, I have the impression that nothing about this is real. Still, I can’t help but smirk.

cw: unhealthy coping mechanisms (alcohol, sex); physical abuse; nsfw

read on ao3  • previous chapter • next chapter  • all chapters

Chapter 8. A little death is better with somebody at your side

Elfhame was waiting for its new ruler to be crowned and I, its disappointment of a prince, missed the coronation.

After the initial change in air pressure, the ground shakes, and I feel dread creep through my drunken numbness. I get to my feet. The girl I was with is gone. The fox mask she was wearing is still on the ground where it fell when we were making out. I pick it up and secure it to my face, hoping to get back in the throne room without anyone recognizing me.

As quickly as I can without looking conspicuous, I make my way out of the cellar and towards the ballroom. My mind is whirling, my vision is blurry, but I have to reach the throne room before my absence is noticed.

When I enter the room, I am greeted by absolute chaos. Knights are gathered around the throne. A bottleneck of folks from every court stretches from each possible exit as guards inspect everyone.

I approach a table closer to the dais and absentmindedly fill myself a goblet of wine as I crane my neck to look past the knights. There is blood everywhere. The throne looks weaker than it did a few minutes (hours?) ago, like its roots are not being nourished by the land anymore. The flowers that bloomed earlier are withered. But out of everything up there, that is the least alarming thing. Bodies upon bodies lay lifeless on the dais. My eyes catch on a heap of blue fabric stained red. Loyal Caelia, a bolt sticking out of her chest. Next to her, fierce Rhyia, with a knife in hand and a slit throat. Determined Elowyn, her gown covered in dried blood dripping from her neck. My sisters, barely more than strangers to me, slaughtered. I see other bodies nearby: guards, knights, a headless female, and my older brother Dain. 

This can’t possibly be real. Am I dreaming? Did another court attack when we were at our weakest? Is it a coup coming from our own people? I feel bile rising in my throat. 

I see no trace of my father. I scan the room for him, but my gaze catches on dark navy fabric coming out from under a banquet table.

No, no no no no no. Anybody but her. 

The Grand General came back to Elfhame last night and my father threw a ball in his honor. Madoc is holding a child’s arm forcefully as he toasts with the soldiers. She is fae, a year or two older than me. But she is not the only child he brought back. Two other girls came to the ball with him, but he is not parading them around like he is doing with the older girl. They are standing alone in the corner of the room, as far away from anyone else as possible.

I look at my father. He is toasting with the general, courtiers at his arm. I look at my mother. She is dancing with a Lord from another court. They have not so much as looked at me in weeks. I found the revel by accident, roaming the halls of the palace in an attempt to find something to eat. 

I run towards the new girls. They look like copies of each other - brown hair and brown eyes, tan skin, frail little things. They are both wearing ill-fitting beige dresses, as if whoever dressed them did not know what to wear for a ball. 

“Are you servants?” I ask when I reach them.

“No,” they answer together.

“You look like servants. Fetch me food.”

I make to grab for one of them, but she backs up before I can. They run away and I run after them. They duck under a table, as if I couldn’t see them. 

I lift the tablecloth and smile. They try to back away, but the table is set against a wall, trapping them. I grab one of them by the hair and drag her out from under the table. I pin her to the ground by the wrist. I move her hair away from her ears.

��Human! You’re human!” I exclaim with glee, “Maybe I’ll eat you.”

Someone pulls my hair and forces me away from her.

“Leave my sister alone!”

I whirl on the second girl. I bite the arm holding my hair. She lets go of my hair with a startled scream, but she starts punching me in the chest. 

“Jude, stop this right now.” Madoc’s strong voice echoes through the room. 

The girl freezes, eyes wide with fear. She gets up. 

“Your Majesty, forgive her,” the Grand General tells my father, “She does not know how to behave around royalty yet.”

My father waves a hand in dismissal, unbothered. I look at the girl, Jude. She’s staring at me fiercely, a silent promise of violence.

I bolt towards the table. The pressure in my chest slackens when I see the fabric shift. She is alive. I reach under the table and grab her arm.

“You’re mortal,” I say, as if it wasn’t obvious. My eyes dart to the knife in her hand, then back at her face, “It’s not safe for you here. Especially if you go around stabbing everyone.”

“Not safe for me?” she snarls, “Get down here before you’re recognized.”

Why would it matter? Surely, nobody would think of me as a threat to their coup.

“Playing hide-and-seek under the table? Crouching in the dirt?” I laugh, unable to keep my composure and hide my anxiousness, “Typical of your kind, but far beneath my dignity.”

Suddenly, she throws her arm forward and punches me in the stomach.

“Ow!”

Jude drags me under the table with her. Sure, I had imagined us hiding under tables before, but I never imagined it being to avoid being murdered.

“We’ll get out of here without anyone noticing,” she whispers, “We stay under the tables and make our way to the steps to the upper levels of the palace. And don’t tell me it’s beneath your dignity to crawl. You’re so drunk you can barely stand anyway.”

I snort, “If you insist.”

As we make our way, through the music and wild laughter of rowdy guests, I hear snippets of conversation, allowing me to put the pieces together. Balekin is alive and looking for me, Madoc killed Dain, my father is dead.

My father is dead.

I look at the signet ring on my finger, the proof of my royal blood.

“He despised me.”

Would my father have crowned me, if all my other siblings were dead? Would he have crowned me before he crowned Balekin? I doubt it. He would rather keep the crown, knowing as I do that my reign would doom Elfhame. Yet, I will mourn him. 

“Balekin?”

Another disdainful snort, “My father. I didn’t much know the others, my brothers and sisters. Isn’t that funny? Prince Dain- he didn’t want me in the palace, so he forced me out.”

Dain is the only one I will not mourn. He put me at Balekin's mercy knowingly. Brought me down to raise himself up. If I am Prince Failure, he was Prince Perfect, the High King's pride.

“And now they’re all dead. Thanks to Madoc. Our honorable general. They never should have trusted him. But your mother discovered that a long time ago, didn’t she?”

Cruelty and laughter. My only weapons against fear, against the reality of being the last one alive to crown Balekin. He will hunt me down, force me to crown him. Will Jude bring me to him directly? She is Madoc's ward, after all. She might just bring me straight to her father, who will gladly give me over.

“Crawl," Jude blurts out.

A shiver went from the tip of my tail to the top of my spine. In my most indulgent fantasies, I am the one ordering her to crawl. In my worst nightmares, it's the other way around. Once again, I have the impression that nothing about this is real. Still, I can’t help but smirk. 

“You first.” 

Fighting with her, teasing her, humiliating her. It all comes so naturally to me, and I am willing to bet it does to her too.

We move from table to table, until we are close to the steps leading out of the hall. I lift the tablecloth and exit first, then offer her my hand. She does not take it.

Jude makes to go towards the steps, but I stop her. 

“Not like that. Your father’s knights will recognize you.”

Her fierce gaze narrows, “I’m not the one they’re looking for.”

I frown under my mask. 

“If they see your face, they may pay too much attention to whom you’re with.”

“If they knew me at all, they’d know I’d never be with you.”

And yet. She sighs, then takes the pins out of her braids and lets her hair loose. She ruffles her hair. I am taken aback, unable to stop staring.

“You look…”

Mortal. Lusty. Obscene. Untamed. Filthy. Gorgeous. 

“Give me a second.”

Thankfully, she leaves before I can finish my thought. The dress I designed, her menacing attitude, the hair. It’s all too much, too close to my fantasies. Cardan, you pathetic wretch. Your family was slaughtered and you think about banging a mortal. I grab a bottle of green wine from the table and guzzle it down while she is gone. When she comes back, she is wearing a mask like I am.

“Come on,” she grunts as she drags me towards the guards watching the steps.

“Look elsewhere for your pleasure,” one of them says authoritatively, “This is the way to the palace, and it is barred to common Folk.”

Who is he calling common?

“We will do as we are bid,” Jude replies submissively as she tugs me away. I stand my ground.

“You are much mistaken in us,” I reply with a saccharine smile. 

If nothing else, sweet-talking is my forte. 

“The High King Balekin is a friend to my lady’s Court,” I drawl as I slide my signet ring off of my finger, “You may have heard of Queen Gliten in the Northwest. Balekin sent a message about the missing prince. He is waiting for an answer.”

“I don’t suppose you have any proof of that?”

“Of course,” I reply as I hold out the ring, “I was given this token so you would know me.”

They step back. Half-truth, the language of the court. I smile and grab Jude’s arm, dragging her eagerly up the steps.

“What about the mortal?” one guard inquires.

“Oh, well, you aren’t entirely mistaken in me. I intended to keep some of the delights of the revel for myself,” I give them a knowing smirk.

I guide her up the steps, then unlock the door to the upper level of the palace. As soon as we enter the empty hall, I hear the lock turn. Confused, I turn towards her, only to see her point a dagger at my face. She presses it under my chin and I stiffen.

“Jude?”

“Surprised?” she grins at me, fire and hatred burning in her earthy eyes, “You shouldn’t be.”

She presses the knife deeper and I feel the sharp blade resting against my skin. Not a nightmare, then. Real.

“Why?”, I try to sound bored but it comes out more like a whine.

“Because your luck is terrible and mine is great. Do what I say and I’ll delay the pleasure of hurting you.”

My luck is terrible. My tormentor stands closer than she ever has, but I am not the one holding the blade to her throat. I feel shame wash over me as my blood rushes south at the thought of her pushing that blade deeper.

“Planning to spill a little more royal blood tonight?” I sneer as I try to wiggle my way out of her grasp, “Feeling left out of the slaughter?”

“You’re drunk.”

An obvious statement, I guess, to mirror the one I made earlier about her mortality. I lean my head back against the stone wall and close my eyes. I cannot bear to look at her, determined and deadly, cunning little mortal.

“Oh, indeed," I scoff, “But do you really believe I am going to let you parade me in front of the General, as though I am some lowly—” 

She presses the knife harder to my throat. I swallow.

"Of course," I laugh nervously, “I was passed out cold while my family was murdered; it’s hard to fall more lowly than that.”

“Stop talking. Move.”

“Or what? You’re not really going to stab me.”

I kind of wish she would. 

“When was the last time you saw your dear friend Valerian? Not today, despite the insult implied by his absence. Did you wonder at that?”

My eyes fly open. Valerian’s presence is definitely not one I missed, but I did wonder where he was. It is unlike him to miss a revel, especially one with such bloodshed. I stare at Jude, trying to find the answer to this riddle she just posed in her eyes. She gives nothing away. 

“I did. Where is he?”

“Rotting near Madoc’s stables. I killed him, then I buried him,” she boasts, a vicious smile on her face, “So believe me when I threaten you. No matter how unlikely it seems, you are the most important person in all of Faerie. Whosoever has you, has power. And I want power.”

I blink a few times. She… killed him? I knew she hated him, hated us. But I never imagined her going out of her way to find him and murder him. No matter how much he deserved it. 

“I suppose you were right after all,” I say in disbelief, “I suppose I didn’t know the least of what you could do.”

“Time to move,” she cuts in, “Go to the first door and open it. When we’re inside, we’re going to the closet. There’s a passageway through there.”

“Yes, fine,” I bark back at her.

It’s humiliating that Jude, of all people, knows this palace better than I do. I put my hand between the knife and my throat to push it away, but she holds it and it cuts my fingers.

Shit.

I put a bleeding finger to my mouth. “What was that for?”

“For fun,” she croons, then lowers the dagger.

She pushes me forward. “Will you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“No. Now move.”

I go to the first room and immediately spot the closet. I open it, then I look back at her. She is still holding that damned dagger, her eyes burning holes in my back.

I crawl in reluctantly.

[hoodwinkd1]

Your Eyes Whispered Ch 1-3

I originally posted this story on AO3, but wanted to bring it to my Tumblr now that I’m back on here. Enjoy!

Fic Summary:  After Eris becomes High Lord, there's only one thing on his mind, now that his father is dead and he can finally leave his horrible façade behind. A slow burn romance featuring the misunderstood prince of flame and his mate, a powerful teacher who can't seem to step out of her small town life.

Ch 4-7 here.

Chapter 1: I was enchanted to meet you

It's no small thing, murdering your father in cold blood.

Not that anyone, even Beron, was surprised.

Eris looked at the bloody sword in his hand and then at his father's corpse, lying on the ground at his feet. He closed his eyes as the power of the Autumn Court rushed over him like a tidal wave of fire.

The new High Lord knew that he would have to deal with the consequences of his coup today. But tomorrow, after the dust settled and he dealt with his treacherous brothers, he knew exactly where he needed to be.

The night turned into a swarm of activity as the castle reacted to Beron's death. Advisors fought for a seat at the table, servants spread the rumors like wildfire, his mother gently took him to bathe as it all became too much. Eris slept that night, without terrifying dreams for the first time in centuries

--- He woke to the sunlight filtering through the trees. He had to leave now, before anyone could find him and monopolize his time any futher.

Eris winnowed as soon as he was dressed, landing on the outskirts of a village that had seen better days. He had only been here once in his life, ninety-five year prior, decades before Amarantha took over. His father had sent him and one of his younger brothers to several towns in the Autumn Court as part of their duties. This one had been a bustling center of trade and power, known for its capabilities in producing talented Fae children and training them in magic.

Eris remembered his utter boredom as he watched the parade put on in his honor. His brother Marick had scoffed at the idea of watching children perform small magic tricks, but Beron had insisted they attend to find any who were powerful enough to warrant interest from him. His father always had a nasty habit of stealing children away from their parents to become part of his court.

Eris also remembered the moment his life shifted. As the children moved to the center of town square, beginning their show, his eyes drifted slightly to the left.

And landed on hers. The teacher.

The mating bond snapped, harder and faster than anything.

If she felt it, she gave no indication. Her eyes returned to her students.

Eris swore that this bond, this life-changing connection, would not be ruined like every other good thing in his life. He shoved all the overwhelming feelings and instincts deep into himself, securing his facade into place. The Autumn Court would never know another side to him besides the arrogant, powerful Heir.

But now his father was dead. He was the most powerful Fae in the Court.

Eris wasn't sure how he would find her, or if she even remained in this town. Or, Cauldron damn him, if she was even alive.

This town had suffered. Almost every building showed signs of abandonment or violence and he could sense that the number of Fae in the area had been more than cut in half.

He wandered aimlessly for a bit, unsure. He was terrified to reach inside himself and attempt to tug on the bond, anxious he would find nothing on the other end. Finally, after passing yet another empty house with smashed windows, he pulled himself together and grabbed for the bond.

Gasping as the feeling rose up from within him and overwhelmed his mind, Eris began walking, not entirely in control of his body. He walked by one block, then another, before stopping in front of a one-story building. It stood out as one of the few that looked well-maintained, with all its windows intact and even a flower bed next to the door.

His mate. Alive. In this house. His hand knocked before his mind processed the enormity of emotions at this moment.

One breath passed. She opened the door.

“Can I help you?” she frowned, wary of strangers. He took in everything about her, from her dark hair, slipping out of a frizzy bun to her comfortable clothing, probably pyjamas.

“My apologies,” he started. “I--you surely don’t remember me.”

She turned her head slightly, brown eyes taking in his face. “Have we met? I prefer straight answers from strange males at my door.”

“My name is Eris. I promise I wish you no harm.” Her eyes widened.

“My lord, you must forgive me,” she responded, sharpening her tone to hide her surprise. “It’s not often that royalty appears on my doorstep.”

Eris noted her tense muscles and reluctance to let him in. This was not a female who trusted.

“Forgive me for showing up uninvited. I have a...personal matter to discuss with you and I would rather do it in private.” He attempted a reassuring tone. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but please,” he trailed off, unsure what to possibly say to convince her. His horrible reputation probably preceded him.

She looked him in the eye. “Do you know who I am?”

“I only know that you teach children. I was here for a demonstration, decades ago.”

Shockingly, she stepped back and opened the door wider.

“Certainly, you could have blasted through my wards and yet you chose to knock,” she explained, gesturing him in with a wave of her hand. “How bad can this personal matter be?”

Eris walked in and saw a large, empty room with a mirror on one wall. She led the way over to a table next to a small kitchen. They each chose a chair, then looked awkwardly at the other.

“Can I get you something--”

“No, please, sit down,” he interrupted.

She sat. And pinned those piercing eyes on his.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his soul dying for the answer.

“Rhiannon.” And it was like the entire world shifted, as if he couldn’t imagine any name more beautiful.

“Rhiannon,” he said softly. “I have no good words to say this. When I was visiting, all those years ago, I saw you as the children gave their performance.” He hesitated.

“Lord Eris, I would rather you say it bluntly,” she jumped in. “To be quite honest, I’m extremely worried at the moment.”

“Please, just Eris,” he corrected. “And yes. You’re right. Of course. Well, I felt the mating bond that day. With you.”

If only his enemies could see him now. Keir would keel over of laughter watching him stumble through a simple conversation.

Rhiannon had gone completely still. She stared at him, as if waiting for the punchline. He shrugged.

“You did say bluntly.”

She stood suddenly, stalking over to the kitchen. For some reason unbeknownst to Eris, she began making a pot of tea. He waited.

As the kettle whined, she waved her hand, directing two mugs out of the cabinet and onto the table. Of course. The teacher of magic children would have to have magic as well.

He said nothing, still, as she brought over the tea. Rhiannon poured herself a cup and then watched him do the same.

She broke the silence as he took his first sip. “You’re being serious.”

“I would never joke about something like this,” Eris remarked.

“Why now? That had to have been, what, a century ago?” she demanded. Her dark skin seemed to glow in the daylight from the window above her head.

He looked down at his cup. “I killed my father yesterday. I didn’t think it safe to acknowledge you before that.”

“You---what?!” she yelped, almost dropping her cup. “I said blunt, not absolutely earth-shattering.”

He choked back a laugh. “My apologies. I’ve had a stressful few weeks. But truly, I worried what my father and brothers might do to a partner of mine and never would wish to put you in any danger. So now, at least, I know that threat is handled.”

She considered this. “I have no idea what I’m feeling right now.”

“I understand. More than you now,” Eris acknowledged. “I don’t have any expectations of you. I only hope that we might spend time together, getting to know one another.”

“Get to know you. The High Lord. As my...mate,” she echoed. “I could, I think I would be fine with that.”

“As whatever you want,” Eris disputed. “As I said, I don’t expect a thing.”

“Then as friends. And privately, at least at first.” Rhiannon looked him over. “You’ll have to come here, during hours I’m not teaching or with others.”

He couldn’t believe she had responded positively. Eris would have agreed to any terms she set.

“When can we start?”

She smiled at his obvious enthusiasm. "Tomorrow night. And you're bringing dinner."

Eris couldn't control the huge grin at her smile. This female would probably ruin him and his reputation. Not that he minded in the slightest.

"Anything you want."

Chapter 2: not where the story ends

TW: Mentions of past sexual assault and panic attacks. Nothing graphic or specific, but please do not read if this will harm you. I"ll put XXX before and after any mentions if you need to avoid.

So the High Lord of the Autumn Court had shown up at her door. And thrown her life entirely off-course by announcing they were mates.

Rhiannon lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to sort her thoughts and feelings into some sort of organized pattern. Her little two-story house and work studio felt suffocating, too small for all the chaos in her head. Throwing off the covers, she grabbed a pair of boots and a coat, winnowing to the street.

The town of Malefic, once a bustling city, stood quiet that night. Rhia wasn't surprised. After five decades of Amarantha, the population had decreased to only a couple thousand. She was relatively sure she could name almost every single Fae, and none of them were night owls.

She strolled down her street, aiming for a field of wheat at the edge of town. It helped to be in a wide, open space where she could see the entire night sky.

Eris Vanserra, the oldest son of the cruel Beron Vanserra, had shown up at her door. One of the most callous and powerful males in Prythian had knocked on her door and awkwardly asked to come in. And he had been, well, sweet. Kind. Attentive.

He'd explained some of his reputation, claiming that his father only valued power from his sons. He told her so much about his history, his regrets, his shame. And she had actually shared some of her life as well. The pull between them had opened her lips, despite her brain screaming at her to think rationally about all the red flags.

Because, unfortunately, even less powerful and less feared males could do so much damage. A fact Rhia knew all too well.

So many citizens had fled or sought aid from the capitol when Amarantha took over. Many others were killed or thrown into those horrendous camps. But Rhia and several other powerful Fae came together and warded the town. They could only cover a square mile, but it was enough at first. For twenty seven years, they maintained the wards, grew their own food, raised children to fight, and lived in fear, but not terror. They had all appreciated how much worse life could be.

Until a group of males snuck through the wards. To this day, Rhia never found out how they managed to get in.

The town woke the next morning to ransacked supplies and distasteful graffiti. The adults breathed a sigh of relief, for they knew how much worse it could be.

XXX

Sofine Linswell woke to her best friend sobbing on her bathroom floor.

Rhia woke to her best friend picking her up off the bathroom floor and hugging her close.

One of the males, as the group had split up, had stumbled upon a small, two-story house and work studio, probably looking for supplies like his companions. Unfortunately, this male found a sleeping, vulnerable female and did what any terrible, depraved soul would do.

Rhia hadn't been able to sleep in her own bed for months, and even now still had nights where she couldn't sleep in the small bedroom.

It had been decades and her life had returned back to almost normal, especially after Feyre Cursebreaker saved the day. She could even have casual sex again, but only with males she knew didn't have more than a drop of magic in them. The fear of being forced to lie still, struggling against invisible bounds, made it difficult for her to trust anyone with more power than she had.

Sofine, her best friend of more than a century, had talked her through many panic attacks over the years before they figured out her aversion to powerful males. Luckily, their little town saw almost no newcomers and Rhia knew her strength could dominated any of their neighbors. Not that she ever needed to, but the thought comforted her.

XXX

But the Cauldron had the most fucked-up sense of humor.

Eris Vanserra had shown up at her door. A male that had infinite more magic and power than she did.

Worse, he was awkward and kind and vulnerable with her. Her stupid brain couldn't just write him off or send him packing.

He hadn't been close enough to touch her once last night, so Rhia had forgotten about her issues for a few hours. But as soon as she closed her eyes, her mind drifted to what it would be like to lie next to him and all the darkness came rushing back.

She hadn't told Sofine yet. The night seemed like a dream, like an unbelievable story you tell yourself to fall asleep.

Eris had given her a piece of parchment before he left and told her to write if she wanted him to come over again. He'd been so obviously nervous that she would never write to him that she'd smiled and told him to keep an eye on it. Yet now, under the midnight sky, she was overwhelmed at the idea of taking a step forward.

She sat in the wheat until the sky started turning pink. Another day of teaching, lunch with Sofi, and cleaning her house.

Winnowing back to her kitchen, Rhia started making a pot of tea. Only caffeine would make this day run smoothly.

Waiting for the boil, she glanced over at the table and saw the piece of parchment glowing. Confused, she went to pick it up.

I apologize if this is intrusive. You probably think I'm incredibly desperate (because I am incredibly desperate). But I just wanted to say that I will take any part of you that you would give me. If you're willing to put me out of my pathetic misery and give me a chance.

She laughed. The rumors simply could not be true. This male couldn't be the same as the cruel, misogynistic bastard that tortured his brother's lover. She couldn't say how, but she knew that for certain.

So, as the sun spilled over the horizon and another peaceful day started, she wrote back.

Chapter 3: passing notes in secrecy

Eris couldn't believe it. It simply couldn't be true.

His advisors, his friends (well, all two of them), even his mother had commented on his mood. He was smiling, often unprompted, and making jokes. The palace full of nobles had no idea what to do with a High Lord that made jokes.

And he was getting his ass kicked in training. Gerwin, one of the two friends, looked down at where he lay on the floor.

"It really shouldn't be that easy for me to take down a High Lord," he grumbled. "First there are rumors of you acting like a fool in meetings and now this?"

Eris stood, pretending to brush some dust off his shirt. "No one thinks I'm acting like a fool. Just differently than my father." The last word got stuck in his throat on the way out, dampening his mood a bit. All of Prythian knew what he did and yet he still hadn't told the actual story to anyone. It felt like a confession, proof his guilt, an irreversible action that might suddenly inspire his Court to abandon him. Although he knew rationally that was unlikely (he had widespread support that came from not being a violent, evil bastard), Eris still felt like he could lose his throne at any second for any reason.

He faced off with Gerwin again, focusing and actually winning the fight.

Eris raced to his chambers after his training session, at a speed more fit to an energized child than the most powerful male in the Autumn Court. He threw open his bedroom door and scrambled to open the top drawer of his nightstand. There sat a glowing piece of parchment.

She actually wrote back, he marveled. Even though she had been writing back at least once a day for the past week, each message still brought Eris a flash of joy and shock.

Their first interaction had been tense and awkward. Her body language had clearly indicated she was uncomfortable with him in her home, but she hadn't kicked him out. The conversation was good, great even, but stayed to safe topics like her town's endeavors and his fumbling advisors. Eris fully believed he had thoroughly fucked up this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and would never hear from her again. Except she kept writing.

I hope you understand this taxation argument, because I surely cannot. Some of us were meant only for brute force and fighting, not percentages and financial sheets. He had complained about one of his endless meetings yesterday, where the Financial Minister had almost burst a blood vessel when Eris suggested taxing the rich more than the poor. Outrageous.

He grabbed a pen and chewed on it thoughtfully. His responses were finely crafted to keep the conversation flowing easily and show off some of his stellar personality. His mother's voice, kindly accusing him of acting like an adolescent, floated through his mind. It was rather childish to spend this much time thinking about a female and wooing her, something he'd never really worked hard at before.

I'm glad to know you claim expertise on brute force, since apparently I no longer can. My friend just destroyed me in a training session, in a way that was very embarrassing for me and unbecoming of a High Lord. If I had more friends, I might even accuse him of treason just to avoid my utter defeat again. How are your students?

---

Did he have some sort of magic that could figure out her schedule? He must. There was no other explanation for how Eris managed to send her a message right before she had an important commitment. Rhia had shown up to her classes, a town hall meeting, and now dinner with Sofine with blushing cheeks and an unmanageable smile.

"Ha! There it is! That silly expression you keep getting," Sofine accused, pointing a finger at Rhia's dark red cheeks. "I've been complaining about my leaky sink for two minutes and you sit there staring off into the distance."

"Sorry, sorry, it's just been a long week," Rhia mumbled, turning to grab some bread off the counter so Sofine would stop trying to read her expression. "Classes, students, you know how it gets."

"I surely don't! Students make you groan and complain; this is like....this is more of..." Sofine trailed off, trying to put a finger on what could have her friend so distracted. "Well, honestly, if I didn't know you better, I'd say this was more of a schoolgirl crush." Rhia had no response to that, so she stayed quiet. Sofine gasped, her mind clearly spinning to fill in the gaps,

Maybe staying quiet was going to get her in more trouble. "Sofi, I love you so dearly, but I clearly don't have a 'schoolgirl crush' and I'm not sure how I would've managed to keep that a secret from you." Rhia hoped it would be enough. They were both over a century year old and yet sat here gossiping about crushes. Absurd.

Luckily, her friend let it go and the rest of the conversation was blessedly normal. After finishing a bottle of sparkling wine together, the females decided to call it a night. They both had the day off tomorrow and had huge plans to attend the local farmer's market.

Humming to herself, Rhia began to slowly clean the glasses off the table. Her thoughts trailed away from the town and towards the capitol. Eris. She hadn't written back to him yet.

Perhaps writing to the High Lord of the Autumn Court who was also your mate after half a bottle of wine wasn't the smartest idea in the world. Rhia hushed that logical voice in her brain and grabbed the paper to reread his response. Silly, how such a little joke about a rough training session caused her to blush again.

There was no second-guessing, no careful editing, no worry as she wrote back. The High Lord taken down by a simple training instructor? I would have loved to see it. My students are little terrors as always, though none are powerful enough yet to spar with me. I suppose I'll go through a similar embarrassment when they are.

His response came so quickly. Was he sitting in bed, just waiting for her to write him back? She giggled at the image, then giggled at her giggle because she wasn't the type of Fae to giggle normally. And the word giggle sounded funny.

My pride is quite grateful you weren't there to see it happen. A second later, as if an afterthought, another line appeared. And if you ever actually would like to see me, all you have to do is ask.

Her insides warmed. She blushed, yet again, at the shameless flirting. But at the same time, her brain kicked into overdrive at the idea that this was more than letter writing and idle flirting. The High Lord wanted to see her and she wanted to see him, a terrifying thought that would normally send her running. Luckily, the wine kept her mind open and her words flowing.

Maybe I only want to see you get kicked beaten knocked around in training.

Scratch that sentence I don't think I'm making sense. I'm not sure what I'm trying to say.

"Oh shit," Rhia cursed at her confusion. The wine certainly wasn't making anything clearer.

Let me try again. I'd like to see you in my kitchen again.

In your kitchen? How specific. I'll be there whenever you tell me. And, please correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe you would still enjoy watching someone beat me up in a sparring ring. Eloquence fails us all sometimes, it's quite alright.

Aren't High Lord supposedd to be busy? Her handwriting had started looking noticeably sloppy as her eyes began to droop. I have no plans tomorrow night.

Excellent. Tomorrow night. And no, we simply appear busy while others do all the work. It's a very simple and fun job.

I'm going to bed. Otherwise I might make more of a fool of myself. Rhia doubted that Eris would mind some sloppy handwriting and confusing messages, but she knew worse things might come out if they stayed up late in the night, writing on this stupid piece of paper.

---

Eris couldn't believe it. He was seeing her again tomorrow, technically today since midnight was long passed. He closed his eyes, feeling something that felt a bit like redemption and forgiveness grow within him.

[isingonly4myangel]

Here’s a prompt: Zelda’s harrowing is carried out by Edward, Faustus, and Shirley. They all take it waaay too far, but Edward makes Zelda promise never to speak of it again. Perhaps he even wipes her memory of certain parts.

Wow this took me ages, sorry! It ended up being way longer than I planned lol. And apologies if anybody studies Latin- I do not, and I had only the internet to guide me, so I did my best! As for the other language, it’s fictional and I only borrowed it. Anyway, language excuses aside, here you go! 

It was traditional. A rite of passage, Edward had said. A bit of harmless fun that she would soon get to be on the other side of, Faustus told her. Everyone did it, Shirley assured her.

Zelda Spellman marched into her first week at the Academy of Unseen Arts with a fire in her heart to match the fire of her hair. Pure determination and ambition, with sharp eyes and a quick tongue, even at a mere eleven years old. She would be the best witch ever to pass through the Academy, she had made up her mind. And besides, as Edward was showing such promise only a few years ahead of her, she had a reputation to live up to. She would not tarnish the Spellman name, nor would she follow along in her brother's shadow. No, Zelda Spellman had plans of her own. And if her means to the end of accomplishing those plans was a few nights of what they called "Harrowing", that seemed a small price to pay.

The first night, she had been dragged from her bed and thrown into the Witch's Cell with another girl her age. From the moment the door had locked from the outside, the other girl had screamed and screamed, but Zelda sat calmly in the far corner until the next morning. The spirits inhabiting the Cell soon learned that they would get next to nothing from the redhead, and focused their attention instead on tormenting her cell mate. The other girl was still crying come morning, but when the door was unbolted, Zelda sauntered out with her nose in the air, only a smudge or two of dirt to show for her time in the Cell.

The second night, she had been placed in a ring encircling the Hanging Tree, young witches and warlocks facing the massive trunk of the gnarled tree. Their only instructions were to stand until dawn , and to never turn around. So Zelda did not. The growling noises from behind her raised every hair on the back of her neck and sent chills down her spine, but she stood perfectly still. She watched as first one and then two of the other children turned their heads to glance behind them, and she saw them lifted into the air and snatched backwards, hurtling into the woods like screaming rag dolls. The only move she made over the course of the night was to wipe angrily at a tear as it escaped her eye, her father's echoed voice behind her. No matter how hard you may try, you will never be your brother. In the pale light of dawn, she trudged back to the Academy alongside her classmates, stoney-faced though shivering slightly.

The third night would be special, she'd heard. Tailored for each individual student by those who knew them. Again summoned from her bed, she went willingly. Though she was a year younger than Shirley, she was slightly taller, Zelda noted with a smirk as she followed just behind the other girl. The night was cold as they walked away from the Academy, and seemed to grow colder still as they approached the woods. Zelda pulled her dressing gown tighter around her body.

When they reached the clearing, the boys were already waiting for them. Faustus looked up from placing thick candles on the ground as she approached, giving her a polite bow and a leering grin. Edward greeted her with no more than a nod and a small smile, which she returned. She was determined to make him proud tonight.

As she glanced around the clearing, she noticed that the others had brought supplies. A pile of rounded stones, flattened into ovals and stacked neatly, sat atop the fallen autumn leaves. Something in her stomach tightened as she saw the rope that lay next to the stones- one end of it had been tied around itself to form a noose. And in front of that lay a grimoire, its cover dark leather with fading silver print marking it as a spell book.

"Let Shirley take your robe," her brother murmured. She obediently untied the knotted sash around her waist and allowed Shirley to pull it away from her shoulders and down her arms, doing her best to repress a shiver as the midnight air rushed to creep through the sleeves of her nightgown. "The slippers, too," Edward added, and she stepped out of them. Her feet met damp and brittle leaves, and a breath of wind played with the hem of her nightgown around her ankles.

Having placed the last candle to complete the ring, Faustus stepped back and nodded at Edward. Her brother extended an upturned hand to her and Zelda took it, allowing him to steady her as she stepped over the candles and into the circle. The young witch suddenly felt very alone as her brother released her hand, but she was determined not to show it.

"Lucis et flammae," Edward commanded, beckoning fire up with a curling of his fingers as the candles lit themselves at once. "Et oblinito circulo". Zelda knew immediately that the spell had bound her in the circle, likely until either the candles were extinguished or the spell was reversed by its caster.

"Now, Zelda," spoke her brother, his voice both familiar and slightly unnerving to the redhead. "You know that the past two nights have focused on honoring the Greendale Thirteen, knowing their struggles and sharing their suffering. Tonight, we will continue with this endeavor, as we turn now to the Thirteen's final night as captives of the mortals."

"They were disrobed, as you have been," Shirley chimed, stepping forward. "Left to the mercy of the night air. Barefoot, they were marched into these woods, bound and jeered at by mortals on every side. And if one of them dared to look a mortal in the eye? Well..." Her sentence halted, but her point was made by the sudden movement of her hand and a sharp stinging in Zelda's shoulder.

Momentarily preoccupied with the pain, Zelda's eyes soon found the culprit- one of the stones from the pile now lay near her feet. Raising her head to look at the others, she had little more than a breath to steel herself. Her arms flew up to shield her face as a hit landed on her thigh, her ribs, her foot. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Shirley give a particularly forceful throw, and she gasped sharply as the rock connected with her brow bone. Edward, bless him, seemed to be aiming mostly for her feet and ankles, his gentleness in throwing a direct contrast to the act itself. Shirley and Faustus however, they pelted her with everything they had. But even as she wiped away the blood dripping into her eye, Zelda resolutely stood her ground.

When at last the stones of the pile all lay scattered around Zelda on the leaf-strewn earth, the young witch was bleeding and bruised, but she knew the night was far from over.  She wondered what would be used next- the rope or the grimoire- but she had the answer to her question only a moment after she had thought it. Faustus's shoes stepped into the sightline of her downturned gaze, and stilled directly before her. She kept her eyes on the laces of his boots, lest she be beaten with another rock if she looked up at him.

"You know what comes next, Zelda," he murmured, and she feared that she did. Still, she gasped in spite of herself as she felt the noose land around her shoulders, heavy and damp, rough against the tender skin of her neck. She heard rather than saw the other end of the rope tossed over a treebranch above her, and her heart began to race as she felt the loop around her neck lift to press against her chin. Her head snapped up to look Faustus in the eye, and she fought the urge to bring her hands up and pull the rope away from her skin.

"Having been paraded through town and into the forest," he continued, his smirk sending an icy shiver down Zelda's spine. "The Greendale Thirteen were each positioned beneath a branch of that great, ancient tree, and each of them felt the weight of the noose around their shoulders. Then, without trial and without rites, they were hanged by the neck. Until dead. And with this act, we honor their sacrifice."

And suddenly, there was no ground beneath her feet. All of the budding nervousness that she had shoved down so efficiently came surging up all at once, escalating instantaneously into absolute panic. She kicked wildly against the night air and her hands flew up to claw at her neck, trying in desperation to loosen the rope. Her lungs burned with the need for oxygen, but she could not breathe, and her heartbeat thundered in her ears, blocking out all other sound. She could not breathe, and she could not see the others on the ground, and she had trusted Edward not to let her get hurt, but she was going to die here, at the end of this rope, because she could not breathe. Her arms slowed and dropped to her sides, too heavy for her to hold them up any longer. The tree branches were fuzzy, and seemed to be growing darker, deep shadows overtaking them. Perhaps this is what it feels like to fly, she wondered vaguely. She felt she was flying, but she could not think why the tree branches were moving away from her.

As close to unconsciousness as she was, the impact of the ground was not as harsh as it might have been otherwise. And then air ripped into her lungs, even before she had registered the noose being thrown from her neck by a wave of Edward's hand. Gulping in great gasps of breath, her body was on fire as the life returned to it, her head pounding.

"What in Satan's name do you think you're doing, Faustus?" Edward shouted, having shoved the younger boy nearly to the ground in an effort to get him to let go of the rope.

"Oh, do calm down, Edward. It's not as if she's died."

"You, my boy," he spoke, pulling Faustus upright by the shirtfront. "Are dangerously close to making me lose my temper. And we wouldn't want that, now would we?" Edward thrust the other boy away from him roughly before turning to approach the circle where his sister lay, still struggling for breath and clutching at her wounded throat, marred by scratches from her own fingernails. "Zelda. Zelda, look at me." With some effort, she lifted her gaze to meet Edward's when he knelt beside the candles. His heart sunk as he saw nothing but terror in her eyes. "It's alright now, you're alright, it's over. I'll take..."

Halting his words, Edward turned at the sound of chanted Latin behind him. "Ad ligandum eos pariter eos coram me."

"What are you doing?" he rose and stepped towards Faustus and Shirley, who held the weathered grimoire between them, evidently reading an incantation.

"Offerimus tibi hoc puella puer." The two seemed undeterred by Edward's question. "Nunc age. Ego vocare vobis."

"Stop! Stop that this instant!" Edward shouted, but they continued.

"Tolle illud, quod vestrum est! Ego vocare vobis! Ego vocare vobis!" Their shouts echoed through the trees, and the woods fell silent, not a rustle of leaves or a hooting owl to be heard.

And then Zelda screamed. The others watched wide-eyed as she writhed within the circle, her body contorting in apparent pain. But when she spoke, it was not her own voice coming from her throat. It was deep and animalistic, chilling Edward to the core.

"Emi winokre Nebratron em hemitus eni nüllaan!" The other voice roared from Zelda.

"What is she saying?" Faustus questioned, fighting to be heard over the redhead's continued shouts.

"I don't know, I don't know the language!" replied Shirley, looking back at the book in her hands for an explanation.

"What have you done?" the older boy all but yelled, fixing the two with a fiery glare.

"A- a summoning," stammered the girl as Edward lunged for the book. "We... we summoned a demon."

"You invited a demon into my sister?!"  

"Oh, Satan!" Shirley gasped, and all heads snapped back in the direction of the circle. Zelda was rising, suspended in the air with her spine arching towards the sky, and the horrible voice still pouring unknown words into the forest.

"Ratsni etsai hemitusi enis: itsi yenvagreni wesrat hor fensteru em tekhes!"

"Get out of here, now!" Edward seized the grimoire and pushed Shirley and Faustus towards the path they had entered by. Overtaken by true fear of what they had done, they both took off running without needing to be told twice, leaving Edward searching frantically through the book for a spell of banishment or exorcism.

"Itsi yenvagreni wesrat an sha’ami entsai khedekareb!"  

"Leave her alone, leave my sister alone! Ego mitto vos, haec relinquere corpus! Esse abiit, esse abiit!" He switched into Latin to combat the foreign tongue, but seemingly to no avail.

"Etsoo lipieem adzigrosen. Etsoon kaamplen sha’am tweraam. Itsi yenvagreni wesrat an sha’ami entsai khedekareb!"

"Zelda!" he called, panicking as he could not find anything in the grimoire about exorcising a demon.

"No!" shrieked the girl in her own voice. In the piercing scream that followed, Edward heard in one breath his sister's voice melding with the demon's and returning to her own again. Moments after only her voice remained, she plummeted to the ground for the second time that night. She lay motionless against the leaves as Edward scrambled to get to her. With a thrust of his palm, he extinguished the candles at once before knocking them to the side to break the circle.

"Zelda?" He murmured, the sound tremulous. Blinking back tears, he dropped down beside her and gathered her in his arms. "Zelda?" he tried again, somewhat stronger. Her eyes fluttered open, drawing a gasp from him.

"Edward?" Her whisper was small and frightened.

"I'm here, I'm here, you're alright. It's over, you're alright."

"Did... did I do well?"

"Oh my dear, dear Zelda," he spoke, brushing a dirt-coated curl out of her eyes. "Yes, you did very well."

She nodded in acceptance, a tiny sob escaping her. Her brother clutched her tighter as she cried into his chest. He could not believe that she had thrown a demon out of her own body, a feat he did not know was possible, and at only eleven years old.

"I cleanse the mind, I cleanse the heart, let frightful thoughts of night depart," he whispered into her hair. "Munda mens, munda cor, timidus cogitationes ire."

"Edward?" she questioned, but he was quick to calm her.

"Hush now, sleep. Somnus." She slumped against his shoulder, the charm lulling her instantly into slumber. He carried her back to the Academy, silent tears streaking his face.

Edward did his very best with the memory spell, but he was not quite sure how effective it had been. Zelda never brought it up, and he had sworn Faustus and Shirley to silence. But two years later, the redhead was downright ruthless during their sister Hilda's Harrowing, and he thought it must have been in misdirected retaliation against him.

Zelda never spoke of that night to anyone. But more than a century later, it was Sabrina being Harrowed, and she stood in Faustus's office to look him in the eye and call the Harrowings of their youth nothing but spirited child's play, though she knew precisely what his eyes had looked like just before he had lifted her off the ground by the noose. That night, she gave Hilda a long-overdue apology after seeing the ghost children, knowing full well that she herself might have joined their ranks if Edward had not made Faustus let go of the rope. And a matter of weeks later, when Ms Wardwell sat in the parlor and spoke of a witch's exorcism rite written by Edward, she knew why he had written it. Relying on the power of the individual witch, the rite was to atone for what Zelda had gone through that night, and to ensure that it never happened to anyone again, for not all demons have the limited power of school children summoning them.

Over the years, the memories of the Harrowing became just another event, just another night to push down and tuck away in a darkened corner of her mind, where it was in good company. For Zelda Spellman had always held many secrets, even at eleven years old.

[more-pokeimagines]

Stone Cold Body [05] - Chapter 4

A/N: Okay, folks, here’s the next chapter, and I really hope you enjoy it. Feedback is always appreciated. :) If you want to be tagged in further parts of the series send me an ask!

Warnings: mentions of executions and violence

Past

Three weeks had passed since King Lewin I. had burned the girl at the stake, and Bede still couldn’t stop thinking about it. He didn’t know why his father hated the sorcerers so much, he didn’t know what they had done to deserve being hunted and killed like animals. But he knew only too well that he wasn’t allowed to ask, so he remained silent and carried on with his life as if he didn’t care about the death of innocent people at all, just like his father.

His sister, on the other hand, made no secret of her consternation. She barely spoke to the king anymore and even tried to convince him to cancel the ball he had announced for her birthday in a few weeks. The end of the story had been a slap in the face and a warning to never disrespect her father like that again.

Bede still got angry when he thought about it. His father had no right to treat Carlina like that, especially since she already spent most of the day in her room, silently mourning the death of a girl she hadn’t known. He wished he knew how to make it easier for her, mostly because it probably hadn’t been the last execution she had to watch but also because he hated to see his cheerful and carefree sister like that. Even though she often told him that she could take care of herself just fine, he still felt the strong urge to protect her from all the evils of the world. To him, she would always be the little girl who had asked him to read her favorite book to her over and over again while she snuggled up to him to keep herself warm. To this day, it was still one of his dearest memories and one of the many reasons why he adored his sister so much.

He was currently on his way to her rooms since she had been absent at dinner, probably because she was still too upset to actually spend time with the king. The queen, a compassionate and gentle woman, had asked her son to look in on Carlina, and he gladly followed her instructions, mostly because he was worried about Carlina too but also because he was tired of hearing about the princess he was supposed to marry anytime soon.

Absent-mindedly, Bede turned around the corner, finally reaching the hallway that led to Carlina’s rooms in the east wing. He knew that he needed to persuade her to leave her quarters, especially if she didn’t want to anger their father even more, but he had no idea how. Carlina was well-behaved and smart, yes, but she could also be incredibly stubborn. It definitely wouldn’t be easy to convince her.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness.” A guard had approached him, obstructing his way as he looked at the prince with an almost empty expression. Despite his statement, his voice showed no signs of sympathy. Instead, he sounded almost like the situation amused him. “But the king advised me to not let anyone pass.”

“Excuse me?” Bede asked, the disgruntled expression in his eyes a solemn warning but the guard returned his look without the slightest bit of fear. He knew that he was on the safe side since he only obeyed the king’s orders, and the prince hardly had anything to say anyway.

“May I propose that you talk to the king yourself, Your Highness,” the guard suggested. “Perhaps that will settle the issue.”

Bede frowned. It didn’t happen often that someone dared to disrespect him like that but even the stubbornness of this guard wouldn’t stop him from seeing his sister.

“No,” he said after a few moments of silence, his voice as cold as ice. “Perhaps we could do as I say, or else I will ensure that you suffer the consequences for disobeying your prince. I don’t care what my father said.”

The guard gulped, now clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. “Your Highness, I-”

“Be quiet,” Bede interrupted him. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. Now, step aside.”

He could literally see how the guard’s thoughts were racing as they stared at each other for a few more seconds. Then, the guard finally stepped aside. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness,” he said and bowed his head. “I was being presumptuous.”

“Yes,” Bede agreed. “You may leave now.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Bede turned away, raising his hand to knock at the door to Carlina’s room.

It was more than obvious that his sister wasn’t feeling well. Carlina looked absolutely terrible, despite her tarted up appearance. Her face was still tear-stained, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed as she looked at her brother who simply reached out for her and pulled her into a tight hug. She leaned against him, her face buried in the crook of his neck while tears welled up in her eyes again.

“We missed you at dinner,” he mumbled, his hands gently caressing her back to comfort her. The soft and expensive fabric of her dress felt cool beneath his fingertips. “Mother asked me to check in on you. She’s worried.”

“Father told me not to leave my room,” Carlina replied quietly. “He said I should spend my time realizing my mistakes before I bother him with my presence again.”

“I know. There was a guard outside of your room.”

Carlina sniffled. When she spoke again, her voice was shaking. “I don’t understand why he hates the sorcerers so much. They never did anything wrong, did they? And still he keeps hunting them like they’re wild animals! That’s not how a king is supposed to act.”

“I know,” Bede repeated. He didn’t understand his father’s hatred either but he had learned long ago not to question his actions, especially not when it came to his ruthless vendetta against the sorcerers. He could only hope that the killing would stop eventually.

*

Dissatisfied, Bede tugged at the high collar of his new jacket. He hated to wear his navy blue dress uniform but since the occasion called for fancy clothing, there wasn’t much he could do about it. In his opinion, the color looked awful against his pale complexion and it clashed with the color of his eyes while his mother insisted that he looked regal and mature. He, on the other hand, suspected that she only wanted him to look presentable when she introduced him to the princess he was betrothed to since birth, despite the fact that he had zero interest in marrying. But for the sake of Carlina and her birthday, he had decided that it would be best to discuss the issue later on.

His sister looked stunning, dressed in an exquisite rose colored gown which was richly ornamented with precious pearls and gemstones that resembled the jewelry she was wearing. The only thing that was missing was her contagious smile.

When he escorted her to the ballroom, an hour after the guests had arrived, he squeezed her gloved hand, trying to reassure her that nothing bad was going to happen tonight. Initially, she had looked forward to this celebration but Bede knew that she’d rather run and hide in her room after yet another incident with a sorcerer and his inevitable death sentence the evening before.

“Smile,” he whispered when they entered the ginormous ballroom that had always been too richly decorated for his liking. The guests were staring at the siblings as they made their way to the podium in front of huge windows where their parents awaited them.

“His Royal Highness, Prince Bede and Her Royal Highness, Princess Carlina,” a harbinger introduced them, even though there probably was not a single person in the room who didn’t know their names. Carlina was finally smiling again, gracefully waving at her admirers, and even Bede who usually acted restrained and sometimes slightly arrogant whenever he had to be at court, had managed to put on a somewhat believable smile. He hated events like this though. He hated how his mother paraded her children around like they were some kind of precious commodities to preserve the peace between Galar and other kingdoms.

“My beloved children,” the king greeted them when they reached the podium, stretching out his hand to help Carlina getting up the stairs. Bede couldn’t help but notice that she was a good actress. She didn’t even flinch when her father bowed his head to kiss her cheek; the exact same cheek he had slapped just a few weeks ago when his daughter had dared to speak out against him.

With a proud smile, he put his arm around Carlina. “Happy Birthday, my dear.”

“Thank you, Mylord,” she replied politely, just as everyone in the room expected. Then, she turned around to look at the courtiers as her father said, “Surely, my daughter feels honored to spend her birthday with such noble and courteous people.”

Restrained murmurs of approval interrupted him but as soon as he raised his hand, the crowd went silent again. “But this is not the only reason for our celebration today. I am delighted to announce the Prince’s engagement with Princess Amelié of Kalos.”

Bede’s smile faded in the blink of an eye. Even though he had assumed that his parents would make things official today, he didn’t expect to meet his betrothed in front of every aristocrat in the kingdom. Of course it didn’t help that he had no desire to meet her, let alone spend the whole evening with a girl he didn’t know.

A figure moving through the crowd caught his attention and for a moment, he closed his eyes, wishing that the princess would be at least a decent person, but when he opened his eyes again he realized that it wasn’t Princess Amelié who was curtseying in front of his father now. It was a woman, dressed in a simple, yet expensive looking gown. Her long hair was pinned up and decorated with barely noticeable beads and pearls.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted the king, her voice low and husky. “I deeply apologize for interrupting your wonderful celebration but Her Highness, Princess Amelié, will not be able to accompany us today. She fell ill a few days ago but she sends her kindest regards to the King and the Queen and their children. Her Highness particularly regrets that she can not meet her betrothed today but as soon as she feels better she would feel honored to pay her respect to him.”

“Please convey my get-well wishes to Princess Amelié,” Bede replied, knowing very well what his parents and everyone else in the room expected from him. He even managed to put on a smile. “And also assure her I am eagerly awaiting her visit.”

“Your wish is my command, Your Highness,” the woman said.

After that brief encounter, King Lewin lead the dance with his wife, followed by Carlina and Bede who wasn’t too fond of dancing but since it was his sister’s birthday, he couldn’t deny her request and he was more than surprised when he discovered that it was actually a lot of fun to dance with his sister. She was a natural talent, graceful and self-confident as they twirled round the dance floor.

It didn’t take long until a young duke asked the Princess for a dance, and after a few seconds of hesitation Carlina accepted the proposal. She gave her brother an apologetic smile but he stopped her with a wave of his hand and returned to the side of the dance floor.

Princess Amelié’s lady-in-waiting joined company with him just a few minutes later, gracefully curtseying when he greeted her with a nod. “Your Highness,” she said.

“Milady,” was the simple response.

She cleared her throat. “I have to say I am glad that I got the opportunity to be here tonight. It is a wonderful celebration. The princess must be thrilled.”

“She surely is,” Bede replied and darted a glance at his sister who was still twirling round the dance floor with that young duke. They seemed to enjoy themselves but Bede knew that they probably wouldn’t see each other again once this celebration was over. His father would never allow Carlina to marry someone of lower degree than her.

When the lady-in-waiting let out a deep sigh, he turned his attention back to her. She was looking at him with an annoyed expression. “You don’t understand, do you?” she asked. “I am not petite Amelié’s lady-in-waiting.”

“Oh, I realized that,” Bede replied flatly. “I knew it already when you spoke to my father. You know, as chance would have it, I have a bit of knowledge about Kalos and their traditions, and let me tell you, a lady-in-waiting there would never be dressed in a simple gown like yours.”

The woman’s eyes widened in surprise but just a second later, the blank expression was back. “I see. Well, it doesn’t really matter anymore. I got what I wanted.”

“And what would that be, Milady?”

“Talking to you,” she stated matter-of-factly. “I wanted to tell you how much I despise your family. You killed my little sister, you killed countless others and yet, here you are, throwing parties and wasting money, as if my people aren’t suffering because of your ignorance. I won’t let Lewin continue to destroy this country.”

“And what are you going to do about that, Milady?” he asked, the tone of his voice clearly meant to mock her.

“You’ll see, little princeling,” she promised and her lips curled into a sweet smile. “You’ll see.”

Masterlist  / Next chapter

[bigskydreaming]

It really, really, really can not be stressed enough, what a disservice fandom has done to the complexity of Dick and Slade’s canon comic book relationship, by simply reducing it to your fairly standard hero/villain trope. As well as making it just a master/apprentice dynamic like in Teen Titans. Their comic book dynamic is just not remotely interchangeable with that one. At all.

Among other things in the comics, in all of their encounters, Slade’s very presence is a constant living, breathing reminder of three of the outright worst moments in Dick’s life, and a walking embodiment of some of his biggest issues, all rolled up in one package.

1) Slade’s entrance to Dick’s life is the accompaniment to one of the greatest betrayals Dick has ever experienced. In order to get revenge for the death of his son, Grant, that he wrongly blamed the Titans for, Slade enlisted Tara Markov as his accomplice BEFORE any of the Titans ever met her. When her ultimate allegiances were revealed in the Judas Contract, and she singlehandedly took down and captured practically every Titan except for Dick, who escaped Slade when the latter saved him for himself....Dick, along with the other Titans, had to reconcile the fact that this woman they’d called their teammate, their friend, that they’d shared so much with, told so much to...had never been one of them. 

Not really. She’d been plotting their betrayal and deaths from the literal first moment they ever met her. With Dick having to shoulder the additional burden that like...he was the team leader. He was the one who ultimately was responsible for approving her addition to the team, who made the decision, who vouched for her and said okay. I am giving you my trust, and by extension, telling everyone of my teammates who puts their trust in me to do right by them, that it is safe for them to trust you as well. Whether or not Dick needed to heft that much responsibility for Terra turning out to be a traitor is really not the point in this specific instance. All that matters is that he did.

Now, as an example....how many fics that touch on Slade and Dick’s relationship in comic book settings in any capacity....how many of them offhandedly reference the fact that Slade is unique among many villains or enemies of the Justice League, Titans and Batfamily, in that he knows Dick’s secret identity...and by extension, has long since figured out those of every other member of the Batfamily?

Now with that in mind.....how many of those fics ever do anything with the fact that....Slade only HAS this knowledge in the first place....because TERRA told him Dick’s secret identity way back when....after Dick trusted HER, his teammate and Slade’s secret plant from day one....with his identity and by extension, Bruce’s as well, and Jason’s, and every other member of their family who was later added in the future?

Like, it isn’t just something where Slade figured it out on his own, or Dick told him....this highly crucial, critical and rare information that Slade has when few others have it, even other heroes....Dick never voluntarily gave to him. Its stolen goods, effectively, with Slade only having gotten it by virtue of Dick’s mislaid trust in someone else entirely.

My point being.....we talk a lot in fandom about how Dick is so trusting, but the reality is....even while Dick does make a point to give people the benefit of the doubt and extend his trust at times to people with not so great reputations....this is a willful, deliberate choice on his part, a conscious effort, and not evidence of Dick having an easy time trusting people or being naive.

The reality is, Dick has massive trust issues, born in large part of the fact that his team once all almost died because he put his trust in the wrong person.....and SLADE IS QUITE LITERALLY THE FACE AT THE ROOT OF MOST OF DICK’S CANON TRUST ISSUES.

(It also needs to be acknowledged that this was while the team was very much the TEEN Titans, and Slade’s earliest appearances absolutely made not at all veiled inferences that Slade seduced Terra and used a sexual and/or romantic relationship to manipulate her and get her allegiance in the first place. When she was very much a teen herself. She was a victim as well, and Slade predatory in his interactions with her. It was statutory rape every bit as much as Liu with Dick. Like.....it is what it is guys, and you might not want to go with that take for him yourself, but no different from when people choose to focus on instances of Bruce’s abuse, you can’t get upset at people who DO want to acknowledge this aspect of things and be like....fuck any kind of Slade redemption or Slade positivity.)

2) Slade also happens to represent one of the single worst moments of Dick’s life, and what he’s often regarded as one of his greatest personal failures.....and that’s Joey’s death. Joey was possessed by the evil spirits left over from Raven’s home dimension after the team finally banished Trigon for good, with his own possession powers having made him particularly vulnerable to them possessing him en masse, and they over time took more and more control of him until he was effectively just a helpless passenger in his own body for a period of months, maybe even longer than a year. 

While these spirits went about using his body to infiltrate and then hijack control of The Wildebeest Society, a group made up of former Titans foes for the express purpose of defeating the Titans.....and then as leader of the Wildebeest Society....having them systematically hunt down every Titan to ever exist, past or present, murdering many of them and capturing most of their superpowered members for the intended use of their bodies as hosts for the spirits sharing Joey’s body.

Now, not only is this a pretty direct parallel to Dick’s own experience being a brainwashed mole of the Church of Blood for over a year, secretly working to undermine his own teammates without any conscious control or even awareness of his own actions there, and with none of his teammates any the wiser, just as Dick himself hadn’t suspected anything wrong with Joey leading up to this reveal....

But after the Wildebeest Society had successfully either captured or killed every other Titan, Dick infiltrated their headquarters in disguise, in an attempt to free his teammates....only to be be caught and imprisoned by ‘Joey.’ With the latter then revealing the truth of why he was acting like this....and then continuing to keep Dick as his prisoner, chained up right by his side and tortured and helpless for over a week, as he and his minions continued with the rest of their work in preparing the carefully drugged/comatose Titans to be the spirits’ new hosts.

Let me reiterate....for over a week, Dick was the prisoner of evil spirits parading around in the body of one of his closest friends - the literal first person Dick chose to place his trust in again after it was first broken by Terra’s betrayal in the first place - while these spirits, did all of this in front of him with Joey’s face and body....gloating, taunting him, trying in every way imaginable to break him and his spirit. The whole time callously speaking of their intentions for the rest of Dick’s closest friends and their bodies, as they went about the final steps of their plan to basically use Dick and his team as the very tools they used to destroy everything they’d ever worked to protect and save.

Dick was only able to stop this and wake up the rest of his team...with Slade’s help, when the latter came in search of Joey himself. And at the end of it all, Joey was able to retake control of himself long enough to beg his father to kill him, before the spirits were able to overpower him again and use him to fulfill the rest of their plans.

Right in front of Dick.

Dick of course had spent the entire time he was a prisoner, trying his best to get through to Joey, believing with all his heart that Joey was in there still and could be saved, and of course, blaming himself for not seeing that something was wrong with Joey and stopping all of this sooner.

And then and there, Dick saw Joey resurface just as Slade did.....but while Dick saw this as proof that Joey was still there, could still be saved, they shouldn’t give up on him....Slade believed that doing the right thing then and there meant honoring Joey’s wishes for one of the first times ever in his life....even though that ultimately meant....also running Joey through with his sword. Again.....with Dick right there, still powerless to do anything to get up and help Joey, stop Slade, or propose another plan of action. He watched one of his best and dearest friends killed by his own father, because...in Dick’s own eyes....he’d failed to come up with an alternative in all the time he was prisoner....and failed to stop things from getting to that point in all the time before that, while Joey was possessed.

My point being....in the comic books, whether Dick and Slade are currently on good terms, bad terms, or neutral terms....they always exist for each other as a constant reminder of the death of one of the most important people in their lives. With that death being something they each blame themselves for and consider one of their greatest failures...as well as that death also being something they each at times have blamed each other for, for failing to come up with a way to save Joey, or protect him before he got to that point.

3) And finally, the third item of importance that I’m gonna gloss over for now as its more directly relevant to a post I wanna make about this later.....Slade’s direct involvement in the destruction of Bludhaven literally can’t be stressed enough. Whether you deem it in character or think he was written largely out of character at the time, with a case to be made for either stance, I think, the point remains that if you’re referencing Bludhaven having been destroyed at all, to any degree....Slade is once again at the heart of that matter, integral to every step of how that ultimately played out....with his position as the Society’s point man on that operation and his own personal grudge with Dick over various things, as well as Dick’s training of his daughter Rose - at Slade’s own insistence, but in ways Slade wasn’t pleased with, since Dick helped cultivate Rose’s actual heroic inclinations and instincts, which Slade did NOT sign off on - like, these things were directly step by step the path towards the Society ultimately following through and dropping Chemo on Bludhaven. With like, that being something that Slade absolutely could have stopped, thanks to his position, and even promised Dick as part of the agreement they made, that he WOULD keep from happening....only to renege on his word there.

In conclusion, Dick and Slade’s relationship and dynamic is SO SO SO SO SO MUCH MORE complex and varied than its basically ever made out to be in fanfics, and stems in large part from this one specific little tidbit that hardly ever seems to make it into fics’ final cuts.....

Slade respects Dick. Even when he doesn’t like him.

And I know, I know that fics pay a lot of lip service to this idea, but for the most part, its not substantiated. Or its clarified as though Slade respects Dick’s potential, or what he could be with Slade’s help or instruction....but that’s literally not the point of their canon.

The point is despite Dick being decades younger, Slade respects Dick as an opponent. As someone who has beaten him, bested him, in various ways and at various points. As well as respecting Dick as being a person who Slade’s son respected, and trusted, and valued a great deal. With a lot of Slade’s own memories of his son transferred onto Dick at times as a proxy, with Dick essentially acting as a stand-in for the son that Slade regrets never taking the time to get to know better...and here’s Dick, who knew and understood Joey better than just about anyone, certainly better than Slade. Which I personally believe Slade resents and even hates Dick for, for being someone that Joey both trusted and loved when Slade knows that likely wasn’t true of Joey’s view of him.....but I believe its also why Slade has never been able to bring himself to actually try and kill Dick and be rid of his threat to his plans for good....because doing so would be like killing the last real link Slade sees to the son he himself killed by his own hand.

Dick Grayson, for Slade....also happens to be the man who had every reason to not want anything to do with anyone associated with Slade, after Terra broke his trust, because of Slade’s own machinations.....while at the same time...Dick Grayson and his willingness to still extend that trust to Slade’s own son not long after that....are the very reasons that Joey ever had the opportunity to be the hero that Joey had always wanted to be....and that people ultimately remembered him as. There’s a reason Slade wanted Dick to be the one to train his daughter, after all - with the reason he was pissed at Dick for it ultimately being that Dick ended up being better at it than Slade had hoped, and Rose ultimately siding with Dick instead of Slade herself.

And even more importantly, IMO, Slade - even at times when he resents Dick for it at the exact same time - respects Dick for the choices Dick makes. For the precise fact that they aren’t the choices that Slade himself would make, that they’re choices Slade often thinks he couldn’t make.

He doesn’t disdain Dick for his choices or priorities or look down on him for them. Dismiss him because of them. They’re the heart and soul of WHY Slade respects Dick....and the fact that even with those extremely different priorities that Slade often doesn’t agree with...Dick STILL manages to come out the winner in a lot of encounters.

So this Slade Wilson who grudgingly admits that Dick Grayson has potential, but that its stunted and wasted without his own training, and because of the ‘weak, ill-advised’ choices that Dick makes and the things Dick prioritizes.....

Like, that has as little to do with actual canon pre-Flashpoint Slade, as the actual canon pre-Flashpoint Dick has to do with the depiction of him in many of these fics. Where Dick feels hopelessly outmatched and inadequate next to Slade or when facing him, like, he desperately starts praying the second Slade enters the fight cuz that’s the only way he’ll survive....or else he feels naive and dumb, or thinks how foolish he must look to Slade, or how raw or untrained or novice.....not to mention the times he’s focused on viewing Slade as a reflection of Bruce in various ways, or his dynamic with Slade as having anything to do with his dynamic with Bruce.

Again...umm, what? No. That’s not how Dick has ever been shown viewing their relationship either. The times he’s in conflict with Slade, he’s not questioning himself or second-guessing his abilities or praying he survives - he’s usually just PISSED, because of whatever thing has brought him into conflict with Slade this time. And not in that fanfic way where he’s unreasonable or irrational because of his anger and it clouds his judgment...in the way where he uses his anger to hone and focus his skills and just keep him going no matter how many hits he takes. Slade is an opponent whose skills Dick absolutely knows better than anyone else, and by extension respects those skills absolutely - but he is at the same time an opponent Dick has faced many times before, AND WALKED AWAY FROM EVERY TIME. 

No, Dick doesn’t take his victory or even his survival against Slade for granted, but he’s not remotely fear-stricken or rendered inadequate by the possibility of failure....he knows that there are no guarantees of success, but by the same token, he’s equally aware that Slade’s reputation is no guarantee of his own failure....with his own track record with the man being proof of that.

And at the same time....when they’re not directly in conflict....Dick does not feel invalidated or naive or dumb when around Slade, because of their age difference. He isn’t suddenly rendered like he feels like he’s a little kid sitting with a grown up. He’s usually just tired. He has as little illusions about Slade as Slade has about him. Dick KNOWS better than ANYONE, just how much Slade doubts and second-guesses his OWN choices, regrets his OWN priorities and decisions at times. So by extension...Dick doesn’t take their encounters OR Slade’s opinion as reason to feel inadequate or second-guess himself? He knows damn well that Slade has a higher opinion of choices that Dick himself even regrets making, than Slade does some of his own decisions. 

There’s not this.....gap between them experience wise, not in the sense that Dick can remotely compare to Slade’s much vaster library of life experiences, but rather in the sense that like.....Dick doesn’t care, you know? That’s not the point. Dick’s never comparing himself or his decisions to Slade’s with a measuring stick any time they encounter each other, because each encounter they have is so vastly more weighted by what they both represent to each other, their shared tragedies and personal failures and regrets, and their mutual awareness of these things and what they embody for each other. Dick - just like Slade himself is - is usually too preoccupied being focused on every thing that being around the other brings up for him....to have any mental energy left over for all this other stuff.

Comic book Dick and Slade, for each other, just carry too much knowledge of the life experiences they both have in common, because of their past interactions and shared connections.

Anyway, I will do another post soon about the comic book Renegade arc in particular, because its SO much more interesting than just the ‘Dick was Slade’s student or apprentice’ facsimile that I think people assume it to be. Like, Dick didn’t go to him as a supplicant, and Slade didn’t for a second think he was actually turning traitor. Slade asked him to train Rose in exchange for Slade’s help with his own plans, in part because Slade RESPECTS Dick’s skills as a trainer of heroes, not seeks him as a student for himself....but ALSO as a kind of manipulation - personally, I think he was hoping to use Dick’s inevitable concern and compassion for Rose as a buffer to keep Dick from betraying Slade or tripping him up when he tried.....and of course Dick actually ended up getting ROSE to turn on Slade instead? 

But at the same time, its not one sided at all, because there was a particularly clever bit about how Dick faced off against Superman as Renegade, and tried to use his heartbeat to send Clark the message that he wasn’t actually betraying the heroes and not to listen to the words he was saying, but the fact that his heartbeat showed that he was lying....except Slade had ANTICIPATED this, and had rigged the glove of Dick’s Renegade costume ahead of time to be like, wirelessly linked to a remote he had as he watched Dick and Clark’s interactions through the video feed on Dick’s mask.....and Slade used this remote to send wireless signals through Dick’s glove that matched the sound of Dick’s heartbeat and in essence let Slade alter the rhythm of what Clark thought was Dick’s heartbeat....but was actually just Slade literally clicking buttons. 

So Dick was getting more and more confused about why even though he was saying all this stuff about being too jaded by the League’s failures and done with heroism, like, why was Clark actually BELIEVING him instead of realizing he was clearly lying from the sound of his heart....and Clark was actively getting more and more upset as he talked and actually trying to FIGHT him and Dick eventually had to flee with Clark actually like.....furious with him, and Dick had no idea why. With this, I think, being one of the things Dick actually full on HATES Slade for the most (and I think what directly motivated Dick getting Rose to turn on her father) - like, Clark has been Dick’s number one support and fan from day one, even when Bruce wasn’t at times. He’s the one person who has pretty much ALWAYS believed in Dick no matter what. 

And Slade managed to take that away. To get Clark to literally look at Dick as the enemy. To not believe him, believe in him. Like. That’s something I don’t think Dick has ever forgiven Slade for or ever will.

So yeah. There’s so much more to Dick and Slade’s dynamic than fics represent, and I wish people delved more into this other stuff, because its so much more INTERESTING in my opinion than just like, your usual ‘older supervillain toys with younger outmatched superhero’ or master and apprentice stuff, etc.

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 4

Skipper Thistlespring and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

We pick back up at The Swan’s Little Parade where rich people shenanigans are taking place. Gorgug breaks from the group to try and call Zelda. When she doesn’t answer, he leaves the saddest, sweetest apology voicemail ever. Lou breaks. Siobhan breaks. I break. 

Meanwhile, the rest of the group gameplans. Adaine pushes back against the idea that they have to talk to Aelwyn. Her parents are also an option and Aelwyn is not a good person, no matter how hot Fabian is for her. They also check out the guest book from the hotel and see that Bill Seacaster has stayed there several times, always right after a Garthy O’Brien (they see that it happened a bunch while they were in jail and it was probably in conjunction with when Bill was supplying palimpsests). Fabian recognizes the name as a pirate and Cathilda knows they run the Gold Gardens which is a floating pirate casino/brothel.

Kristen tries to release Gorthalax but just confirms that, because of the curse, doing it without messing up Gorthalax is gonna be tough. 

Sandra-Lynn goes to get Gorgug while Fig decides to careen the campaign into Crazytown and make herself Empress for Life of the same. She disguises herself as an old lady and tries to drop off a note giving her phone number as the new number of the cop she impersonated last episode (Detective Decker) so she can send a fully grown cop texts that would def get him Chris Hansen’d irl. Brennan decides that if she’s gonna keep making beds, she should probably lie in one of them for once and comes for her entire life in the funniest scene of the episode. No recap I could give can do it justice(links to clips here: x, x). Just know it ends with Fig running away and ditching her phone in a lake, which could very possibly have plot consequences if she forgets to replace her phone before she’s in a tight spot where it would be helpful and the absolute dumbest/funniest reason for a character death (I want to note that she did replace her phone technically, but with a huge, old, brick phone from Adaine’s jacket that can’t be as useful as an actual cell). 

ANYWAY

Tracker creates a Moon Haven in the van which is basically like a dope pillow fort with the Sanctuary spell cast on it and TARDIS bigger-on-the-inside spatial mechanics. Once they’re inside the Moon Haven, Ragh finally feels safe to tell them what he knows--which he does telepathically via Adaine and the message spell to make everything extra safe. Here’s a rundown of what he tells them:

He saw Kalina on the night of prom after the big fight. She was talking to Jace (the sorcery “teacher”) and an elven woman who looked like Adaine in black robes--Adaine confirmed with a picture that it was her mother. 

After being healed by Porter, Ragh started walking home and was stopped by Kalina who said she would kill his mom if he told anyone what he saw. 

Ragh’s mom Lydia is also a half-orc barbarian. She was on a mission in the Red Waste (where the 7 Maidens have their Sophomore Year quest) and they found a soul gem that was leaking something bad. She put it in her chest to contain the evil but at the cost of her health. She’s now extremely sick and in a permanent, medically-induced rage to keep her alive. She refuses medical treatment because no one can ensure the evil won’t be released if they remove the gem. 

His mom fucking slaps.

So that’s all deeply worrying. Adaine invites Ragh and his mom to live with them in the Haunted House and Fig offers to give them Dr. Asha’s number. Gorgug discovers the Van can become a boat which is convenient for the pirate-y things they have to do (the Golden Gardens is on the way to Falinel so they decide to stop there first). Fig has a heart to heart with Gilear while Adaine and Sandra-Lynn take first watch outside since the Moon Haven can only hold nine people. Adaine has to roll a wisdom save because she’s outside of the Haven’s protection and, even on a 16, the music goes all scary and she feels that something is in the tent with her outside. Something humanoid and her size with its knees to its chest. She senses that if she sees its face, something will happen to her and, instead of looking at it, she calls for Sandra-Lynn. By the time she shows up, the thing is gone. Fig assures Adaine that she’s not crazy or seeing things and, based on Adaine’s description, they’re able to deduce that it wasn’t Baron or Kalina. 

In the morning, Gorgug is pretty bummed and asks everyone to call him Skipper. Kristen is very down and Fabian is very not. They discuss whether they should tell all of the information from Ragh to the 7 Maidens (no) and whether Gorgug should call Zelda (yes). They drive into the sea. Gorgug finally talks to Zelda who is not happy with him for the ghosting and unintentional thoughtlessness. She’s even less happy with him when she realizes he forgot to get the generator they needed to stay in touch long distance. They’re breaking up. Do I mean relationship-wise or phone-wise? You don’t know? Well that makes two of us (Thanks, I Hate It).

They’re at sea for two days and then make it to the floating pirate shipwreck city of Leviathan. Pirate adventures next week, y’all! 

Detention

Fig for Trying to Seduce ANOTHER Middle-Aged Man

Listen, I’ll stop putting her here for this when she stops doing this. Not to mention, she invented a whole ass person (HILDA HILDA?????) when she’s just been told that nightmare monsters are being generated from lies. Fig, my girl. Ms. Faeth. Please. I’m begging you. Please. 

Honor Roll

All of the Adults for Stepping Up

Every single adult in this episode was on fire. Fig confided in Gilear and he stepped up to the plate with a This-Is-So-Serious-I’m-Going-To-Use-Your-Actual-Full-Name, speech. Sandra-Lynn showed Adaine how to do some ranger stuff and jumped in to save her when she cried out. Cathilda was ready with warm milk and cookies she somehow was able to make in the van as soon as Adaine needed them. Sandra-Lynn also had a heart to heart with Fig and even Gorthalax, who’s still trapped in the ruby, gave Fig a spell slot back. And, of course, Ragh’s mom slaps. 

Random Thoughts

Adaine and Fabian both being uber rich but being on the opposite ends of the rich people spectrum is hilarious. Adaine is a “Sleeping in a van? I’ve heard of that but I’ve never gotten to do it. This will be fun!” Rich Kid  and Fabian is a “No turn down service? Hard pass,” Rich Kid. 

I was happy that they brought Ragh along for comedy reasons but who knew he was gonna be so chock full of backstory and important story beats? Like, every good GM has a way of making whatever story path that was chosen seem like the only way the story could have gone and I’m sure that whoever was picked, Brennan would have made that seem like the obvious and essential choices but I’m very happy they picked Ragh. Him talking about how much he loves his mom was so adorable! I love that he’s a big, good, dumb boy now and I’m happy they invited him to live at the Haunted House. That’s def gonna be good for some shenanigans (also love that Adaine’s only stipulation was that he had to be nice to Zayn and he was so eager to agree).  

Insane Ally Move of the Game: Deciding that Kristen genuinely doesn’t know Gilear used to be lunch lad at their school. Is Kristen even on the same plane of existence as everyone else. And then, later, “I worry about Gilear.” Do you really???

I totally forgot that Gilear was not only an elven diplomat but also a full on actual counselor. Makes it even wilder that he lost the job to Jawbone. Also, while we’re talking about him, I said we were gonna inevitably gonna get some more color on Gilear this season and we saw some of that in this ep when Adaine uses detect thoughts on him (which, btw, seems like a horribly invasive thing that people do very casually in this world) and we see that he gave up his career for Sandra-Lynn and then was wrecked when she cheated on him. Really puts a melancholy shade over his hilarious ineptness. 

Another thing I figured we’d see soon and that we’re starting to see is Adaine speaking up on Aelwyn. Two times this ep she tried to steer the group away from Aelwyn and seemed more serious than her usual trash talk. As excited as I am for pirate adventures, I want to get to Falinel ASAP to see how this shakes out. 

Also, on the mom front, wild that we found out that Ragh has a super dope mom in the same scene Adaine took another L and found out that her mom is also involved in this shadiness. Black robes are never a good sign. But I will say, just based on the story beats we’ve gotten, I’m not totally sold on the idea that she’s 100% bad--or at least that she doesn’t care for Adaine at all. I’m wondering if she wasn’t at school trying to find Adaine (possibly among other things). 

“Every time you have sex it’s a gamble. You could lose your heart.”/”What happened to you on tour?”

Gorgug trying to let a full sized griffon land on his arm is hilarious. I love that. He’s so wholesome and dumb.

I love that when Emily was doing her Hilda-Hilda nonsense , turned into Detective Decker, and ran past the police house precinct, Lou was the only person who was on her wavelength and understood what she was trying to do while everyone else was like????

We find out in this ep that Van can control all the auxiliary functions of the van but not the actual driving, which is important to know before a sticky situation. On a more personal note, we find out that he was originally a planetar (second most powerful D&D angel) of Elysium, specializing in harmony, relaxation, and chill vibes and he got dumped and kicked out of heaven for sleeping through a call to battle.

We also get the cursed image of a van with hands which I knew was gonna be the shirt and lo and behold. 

“Fuck Me.”/”When.” Y’all are the worst. 

I love that Brennan mentioned Porter in Ragh’s flashback, fully knowing it was gonna trigger Emily. 

Fig’s new plan is to get all of her parents in a throuple and I don’t even know where to begin with that tbh so I won’t.

@voxfantasma made a comment last week that Sandra-Lynn very well could have seen Kalina which is why she can she her in the photo--which is an offhand comment I made when I was talking about the rules of the photo last week--and Ragh’s reaction to the photo is making me move this theory back up to the top spot. I still wish they would show the photo to more people so we’d have more data for this. 

I loved Fig tossing Fabian a bardic inspiration for a compliment even though he didn’t really need it. I also love that she has a rider in her rockstar contract necessitating gogurt be at all her shows for Gilear. 

Adaine paranoidly casting water breathing on everyone at the slightest hint that they may have to go near water. Our girl is learning from the mistakes of the last oracle. 

With the gang facing off against the Nightmare King and Brennan’s description of the thing in Adaine’s tent as being humanoid, about her side, and sitting in a sort of defensive way, I’m wondering it what it was was a manifestation of her own anxiety or something along those lines. Of course, it could just be a normal ass monster. Sometimes the scariest thing is your inner turmoil and sometimes it’s just a monster trying to bite your head off. 

We also learn that Cathilda has a super wild adventurer’s life before she settled down to be a maid--so she knows what she’s missing and she’s fine with it--and also that she is paid ridiculously well, which makes me feel better about what’s going on with her. Also, her moment with Adaine and the cookies was so sweet. My notes for that scene say, “Adaine loves Cathilda and so do I.”

I loved Murph and Riz going equally Pepe Silvia trying to anagram out Garthy O’Brien (which is also what I was doing, especially since Brennan specifically spelled out the name). Cheers to Murph/Riz and Siobhan/Adaine trying to single handedly keep the story on track--both in and out of character.

There’s a part in this ep where Adaine Ray of Frosts Fig who immediately Hellish Rebukes her and that’s truly the kind of step-sister shenanigans I want to see from them as much as possible please and thank you. Also, like I said before, it was very sweet of Fig to reassure Adaine that she wasn’t just seeing things in the tent. Her catfishing middle aged men aside, she can be very empathetic when she wants to be.  

Adaine cast (or tried to cast Friends) on the thing in her tent. And I think it’s very telling about her character that that’s the spell she would cast and not an offensive one. Not that messing w/ someone’s brain is a super chill thing to do or anything, but I think, “Maybe I can calm whoever this is and talk to them and we can get some information,” is a much more measured reaction than maybe, “Let’s blast this thing to kingdom come and ask questions later.”

“Man van is a boat, my boat is a van.”

Brennan lets Adaine roll w/ advantage to convince the Hangman to come with them on the Van (which he still hates) because she said, “Please” really cute which is the kind of arbitrary DM fiat that I love. 

Adaine: We should tell them unless we’re being graded on a curve. (Savage.)

“Fig, she’s a maid. She’s not allowed to lie.”

All the skipper talk this ep got the Gilligan’s Island theme stuck in my head (never seen an ep but my mom watches it sometimes) so the next day I was getting dressed going “With Fabian, and the skipper too, the oracle, the PI,” to the GI theme song. Also, did not know skipper and captain were the same title until Fabian got all upset and I looked it up. Yet another piece of information I know because of some game (along with what a panacea is (Dragon Quest 9) and where the CDC is (Pandemic)).

Gorgug, being offered a virgin daiquiri: No thanks, I’m driving. (I’ve said this before: Zac low key has the best comic timing of anyone.)

When Riz is angraming, one of the things he ends up with is something about a “night yorb” which Brennan decided is a real thing that both the Hangman and the Van are very wary about. Having the Hangman constantly being like, “SPEAK NOT OF THE NIGHT YORB!” and the Van being like, “Seriously, don’t fuck with the night york,” was so funny and such nonsense. I can’t wait for the night yorb mini boss fight that has to happen now because of the rule of funny.

Gorgug comes down from his call with Zelda and everyone except for Fabian (and probably Ragh who cannon-balls off the boat w/ Fabian and they both have to be rescued by Sandra-Lynn) knows exactly what happened immediately. Aw, buddy. One of my favorite things about media where you have kids saving the world is you have relationship drama and also the world is ending and it all feels equally high stakes. I find that so funny but also it feels very representative of what high school was like, or at least what it felt like (minus the literal apocalypse, obv. Or maybe not. Idk what was going on at your high school). 

Adaine continues lending out Boggy to anyone who needs him.

Also, Gorgug tries to build a cell tower with driftwood and parts from Adaine’s jacket. It’s not going super hot. 

Both Adaine and Riz are podcast nerds and listen to This Solesian Life. All checks out. Their friendship is underrated.  

“I’m feeling really bad and my van is a boat.”

“I was gonna be straight edge except for drugs,” gives me “Sober salad” energy. 

The whole discussion about Kristen getting tracker silly putty for her birthday. 

The Van was serving some serious Ned Flanders energy along with the Owen Wilson energy this episode. 

Brennan does pretty good whale noises. 

Only crit this episode is Fig with a nat 20 insight to know Gorgug’s conversation with Zelda did not go well. Which is something she’d crit on.

[johannesviii]

Top 10 Personal Favorite Hit Songs from 2006

17 to 18 years old. First to second university year, studying History. Another slightly chaotic year, to be honest.

It’s yet another great year for hits, even if 2005 and 2007 are both even better.

Disclaimers:

Keep in mind I’m using both the year-end top 100 lists from the US and from France while making these top 10 things. There’s songs in English that charted in my country way higher than they did in their home countries, or even earlier or later, so that might get surprising at times.

Of course there will be stuff in French. We suck. I know. It’s my list. Deal with it.

My musical tastes have always been terrible and I’m not a critic, just a listener and an idiot.

I have sound to color synesthesia which justifies nothing but might explain why I have trouble describing some songs in other terms than visual ones.

At this point it was beginning to be clear that my mother wanted me out of the appartment as quickly as possible so staying at home was becoming more and more unpleasant. I basically spent most of my day outside or at the library when I wasn’t in class, then ate dinner and slept at home. I had a few friends at university but was very unpopular (by the start of the second year, my nickname was “the hobo”, mostly because I was always wearing the same old black coat and bad jeans, but also because I liked to fish for coins under vending machines cause I had next to no money). I also had a brief but extremely bad relationship that year, which ended with me punching the dude back after he punched me between two classes near the end of the year.

While making these lists I found a tape labelled “spring 2006″ and nothing else. I think it’s one of the last tapes I ever made.

After listening to it, it contained:

Mr Brightside (The Killers) (who’s surprised?)

Crazy, by Seal, but sung by a woman. No idea who that is. (Edit: Alanis Morissette! thank you purplecyborgnewt)

Alice & June (Indochine)

You And Me (Lifehouse)

A couple of seconds of Precious, Depeche Mode

Oui (Zazie)

Precious (Depeche Mode) again. A radio host states it’s the n°15 favorite song on Europe 2 that week, whichever week that was.

City of Blinding Lights (U2)

Nolwenn Ohwo (Nolwenn Leroy)

Fragment of Song to Say Goodbye (Placebo), then the entire song.

The ending of Talk (Coldplay), followed by another fragment of Talk

Juste Après (Fredericks, Goldman & Jones)

Talk (Coldplay), this time in its entirety (I can still smell the frustration more than 13 years away)

Broken (Seether)

Enjoy the Silence 2004 (Depeche Mode)

Fragment of Missing (Evanescence), followed by nearly the entire song

Jeune et Con (Saez)

A bit of a radio show I found funny

An obscure remix of Sans Contrefaçon (Mylène Farmer).

So yeah, I stopped making tapes around that time. I also only bought two cd singles that year.

Just like the previous year, some of my favorite albums from that year have exactly zero singles elligible for this list. They are Alice & June by Indochine, and Meds by Placebo. The worst part? One of the best songs on Indochine’s album is a goddamn duet with Brian Molko from Placebo. It’s called Pink Water and it’s great. Please listen to it if you don’t know it yet. What can I say, I’m a weak and simple person, I hear a duet between two singers I adore, and I die instantly.

Anyway. Meds is kind of underrated as far as Placebo’s discography goes and I’m especially fond of Infrared, which was one of the songs of the year for me. Indochine’s Alice & June, meanwhile, is a concept double album about two girls making a suicide pact. It’s a bit of a mess and it’s not as tight as Paradize was but it’s still really, really good for the most part. The first eponymous single should have been elligible. But it isn’t. I’m sad.

On to the honorable mentions!

So Sick (Ne-Yo) - Usually this kind of music just sounds bland to me, but that one was really pleasant.

Miracle (Cascada) - Not as good as Everytime we touch. Still a lot of fun.

Smack That (Akon) - This shouldn’t be this catchy.

Pump It (Black Eyed Peas) - Same here.

Living On Video (Pakito) - I only just now realised this was a cover. What the hell.

SOS (Rihanna) - Not her best song. Still good.

L’Amour N’est Rien (Mylène Farmer) - Really funny lyrics, meh song.

World Hold On (Bob Sinclar) - Stay tuned for more.

Hips Don’t Lie (Shakira) - Song of the summer, whether you liked it or not. Fortunately, I liked it a lot.

Chasing Cars (Snow Patrol) - Very pleasant.

SexyBack (Justin Timberlake) - That beat is just incredible.

Call Me When You’re Sober (Evanescence) - I remember Rock Mag finishing their KarmaCode (Lacuna Coil) review with “We hope Evanescence’s next album will be fantastic, because this is their most serious rival yet.” And nope, Evanescence’s album wasn’t nearly as good as KarmaCode. But this song still made the year-end list, while nothing from Lacuna Coil ever crossed over. Our Truth SHOULD have been a huge hit. It had a ton of crossover appeal. One of the biggest musical tragedies of the year right there. Oh well, the Evanescence single is still good though.

Say It Right (Nelly Furtado & Timbaland) - The last cut from the list, and when you’ll see what replaced it, you are going to hate me.

And now, the top ten.

10 - Everytime We Touch (Cascada)

US: #31 / FR: #5

This kicked Nelly Furtado off the list.

I am not sorry, just so you know.

9 - Ridin’ (Chamillionaire)

US: #8 / FR: Not on the list

This is a song about respecting the law and driving at a reasonable speed and cops being mad because they can’t do anything against you. He’s a gangster, just... not doing anything illegal at the moment. I absolutely adore that concept. This is the best.

8 - Crazy (Gnarls Barkley)

US: #7 / FR: #29

I’ve never met someone who disliked this song, and for that reason I have nothing to say about it. It’s just one of these tunes, like Hey Ya, which are too perfect to argue or say anything constructive about them.

7 - Temperature (Sean Paul)

US: #2 / FR: #48

Half of this top ten 10 is made of absolute bangers with untouchable beats and you know what, I really miss that time, mostly because the current charts are morose and depressed (for good reasons, but still). This is no Get Busy, but come on, who can say we need less Sean Paul in our lives? Not me that’s for sure.

By the way, one of the very first videos I saw on (the very new at the time) youtube was a misheard lyrics version of this song. I think you all know which one it is, the original has been deleted but it was reuploaded several times since then.

6 - Rock This Party (Bob Sinclar & Cutee B)

US: Not on the list / FR: #19

You really can’t go wrong with this “Everybody dance now” sample, and this is one seriously kickass song, and yet another banger on a list already full of them. Also, this was possibly the best music video of the entire year, featuring three kids trying to imitate music videos from just about every popular genre. Check it out if you’ve never seen it, it will make your day.

5 - Marly-Gomont (Kamini)

US: Not on the list / FR: #1

Possibly the most unexpected hit song of the decade in my country. Basically, this guy made a rap song about the tiny rural village he was living in, and a funny music video shot on a 100€ budget to show to his friends and family. And it was well written. And it was hilarious, while still being insightful. And it became a viral sensation. And it charted! And suddenly it became the biggest hit of the year.

If you’ve never heard it, here it is. There was no translation available for it on lyricstranslate, so I made an account just to translate it myself. You’re welcome. Please give it a try. It’s great. It was a hit for a good reason, and I promise you the music video is funny even if you don’t speak the language.

4 - Slipping Away/Crier la Vie (Mylène Farmer & Moby)

US: Not on the list / FR: #15

So, uh, earlier in this post I said “What can I say, I’m a weak and simple person, I hear a duet between two singers I adore, and I die instantly.”

This is a duet between Mylène Farmer and Moby, based on a song from Hotel, which, if you recall, I listened to on a loop the previous year.

My poor heart didn’t need this. What did I do to deserve this. What a blessing.

3 - Over My Head (Cablecar) (The Fray)

US: #13 / FR: Not on the list

This was my #1 at some point. Then I realised the version I kept listening to was a punk rock version by A Day To Remember from Punk Goes Pop, and that I had nearly forgotten what the original sounded like. So I listened to it, and it’s still very, very nice, but it’s not quite the same.

I still bought the album, though.

2 - Nolwenn Ohwo (Nolwenn Leroy)

US: Not on the list / FR: #43

I had completely (and I do mean completely) forgotten about this song until I started to check the French year-end top 100 to make this list. Erased from my mind entirely by some sort of MiB neuralyser. And I was like “hang on, wasn’t this a good song? This rings a bell. I used to love it, didn’t I?” (and sure enough, it’s on that 2006 tape I found). So I wrote it down for the honorable mentions, just in case.

Before making the definitive list, I put the song on, and I felt like the critic in Ratatouille having a flashback.

Holy. Shit.

I remembered ALL the lyrics. While listening to it, in under three minutes I successively put it in the 6th spot, then the 4th, and when it ended, it was #2 on the list. I downloaded it and put it back on my mp3 player and on my playlists. I’ve listened to it about 30 times in the past week. It’s so great. How did I ever forget this song existed. I feel so alive.

I never cared about this singer, but this is written by Laurent Voulzy, who’s music I actually love, and he’s firing on all cylinders here. Just listen to it. Please.

It could have easily topped the list if it wasn’t for the most useful and helpful song in the entire year.

1 - Pas le Temps (Faf Larage)

US: Not on the list / FR: #2

I never watched a single episode of Prison Break. This was the French version of the opening song. I don’t even know what happens in the series. I don’t really care.

I. Adore. This song. It’s yet another #1 that helped me a lot.

The beat is untouchable and this rap is actual poetry. Not even remotely kidding. Here’s a part of one of the verses.

Aussi loin que la lumière semble s'éteindre (As far as the light seems to flicker) Seule une étincelle au fond de moi peut l'atteindre (Only the spark hidden inside of me can reach it) (...) Les dés sont jetés, rien n'est joué (the dice is tossed, the game is set) Même le sort retient son souffle piégé dans ce sablier (even fate holds its breath, trapped in this hourglass) J'ai décidé de ne pas être prisonnier (I decided I wouldn’t be a prisoner) J'n'ai que ma vie à offrir si jamais j'échouais (I only have my life to offer if I ever fail) Pas le choix faut y'aller (No choice, let’s go)

The line “pas le choix, faut y aller” (no choice, let’s go) keeps being repeated in the entire song and it’s so, SO motivational. As I said before, 2006 was not as bad as 2003 but it was still a difficult year - at the end of it, I was an adult with no money, very little hope for the future, no diploma yet apart from the highschool one, still trying to NOT become a ball of anger because of a couple of assholes in class, all of this with dysphoria and a mother who wanted to kick me out as soon as possible. And I wanted to win, and punch the world, and say here I come, I’m alive, I survived, better watch out.

Si je dois exceller, tout donner, prendre c'que j'peux (If I need to be the best, give everything, take whatever I can) Si le monde m'appartient restez pas au milieu (If the world is mine, don’t stay in my way) Et si le sort est contre moi c'est tant pis (And if fate is against me, too bad) On fait des plans pour s'en sortir, écoute (We’re making plans to survive, listen) Pas le choix faut y'aller (No choice, let’s go)

This song defined the entire year for me. This was my fight song. Everytime I wanted to give up, it was there to give me a very simple reminder.

No choice. Let’s go.

Next up: here it is, at last, the absolute best hit song of the decade

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of July 24th, 2019

Best of this Week: Wonder Woman #75 - G. Willow Wilson, Xermanico, Jesus Merino, Vicente Cifuentes, Romulo Fajardo Jr. and Pat Brosseau

Ever since the beginning of DC Rebirth, Wonder Woman has been trying to get back home to Themyscira and on this amazing anniversary issue of her book, she’s finally home, but not in the way that she expected.

The book begins with Grail, the daughter of Darkseid, sitting on Hippolyta’s throne. She muses about how boring it was to listen to Ares stories as they were both trapped elsewhere and when he escaped and died, she was freed. The first thing she did? Take the God Killer Sword and take what she believed to be rightfully hers.

Grail has been a thorn in Wonder Woman’s side since her introduction during the Darkseid War (2017). She’s appeared regularly as an enemy of Wonder Woman with her schemes normally involving a way for her to take over Themyscira and it seems as though she’s finally gotten her with. Even more so that a few of the Amazons, including one of Wonder Woman’s most trusted friends, Nubia, is apparently among their ranks.

General Antiope and a few others welcome Wonder Woman back to a realm just outside of Themyscira known as Dimension Chi and they inform her of what has happened. Some Amazons decide to dance to welcome back their beloved princess, but Antiope does not as she worries that they aren’t yet prepared for battle, especially not Maggie, the woman who found Antiope’s sword in a lake. The two decide it’s best to train them all up before the fighting starts.

We get a wonderful training montage of Wonder Woman masterfully teaching her fellow Amazons and Maggie, but she and Antiope still worry that it all might not be enough. Wonder Woman thinks she has an ace up her sleeve as she has Atlantiades, a goddess of love and light that was previously trapped on Earth and who is also in love with Wonder Woman, fitted with armor for the battle.

Grail, having held Hippolyta prisoner, tells the queen to renounce her crown in front of her warriors, but Hippolyta is having none of that. She would rather be drowned in the sea than acquiesce to Grail’s cowardly demands and shames the Amazons that have joined her. Before she could push the Quen into the water, an arrow lands at Grails feet and Wonder Woman Amazons break through the barrier of Dimension Chi and attack Grail and her forces. 

Wonder Woman grasps Grail right by the throat as her God Killer Sword suddenly goes missing, but decides to give Darkseid’s daughter a fighting chance. Jesus Merino takes over the art for these pages and the fight itself is pretty damn fantastic. Wonder Woman and Grail look like amazing pillars of strength and beauty surrounded by the clashing swords and spears of the other Amazon Warriors. 

Merino has a knack for action scenes as his shots are absolute quality. Grail has absolute fury in her strikes with little to no finesse. Diana, of course is a very defensive and honorable fighter, a fault that Grail makes use of as she trips Diana to run away. On the other page, Antiope and Nubia engage each other in battle and their faces are drawn in warriors anger, Nubia telling Antiope that maybe not all is what it seems after Antiope chastises her for betrayal.

Maggie tries to make a break to the cave where Hippolyta has been moved to, but Grail takes a knife and makes a mad dash herself, knocking Maggie out of the fight before Wonder Woman follows suit after a distraction by the radiant Atlantiades. Wonder Woman corners Grail who reveals her best leverage - Isadore, the daughter of Wonder Woman’s arch enemy Veronica Cale who hasn’t been seen since the early days of this Wonder Woman run. Wonder Woman drops her weapons in order to see the girl unhurt, but, of course, Grail is a snake and attempts to slit her throat before an arrow catches in her hamstring. Nubia betrays Grail, saving Isadore and Hippolyta and ends this book with Grail back in chains and a hug between mother and daughter… until a new Offer is made involving the God Killer Sword and a certain feline villain.

G. Willow Wilson took the ball and ran with it when she took over Wonder Woman. Her run, so far, has been action packed, funny and heartwarming. It took her time to find footing, but this has been mostly great. I’m certain she’s going to continue, hopefully to issue #100 and I’m glad because she’s found an effective way to build upon Wonder Woman’s relationships and her mythology. Now that she’s back in Themyscira, for however long it lasts, I wonder what kind of stories Wilson will be able to tell, especially with Year of the Villain going on.

---------------------------------------------------

Flash has never been one to let anything slow him down, be it his job, relationship with Iris West or even speed sapping supervillains. He’s always moving forward and this anniversary issue cements that very idea as he recollects events from his past and figures out how to become a better hero, a better man through it. At the same time, one of his most deadly enemies moves forward towards Doom.

Runner Up: The Flash #75 - Joshua Williamson, Howard Porter, Hi-Fi, Steve Wands, Scott Kolins, Luis Guerrero and Christian Duce

Beginning with the final minutes of his intense battle with two versions of The Turtle, one from the far future and one from the modern day, at least at the time. Sneaking through the structure that Future Turtle brought to the past to enslave the citizens of Central City, Iris West screams that The Fash isn’t the only one who can fight back and destroys the control panel, freeing them. Inspired by The Flash’s efforts while he fights the two Turtles, the citizens fight back against the villains forces. Flash begins to get overpowered by the combined might of the turtles, but he digs deep and pulls out his greatest weapon: Hope. He runs faster and harder, using his brain to push through and defeats Turtle.

It’s an inspiring moment made even better with Porter’s kinetic and amazingly stylized art work. Lines are jagged, but clean, Hi-Fi’s colors are bright and vibrant to give even more energy and brightness to each panel. I love how each spark of lightning glows on Flash’s costume to give this chapter the sense of speed befitting the hero. What makes the even better is the shift downward, back to Barry just being his normal self, helping the modern day Turtle instead of just sending him back to prison as Iris looks on in love. Time passes and on presumably one of the first of many Flash days, Iris brings her nephews Wally and Wallace to meet Barry before they join the parade and this chapter ends with Wally and Barry talking about the Flash before a two page spread of The Flash and various members of the Flash Family new and old, a sign of things to come maybe?

Coming back to the modern day, Barry meets the new Avatar of the Still Force who has chosen to show Barry this vision of a time that he’s forgotten to remind him of the hope that he had lost after the events of Heroes in Crisis. Ultimately, Barry decides that he has to prepare, find new allies, work with enemies, but the first step… rebuilding the destroyed Flash Museum. He puts everything back together by himself, the building, the exhibits and all of the statues of Wallace, Impulse, The Flash of China and both statues of Wally West, the one he truly let down. Barry looks towards the future with bright eyes and nothing but hope.

On the other side of the world however, Leonard Snart is going through the motions. After having been transferred to the Suicide Squad following the murder of another inmate of Iron Heights, Snart has grown wary of seeing the people he’s worked with die. He watches as some villain named Snakebite tries to make an ultimately fruitless escape and has his head exploded. Snart reminisces of the days when he had a reliable and smart crew of people that he could trust on his side. He misses The Rogues.

He sits in his cell and simply thinks that he’s “playing it safe” just like his awful father. When he was a Rogue he made his own rules, did things on his terms, but with the Suicide Squad, he’s on someone elses dime. He absolutely hates it and when he’s called in for another missions, not five minutes after his last, he just screams for Waller or the guard in front of him to kill him. Suddenly the guards head explodes and the wall to Snart’s cell is blown open and a drone comes through.

Lex Luthor has an Offer for Snart if he’s willing to take it. Snart doesn’t even question it and only asks that the other Rogues get the same deal, then they’ll go after the Flash. I almost lost my mind here, not only because Luthor referenced Snart acting as his bodyguard in the middle of the New 52, but also their time on the Justice League and how foolish they were. Doom is the only way forward for them and Snart has become a hard man. The Rogues have always been a particular brand of non-violent, but Snart is absolutely a killer now and who’s to say how time has changed the rest of the gang?

Doom Awaits.

[theoldestsoultrilogy]

First and foremost, it saddens and sickens me to hear that yet another Hollywood child star has died. The world woke up to the shocking news this morning that, according to about 20 billion articles online which all contain a freakishly consistent uniformity,

“Cameron Boyce, best known for his roles in a number of Disney Channel films and television shows, has tragically passed away at the age of 20. According to Boyce’s family, the young actor, dancer and singer passed in his sleep after suffering a seizure, the result of an ongoing medical condition.”

This young, absolutely adorable, freckle-faced boy at the beginning of his life is now gone. For good. How are we to make sense of this utterly tragic news? But, what if I told you, like with most if not all child star deaths, all is not what it seems.

What if you knew there was more to the story? A lot more.

It took me less than 20 minutes of digging to connect Cameron Boyce to shady charities involved in child slavery, pedophiles and predators, and dicey elites like Richard Branson. All while the evil overlords at Google seem to have begun dramatically ratcheting up their control of the flow of information. These draconian measures seem to have increased in the past week, which was not a good one for squeaky clean, allegedly family friendly Disney.

https://twitter.com/Tiff_FitzHenry/status/1145017021794529281

Disney megastar Bella Thorne revealed that she was being molested from the time she was 6-14, AND EVERYONE AROUND HER KNEW, AND NO ONE DID ANYTHING.

I want you to think about that for a moment. Let it sink in. Who could or would allow the sexual abuse of a 6 year old to go on? Why might they do this?

Once you begin to allow yourself to mull these horrific questions, and mull them we must, you’ll start to find the timing of Cameron Boyce’s sudden death particularly odd. Are other Disney child stars, with stories like Bella’s to tell, becoming emboldened? Had Cameron experienced similar things? Did those closest to him turn a blind eye? How plausible is it that a person who’s been famous for 11 years dies suddenly of a supposed health condition that’s serious enough to take the life of a perfectly healthy-seeming 20 year old and yet this mystery condition has never been mentioned before? Not anywhere that I can find at least.

Today I just want to present you with 10 relevant facts you likely may not know about Cameron Boyce his career and the people who surrounded him, but as always I want you to draw your own conclusions, think for yourself, and feel free to share your thoughts with me on Twitter.

Start here: Cameron’s IMDB. It is extensive and includes not only a long list of Disney shows and films such as Jessie, Shake It Up, Good Luck Charlie, and the recent Descendants, but also Grown-Ups and Grown-Ups 2, a new TV series called Paradise City (a spin-off of the very obscure and not successful 2017 film American Satan) cause, obviously.

As well as films such as Mirror and Eagle Eye which Cameron starred in alongside fellow former Disney kid Shia LeBeouf

and Cory Booker’s reluctant “girlfriend” Rosario Dawson, whom an inside source has shared with me has no say in the situation whatsoever. A virtual slave.

https://twitter.com/Tiff_FitzHenry/status/1144082428551712768

Alright, here we go.

1. SOCIAL MEDIA DEATH HOAX IN 2017

When you start to understand more deeply that the information that reaches you is being shaped and molded in order to shape and mold YOU, and that celebrity influence is owned and controlled for the very same reason, you’ll begin to look at things like “leaked nudes” and even “death hoax’s and rumors” a little differently. You’ll start to consider that perhaps these are tools used to influence the influencers, to modify behavior when they’re off message, or stray from their instructed course. Here Cameron Boyce and his Descendants co-star Dove Cameron joking about the ‘death hoax.’

But can you imagine anything more traumatizing than seeing headlines tearing across the internet announcing your own death to the world? Consider the possibility that things like fear, humiliation, and loss of control are used to keep celebrities in line. Consider the possibility that this was a veiled threat.

Case in point, the front page headline on Snapchat the very next day after the recent bombshell Bella Thorne interview [posted above] went viral.

The humiliating ‘story’ was snagged from a random Instagram post back in 2016, but it just happened to be front page news the day that articles in major outlets were carrying the story of the revelations from her recent interview.

For the record, Bella herself retweeted the video of her interview from my original tweet. Kinda makes you think, right?

2. MEET KENNY ORTEGA

Friends, if you haven’t heard the name Kenny Ortega, I guarantee that you soon will. He is an A-list Hollywood Choreographer and Director whose #MeToo moment is rumored to be decades overdue. He is the Director of Cameron Boyce’s most recent Disney project, the Descendants (parts 1, 2 and 3) where he played the fictional son of Cruella De Vil.

With a long list of impressive credits including everything from Disney’s Newsies, and the mega-hit High School Musical franchise to Dirty Dancing, and Pretty in Pink, as well as a distinguished run directing iconic music videos and live tours for the likes of Gloria Estefan and Michael Jackson, Kenny Ortega is the Hollywood equivalent of a mafia ‘made man.’ As if to prove it, which the cult loves to publicly do, Netflix (cough cough the C.I.A.) just entered into a very lucrative multi-year overall deal with Ortega, announced April 9th 2019.

So, how does one become a ‘made-man’ in Hollywood?

There are several ways, all of which involve selling your soul.

One way is to appear as the key witness in the $40 million dollar wrongful death lawsuit brought by Michael Jackson’s mother and three children, and lobby on behalf of concert promoter AEG.

‘He wasn’t being very responsible!’ This Is It producer Kenny Ortega testifies Michael Jackson and Conrad Murray were to blame for untimely death

What’s the big deal anyway? Ortega’s longtime ‘friend’ and admitted ‘greatest inspiration’ is already dead, Dr. Murray is in prison and everyone who profited the most off MJ rode off into the proverbial sunset. Zero accountability. Suffice it to say, Kenny Ortega is on Paris Jackson’s very telling shit list, right next to Oprah and David Geffen.

3. CRAZY DAYS AND NIGHTS 

Another way to get on the inside of the Hollywood Prison Pyramid is to be a compromised and or compromise-able person (depending on what level you’re at.)

You see, Hollywood might look like it’s about movies and TV shows and acting and stuff, but it’s really just about something called “controlled influence.” It’s about owning and controlling all those who are ‘given’ the platform to influence YOU. In order to get that platform you have to be ‘willing to do anything.’ Even as a screenwriter with several hot projects, I was instructed to say these very words. Words which I was told, in no uncertain terms by my high powered agent, that the head executives at places like ABC (Disney) were waiting to hear me say. Yeah, let that sink in.

And, think about it, isn’t it easier to own people who routinely do things that could put them in jail if anyone ever found out? This is why sick degenerate behavior is rampant amongst the influential. They’re not only enabled to get away with it (see Bill Cosby, Harvey Weinstein, Matt Lauer, Louis C.K., James Gunn, Brett Ratner, Les Moonves, etc.,) criminal behavior is encouraged! Yes, Hollywood and Washington are a cesspool by design! Neat, right? 🙄

It’s my opinion that the death is referring to Cameron, the ‘director’ is Kenny Ortega, and the franchise is High School Musical or the Descendants, where underage actors and actresses were and are being ‘turned out’ — all as a part of this cesspool system. When it comes to the children, it’s the parents who sell their soul on their behalf.

There’s a long list of Creepy Kenny Ortega stuff to dig up, the latest clip wigging people out is his handsy way with Cameron Boyce’s Descendants co-star Dove Cameron.

Moving on.

4. THE KENNY ORTEGA JEFF BEZOS CONNECTION

As if you needed one more reason to claw and hiss at Kenny Ortega should you ever encounter him, he’s been involved with C.I.A. Amazon Jeff Bezo’s now ex-wife’s ‘anti-bullying’ organization, Bystander Revolution, which she founded in 2014 for whatever dumbass reason.

No seriously I bet this foundation is really changing the world you guys (she said SUPER sarcastically)

5. ORTEGA, EISNER, SANDLER OH MY!

You can learn a lot by who says what, and when. The very first ‘public figures to address Boyce’s death on social media this morning was Kenny Ortega, followed by Disney CEO Michael Eisner, and quickly thereafter by Adam Sandler. Sandler wrote, starred in and produced Grown-Ups and Grown-Ups 2; Cameron Boyce appears in both.

To the keen observer, this little tweet parade felt extremely coordinated, intentional and quite frankly pre-planned.

View this post on Instagram

My Love, Light and Prayers go out to Cameron and his Family. Cameron brought Love, Laughter and Compassion with him everyday I was in his presence. His talent, immeasurable. His kindness and generosity, overflowing. It has been an indescribable honor and pleasure to know and work with him. I will see you again in all things loving and beautiful my friend. I will search the stars for your light. Rest In Peace Cam. You will always be My Forever Boy! 💔

A post shared by Kenny Ortega (@kennyortegablog) on Jul 6, 2019 at 7:42pm PDT

“My forever boy.” Yeah, that’s not creepy at all.  Ortega later clarified that this was a Peter Pan reference, which makes it even worse if you understand the pedophile troupes in Peter Pan.

https://twitter.com/RobertIger/status/1147858501021995008

https://twitter.com/AdamSandler/status/1147859788794961921

Nice picture Adam, real subtle. Don’t worry, you’re ‘signal’ has been sent and received.

Adam is being such a good cabal puppet these days ya’ll.

Here you see he’s being rewarded:

Netflix reveals 30M accounts viewed Adam Sandler-led ‘Murder Mystery’

At a time when box office is limping along like the terminally wounded wildebeest it is, allegedly this film would have CRUSHED opening weekend, had it been released at the box office of course, which it wasn’t. I guess we’ll just have to take Netflix’s word for it since they (somehow) get to keep all their data to themselves for whatever as yet explained or justified reason! 👍

Now that I think about it, there’s someone else who does that too. They’re really powerful and super secretive, who is that again? Oh that’s right, it’s the C.I.A.! (Netflix is the C.I.A.)

I’m sure the fact that Murder Mystery was filmed at cabal kingpin George Clooney’s favorite lake in Italy where weird high brow art/child trafficking things go down, and written by an actual fucking Vanderbilt has nothing to do with anything.

I’m sure all that’s random. It’s not like there’s this handful of psychopathic elite bloodline families feasting on the blood of children who’ve held humanity hostage for generations or whatever.

Alright, onward internet friends. As you may have noticed, there are thousands of images of Cameron Boyce online. You have to really search to find this one where he’s got two fingers framing his left eye and covering his mouth, as if he’s been silenced by some group (hint: see above paragraph).

Well done, Adam. Good thinking choosing this picture to post alongside your tribute. This might even get you an Emmy nomination. You see, Adam isn’t bloodline, so he has to do stuff like this to keep his cult membership in good standings.

Note another very recent sudden celebrity death. This is Mac Miller’s final Instagram photo, which posted just hours before his death by ‘accidental overdose.’

Well would you look at that, 2 fingers framing his left eye, and his mouth covered. Almost as if it’s a sign to others not to speak out or they’ll whack you

Here’s the final Instagram picture Cameron “allegedly” posted of himself, also just hours before his death. There’s that left eyes again. Hmmmm.

6. CREEPY JOE BIDEN

Cameron introduced former Vice President Joe Biden at his Biden Courage Awards back in March. Today, Biden tweeted his condolences.

https://twitter.com/JoeBiden/status/1147991178689810437

I think we can all agree that children and Joe Biden don’t mix.

6. HE RECENTLY FIRED HIS AGENT OVER SEX ASSAULT CHARGES

After Stranger Things child star Finn Wolfhard fired APA agent Tyler Grasham over sexual abuse allegations which came to light, Cameron, who was also represented by Grasham, fired him the same week.

However, in predictable Pedowood fashion, the LA prosecutor won’t prosecute the felony rape charges from multiple accusers. Now it looks like he’s escaped criminal charges altogether, and Hollywood is even looking at rehiring him in a talent agent capacity.

At this point, there’s no disputing that Hollywood protects pedophiles. The question you should be asking yourself is, why?

7. RECENTLY DISCUSSED THE DARK DAYS

“For about a year of my life, if I didn’t have to leave my house, I wouldn’t,” he said in a recent interview of his darkest period. “It was a bad way of dealing with fame, but it’s a scary feeling to know that everybody is looking at you all the time.” Cameron has learned to cope with it, though, and is adamant that he’ll use his platform of over 7 million Instagram followers for good. He’s started working with a charity called The Thirst Project, and is spreading the word about the group’s push to bring clean water to millions around the world who desperately need it.”

8. THE THIRST PROJECT / WE CHARITY

It appears that Cameron Boyce was involved with two separate but equally suspicious charities (side note: charities are just slush funds for rich people).

The Thirst Project’s list of partners includes the notoriously dicey Clinton Charities among multiple Hollywood studios. By its own admission they appear to be all about water but in reality focus most heavily on tailoring curriculum to influence political activism in school children in the United States (which is what the very powerful are most focused on right now).

Similarly, WE Charity, formerly known as Free The Children, is “an international development charity and youth empowerment movement founded in 1995 by human rights advocates Marc and Craig Kielburger. The organization implements development programs in Asia, Africa and Latin America, focusing on education, water, health, food and economic opportunity. It also runs domestic programming for young people in Canada, the U.S. and U.K., promoting service learning and active citizenship.”

So, the same thing.

This link is a must read eye-opening article about the 2 brothers who started We Charities – The Cult of Kielburger

We Charity – connected to child slavery  

We Charity is connected to Unilever, Microsoft

We Charity – connected to Richard Branson. The brothers co-authored a book with Holly Branson, daughter of Richard Branson. Richard and Holly also produced the docu-series Shameless Idealist with the We Charity founders.

I am certain there is much more to be unearthed down the rabbit hole of these two charitable foundations/elite slush funds. For Cameron’s part there’s a good chance he was either unaware of the corruption or if he was aware, involvement was not his choice but a decision that was made for him.

Side note, Necker Island (Branson’s) is about thirty five miles from Epstein’s island.

You know Jeffrey Epstein who was arrested Saturday and being arraigned as we speak for running an international child sex trafficking operation to entice, entrap and ensnare elites particularly in Hollywood, DC and the UK, in order for even more powerful people to control their influence. His indictment was unsealed at 9am this morning.

Is it all connected?

9. HOLLYWOOD GAY MAFIA

Michael Ovitz, once President of Disney and founder of Hollywood mega agency CAA, who was run out of town, famously said that Hollywood is run by a cabal led by  Dreamworks co-founder David Geffen which Ovitz described as the “gay mafia.”

Here’s a little deep dive on Geffen/Oprah

In addition to Geffen, the list he rattled off of this “gay mafia” included The New York Times Hollywood correspondent Bernie Weinraub, Disney Chairman (and former employer) Michael Eisner; Bryan Lourd, Kevin Huvane, and Richard Lovett, partners at CAA, Universal Studios president Ronald Meyer (Ovitz’s former partner at CAA); and Barry Diller.

In regard to Cameron, I can’t help but think twice about the very first episode of Disney show Jessie, his break out role. For a good portion of the episode, he’s in his underwear.

It is no secret that young boys are systemically abused in Hollywood, but how deep does all this really go?

10. DEBBY RYAN

Cameron’s Jessie co-star Debby Ryan started her career on Barney and Friends

Alongside future Disney starlets Selina Gomez

And Demi Lovato

If you remember, the actor who played Barney was arrested for selling child pornography of children as young as 10.

After that, Debby Ryan had a stint on the Disney show Suite Life on Deck for which Disney hired Brian Peck to work as dialogue coach with the kids, after he’d been to jail for child molestation and was a registered sex offender.

Yes, you heard that right.

Disney hired a convicted child sex predator and registered sex offender to work on their children’s show. Did I mention he was hired specifically to work with children?

Brian Peck remains a registered sex offender to this day and was still being employed by Hollywood as recently as 2016.

Ryan was also featured on The Jonas Brother’s, Wizards of Waverly Place and Hannah Montana before getting her big break and a starring role in her own Disney Channel show, Jessie.

We’ve all watched the personal issues Gomez, Lovato and Debby Ryan have had over the years. It’s time we understand what we’re looking at, a system I call The Prison Pyramid.

Conclusion

I hope you’ll dig further into all these data points and start to connect all the dots that need connecting. Cameron Boyce’s death strikes at the heart of why I’m building a new Hollywood. 

Love and Light to all.

In Unconditional Love,

Tiffany

    Cameron Boyce, Pedowood, and The Disney Death Machine First and foremost, it saddens and sickens me to hear that yet another Hollywood child star has died.

[bthenoise]

Here Are The Top 10 Most Anticipated Fall Tours Coming Your Way

Do you smell that? No, not the smell of your disgusting roommate leaving out his leftover asparagus for the hundredth time -- AGAIN WITH THE ASPARAGUS, STEVE?! What we’re talking about is the crisp and golden smell of fall.

With us being three weeks into September, that means two things: We’re one step closer to sweater weather and finally, the fall tour schedule is upon us.  

That’s right, without even looking at your phone calendar, we can bet you’re already anticipating an incredibly busy next few months. With countless bands announcing plans to tour later this year, we know you have a handful of different shows you’re looking forward to. 

So to help get you pumped for the upcoming tour season, we’re listing 10 of the best forthcoming fall tours. From hardcore heroes Every Time I Die to pop-punk mainstays The Story So Far, this our list. Enjoy!  

Note: To make this list fair, we left off our upcoming Noise Presents tours with Behemoth and Atreyu. We know those tours are STACKED and all but we didn’t want you thinking we only promote our own stuff. Also, according to the all-knowing Google, fall runs from September 22 - December 21. So please don’t annoy us with “December isn’t fall, that’s winter!”  

The Story So Far // Turnover // Citizen // Movements 

Starting things off, we’re pretty sure this is the definition of a “dream tour.” Very rarely do you see a four-band bill as perfectly balanced and aesthetically pleasing as The Story So Far, Turnover, Citizen, and Movements. To say we’re excited about this tour would be is a total understatement. 

Beartooth // Knocked Loose // Sylar

Is it possible for a tour to still be highly anticipated even though it’s already started? Well since we’re the ones making the list, that’s a definite yes. Kicking off late last week, Beartooth’s headliner with Knocked Loose and Sylar is one you absolutely do NOT want to miss -- especially if you’re a fan of some of the craziest and most intense mosh pits you’ve ever seen.  

Every Time I Die // Turnstile // Angel Du$t // Vein

Speaking of craziest mosh pits you’ve ever seen, this tour will without a doubt create a few you’ll end up telling your grandkids about. “Hey, little Scotty. Let me tell you all about that time me and your Nana barely survived the Every Time I Die, Turnstile, Angel Du$t, and Vein show. It was 2018, ETID was celebrating 20 years as a band and our dickhead president had just made some bullshit tweet about Puerto Rico. Anyway, there was no barricade at the venue so we knew we were in for a treat...”  

Mayday Parade // This Wild Life // Willam Ryan Key // Oh, Weatherly 

The end of the year can be a stressful time for people. You know, with year-end goals to be met, finals to be passed and holiday gifts to be purchased. What better way to help end the year than with a chilled-out night on the town with Mayday Parade, This Wild Life, William Ryan Key (formerly of Yellowcard) and Oh, Weatherly? Yeah, we knew you’d agree.  

Good Charlotte // Sleeping With Sirens // Knuckle Puck // The Dose

“Stacked” doesn’t even begin to describe this lineup. When you have three bonified headliners teaming up, you know you’re about to get a great tour package. Add the nostalgia factor of singing along to “The Anthem,”  “Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous” plus “Girls & Boys” and you’ve got yourself a night you won’t regret thanks to Good Charlotte, Sleeping With Sirens and Knuckle Puck.

3oh!3 // Emo Nite LA // Lil’ Aaron

This is easily the biggest and best party package of the year. Forget Migos and Drake, 3oh!3 celebrating 10 years of their debut, breakout album Want! alongside Emo Nite LA and Lil’ Aaron is the only time we’ll be dancing “in our feelings” all year long -- whatever that means. 

Thrice // The Bronx // Teenage Wrist

Any chance we get to watch The Bronx for more than 20 minutes a night, you can bet your behind we’ll be there. Add Thrice playing songs from their incredible new album Palms on top of that and yeah, this tour has our name written all over it.  

Waterparks // IDKHBTFM // AG // Super Whatevr

We’re serious when we say this: There’s a chance in about five years you’ll look back in shock remembering a time when Waterparks and I Don’t Know How But They Found Me toured together. With both bands on the heels of breaking into superstardom, you’ll definitely want to see the two play together when you can.

Silverstein // Hawthrone Heights // As Cities Burn // Capstan

You’d be a fool to question this making our list of most anticipated fall tours. Hell, Silverstein could be touring with a team of retired trapeze artists and we’d still include it. Instead, to help make this a true trip back to 2003 in celebration of 15-years of their album When Broken Is Easily Fixed, the post-hardcore vets will be bringing out Hawthorne Heights and As Cities Burn as well as Capstan. Better get your Myspace profile back up and running!

Underoath // Dance Gavin Dance // Crown The Empire // The Plot In You

In spirit of the big fight that just happened this past weekend (no, not Nicki Minaj and Cardi B), this is Underoath and Dance Gavin Dance round two! UØ and DGD II: the Battle of the Behemoths! Screamo vs Swancore! Who will come out victorious, you ask? Well, you will because this tour package, also featuring Crown The Empire and The Plot In You, is an absolute knockout. 

Honorable Mentions:

Stray From The Path // Silent Planet // Kublai Khan // Greyhaven 

Whitechapel // Chelsea Grin // Oceano // Slaughter To Prevail

Stick To Your Guns // Emmure // Wage War // Sanction

Real Friends // Boston Manor // Grayscale // Eat Your Heart Out

Terror // Harm’s Way // Backtrack // Year Of The Knife // Candy

Counterparts // Being As An Ocean // Have Mercy // Varials 

Seaway // Trophy Eyes // Microwave // Can’t Swim // Hot Mulligan 

WATCH MORE:

[aion-rsa]

Ranking The Jeopardy! Guest Hosts

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When Jeopardy! GOAT contestant Brad Rutter spoke to Den of Geek earlier this year, he shared his opinion that there is only one perfect Jeopardy! host to replace the departed Alex Trebek. 

“Alex,” Rutter said. “But we can’t do it, unfortunately. That’s one of the terrible things about it. I can’t even really imagine what it’s going to be like.”

Alex Trebek was about as irreplaceable as a TV personality can be. As the host and quiz master of Jeopardy! for 37 years, the Canadian entertainer was the perfect combination of studious, professional, and playful. Following Trebek’s death from pancreatic cancer in November 2020, Jeopardy!’s producers realized there was no point in replacing the TV giant with only one host. 

For all of 2021, Jeopardy! has been going with a host-by-committee approach, giving several pop culture figures the opportunity to try their hand at shepherding the game show in two-week increments. This parade of guest hosts is in part a way to honor Trebek’s legacy. It’s also an open audition to provide fresh blood with an opportunity to claim the job of a television mainstay. 

With that in mind, here are our rankings of how each guest host has performed thus far. 

14. Dr. Mehmet Oz

Show Air Dates: March 22, 2021 – April 2, 2021

No.

13. Robin Roberts

Show Air Dates: July 19, 2021 – July 23, 2021

ABC’s Good Morning America host Robin Roberts’ stint as Jeopardy! host wasn’t a disaster. The games began and concluded largely without a hitch. The studio did not catch on fire. No one was injured. And yet, her relatively poor performance underlies what a sensitive beast the Jeopardy! hosting position is.

Robin Roberts quite simply did too much. She was a bit too chatty and discursive at the top of the episodes and during the interview segments. She interjected a bit too frequently amid answers. All in all, she hosted Jeopardy! the way I suspect that I myself would host Jeopardy! – as someone completely jazzed to be there and unable to stop remarking on the surreal joy of it all. That’s fine, and ultimately endearing to Roberts as a person. But this show requires a sturdier hand than that.

12. Anderson Cooper

Show Air Dates: April 19, 2021 – April 30, 2021

Anderson Cooper is a good journalist and compelling TV presence. When it comes to Jeopardy!, however, he’s definitely not the right man for the job. Cooper is somewhat fortunate that human trainwreck Dr. Oz hosted first and gobbled up the lion’s share of bad Jeopardy! host press. Otherwise people may have noticed that Cooper did fairly poorly in his two-week stint.

Cooper seemingly didn’t prepare as intensely as Trebek or the other guest hosts as there would frequently be awkward pauses following contestants’ answers while the host checked if they were right. As a result, the number of Jeopardy! rounds not completed under Cooper’s tenure was unusually high. It’s a small issue, but an impactful one.

11. Savannah Guthrie

Show Air Dates: June 14, 2021 – June 25, 2021

Savannah Guthrie is an amiable and professional TV presence in her day job as the co-anchor of NBC’s Today. In her time as a Jeopardy! host, however, she came off as essentially filler. As is the case with most of the entrants on this list (save for the quack above), Guthrie was perfectly fine as Jeopardy! host. But while she got the job done, she did so without any particular distinction.

Guthrie also interjected a bit too frequently after contestant’s answers. Though that’s an admirable attempt to interject some of her sunny personality into the proceedings, the role of Jeopardy! host often calls for less rather than more. As such her two-week run as host is likely to be the end of the line for her hosting quest.

10. Katie Couric

Show Air Dates: March 8, 2021- March 19, 2021

Couric’s tenure as Jeopardy! host was the victim of bad timing. She had the tough act of following two guest hosts who were extremely steeped in the show’s history in culture in official Greatest of All Time Ken Jennings and executive producer Mike Richards. 

The longtime media personality ultimately did a fair job as host, with her only major flaw being interjecting a bit too frequently during rounds. Unfortunately, she doesn’t stack up well to the pros that preceded her.

9. George Stephanopoulos

Show Air Dates: July 12, 2021 – July 16, 2021

George Stephanopoulos faces a bit of an uphill battle on this list for a similar reason to Dr. Oz. Simply put: I just don’t like the guy. George’s case differs from Oz’s though. For while I’m morally opposed to Oz and his snake oil shenanigans, I just find George to be merely bad at his job as Chief Anchor ABC News.

Having said all that, it turns out that Stephanopoulos is quite good as a Jeopardy! host. While other guests got to enjoy a full two weeks to catch their stride, the Good Morning America anchor only had a week and used it quite well. Stephanopoulos was polished from the get-go, interjecting very little, and running some good, clean games. Ultimately, my personal distaste for Stephanopoulos’s journalistic performance keeps him lower on this list, but he performed well enough to rank even higher.

8. Aaron Rodgers

Show Air Dates: April 5, 2021 – April 16, 2021

While the presence of a NFL star may seem like a desperate ratings grab from Jeopardy!, Green Bay Packers quarterback and former Celebrity Jeopardy! champ Aaron Rodgers is apparently dead serious about wanting the full-time hosting job, telling The Ringer that he could easily fit the show’s shooting schedule into his NFL obligations. 

Rodgers’ eagerness was evident over the first week and led to him coming across as a bit too excitable. He really settled into the role in his second week though and projected the correct balance of expertise and personability. 

7. LeVar Burton

Show Air Dates: July 26, 2021 – July 30, 2021

Like many other millennials, my choice for Alex Trebek’s replacement before this whole guest host thing even started was LeVar Burton. Thanks to his work on as an educator on Reading Rainbow, Burton is one of the few TV presences with a level of learned gravitas approaching Trebek’s. He was a natural choice to get a guest host stint to try his hand at replacing the Canadian legend. How did he do? Well, it would appear there’s a reason Jeopardy! is opting for tryouts in the first place.

There’s really no way around it: Burton was fairly rough and unpolished as a Jeopardy! host compared to the top options on this list. While he did a superb job of respecting the format and not interjecting too much, there were several times in which he left the contestants hanging and forgot to prompt them to choose another category. It turns out that Jeopardy! contestants are helpless children when there isn’t a firm hand to guide them through the game.

Ultimately, errors like that are fixable and Burton’s warm, authoritative presence translated well to the Jeopardy! hosting format. As such, I still believe he would be a fine choice to succeed Alex Trebek. But in the spirit of judging these hosts on solely their performance, Burton lies near the middle of the pack.

6. Dr. Sanjay Gupta

Show Air Dates: June 28, 2021 – July 9, 2021

Perhaps this is a simple observation, but it’s really something to see how natural and poised TV veterans are on television. As CNN’s chief medical correspondent, Dr. Sanjay Gupta has plenty of experience in front of a camera. And that experience absolutely came through in his two-week stint as Jeopardy! host.

Gupta did little to distinguish himself from the favorites to take over hosting job later on this list, but there were absolutely no hiccups during his tenure – just two weeks of excellent Jeopardy! that also happened to feature the season’s most fearsome contestant yet in seven-time winner Courtney Shah.

5. Bill Whitaker

Show Air Dates: May 3, 2021 – May 14, 2021

In contrast to Aaron Rodgers, Bill Whitaker apparently has no interest in holding down the full-time Jeopardy! job, telling The Philadelphia Tribune that he enjoys his current gig as a CBS journalist. That’s a shame as Whitaker came off as quite a natural during his two-week stint. 

Soft-spoken and consistent, Whitaker was such a steadying presence in his time as host to the point that the novelty of there even being a guest host began to wear off. Ultimately he might be a little too one-note for a full-time Jeopardy! host but his time on the dais was well spent. 

4. Ken Jennings 

Show Air Dates: January 4, 2021 – February 19, 2021

In the Jeopardy! canon Ken Jennings is the only figure that approaches the quiz show sainthood of Alex Trebek himself. Jennings is the most impressive and successful Jeopardy! contestant of all time, winning 74 consecutive games, amassing over $4 million in earnings, and taking home the title of Jeopardy! GOAT in 2020. When he was brought aboard as a consulting producer on Jeopardy! last year, many naturally assumed he was being groomed for the hosting role.

Sure enough, Jennings was announced as the first guest host of 2021 and got the year started on the right track with over a month of excellent hosting. Jennings has said that part of the key to Trebek’s success with Jeopardy! was his intuitive understanding that the star of the show wasn’t any host or contestant, but rather the show itself. Jennings put that understanding to good use, using his wealth of experience to make the game show feel both friendly and satisfyingly competitive. 

Jennings would be a fine choice for Jeopardy! host. Perhaps his only real weakness, however, is…the tweeting, as it always seems to be. Jennings has tweeted jokes that toe the line between bad taste and offensive in the past, something that he apologized for last year. The issue with Jennings on Twitter  though isn’t the risk of future offensive tweets but rather his continued use of Twitter at all along with the rest of us plebs.

Jeopardy! seemingly exists outside of time itself. Save for improved graphics and Trebek’s graying hair, the show has remained largely the same since it premiered. The Platonic ideal of a Jeopardy! host would seem like he or she was spawned from the set itself, returning backstage to sit on their trivia throne and contemplate the mysteries of life between tapings. 

3. Mayim Bialik

Show Air Dates: May 31, 2021 – June 11, 2021

Mayim Bialik was a real pleasant surprise in her stint as host. In fact, she’s the best Jeopardy! guest host yet who was not previously affiliated with the show. Bialik leaned more toward the friendly end of the familiar/authoritative Jeopardy! hosting ratio, which is particularly impressive given her academic background as a literal neuroscientist. She kept up that energy throughout but was able to establish a nice balance in her second week.

As a longtime Big Bang Theory cast member, Bialik certainly doesn’t need the Jeopardy! hosting gig to pay the bills. But her experience in front of a live-studio audience and a clear passion for learning could prove useful in the position.

2. Buzzy Cohen

Show Air Dates: May 17, 2021 – May 28, 2021

On the flip side of Bill Whitaker, Buzzy Cohen may at first seem like too dynamic of a personality to work as a Jeopardy! guest host. His fun nickname, distinctive eyewear, and trendy haircut are at odds with such an ancient and venerated TV institution. 

As host of Jeopardy!’s Tournament of Champions, however, Cohen was consistently great. Due to his time as a Jeopardy! champion himself, Cohen empathizes with contestants easily and keeps things going at a rapidly appropriate pace for the competitive tournament known as “The Nerd Super Bowl.”

Could Cohen still succeed in shepherding the game show when played by its more “normal” contestants? He certainly deserves some consideration to do so.

1. Mike Richards

Show Air Dates: February 22, 2021- March 5, 2021

Alex Trebek would occasionally be asked in interviews who he’d like to replace him. It was not a question he frequently answered because who would want to speculate about an event that would presumably only occur after their death. He often joked that Betty White should because she was a close friend. But in the few instances he did consider the question seriously, he offered up Los Angeles Kings play-by-play announcer Alex Faust, Turner Classic Movies host Ben Makiewicz, and CNN legal analyst Laura Coates. Ultimately, however, he told journalists at the Television Critics Association press tour that he “would leave it up to the people in charge.”

Well, what if one of those mythical people in charge was the right choice to host all along? Mike Richards is an executive producer for Jeopardy! and its Merv Griffin-created syndicated companion Wheel of Fortune. Richards has a long history of producing other game shows like Weakest Link, The Price is Right, and Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? He’s even hosted a couple of game shows of his own such as Beauty and the Geek and The Pyramid. After Ken Jennings served his month-long stint as host, Richards stepped in for two weeks, seemingly only to buy the show some time before it could set up more guest hosts.

Richard’s two-week tenure as guest host, however, was absolutely superb. Despite the stuffy connotation associated with the job “executive producer”, Richards was the most outwardly bubbly and joyful guest host yet. He still projected an air of authority and trivia mastery, likely due to his comfort and experience with the format. Richards was also an attentive interviewer, and well-researched – his shows were among the smoothest this season thus far. 

Richards lacks important name recognition (in fact, his name is about as generic as they come) and would not win Jeopardy! any more viewers on star power alone. It also must be said that Jeopardy! could stand to diversify the syndicated TV game a bit with this hosting decision by choosing a woman or person of color.

Whether Richards is selected as the full time host remains to be seen. But as executive producer, he’ll be involved in the decision one way or another. And if his talent scouting is anywhere near as good as his hosting ability, then there is nothing to worry about. 

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Still to come: David Faber (Show Air Dates: August 2, 2021 – August 6, 2021), Joe Buck (Show Air Dates: August 9, 2021 – August 13, 2021)

The post Ranking The Jeopardy! Guest Hosts appeared first on Den of Geek.

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