#i love a long song but they just keep repeating the same stuff over and over again until BAM sudden build

[daughterofsarenrae]

The amazing devil would be so good if they were good

[neos127]

park sunghoon x idol!fem!reader | stuck by the glue onto you

wc. 1.2k genre. strangers to lovers(??), pining + clingy hoon cw. none!! notes. idk what this is but this was todays daydream! so i had to write it into a fic (kinda messy bc it’s a brain dump but!)

you were laid out in your bed after a long day of practice, taking time to admire the view out your window while also scrolling through tiktok. you wanted to see if fans had watched your group’s new variety show with enhypen yet, knowing how excited both fandoms were after seeing the teaser.

when you scrolled onto a particularly interesting video, you sat up, your heart rate increasing as your eyes narrowed on the text.

‘sunghoon realizing that he’s in love with y/n’ was the caption in the middle of the screen along with ‘glue song’ playing in the background. you took a deep breath before allowing the video to play, already feeling butterflies invade your stomach.

CLIP #1

you were very nervous while being interviewed considering that your group had only recently debuted. it was your first week doing promotions and due to being a foreigner, you weren’t very confident with your korean yet.

as your shaky hands held the microphone close to your face, you began to stumble over your words. the dialogue on the script you were supposed to repeat suddenly blurring together. panic crossed your face for a split second, and mc sunghoon noticed that. he quickly mumbled the word you forgot into his microphone and you shot him a grateful smile before repeating and continuing with your small speech.

CLIP #2

you had remembered seeing this clip about a year ago, trying to brush it off even though the moment had never left your mind. apparently sunghoon couldn’t divert his gaze from you at an award show, his eyes practically sparkling as he observed you in your gorgeous dress. sunghoon rarely looked at any other female idols, so fans seemed to single out the moments when sunghoon’s attention was only directed onto you. when the two of you crossed paths, he smiled and politely bowed which caused you to do the same.

CLIP #3

your group was meeting enhypen for the variety show you had recently filmed with their group. everyone was shy and timid even though you had met each other many different times due to being under the same company. fans seemed to mostly focus on you and sunghoon though, who were very giggly and flustered. sunghoon’s ears turned a light pink as he shook your hand, his palms already sweaty due to the small encounter.

CLIP #4

sunghoon tried his best to be nonchalant about the fact that you had both been paired together for the field day activities, which was hard considering his long time crush on you. once the two of you started playing the games, you became more comfortable with each other. it seemed as if you two had been lifelong friends as you laughed and joked with each other.

the members teased him about being your shadow while completing missions, noticing how sunghoon never left your side even for a second.

CLIP #5

during your lunch break, sunghoon still seemed to follow you like a lost puppy. he timidly walked up to you, watching as you served yourself from the mini buffet the company set up.

“what are you eating?” he asked softly, causing to quickly look up at him with wide eyes. he scared you a bit, but the momentary surprise was soon replaced by comfort due to his presence.

“oh um…i was just combing some stuff. i came up with this really good combination, want to try it?” you asked, your tone becoming more light once you got over the initial shock of sunghoon being so close. sunghoon nodded his head in agreement, allowing you to take his plate and serve him.

when you had expected sunghoon to walk away and join the boys at a smaller round table to eat, he didn’t, keeping close as you looked around for an empty seat. since you concluded that sunghoon wanted to eat with you, you led him to a picnic table for two, smiling at the boy as he sat across from you.

the boys all gave him curious looks, the editors making small question marks appear above their heads as they observed you two. sunghoon didn’t seem to care— or maybe he simply didn’t notice, too focused on your pretty smile and the way your cheeks puffed up as you shoved rice into your mouth.

CLIP #6

while walking up a trail to find your next mission, you had nearly stepped into a deep mud puddle that would have definitely ruined your favorite pair of sneakers. sunghoon stopped you quickly, placing a strong arm in front of your torso to stop you from moving. you looked at up him with a raised brow before realizing that you had nearly stepped into the mess.

“ah, thank you.” you giggled nervously, feeling grateful that the gentleman next to you had been looking out for your safety. the boy mumbled a small ‘your welcome’ before grabbing onto your sweater and gently tugging you around the puddle. the action made your insides melt.

CLIP #7

when everyone had finished their respective missions and mini games, you were all called back to the picnic area where you had first started. sunghoon and a few other members were already there, waiting for the rest to arrive. the boy was about to sit down on the plush grass until he saw you and a couple of your group mates walk into the area. you sat down behind jay and a member of your group, causing sunghoon to look longingly at you. before he could even warn himself about being too obvious about his crush, he walked over and sat down next to you, a small smile on his face as your gazes met.

you looked at him for a second too long, causing you both to quickly look away in a flustered frenzy. you bit your lip to suppress a giggle, trying to focus on jungwon who was congratulating both groups for finishing the tasks.

CLIP #8

the clip was zoomed in, and you hadn’t even noticed that the camera had still been recording your actions. you and sunghoon walked away from the picnic area with the rest of your groups back to the car, playfully bumping shoulders as you trekked up a hill. it wasn’t much compared to the rest of the clips, but it was enough considering the compilation you had just watched.

you breathed out a shaky sigh before opening the comments, noticing how everyone cooed over the interactions and gushed over how sunghoon seemed to be enamored of you. people described how his eyes lit up whenever you smiled and how he had been attached to you like glue throughout the whole video.

you were a bit surprised that you hadn’t noticed how clingy sunghoon had been that day, only focusing on how you finally had time to get to know the boy more.

you smiled upon playing the video a second time, your finger hovering over the ‘share’ button before finally copying the link and sending it to sunghoon on a whim.

you waited all night for a response, barely being able to stomach down your dinner and constantly darting your eyes over to your phone that only seemed to light up from company emails and your group’s chat.

suddenly as you were getting ready for bed, your phone lit up with a notification from sunghoon. you quickly grabbed the device, toothbrush dangling out of your mouth as you read over the text message multiple times. a squeal threatened to emerge from the back of your throat once you had finally had processed his words.

[sunghoon: ah, i guess they caught me…it’s been hard to take my eyes off such a pretty girl ~]

[kneelingshadowsalome]

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 4/4

König x F!Reader

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Word count: 10 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Another long chapter, but it's the last one, so... Enjoy! ^^

The next night, you dream awake.

You didn’t want to sleep with your back turned against him, and König didn’t even need to scoop you into his arms. You went there by yourself, completely willingly. You were disappointed when he didn’t even try anything; he just fell asleep like a baby after the hangover that left him weak.

Your hand is on his chest, right over his heart, as you listen to his soft snore. It’s like the whole world has shrunk into this bed, like your entire life suddenly consists of him. You can’t even hear the birds, the occasional gust of wind, or the pair of sandals outside the tent going to a nightly pee. The only thing you can hear or see or feel is him.

His heart under your palm. His chest against your cheek. The slow, steady rise and fall of it, the push and pull of it like a tide. His leg, draped across your hip, enclosing you under a heavy body that clings to you like he never wants to let you go.

And…

No. 

It’s too stupid.

“Love” is something bards sing about. There’s no time for it in the real world; lust brings people together, and they multiply like birds and beasts. They simply flock together for warmth, food and survival. Love is the property of dreams and songs, something that happened at the dawn of time but now only occurs in tales and plays. Surely, a mountain giant knows nothing about love… He just wants to stuff his cock inside you and alleviate the burn of his loins.

But his words still linger.

”I have fallen in love with you.”

You repeat them over and over again in your head, snuggling even closer to him, your heart flaring into a small bonfire when he squeezes you in return through sleep. The warmth spreads across your chest, it makes your toes tingle, and the tingles rise up to your head like ale, bringing tears to your eyes. 

Why does he have to be like this…?

There’s a sudden crack of thunder outside, and it makes you startle and clutch him tighter. It’s soon followed by a downpour of rain, the weight of it like a blanket spreading across the land. The drops beat the tent with so much noise you fear the whole abode will collapse from the force of them.

Another crackle sends you to grip him with fear; a violent rip of lightning makes you bury your head in his neck. König mostly wakes up to your distress rather than the sounds of thunder and hail, rumbling softly to the crown of your head and drawing you closer to him. You’ve always been afraid of thunder because nothing can compete with the fury of the Sky Father. You whimper as another roar shakes the bed, the very earth beneath you, and the rain begins to beat the tent in full.

“Don’t be afraid, little one,” König mutters, unafraid and clearly about to fall back to sleep again. “Only sky father making love to his woman...”

His explanation of the horrible display of the sky god’s power wipes your mind blank for a moment. He uses the same name of the god as you, but the viewpoint is thoroughly foreign. Is this the sound of lovemaking to him? 

“Safe here,” he squishes you against him until it’s difficult to breathe. Your heart is still beating in your chest as König falls asleep, the arms around you relaxing just enough to allow you to breathe again. 

In the morning, you try to correct him on his strange thoughts about Sky Father. You tell him your people believe he’s fighting his enemies when it thunders, not… making love to anyone.

“Fighting or fucking,” he only shrugs. “Same noise.”

You open your mouth to explain the difference between fucking and lovemaking next, then decide it’s no use.

The weather is warm and the land is lush after the abundant rain. König takes you to a small stream and you risk to take a dip, delighted and relieved to have the opportunity for a quick wash. When you threaten to gut him when he sleeps if he takes a peek, König only laughs. Probably thinks it’s an exciting threat. Then he sits on the bank to work on a small piece of wood while you have your cold bath. He’s been carving it for a few days and has refused to show it to you, no matter how “nosy” you’ve been. It’s an unfinished piece, yes, but it still feels silly that a grown man is so secretive about a chunk of wood. You only now begin to understand that perhaps the statue of the Great Mother is not stolen. It’s not bought, and he hasn’t had it made. He carved it himself.

Shocked, you forget to keep an eye on him while you scrub and rub yourself in the stream. You never thought of him as a sculptor or even a carpenter, but apparently, some soldiers spend their leisure time in other activities than fucking and drinking and gambling.

Your hands meet the leather string of the necklace as you wash your hair, and you remember your vow. It makes your heart sink: it’s a beautiful day, the first of summer, and you have to let go of the loveliest thing König has ever given to you. You peek a glance at him: he’s looking so peaceful while carving the small figurine, with that signature smile his that always reveals itself through his eyes, warm and jovial, like he’s just a hunter or a fisherman having a break from a day of toil.

You strip yourself from the necklace and release it with a sullen breath. The spirits accept it hungrily, pulling it underwater the instant you let it go. The current carries it far away downstream, and you find your chin trembling, and not from cold. You have given your moonblood to Mother many, many times, but this gift is infinitely more valuable. Still, the most important thing is that the man you prayed for is alive and whistling happily on that bank.

And you’re not an oathbreaker… But König is. 

When you rise from the water, he steals a glance. Actually, he stares at you like you’ve particularly asked him to never rip his eyes from you. 

You pay the adoring beast no mind and rise from the stream with the pride of a queen, only to have it all robbed from you as you notice there are flowers placed there where you left your clothes. The crazy giant has actually plucked flowers for you.

It’s an odd thing to do because in your land, only children pick flowers. Usually, people give flowers to the gods. Or, mainly just to the Great Mother... It’s because She appreciates them. 

And you also notice your old dress is not where you left it.

“Where is it?” 

He extends his hands to the sides and shrugs, faking innocence so poorly that you don’t know if you want to shove or kiss him. You’re desperately trying to cover your womanhood from his searing stare – an attempt that, of course, makes your tits press together even more cutely than before. König doesn’t even know where to look when there’s so much of your sweetness on display. 

This man is so stupid and childish and simply unbelievable; hiding your dress the instant you are vulnerable and in your thoughts. You look around you, then up, and notice that he’s thrown the dress over a pine branch far above your reach. Of course.

“You’re a bully,” you turn your accusing gaze to him, hands now slowly curling into fists by your side. You’re not even angry: you’re just feeling... hot, and frustrated, and embarrassed, having to stand here in bright daylight, dripping wet and about to have another tantrum while naked. You’re starting to suspect that he probably enjoys it when you get in a pet. Maybe it makes his cock hard: to watch you stomp your foot at him, especially if you do it without clothes.

“Bully?” His eyes smile at you like he’s the son of Sky Father himself.

“It’s someone who… who tortures people,” you blurt, a bit more dramatically than you initially meant to. He bursts into laughter and laughs for a long time, either because you just called him precisely what he is or because you called him a torturer for doing a silly prank.

“Ach… Well, you are pretty,” he says after surviving something that was veritably not meant as a joke. As if you being pretty is some kind of an excuse for doing this stupid, childish stunt...

His stare sweeps over you like you’re merely property, his eyes darting between your pouty face and the glistening sex between your legs now that you’ve blessedly moved your hands out of the way. Then he notices that something’s missing, that there is no necklace resting above your breasts anymore. He takes a step and raises a hand, and for the first time ever, you wouldn’t even dream of shying away from his touch. He brushes your bare neck with a silent question and brief hurt in his eyes.

Gods, he can’t think you got rid of it because you despised it, can he...?

“The river took it,” you explain quickly and with genuine regret. It’s a lie, but you can’t tell him the real reason it’s gone. You can’t confess that you had to sacrifice it for his safe return.

“I really liked it,” you whisper while looking him straight in the eyes, stomach heavy with both lies and the horrible, sweet truth. König recuperates surprisingly fast and nods slowly, the caress rising to your cheek to console you.

“Don’t worry. I can make you a new one,” he promises stoutly, and you bite your lip to prevent yourself from bursting into tears right there in front of him. “With wolf claws, if you like?”

“I don’t know… Sounds dangerous.”

“Hah. I kill my first wolf when I was fifteen.”

Your heart is bursting inside your chest – the songs of the bards never tell about someone being so goofy that you want to hug them until they stop speaking silly things. 

“I’m sure you did,” your lips quiver with a whisper of a smile. König takes in every crumb of your affection like it’s a blessing from the Mother below: his shoulders draw back everytime he senses you are appreciative of him or admire his strength. He’s even more proud when he presents the small carving he’s been working on. 

You’re now absolutely, vehemently sure that he has made the statue of the Great Mother himself. Because what you’re looking at is very similar to that statue, only far more detailed. The breasts and hips on this figurine are more proportional, and you could almost swear that the statue he just gave you is trying to depict you. It has your hair and your face, or then he has tried to capture the slightly pouting face of some other ungrateful woman. But you can’t shake the thought that you may very well be looking into your own eyes.

“For you,” he says above you, and you swallow tears for gods know how many times today. He even winks at you, incredibly playful, like this statue is now a cute little secret only you two know about.

“It’s–I didn’t know you… Uh. Thank you,” you stutter like a fool. You can’t ask if it’s you – you can’t ask a simple question because to hear his unabashed, proud answer would mean that you won’t be able to hold yourself back from kissing him.

You are starting to feel like… an idol of worship, almost. 

He lavishes you with gifts and flowers, he feeds you grapes and wine, he brings you his bloodied loot and asks you to bless his sword. He honours your purity and respects your wishes not to be touched and pilfered.

What else are you if not a goddess? 

Even the Mother in his satchel doesn’t get such fevered attention. He even carved a new statue for you. Of you.

Your senses become eagle-sharp as you realize just how much your suspicions are proving true. You think about the way he is always at your tits, as if calling forth good luck and abundance when he squeezes them every day and night. It’s almost like a ritual. Or how he tries to dress you in fine clothes, not just to show you around, but to make you feel appreciated. The way he protects and shelters you and lets you – no, demands you to – ride his horse while he exhausts himself on the road. How the selecting of the necklace now seems like a test, to prove whether you are a true goddess who favors a gift of bone and blood and amber over the pathetic shiny trinkets of men. 

And the way he hasn’t touched other women all this time; no, because he doesn’t keep other goddesses...

Just you. 

Only you.

…

He knows your tongue so well that you don’t practically need the translator anymore. König sends him away after you whisper in his ear that you don’t like him.

It’s another lie because what you really don’t like is how bothered he looks when forced into the company of you two. You don’t like the deep sighs and the weary looks he gives both you and your supposed lover who always insists that you sit on his lap even if there are other people in the tent. You don’t want to make the poor man uncomfortable, so you come up with a reason for König to send him away. It's quite apparent that you could ask for the moon and stars, and he’d figure out a way to give them to you.

When you ask him why, for the love of all the gods, does he even want to keep a Roman slave, he says it amuses him. You always thought it was an odd thing to do because you’ve never seen König spend time with his soldiers. He never gambles with them, never eats with them, never hunts with them. By separating himself from them he keeps up an illusion of himself as a walking, fighting myth who has forced half the world to its knees, and whose quirks are to keep a Roman slave and, now, a foreign fairy in his tent.

You start to understand that it's because he doesn’t feel like he belongs.

He doesn’t even want to belong. He doesn't make an effort to be a Roman even if, legally, you suppose he’s a citizen or at least a free man. You wonder if it’s his only weakness: being so different from everybody else. 

You walk in and out of camp like a free woman with him. To the forest, to the stream, and one day, to the ocean, not too far from where you used to gather clams. If you walked the shoreline long enough, you would end up near your old village.

You spend your entire day there, collecting pink and white shells, giggling as König takes a dip in the shivering sea. He even throws the hood away before walking into the foaming waves. You have to hold your breath as he comes out because his face is the complete opposite of what you thought you would see. He has stern features and some prominent scars above his lip and crossing the bridge of his nose; there’s one above the left eye, and his nose has been broken at least two times. He looks mean and dangerous and suffering, it’s true, but you’re not scared at all. In fact, your embarrassingly wet while he furrows his brows and looks down at his feet, otherwise proud and happy in his skin but now suddenly concerned that you might not like what you see.

“Ugly?” He asks bluntly, with such distanced but sharp pain that your breath leaves you entirely. The vision of him might have frightened you on the first night, it’s true, but now, you only think he’s handsome. In a crude way, perhaps... But still handsome.

“No,” you shake your head slowly, never taking your eyes off him. König takes in air as if he has been granted a pardon from a horrible crime, and your heart hurts – is this the reason he has clung to that hood? To conceal some old scars and to appear more menacing to friends and enemies?

He’s stronger than ever as he walks to you, unclothed and smelling of seabreeze and salt, like he was just born from there, sired by the ocean and the wind. You ought to pray to Mother but you know it will do you no good. It’s a rotten joke to want a man who has massacred your people, the ones you used to call friend and neighbour and kin. You feel like you’re betraying the memory of your whole village by wanting to sleep with the enemy. The enemy who worships you; who looks at you like you’re a goddess when you lean back to watch the night sky come alive with indigo and stars. The enemy who teaches you their names in his own tongue...

He points you to the Head of the Serpent and the Smith’s Street, then to the Nail that holds the sky in place. You have your own names for the stars but you like it when he introduces them to you, clumsy and excited. When he shows you the long cock of the hero your people call Hunter, your cheeks heat up. You try to repeat the name in his tongue (whatever lewd, brash northern hero it may be), and it makes him happier than ever to hear you speak his words.

“König,” you ask him when he's shown you all the stars he knows. “Why do you fight…?”

He turns to look at you, perplexed, and you word the question differently.

“What do you want?”

“...What do I want?”

“Yes. In this life.”

His brows furrow as he starts to think, and your love for him only grows. Has no one ever asked him that before? Has he ever even given it a thought...? 

He grabs a handful of grass and rips it from the ground, absentmindedly and deep in thought. He fiddles with it for a while, then throws it away, looking somewhere to the distant, generous sea.

“I want…children,” he says. “I want a home.”

König turns to look at you, so stern that it forces you take support from the earth beneath you.

“Home. Richtig?”

“Yes,” you whisper, “A–a home.”

But it can’t be...

It can’t.

It’s simply too crazy that the brutal, callous giant has been searching for a home all along. That the man who cuts off heads and spits out the flesh of his enemies is simply someone who has lost his home and has yearned back ever since. It’s too wild a thought that the Titan wants to raise a family and have many children.

“Don’t you have a home somewhere in Rome…?” 

“It’s only a house.”

He fidgets with more grass, then turns back to you again with honest curiosity.

“Do you want children?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Fee. You would be a good mother,” he determines right then and there, saying it so casually that you have no choice but to believe it. You want to change the topic, and quickly, now tugging at the grass yourself because you're feeling shy.

“König… What is Fee?” 

“Fee is… They are small women? Live in trees. Or flowers. Or everywhere,” he gestures vaguely all around you.

“You mean fairies,” you whisper, and he shrugs. If you say so. But you know you're talking about the same thing: curious little earth spirits, lively and wild. 

Your heart is burning; it’s scorching until there’s nothing left but sweet molten gold. Usually, this kind of burning has stirred in your chest when some old crone has told a good story at the fire during the turn of the year. Usually, you’ve felt this kind of thrill when you’ve heard the piper play for the forest during springtime, lulling the devious spirits back to the trees so that they wouldn’t enter lambs and goats and make them sick. You’ve only felt so alive when you’ve walked at the beach during midsummer with a desperate aching between your legs because you’ve felt so alone and yet so, so alive.

“They said you were a Titan,” you whisper, another hushed question on this night of nights. You feel like you’re having a conversation of the ages, even if it’s clumsy and plain. The night sky is blooming with stars, the sea is whispering its secrets, and there are so many unsaid things between you two, finally washing up on the shore. König is ripping out more tall grass, but only because he’s searching for the right words.

“No. No titan. Just king,” he shakes his head as if sorry that he has to disappoint you. “I was the king’s son. Before Rome came…”

He’s suffered the same fate as you then, a long, long time ago. You wonder where his people are now or if they are even alive anymore, if he is the last giant standing, the last remaining man of his folk from the mountains. If the ruins of his proud house have already turned to dirt and dust and soil, if his father’s head was left to rot on a Roman spear, his riches and wealth taken back to Rome as spoils and exchanged for wine and whores and slaves.

You can only imagine the fury and despair when a tall boy’s future and dreams crumbled into dust, to blood and tears and screams, to a tale that no one ever told.

“You’d make a great king,” you say, meaning it with all your heart. His whole face lights up with a smile; the sorrow is still present in his eyes, and you know the depth of its roots now. But the Romans never managed to kill his will to live.

“If I was king… I would choose you for my queen,” he says softly, and you thank the wind for drying an escapee tear that rolls out. Fate is shaking your ribcage like a rattle; the wind steals your tears like they’re a long-withheld gift.

He tells you his tale under the safety of the vast starry sky. It's only bits and pieces, but you understand enough from his clumsy words.

He tells you how he was brought to Rome as a slave, sold to the pits and how he rose to manhood and fame there. He fought in the great arenas you’ve heard so many gruesome tales about; he fought until he could buy his freedom. He forgot his people, his revenge, that he was a king. Not knowing what else to do, he took up arms again and became the thing he hated the most: a Roman soldier. 

He tells you about a woman who can see things that have not yet happened. He asked this seer if there was anything else for him in this life but death; he would give any offering that was needed if only he could find more life instead. He had already given money and offerings to all the fertility goddesses of Rome, to no avail. He had carved a statue of Venus to attract love, but it didn’t work. So many times he had wanted to throw it in the sea. Until the woman who sees told him he would find what he was looking for in his next campaign. When he promised he’d come back to kill her if she lied, the old crone had only laughed at him. 

The next day, he was discharged from his old unit and separated from those who spoke the same language as him. Everyone was afraid of an uprising that would have a giant at its head, so he was offered money and whores, even a position in politics, and lastly, a place in an elite unit with a better wage. They told him the troops were about to leave for the harsh frontier: a new campaign to bring glory to Rome. He chose the latter option immediately.

He turns to look at you. Bloodless, thin-lipped, shivering you.

“She said you would be pretty. Like a fairy.”

You hear the distant rumbling of the sea, endlessly soft. You feel the wind suddenly passing through the field, filling the cloak of a northern king who came all this way just for you. Even the stars are waiting for your next move. 

“I…” you start, already breathless. “The necklace… König, I’m so sorry. I had to give it to Mother.”

“Mother?”

“To the gods. So that you wouldn’t die in battle.”

Realization dawns on his face, driving away all doubt and confusion. He’s just as pleased as the day he gave you all those gifts, if not even more so.

“You make sacrifice for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper. You can’t help it: a sob wrenches out of your chest as the first tears fall. “I’m sorry. I really liked it... I’m so sorry–”

König rises immediately, only to come to you and fall to a crouch. He draws you against his chest, your weeping face soon held right against his heart.

“Never say sorry,” he kisses your head, over and over again. “Never say sorry…”

The wind surrounds you both, soft and warm, as he rocks you back and forth. You hug him with all the strength a little fairy can muster, then raise your chin to look at him. You’re probably the most pathetic creature he has ever seen – you could swear there is no woman alive feeling as weak as you feel now. König cups your face gently, the look in his eyes that of a hunter who has finally caught up with his prey. Warm, merciful, loving.

“Fee… I can still taste you,” he says.

“I can still feel you,” you whisper back. A deer, felled. “But I don’t… I don’t like biting.”

“Biting…?” 

“Teeth.”

“Ja. I noticed.”

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You would let him bite you anywhere and everywhere now. You would actually kill for it if he only laid his mouth on you...

You laugh with leftover tears in your eyes, and your giant smiles back at you, so endearing that you feel like it’s the first day of the rest of your life.

“Do you like bath?”

…

You ease into the warm, almost too warm water with a sigh.

The slaves have had to toil the better half of the evening to heat such a large body of water, and you can’t even begin to imagine where König has gotten the pretty little clay bathtub. It’s the largest pottery you have ever seen; far too small for a giant like him but just enough for a fairy woman like you.

You wash yourself languidly, feeling like the queen of the whole wide earth. Someone has even poured some of the scented oils into the bath, and you could cry from happiness as the sweet scents envelop you. You wonder if the wife of any chieftain has ever experienced such luxury and warmth. 

König has the most pleased smile on his face when he sees how much you appreciate yet another gift of his. He pampers and spoils you so much that you threaten to turn into an overripe grape, too soft and sweet and juicy, unable to keep intact anymore. But there’s a price to be paid, apparently, as he watches you from across the tent, sitting in his chair and pulling back the tunic to reveal the the erection between his legs. It’s the biggest cock you've ever seen, and already standing tall and proud, like a soldier about to go to war.

Your lips part on their own; heat shoots between your legs so fast it knocks the breath out of you. He seems to love your attention and awe, because his cock gives a few pulls just from you staring at it. Pearl-white seed leaks out of the tip as he grabs it inside a strong fist and gives himself a few unhurried strokes. 

“König…?”

You’re breathless, but he’s not: he’s breathing heavily in that chair, powerful thighs spread wide, stroking the thick weapon between his legs while you feel like fainting in your bath.

“When will torture end?”

He's dark, dark and done with patience, and you don't know how to answer such a question. You don't even know where to look.

“Hm? You like to torture men?”

“No,” you whisper, cheeks hot and cunt ridiculously wet.

“Yes you do. A little bully, hmm?”

“König–”

“I’ll show what happens to bullies.”

He lets himself go and rises from the chair. Your mind is of no use to you now: all you can do is stare at that thing between his legs, pointing towards you like a road sign.

He walks to you, cock and gaze equally heavy, and gets rid of his tunic. Then he gestures for you to rise from the tub. You’ve spent enough time there in his opinion, and the water is indeed turning unpleasantly cool – but if you go to him now, you won’t be able to fight him. Not when you’re in such a pleased, lax, purring state. Perhaps that was the whole idea...

You rise slowly, then step out carefully, taking support from the edge of the tub and from his shoulder – and still almost collapse all over him as you try to remain on your feet. He holds you upwards while you try to avoid the murder weapon between his legs, but your giant is not as shameful as you: he grabs your butt and guides you flush against him. You meet his chest with a gasp, the length of him now trapped between you two.

“Wait, I’m—I’m still wet,” you try to peep, but it’s no use. He sweeps you off your feet, no doubt with the intention of carrying you to the bed. 

“I will lick you clean,” he looks at you like you’re already trapped, caught, and bled: such a weak little creature in his arms, trying to beg for mercy with its last dying breath. You cling to him as such, that’s for sure.

“Just... No biting. Please?” You whisper as he lays you on the bed.

“No biting,” he gives his valiant promise, accompanied with a confident flash of a smile.

Gods…

If he’d gotten rid of that stupid hood earlier, your legs would’ve been pudding. They would’ve been as far apart as the two villages east and west of here. That smile would have allowed him to infiltrate everything in between. Perhaps it’s a good thing he is not that clever… 

“Oh gods–” you gasp as he shifts down and lowers himself for worship. His breath hits you first, and the next thing you feel are his lips – still smiling – then the gods-forsaken beast gives you a kiss.

“Oh–”

There is a sudden silence following your moans, then you hear soldiers bursting into laughter outside your tent. They’re warming themselves by the campfire, no doubt, sharing stories about war and women, and now they’ve heard the first mewls of surrender from their hero’s tent, after weeks of quarrelling.

Your cheeks heat up as one of the soldiers utters a hurried sentence and mentions König’s name, after which the merry crew booms to laughter again.

Gods take the Romans and their stupid, lewd jokes...

You try to concentrate on the warmly lit burgundy ceiling as König carries on without paying any attention to what’s happening outside. They could march into the tent and try their best to rip him off your cunt, but you doubt if they would get him to move an inch. He's simply that drunk on your taste.

You wonder if his chin is already covered in your juices because his kisses are open-mouthed and hungry – he even tries to push his tongue inside you. The man has absolutely no shame when he's buried down there, groaning with approval as you roll your hips. You're rutting his face as shyly as you possibly can, and it makes him purr and rumble with bliss. The noise he makes is enough to make you sing too, so filthy that it earns you a whistle from outside.

Shit... They probably think he's fucking and hurting you with his cock – a scary prospect, yes, but you'll have to cross that bridge when you get there – and they couldn't be more wrong. If they only knew what their champion is doing to his slave, lapping and sucking his disobedient woman like a starved dog...

“You like mouth?”

It’s hungry, so dark, the way he asks if you like what he’s doing to you. It’s not the mad lust of a drunken man from a few nights ago; it’s sober, fierce greed with a clear purpose behind it. Your fingers find his hair and tug at it weakly, not to cheer him on, but to take support from something relatively stable. 

“Yes… Yes, just–"

“Gut,” he grins into your folds, coarse stubble scraping you deliciously raw. “I like this too. After I lick you enough, I will fuck you.”

Your fingers curl around his hair, giving him another involuntary tug.

Gods, make him stop talking... Just tie his tongue or something, make him shut up.

Please…

“I will bully you all night with cock. I know you will like. Hm?”

He prattles more nonsense in your cunt, and you can’t hear the men outside anymore. You can’t even see the lamps. You’re in a womb of pleasure, which is funny because there’s a grown man between your legs, dragging his tongue over your slit until you're shaking and crying on the bed. Yes, if this is a womb, you never want to leave...

And he’s not eloquent; you don’t even know what he is trying to do to you. He probably doesn’t know it himself. He’s not trying to fish for cues on what you like: he just does what he feels like doing, which is everything. He tries every single thing. He’s just happy to be down there, flicking and circling his tongue over your nub until you can’t take it anymore.

You're dangerously close, and rise halfway to push his head away because it’s just too much; it’s too much pleasure in one go. He gives you a husky laugh and fights your weak attempts to make him stop, the damned bastard. You’re too frail to resist him, and he knows too much already, repeating the torture until your hips buck up.

“Gut... Like that...?” He asks again, so eager to please that you have to stifle a sob.

“Yes... Yes, just like that,” you sigh while trying to stay in one piece.

“Guide me, little fairy,” he demands, excited like a young, hot recruit. Apparently it's no big deal for him to have his head tugged and shoved and dragged just for a woman's pleasure. It doesn't take away an ounce of his power to be your toy for a moment. Your sharp tongue has left you completely; it is you who is humbled as you guide him back to the right spot, jerking when he licks you just the way you wished.

It’s bad enough that you make a mess on his bed and moan like a paid woman, giving everyone in this camp a taste of what it sounds like when a giant bullies his fairy to the full. But can’t he keep his stupid, lovable mouth shut...

He’s making so much noise that you can both feel and hear him. His moans are hoarse, needy and deprived; they echo somewhere in your core, somewhere inside your most sensitive, aching place, just before he finds it, the right spot, and pushes his tongue inside you.

“Wait…” you gasp, convulsing on the bed now. What the hell does he think he’s—

“Wait—I’m…”

And then you cum, right into his mouth, with an arched back and quivering thighs, with such lewd sounds shooting out of your mouth that complete silence follows outside.

Whatever those soldiers had thought to happen here tonight, they clearly didn't expect to hear that… Nor the cries that follow, so nasty and wanton that König doesn't withdraw, not before you have clenched and cried your fill. He enjoys your peak to the last tremble, but you barely get to catch your breath before he leaves you. He doesn’t even give you a chance to caress his head as thanks for what he just did to you.

His mouth leaves you empty and cold as he rises, watching you like you're his best conquest. His cock is so hard it juts out, immovable like a rock and so intimidating that you stop breathing for a moment.

And he doesn't allow your breathless, shocked state go to waste: he grabs that horse cock and sets it on your flush, soaked lips, and pushes the head inside. More than just the head inside.

“Oh gods, oh fuck–”

Your legs are completely useless, falling to the side as he eases himself into you. He looks at you curiously, tilting his head when he hears you curse for the first time in his presence. More than just amused, he goes deeper still, delighted that he made you say a naughty word with his cock.

You can feel the stretch; you can feel every ridge, every vein, all his thickness filling you with purpose. You can do nothing but flutter your eyes as he takes you, finally, as his own.

And it must be some cruel joke of both Mother Earth and Father Sky that it prolongs whatever bliss he just gave you with his mouth. Your body won't stop having its pleasure; it welcomes him with a string of helpless whimpers. Even your cunt starts to squeeze him like it's the best thing in this world.

And he sees it. He feels it.

“Ja, little one. Time to fuck.”

He continues his journey inside, one massive palm landing on each side of your head as he leans over you.

“Einfach so… Trust me. Hmm?”

You only nod, completely silent and tame, waiting for him to give you more gifts. Mother knows this man is your downfall: your heart and soul are about to burst into flame when you look at him. You want him with your whole being; you want his love and praise so much you could cry.

“You want cock?”

“Yes,” you look up at him, eyes surely shining like stars. “Yes, yes, yes–”

“I will give you. Don’t worry.”

You sob as he withdraws, pulling the long, delicious cock almost completely out. He returns immediately when you whine from the loss. He feels so good, and so, so big… Fulfilling you entirely, every bit of you that was hollow and empty, every little space that needed loving is now his and filled with love.

“Verdammte… Götter, du bist zu eng,” he huffs and looks down as if to check if it’s true that he’s finally inside you. It could never fit in fully; you both probably knew that. But he’s trying his best.

“What does that mean?” You pant, impatient that he stopped moving.

“Too small... For me...” he laments. Or brags.

“Any woman is too small for you,” you mope underneath him, thinking about whether he has had women who have been able to take him fully in. Women who haven’t been “too small”.

König raises his eyes to you and smiles, revealing a row of white teeth, the scarred lip making his grin look pure and sweet even if he is a menacing man.

Stupid mountain giant… He's just proud of not being able to fit inside you. Your lower lip juts out with a pout, and the cock inside you responds immediately with a pulse. You can feel it — he's fucking excited about you getting angry at him again.

There is a flash of mischief in his eyes – darned bastard – just before he swoops down to attack your neck. Your tits get crushed under a solid chest as he nuzzles close to your ear and gives you lots of love and little bites. He starts to fuck you slowly, and there's nowhere you can escape now, nowhere you can flee his mouth or teeth or cock.

“König, you promised–”

“Aber… You are more tight this way?” 

The breathless laugh that follows leaves you blinking. Of course he can feel the way you tighten around him every time he gives you a little bite.

“Gods, I hate you…” you whisper on his shoulder, thinking about biting him there in return. König laughs in your neck again – your threats of hate have long past lost their intimidating nature and are more like love confessions to him now. And perhaps that’s what they are.

He makes love to you hard and good, and it’s embarrassing, how you're about to cum again around his cock. You were supposed to have your revenge by showing him you have teeth too, but find yourself biting your lip instead, trying to tone down at least some of the filthy sounds that try to escape you.

He's not too rough, at least not yet, happy with listening to the poorly stifled whimpers that follow his every thrust. You thought he'd rail you like an animal, but he seems to settle for making love to you while biting and groping you all over. He savours every thrust like he savoured those grapes you fed him: slowly and intently, with passion instead of greed.

You're squeezing him with everything you have as he rocks you back to the edge. His grunting only make it all worse: he doesn't even try to be quiet and decent, and it's driving you to madness. Why does he have to be so noisy? Why does he have to fuck you so that everyone can hear just how good you feel?

Every soldier in this camp can hear both your moans, his hoarse ones and your weak ones, merging together until you do sound like animals in heat... You’re so wet that some of the men must hear the music of that, too. You never knew your cunt would be so hungry and needy, least of all for a man like him. You grip him as the waves approach, rich moans turning into pathetic little cries as his cock works you open.

“Again…?” He smiles a surprised laugh on your neck. The waves hit you before you can tell him to shut up.

The noise you make is even more obscene this time, and you barely catch a glimpse of his drowsy, victorious stare before your head falls back. You squeeze your eyes closed, trying to take in the most powerful orgasm and the most powerful cock of your life without having to see that stupid, happy face of your lovesick giant.

“Nein,” he grabs your jaw inside a huge but gentle hand. “Eyes open.”

He won't even let you cum in peace, but you do as you’re told, finding him watching you like a stormcloud or a god. He watches your every tremble, every whimper, every sigh. He sees the full-blown love in your eyes, and you wonder… Is this what the bards sing about in their stupid songs? 

…Weakness?

Because your heart hurts and your eyes sting, your thighs tremble and your cunt is far too wet and open for him to plough. If this is love, it hurts; it burns far too sweet. It leaves you utterly weak.

“Little one is needy,” he comments softly on your second downfall.

“You’re the one who’s needy–”

Your already weak argument ends in a gasp as he reminds you who you belong to with another good, deep thrust.

“I will put a child in you,” he rumbles, a threat or a promise. “If we do this every night… You will have my child.”

“Then let’s do this every night,” you whisper beneath him, your own purr of a threat. As if you didn’t know how babies were made… To your silent joy, König stops to catch his breath or your words; you’re not entirely sure which. You decide to up the stakes, just to make him fall with you.

“And every morning too?”

“Ach, du kleine–” he crumbles, voice turning to dust from your innocent suggestion.

If you thought he was a little too in love with you before, the look on his face now is worth all the gold in the world. You could swear that your kind question is the sole reason for this man cumming on the spot. Perhaps your body is to blame for it too; he couldn't keep his paws off when you were being sulky and difficult, so how could he take it when you're pleased and loving and all puffed up?

You see the brief flash of vulnerability, the mortal fragility in his eyes just before he shoots his load with a painful-sounding groan. The sound that leaves him is a mixture of desperation and release – even giants can cry, you think as you watch how beautifully he comes undone. He makes sure his seed is sent deep inside you by burying his cock into you, as far as it can go; the intention behind it is so clear that you wouldn't be surprised if you got heavy with a child after this first time.

He falls on top of you after, drained and spent and body heaving from exertion. There’s no other sound in the night but the satisfied panting of you two: the soldiers outside are rendered silent by the sounds of true lovemaking, even the wind spirits are hushed tonight.

You’re completely filled, and with his cock still inside you, he’s preventing any precious seed from escaping. You’re only glad he’s too weak to move because you’d happily keep him here forever, inside and on top of you like this.

“You are pleased…?” He turns his head a little, sounding worried enough to make you hug him tight.

“Yes. Very much,” you whisper, and he moves to rise and look you in the eyes. 

“Gut.”

It’s cute to be nose to nose like this with him, eyes locked together, lips only a hair’s breadth apart. He looks so intoxicated and happy without even being drunk that you break into a small laugh, eyes brimming with happy tears, the washing away of relief. He smiles too, then laughs with you.

The soldiers outside might think it an odd business: to make a woman moan and laugh with a cock. You were brought to this tent screaming, and he made you scream again, just not the way they thought.

The sound of your mutual laughter rises in the tent, up towards the heavens, surely making even the Sky Father smile above.

…

You do it every night, and every morning, too.

Sometimes, you do it during the day after bathing in the stream. After washing and playing in the water, you rush to the shore together, but König is always faster than you. He throws your dress away or holds it up above his head, far from your reach, smiling like the most innocent man in the world. He's far from innocent, though: his cock hangs heavy between his legs, swelling just from seeing you angry and flustered and wet. 

“Bully,” you accuse, utterly in love and out of breath, earning you another attack of a love-hungry giant. You forget the dress when he kneels on the grass, kisses your stomach and your thighs, keeps you in place for his mouth with two strong arms and a love that turns your whole body weak. 

“Pretty,” is the only thing he breathes as an answer before he scoops up your leg and spreads you open for his mouth.

Your head rolls back with a choked sigh, the drops on your skin dry on their own. Somehow, you end up on the grass with his mouth glued on you. The sun plays in your hair; it dances on your face as he gives you more and more until you know, you just know that if you do this every night and morning and day, you will definitely have his child.

He tells you his real name, his true name, the one his mother gave him. You moan it in his ear just before you cum around his length. Sometimes, it makes him purr; other times, it makes him grunt. Once, you hear a soft, pitched whine. 

He’s more rough when you’re on your knees. You’re shy and wet when he commands you to prop yourself on your elbows and show him your cunt. He licks you from front to back, feasts on you until your breaths turn to shivers. You squeeze your eyes shut from how obscene the scene must look; you hope to all the gods the Roman slave won’t come to ask his travel guides back when König finally rises and takes a wide stance behind you. He sets himself on your opening and pushes in, fat and greedy. 

You can only whimper as he starts the thrusts, starved and slow, picking up the pace and holding you in place by the hips when you approach the brink of another collapse. You fear you will lose your mind if he keeps doing this to you every day. The only thing you hear are the breathless, warm grunts of encouragement behind you.

“You can take it. You can take it. Already took it, little one…”

He won’t stop, not even as you cry out loud, the cock hitting you in places that make your legs nearly give in. He won’t stop even as tears brim, not even as you start to sound like a tortured animal; no, he just tightens his grip on your waist and pounds you harder. You cum with a moan that would make Roman whores blush, but your lover doesn’t mind at all. He cums right after you, with a roar that could raise the reverend dead from their mounds.

Afterwards, he’s gentle again. He gathers you in his arms like his most valuable possession, caressing and breathing you in, giving you a soft kiss behind your ear.

“You’re... mean,” you try to remember how to breathe as he gives you more of those hungry kisses. You already know he likes it when you’re so spent you don’t have the strength to squirm or fight him.

“Ja. And you become more nice when I bully you,” he whispers in your ear. “More calm… Less difficult.”

“Well, you don’t,” you turn inside his hold, eyes shining brighter than the stars or even the sun. “Crazy man…”

“You have robbed me of my sword and shield, it’s true. Robbed my heart too. Little thief.”

“Thief? You’re the one who stole me…!”

“And I’ll never let you go.”

You wriggle a hand to cup his face, meeting his eyes with such helplessness that it’s not even funny anymore. If he’s joking or playing with you now, you’ll kill him with his own swords.

“You promise?”

“I make a vow,” he declares ceremoniously, with a hand on his heart. But you doubt that he’s playing any games; you wonder if this man is even capable of lying or deception. You hug him so tight that he has to let out a grunt – surprised and pleased – after which you have to bury your face in his neck so that he won't see your tears.

“I am in love with you, Fee,” he whispers in your ear while caressing your hair, ever poetic for such a simple man. “Tell me. Do you like me too…?”

“Yes,” you breathe a half-cry, half-laugh in his neck. “Yes, you crazy giant. I like you too.”

You rise just enough to kiss him. It’s hungry and delivers everything you can’t say. You can’t tell him you love him; you simply can’t. You’re not ready for the painful happiness it would bring forth. He stabs you full of it anyway.

“I will never let you go. Never. Not when I finally found you, little one...”

…

Summer comes.

The camp moves lazily to its next destination, but when the next battle comes, König refuses to fight. 

His soldiers blame you, of course. You have bewitched him with your softness, making him soft and spineless as well. It is unheard of that a warrior like him would fall like this: out of some woman’s underhanded spell rather than dying gloriously in the field by a barbarian blade or two. Even poison is considered better than this.

No one understands that there is no hex. The war is still being fought, this time inside his soul. It’s not just you preventing him from taking up arms; it’s something else, something old and deep-rooted you've managed to stir in him. Something ferocious, something that has been asleep for a long time, something that is far from all things soft.

You two sneak out from the camp after the bulk of the army has marched away. He takes you to the seaside again, to a wild, roaring shore. You laugh and bask in the sun, swim in the sea and eat the first berries of the season. You lie on the tall grass, naked as the day you were born: it's simply too hot to wear anything except your glowing skin. König starts to ask you peculiar questions while tracing the soft line of your spine. 

He asks what kind of house you would like to live in, and tries to find out in a roundabout way if you would like to live in a forest or in the hills. You treasure the sound of waves, and König likes the sound of the wind in trees, but you both love steep hills and the open view of plains. You get the idea that he may want to retire somewhere in the near future. 

He tells you he is not a good fisherman but can hunt everything that moves. He is good with a spear, with traps and the bow, and he’s tired of hunting humans who only wish to live in peace. The arena he could understand, but the war on foreign lands, not. And if you begin to swell with his offspring, the Roman encampment at war is the last place for a sweet little fairy like you. He asks what kind of village you used to live in and is somewhat sad to hear all the things you tell him. He says it sounds like home, the one he was taken from many years ago. 

When you return to the camp, it’s like you two are a different species altogether, two wild animals who sneak from the gates back to the flock, back to being human, back to being caged and tamed and stunted. The grumpy, tired soldiers witness your wildness and happiness with sullen distaste. To them, your appetite for freedom is the filthiest, most treacherous thing in the world. 

The commander of the troops summons König at his feet and threatens to flog him if he ever skips a battle again. He’s told that only barbarians ignore orders like this: at the turn of a whim or a woman or wind. If he doesn’t remember who he is, not the reckless murderer of his youth but a man reborn, a noble Roman citizen, he will risk descending into apathy and greed again. Was this the case, Rome will guide him back to fold again by the crack of a whip if it has to.

That night, you tell him that you love him. Wherever he goes, you will go. That night, when you’re lying in his arms, sweaty and spent and thoroughly happy, he speaks words so wild it shakes the whole tent with a wind.

“If I kill the soldiers, will you come with me?”

It’s only a mutter, a murmured, careful whisper, but it makes you rise to sit and place a hand on his chest for extra support.

“Kill the soldiers? You mean… Kill the Romans?”

“Ja. All of them.”

The shock quickly makes way to disbelief. Can such a thing even be done? He’s a giant, but he’s still just one man. But König doesn’t look restless at all; he looks like a man who has finally made a decision he should have made years ago. He looks like someone who is at peace with their soul.

"Where would we go?" You whisper weakly, unsure if he has given this enough thought or thought at all. It’s now the wanderer in him who speaks, the adventurer who fears nothing because he has already lost everything – and found the most precious, essential thing. 

You. Himself…

Free will.

“Wherever you want.”

“What if you get killed…?”

“You take treasure and horse and go.”

…

Your mother always said that it's useless to sway a man if he has chosen to stand up and fight. She told you that the best you could do is go grab a sword and join him.

That is why you give him your blessing – your full, ardent blessing.

It makes him stronger than ever: were he to go out there with nothing but his skin, he would be victorious. The oak that hears your magnificent spell shivers from fear above you as you call down earth, fire and wind. 

You call the spirits from below to guide his feet and make them swift and silent as a feather in the wind. You call down the lightning from the sky to accompany his sword as he deals his blows. You cloak him with the fury of the dead; they will smite down his enemies when they catch even a glimpse of him. You shroud him with the Mother's blessing so that he will be untouchable, unstoppable, invincible as he deals death among the Romans.

It’s a terrible spell; even the moon withdraws into a cloud when She hears it. Not even the lady of silver twilight dares to reveal this giant to the Romans as he’s about to descend upon them.

He rises with the power of fifteen men and gives you a kiss that nearly topples you. He smiles before he leaves you, and never looks back as he goes to do the deed of a legend.

You watch the massacre up from a hill. A safe distance from the camp, but close enough to see how König destroys a whole cohort by himself. The plant you mixed into the “reconciliation wine” he gave his soldiers and the commander before nightfall makes it laughably easy because most of the men are still half asleep when they burn inside their tents. The oil spilt on the dry dirt and linen roars aflame now with the help of the wind and earth spirits as König torches the camp. The occasional few soldiers that rise to meet him with fear in their stare are already broken by your spell before his swords impale them. 

The old translator is the only Roman who wasn’t given a cup of foxglove wine because he was König’s slave, and now he can see that he is blessed among men. The God of War faces him with swords pointing to the ground, fury planting his feet wide, and it takes the old Roman a while to understand that he’s the only man who gets to walk out of this camp unharmed. As grumpy and unsociable as he is, you wish him good fortune on his future journeys, even utter a quick protection spell to shroud him as he leaves towards his destiny on enemy land.

The slave women, sober, confused, and free, run amock to gather weapons, cloaks, food, and valuables before escaping the camp. König doesn’t even notice them, and they pay little mind to the enraged god ramming through puny mortals because they’re too busy getting out of the burning castra.

How fitting it is that the only people escaping the hellfire are a few beaten women and an old, weak-calved Roman – every able-bodied soldier burns inside his tent or meets their end at your lover’s blade.

The wind spirits help spread the fire so eagerly that you begin to fear that König won’t make it out in time. You whisper prayers into your fist, curled around the Mother who has already given you so much. She has also taken away everything; like seasons, she has reaped and sown, but if she reaps your lover now, you will walk into the sea.

Mother is merciful and returns him to you, unharmed and glorious. He's the same ferocious beast you saw half a moon ago, and also the same ferocious man who was inside you this very morning. You see a god of war, and he sees the mother of life and death, perhaps, because his first words to you are a ripe offering.

“I avenged them all,” he says when he reaches you, thrumming with victory and smelling of smoke and ruin and blood.

He has been born again; he has walked to a new dawn through fire and death and returns to your arms like you two have known each other since the beginning of time. You’re not sure if he talks about his fallen ones or your fallen ones, or everyone who has fallen to these particular Roman spears. You’re not sure if this is his downfall because what you’re looking at is only the downfall of the Roman campaign on your lands. You and König are very much wild and spirited and free. If this is a downfall, it feels like being lifted towards the sky. You see in his eyes that he feels the same as you.

The whole world is new as you leave towards a new life. Sun rises, and takes years off your backs. You wash him in the sea and kiss the salt away from his lips, and it feels only right that he takes you on the grass after slaughtering your enemies.

You bury the statues and the bronze sword in your old village, long abandoned and thoroughly looted. The old woman is in her hut, dead as a stone, and she finally looks happy, with a calm little smile on her face and flowers in her hand. She looks like a young girl, almost, ready to meet the spring of her life.

"Ready for adventure, little one?" König smiles as he raises you to his horse. He takes direction from the sun while you look down at his happy, golden form – your god, your life, your love. 

Your new beginning.

...

Translations:

Richtig? - Right?/Correct?

Einfach so - Just like that

Verdammte… Götter, du bist zu eng - Damn… Gods, you are tight

Aber… - But…

Ach du kleine… - Oh you little…

Scheisse - Shit/Fuck

[diabolikangel158]

Can you do the Vees x reader (separate) where they see you watching an edit of them and you start fangirling, despite already dating them? Thank you!

Alas, I’ve finished this post. Honestly wasn’t even to hard, I just got busy. I’ve got so much stuff I need to do and want to do, but no time to do it.

Vox x Reader, Velvette x Reader, Valentino x Reader (separate)

Disclaimer: Hints of unhealthy relationships, borderline stalking behaviors, some hints at abuse and anger issues, controlling behaviors from the Vees, suggestive content

Vox:

You lay quietly on your bed, scrolling through TikTok. You remember when you first arrived in Hell, you were simply relieved that there was technology at all, and even better, there was your beloved app. When you met and hit it off with the tech overlord himself, you were thrilled (almost as thrilled as Vox was with you). Vox had mentioned at some points that he was concerned with your “addiction” to the app, sometimes silently wondering if he had accidentally hypnotized you into being so enthralled with it. However, after a few random checks, he realized that it wasn’t his doing at all; you just really liked doom scrolling on there. In all honesty, he felt some kind of pride seeing you spend hours using his tech. Plus, it kept you busy while he was running around his company and discussing various things with other overlords. 

You chuckled to yourself, repositioning your body to alleviate some of the stiffness you felt from reclining in the same posture for so long. You swiped up once more, your jaw dropping open. You had seen edits of other people before, whether they were famous actors, idols, and even fictional characters, but this was the first time you’d seen this. It was an edit alright, a sexy song playing in the background. However, there was no actor or idol, but your very own boyfriend, Vox. Vox, CEO of VoxTek, Vox. 

A couple things ran though your mind as you watched it on repeat. Hey, it was a good edit. He would kill them if he ever found out who made this. Or would he? Maybe Vox would like this. You giggle a little at the thought. Of course he would like this. You may love Vox, but you’re not blind to how egotistical he can be at times. For all you know, he probably already had a folder titled “Me Edits” on his phone. You went ahead and liked the post, pressing the bookmark icon to save for… future use? 

Of course, the TikTok algorithm figured you out pretty quickly. You continued to see and like more videos, finding a new way to pass time on the app. You were so enraptured, you didn’t notice Vox walk into the bedroom, slipping off his jacket with a yawn. He grumbled a small greeting to you, but you didn’t even notice that. Vox narrowed his eyes suspiciously; he was used to you being obsessed with your phone, but not so much that you’d even ignore him. 

He pulled out his own phone, clicking on the app that he used to keep a close eye on you… for your safety of course. No other reason. He maneuvered to the section that allowed him to view what you were viewing on your phone live. What he found… surprised him to say the least. You were watching on repeat one of those TikTok edits of him that were floating around on the internet. He pressed a button on his phone to access your camera on your phone, viewing your expression. There was a light blush on your cheeks, and your eyes barely blinked, as though you were afraid that blinking would cause you to miss something important in the edit.

Vox’s screen displayed a toothy grin as he put his phone away in his pant’s pocket. He went over to you on the bed, leaning in behind you close to your ear. “Damn, doll, I knew you were obsessed with me, but this is a whole new level. Even for me.” You whip your head around to look at him, losing the grip on your phone. Vox takes it in between two of his claws, holding it up. “Oh, so sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to interrupt your time with…” He pauses, turning the screen towards himself to view it. “Oh, yes, me.” He laughs a little. 

You sat up in the bed, crossing your arms angrily. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you don’t have a folder saved up for yourself, of yourself.” You spit back, trying your best to cover up your embarrassment with anger. 

Vox simply smiled back at you. “Why? Want me to share the link with you?” He laughs some more, your attempt to embarrass him being brushed aside. 

You groan in annoyance. Of course this whole situation was going to inflate his

ego even more than it already was. 

Velvette:

Velvette walked through the halls of the Vee tower, making her way without even having to look up from her phone. She tapped her thumbs along the screen to update her various social medias, hitting the upload button with a grin as she arrived at your room. 

Not bothering to knock or make her presence known in any kind of way, Velvette easily opened the room to find you laying in bed on your back, head resting on a pillow, with your phone raised above your face. Usually, you would have noticed her by now. She cocked out her hip in annoyance, placing one hand on it as the other still held onto her phone to the side. Velvette’s eyes narrowed when she noticed you grin dazedly at your phone, pop music blaring out from it on repeat. 

Velvette gives you a couple more seconds before clearing her throat loudly. You finally notice her and in your surprise, let go of your phone that you had above your head and unceremoniously drop it on your face. You give a yelp in pain before quickly picking up your phone and trying to lock it. However, the pop music continued to play, and if one listened closely, someone was saying something over the music.

“And what’s got you so enthralled that you can’t even bother to greet your girlfriend when she walks in the room?” She huffs out, crossing her arms across her chest. She walks over to you and peers at your phone, which is locked but still playing the sound. “I know it’s a damn tik tok, since that insufferable music keeps–”

Velvette stops speaking as she is interrupted by…herself. 

“Ugh. No! Unacceptable. You're fired. What is this? Wrist ruffles? Is it 1750? Burn it like the witches who wore it!" Again, the pop music ensues. 

Velvette looks at you blankly, before a smirk tugs at her lips. “Are you… watching edits of me?” She can’t help the chuckle that slips out of her mouth. “Seriously? Open it up, let me see what you’ve been watching.”

You unlock your phone, ashamed, handing it to her. “To be fair, they’re pretty good edits, Vel.” She snatches your phone away and begins to watch the video. She watches it without much reaction and hands the device back to you. She says nothing for a moment. “Um… are you upset about it?”

Instead of answering, she opens her phone to an app, taking a picture of the both of you, not allowing you any time to prepare for it. “H-hey! You could warn me! I don’t even look good!”

Velvette rolls her eyes, typing a message on the photo, preparing to upload it. “Please, I’m your girlfriend. I make sure you look good all the time.” She gives you a snarky grin, finally uploading the image. You get a notification on your phone– you’ve been tagged in a post… Velvette’s post. You open it to look and find the picture that she had snapped of the two of you with the caption “If you don’t catch them watching edits of you in their freetime, do they really love you?” and of course, your username is tagged in it. Various comments already start rolling in about how cute you guys were as a couple, jealous comments about how envious they were of the relationship; the usual.

You look at her, your mouth agape. “Did you really have to put me on blast like that?”

Velvette looks rather satisfied with herself, giving you a shrug. “Anyways, save your little edits for later, the car is ready for us.” You sigh as you get up to follow her. 

Valentino:

You honestly weren’t surprised that Valentino had fans that made edits of him and posted them on social media. Let’s be honest, if you had the talent for editing, you’d probably be one of those fans. If you found anything surprising, it was the fact that there were so many that weren’t raunchy. Of course, you supposed, that if someone wanted to see something raunchy about him, they’d have to pay a subscription fee. Surely, there were videos of him in his prime somewhere. 

You scrolled through, finding some sort of joy in the fun videos, even adding some of the music that the users had chosen to your playlists. You rolled over onto your stomach and continued scrolling. So enthralled you were with the silly videos, that you were only brought out of your stupor upon feeling a light, yet confident touch on the back of your thigh. “Hey amorcito… and just what are you looking at on your phone, hm?” 

Your eyes widened and you quickly turned your phone face down, craning your neck to look back at him. You didn’t expect that he would be back so soon. “Oh, Val! I thought you said you had a long shoot today and wouldn’t be back ‘till later?!” The words come out too rushed to be considered “normal.”

Valentino tilted his head to the side. “What? Did you not miss me? Or do you just enjoy being alone nowadays?” He gives you a fake pout. “Don’t tell me that’s the case, amorcito. You’re going to make me upset…” The tone in his voice held a slight edge to it; the production from today must have pissed him off and so he cut early for him to flip this quickly. You were used to his short temper, but ordinarily you’d have at least a little leeway. 

“Of course I missed you!” You reassured quickly. You sat up in the bed, crossing your legs together and looking at him with what you hope is a “Valentino-can’t-be-mad-at-me-like-this” look. Fortunately for you, he gives you a grin and pats your head, sitting down next to you. 

“Well, don’t be shy, let me see what you were looking at, hm?” Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, and Val doesn’t miss a beat. He leans in to peer at you closely. “Don’t tell me you were watching naughty films… and without me! I’m hurt, amorcito.” Before you can explain that you definitely were not doing that, Valentino snatches the phone you left unguarded and unlocked on the bed with one of his arms. You start to protest, but quiet down when one of his hands holds a finger up at you, a silent command to shut your mouth. 

You’re not sure what you expect from him when he sees it. Maybe to make fun of you, call you touch-starved, obsessed, a lost puppy perhaps? Can’t even be away from me for a second? You’re so pathetic it’s cute. You grimace in your head at the thought of such degradation to your person. 

Needless to say, you’re surprised when Valentino squishes your cheeks with one hand, gripping your face hard to pull you close. You lips pucker due to the force and you couldn’t mumble out a preemptive apology even if you tried. Only muffled sounds would come out. “Amorcito, you’re so cute! You know, I was ready to be so angry with you for trying to hide things from me, but this is just adorable! Was my baby scared that I would embarrass them?” You nod as much as his grip on your cheeks will allow. He snickers and lets the hand on your face fall to your neck, softly grabbing ahold of it. Valentino kisses you, hard. It’s honestly rather messy, not that kisses with him were ever chaste by any means. It leaves you gasping for breath.

Val locks your phone, gently placing it on the bedside table. It’s a kind gesture if you’ve ever seen one from him. Vox loves to complain to you about how many phones Val has shattered in his fits of rage or moments of carelessness. Val lies down besides you, pulling him close to him. “You’re too good to me, carino. So, I’ll be good to you, too.” You feel one of his hands sneaking in between your legs as the other three busy themselves with removing some of your clothing. “After all, why bother with those silly videos when you have the real thing right here?”  He flashes you a salacious grin before you close your eyes to endure the pleasure that you’ll be succumbing to… whether you want to or not. 

[celestialprincesse]

🎤♡

Luck Be a Lady closes out the night for you with cheers and claps and whistles from patrons who think that your performance is something special, uniquely for them, like it's not something you do every night (except Tuesdays) without fail. Same songs, same accompaniments, just different faces in the crowd. All but one. Although, technically John isn't in the crowd amongst his skeezy patrons, he's holed away up in a VIP booth which no one can access apart from him, listening to you sing over a bourbon from a bottle that probably cost more than your rent.

Tonight has been a more tiring one. You can already feel your throat getting tickly and sinuses getting blocked, no doubt a nasty cold coming in. The constantly changing sleep schedule and cold winter banished to he outside of the oddly cosy casino probably don't help matters, either. Upon slipping backstage, you can't help but yearn for a hoodie and some sweats, maybe some fuzzy bedsocks and a pint of ice cream to top it all off, but no luck when the stage manager gives you a quiet "Boss wants to see you."

"John." You acknowledge upon walking into his lavish office, all dark stained wood and buttery leather, plopping yourself down on the chair opposite his own - and regretting it instantly at the way it only increases your desperation to curl up and sleep somewhere warm tenfold. "Bird." Your boss coos back, already taking the initiative to flick on the kettle for you, make you something comforting. "Chamomile or green?" "Chamomile, please." You hum in response, letting your chin rest in the crook of your palm as you weakly attempt to stifle a yawn.

You nurse the sturdy mug between your palms when it's handed to you, revelling in the peace and quiet of Johns office, far from prying eyes and too loud noise, all whilst he pours himself another bourbon and settles in his own high backed office chair.

"You sang beautifully tonight." Johns voice is a low rumble that settles in your bones and warms you from the inside out. "You sing beautifully every night, but tonight you sounded especially lovely."

"Thank you, sir." The mug of tea is warm in your hands as you curl a little further in on yourself, letting your lashes flutter shut against your cheeks for just a blissful moment. "John." He corrects with an almost encouraging sternness which has a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips. "Thank you, John."

"You mentioned changing the setlist last week." The nonchalant observation of your boss has your eyes opening, meeting his eyes so blue that you'd happily drown in them. "Don't look so nervous, Bird. You're the singer, I trust your judgement. Tell me more."

"I just think that - we tend to get repeat customers, right? The regulars who come most nights." John gives an encouraging nod, inviting you to continue as he takes a sip of the golden liquor swirling in his crystal glass. "We do the same setlist almost every night, and I just thought that maybe it'd be a good idea to switch it up from time to time - keep things fresh, keep the customers coming in."

"I'm listening."

"Obviously we keep in some of the classics - the signatures; Luck Be a Lady, Art Deco, Summertime. But maybe we could also do some other stuff too?"

"Like?"

At that you give a little noncommittal shrug, taking a sip of your own drink, inhaling the deliciously fragrant steam. It only lulls you deeper into your tiredness, your longing for a hot bath and the comfort of your bed.

"Fleetwood Mac, Nina Simone, Duran Duran. Stuff that people are familiar with, y'know?" "You've spoken with the band about this?" "Mhm." "Write me up a setlist and I'll sort it."

John gives you an affectionate smile as he withdraws a cigar from the leather case on his desk, a lighter appearing between his fingers not a second later.

"You mind, Bird?" "S' no bother." "You take the underground home, that right?" "Yes, Sir." "John, Bird."

You huff out a quiet little laugh at his insistence, but give him a slow, understanding nod as you sip away at your tea, letting it soothe the irritation in your throat and warm your bones.

"I'll have a car take you home." "Sorry?"

Your obvious confusion has a smirk pulling at the corners of Johns mouth, the sides of his eyes crinkling at the sides. His hand finds yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, affectionate.

"You're cold and it's snowing out. I won't have my Songbird getting sick. What kind of a man would that make me, hm?" "I have a coat - I can always take a cab." "Or you could just let me look after you."

After a few minutes of contemplation, weighing up the thought of walking the half hour to the tube station in shoes very much not made for this weather, or giving in and letting your very attractive employer get you home safe, you give a little nod, a tired, grateful smile angled his way. Wordlessly, John leans back in his imposing chair, legs opening slightly, one hand keeping his cigar between his teeth whilst the other pats the top of his thigh in a silent invitation. It's a tactical choice on his part, a gesture which you can easily ignore, or take him up on.

The sound of your shoes tapping across the floor hits you before your actions do, and yet you can't help but sag into the warmth of his lap, curl into the hand he places so carefully on your cheekbone like a contented cat. John replaces his cigar on the pretty glass ashtray in order to pick up his bourbon, raising it to your parted lips, tipping it gently back, letting the honey coloured alcohol warm your tongue.

"My grandma used to say that Whiskey cured colds." He hums, running his fingers through your hair with gentle reverence, happy to see you relax into the comfort he's wanted to provide you with for so long.

"People also used to say that lead made for good foundation." You quip back affectionately, yawning as you lean back into his touch, letting your head rest on his suited shoulder.

"Very funny, Bird."

[cherrycola27]

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and eventual smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

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Chapter 3: Roses and Gold

"Minthe? What are you doing here?" You repeat as you take a seat at your breakfast bar.

"I came to see you, silly!" She sing-songs as she flits about your kitchen.

"What's wrong? What bad news have you brought me?" You huff, hoping to get straight to the point. "Why do you assume it's bad news? Can't I just come to check on you. It's been a while since you've been home and Hecate, and I are worried about you. Now, where do you keep your wine glasses?" She pivots.

It's always bad news

"Second cabinet to the left from the stove." You instruct her. She claps her hands before bringing down two of them and pouring both of you a glass. "I know that mortal stuff doesn't do it for you, so I brought a bottle of Dinoysus' special blend." Minthe chirps as she sets the glass down in front of you.

You thank her and take a long drink of the maroon liquid.

"So, spill, I want to hear all about this Rooster you're crushing on." She presses you.

You almost choke on your wine when she says his name. "Bradley is a coworker of mine. A colleague. A friend." You tell her.

"A friend—huh. So, I guess you were just being friendly when you saved him today." Minthe chuckles. You glare at her.

Just a friend

"Come on, Hay. I'm your best friend, you can tell me." Minthe takes a seat beside you and hits you with her pleading puppy dog eyes.

"Okay, maybe I have a few feelings for him." You relent.

"Yes! I knew it!" She whoops.

"It's just—" you trial off. "It's just what? Hades you, more than anyone deserves to be happy, especially after what Persephone did to you." Minths grumbles.

"Minthe, I know you never liked her, but I'm the one who hurt here. You saw the burn marks yourself." You remind her.

"Yes, but I don't think Little Miss Spring is as innocent as she claims. She did something, I just know it." Minthe huffs out.

Minthe was nothing if not loyal. She'd been wary of Persephone since the first day she'd met her. Never fully trusting her. And after what happened between the two of you, Minthe was one of the few still in your corner. She and Hecate had been your support group, and they were currently watching over the Underworld in your absence.

"Minthe, do you really think Persephone had me burn her on purpose? Do you think she chose to be scarred for life? " You counter.

"I don't know. All I do know is you were so in love with her, and you had never lost control of your powers like that before, and you would never hurt someone you love." Minthe finishes before downing the rest of her drink.

"But, that's in the past. Tell me about Bradley." Minthe shifts the topic.

"He's kind, smart, and funny. He's genuinely a good person. He reminds me a lot of Persephone, in the best way. But at the same time, he's different. He doesn't shy away from the pain he's felt in life, he over comes it. He doesn't let his scars, mental or physical ones keep him from being his true self. Bradley is just—he's different." You sigh. It's been so long since you've let yourself feel like this.

"I think he sounds wonderful. Maybe he is your soulmate." Minthe takes your hands and squeezes them. The smile drops from your face and you pull away from her.

Soulmate, ugh, you hated that word

"Minth, he's not my soulmate." You tell her. "You know I don't even believe in those. Not after Seph." You sigh.

"Persephone isn't your soulmate. She wouldn't have said those things about you if she was." Minthe defends.

"Even if she wasn't, I've been wandering Earth for three thousand years. If I had a soulmate, surely I would have met them before now. 'Soulmate' is a stupid word made up by the Gods and mortals to give them hope that there is someone for everyone, when their really isn't." You almost shout at her. You sigh and take another drink. The wine warms you from within and calms you.

Good job, Hades, push away one of the only friends you have left

"Sorry. I just—" you shake your head.

"It's fine. You have strong feelings about it. You're allowed to have them." Minthe reassurances you.

There is a long pause. "Hades, I know you think that you don't deserve to be happy or have someone in your life who cares about you, but you do. If you like Bradley, you should pursue him." Minthe tells you.

"How would I even begin to explain to him what I am?" You ask her. "I don't know. But I'm sure you'd figure it out." Minthe offers.

"He's just so good. Too good for me. I'd never be able to live with myself if I hurt him. I mean, what if he saw my true form and it terrified him. I don't think I could live with him calling me a monster or being afraid of me." You sigh.

That would be a fate worse than death

"Hades, you can't let fear hold you back." Minthe takes your face in her hands and kisses your forehead before hugging you. You lean into the hug. It really is good to see her.

"Now for the bad news." Minthe says as she takes a step back.

Of course

"Ah ha! I knew it!" You proclaim as you jump up from your chair. "I knew you were coming with bad news. What is it this time? What's got Zeus' lightening bolts in a twist?" You ask her.

"It's not about Zeus or the other Olympians, Hades. It's about you." Minthe settles into a seat across from you with a serious look on her face. You sit back down. You've never seen her look like this. She almost looks afraid.

"You know how we have assumed that you were still immortal after being cast off of Olympus because you reincarnate every time you die?" Minthe began.

"Yes." You nod your head.

"Well—Hecate and I were visited by the Fates a few days ago, and they took us to the lifeline temple." She continues. "And the Fates showed us your lifelines."

"Lifelines? That's impossible. I only have one. Everyone only has one." You tell her.

"That's what we said. But apparently, when all the Gods were cast off, their lifeline split into thousands of pieces. Each time they died before completing their quest, a line would snap. But they would reincarnate because another line was there. When the Gods completed their worthiness quest, the lines fused back into one unbreakable line." Minthe tells you. The gears start turning in your head.

"And because I haven't completed my quest, I never got the unbreakable line of immortality. I've just been burning through the lifelines." You say.

"Exactly. And for the others, it wasn't an issue, but because you've been on Earth so long, you've used several of them. But that's not the bad news." Minthe cringes and takes a long drink of her wine.

"Well, what's the bad news?" You press her. She hesitates.

"You only have one lifeline left. Hades, if you die again, you become a permanent resident of the Underworld, and not as it's queen. Your death would be the end of the line for you with no chance of reincarnation." Minthe drops the news on you. You suck in a breath as the realization hits you.

You aren't immortal, like you thought. You'd been so careless for so long, and now you only had one life left.

"Okay. I guess I'll have to be careful then, won't I?" You say.

Careful, sure

"Extremely careful. Hades, the next time you're home, I want it to be because you're taking back your rightful place as queen. I know you said you were done trying to complete your quest, but you need to. Please." Minthe begs you.

You promise her that you will. She gives you a smile and hugs you once more before she leaves. After she's gone, the scent of mint still lingers.

"Well, you two, it looks like Mommy is going to have to tone it down." You say as you look at Cerberus and Hydra, who are curled up together on the ridiculous large pet bed you bought for them. Cerby cocks his head to the side, while Hydra holds eye contact with you. You throw your head back and laugh.

"Who are we kidding? We all know that I don't know how to tone it down." You shake your head laughing before going to grab them some food for the evening.

Maybe dying wouldn't be the worst fate

It might be freeing

You get Hydra squared away with her dinner before opening the pantry to get Cerberus his. That's when you see it. "Oh no, Cerby, it looks like you've got just enough for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow. I'll have to head to the store across town to get you a refill tomorrow." You tell him after giving him a head scratch. Even though he didn't have three heads, Cerberus ate like he did. While your fur babies ate dinner, you decided on a quick bite yourself.

After all of you had your bellies full, you showered before tucking into bed. Hydra and Cerberus curled up at the foot of your bed and the three of you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you woke up early for a quick run. Cerberus came with you while Hyrda preferred to stay home. After a quick shower and breakfast for the three of you, you opted to slip on a simple blue sundress and tie your hair in a ponytail. You weren't in the mood to match pants and a shirt today. You slipped your feet into some sandals, grabbed your keys and headed out.

You made a day of your pet food run, stopping to get your nails done and to pick up some groceries. You were missing home a little extra today, so you decided to pick up everything you needed to make moussaka for dinner when you got home.

When you arrived back at the parking garage for your apartment complex, you knew you didn't want to make two trips to bring everything in, so, using all your strength you gathered all of your groceries and pet food and headed to the elevator. Someone had just gotten on, and the doors were about to close when you shouted, "Hold the elevator, please!"

You had a hard time seeing over the giant bag of dog food, but you could just make out a hand holding the doors open. You dashed through the doors and let out a sigh of relief as you leaned the bag against the wall. "Thank you so much." You breathed out.

"No problem, Hades." You froze when you heard his familiar voice. You dropped the dog food and turned around slowly.

"Bradley? What are you doing here?" You asked him. He chuckled and leaned against the wall. You gave him the once over. He was in gym shorts and an old UVA shirt.

"I could as you the same thing." He fires back. "I live here." You tell him matter of factly.

He nods approvingly.

"So I ask you again. Why are you here?" You asked, praying that his answer wasn't along the lines of him visiting his significant other.

"I live here too." He shrugs.

"Wait—what?" You look at him with wide eyes.

"So we've lived in the same apartment complex for almost two months and didn't know?" You're shocked.

"Looks like it. I live in 1113." He tells you. "No shit? I live in 1013. You're my upstairs neighbor." You both laugh.

Oh, good grief

"What are the odds. Hey, do you need some help with that?" He gestures to your things. "If you don't mind, that would be great." You say just as the bell to your floor dings. Bradley picked up the massive bag of food and follows you down the hall.

"So you have a dog." He says as more of a statement than a question. "And a cat." You tell him.

You pause outside your apartment door and unlock it. You're just about to tell Bradley to set the food by the door, but he marches inside right past you.

"Careful!" You warn him, but it's too late, Cerberus is bounding towards Bradley. You're waiting for him to start barking, but instead, you hear the sweet sounds of Bradley talking to him.

"Oh, who's a good boy, you are. Is that your food? No wonder it's such a big bag because you're such a cute, big boy, aren't you!" Bradley scratches Cerby's ears and pats his head.

Never one to be left out, Hydra weaves through his legs and begins to purr. "Oh, aren't you a pretty thing!" Bradley praises her.

Obviously, your animals like him, why wouldn't they?

You drop your keys on the table and chuckle at the sight.

"What are their names?" Bradley asks you as he moves to sit on your couch, and they both join him.

"Cerberus and Hydra." You tell him.

"You're kidding? Your call sign is Hades, and you have a dog and a cat named Cerberus and Hydra?" He laughs.

"Well, if you didn't notice, Cerby, my Rottweiler is a tripod, and Hydra is a six-toed cat. So, they fit." You laugh as you start putting up groceries.

"How long have you had them?" Bradley asks you.

"About three years. I was in South Korea on a detachment. One night, we went into the city and stumbled upon an animal fighting ring. We called the cops and helped get the animals safe and relocated. Cerberus and Hydra wouldn't leave each other, and no one wanted to take both of them, so I did. It cost me a fortune to get them here, but it was worth it," you say.

"Wow, that's amazing." Bradley says. He thinks that he likes you even more now. You shake your head and roll your eyes as you unpack your groceries.

"Are you hungry?" You ask him. "I could always eat." He responds truthfully. "Well, I'm making dinner. Would you like to stay? It's the least I could do after you helped me." You tell him.

"I'd love to." He smiles as he takes a seat at your kitchen island.

You begin to flit around the kitchen, chopping, mixing, and sautéing. Bradley watches you with wrapped attention. You grab a bottle of wine and pour a glass for each of you. Even if you can't get a buzz from it, you enjoy letting the fruity notes dance across your taste buds.

"So what are you making? It smells amazing." Bradley asks you as you're layer the dish into a pan to bake.

"Moussaka." You tell him. "It's Greek comfort food."

"Greek?" He quirks an eyebrow at you. "Yeah, I'm Greek. First-generation American. My whole family is from Greece." You tell him. It's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth either. "Kolasi is Greek for inferno." You continue.

"That's amazing. Is that part of the reason why your call sign is Hades?" Bradley asks. "That and I used to have a pretty fiery temper back in day." You reply.

Bradley nods his head and takes a sip of his drink. "So your whole family is from Greece. That's pretty cool. Do your parents live around here, or are they back home? Do you have any family around here, or is it just you?" He continues trying to make conversation. You stand in front of the oven and freeze. He sees your shoulders tense up and knows that this is a touchy subject for you.

Your voice drops. It's barely above a whisper when you say, "I—I don't have any parents, and I don't have any family around here. It's just me."

"Oh." Bradley breathes out. There's a pregnant pause. "I get it. It's just me, too. I lost my dad at three, and my mom when I was nineteen." He tells you. You sigh. Bradley thinks you're an orphan like he is. Maybe that's for the best. Honestly, he isn't totally wrong. You stay with your back to him for a long moment.

"I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean to. You're just—an enigma, Hades. I feel like I only know you on a surface level. I want to know more about you. Especially if we are going to be working together." Bradley tells you.

No, you don't

"Well, there isn't much to know about me. I joined the Navy at eighteen, graduated at the top of my class in the academy, and in Top Gun. Thirteen confirmed kills, but I've never been in one squadron for too long." You sigh. "That's about it."

"If I wanted to know your Naval career, I could have read your file. Tell me something deep about you." Rooster prods.

"Deep? Hmm. I have a lot of tattoos. Does that count as deep?" You chuckle.

"I mean, it's not ocean deep, but it isn't as shallow as a puddle." You both laugh at Bradley's comment. "What tattos do you have?" He continues.

"I have the rose and dagger on my arm. Kardiá tis fotiás on my ribs. It means 'heart of fire' in Greek. I have a poppy behind my ear, and then I've got a thigh sleeve of every place I've been stationed." You explain to him. You decided to leave out the details about your last tattoo. You didn't need him asking questions about it.

"Is that deep?" You ask him as you take your moussaka out of the oven and grab a few plates.

"Yeah, and now I feel like mine is stupid." Bradley snorts. "You have ink?" Now it's your turn to quirk a brow at him.

"Yeah." He slides the sleeve of his UVA shirt up and flexes his bicep to show you the Roman numerals etched into his right arm.

You gingerly reach out and trace the black numbering. "Thirty-two?" You question him.

"My mom was into tarrot cards and fortune telling. Thirty-two is the number for strength. I got it for her after she passed. The last thing she told me before she died was that she loved me and to be strong for her." There's a thick tension between the two of you as his words settle around you. "I don't think that's stupid at all, Bradley. It's sweet." You smile at him as you rub a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks. I've shown you mine. Does that mean I get to see yours now?" And just like that, his somber tone is gone, and his happy personality it back.

"Rooster, are you trying to get me naked?" You joke with him.

"Only if you're offering." You smirks. You shake your head and shove a plate at him before you can do or say something stupid.

He digs in a groans when the food hits his tastebuds.

"This—this is one of the best things I've ever eaten." He tells you appreciatively.

"I'm glad, I think I do a pretty good job with it." You smile at him and revel in his praise as he scarfs down his first plate before sheepishly asking for seconds, which you happily give him. Gods know you cooked more than you could ever eat.

After both of you finish dinner and polish off the rest of the wine, you pack up some leftovers for Bradley. He insisted on helping you with the dishes, so the two of you found yourself side by side working on them. Well, if you were being honest, the two of you were goofing around and playing more than you were cleaning. You were blowing bubbles and splashing each other and giggling like children.

"I hope you know that you're not going to be able to get rid of me now." Bradley tells you. "What do you mean?" You ask him.

"I'm like the neighborhood stray. You've fed me twice. You're stuck with me now." He tells you with a goofy grin. You throw your head back laughing, and Bradley swears it's the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. He loves the way your wide smile curls over your face and how your nose scrunches up and how the tips of your ears turn pink. You look so at ease.

He could get used to seeing you like this. Happy and carefree. It's a stark contrast to the rigid pilot he sees at work.

Soon, the two of you finish up, and you dry the last plate off before handing it to him to put in your cabinet. You turn to toss the dish towel on the counter, but slip on some soapy water the two of you had splashed on the floor and lose your footing. Bradley immediately reaches out for you and grabs your waist to steady you. Your hands attach to his biceps as you regain your balance.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath, and when your brain catches up with the rest of your body, you realize what an intimate position the two of you are in. You can feel the warmth radiating off of him, and his plush, pink lips are right there.

It would take hardly any effort on either of your parts to close the distance between the two of you. Your heart is screaming for you to do it, but before you can, Bradley clears his throat and drops his hands.

"Are you okay?" He asks. "I'm fine." You say in a deflated tone.

"Well, it's getting late, I should probably get going. Thanks again for dinner." He says as you walk him to you door.

"No problem. See you at work on Monday." You call as he walks into the hallway.

"See you Monday." He chimes back as you shut the door and lock it. You press your back again the cool wood and sink to the floor. Cerberus and Hydra both walk over and look at you with knowing eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, you two. It's not going to happen." You tell them.

"It's not going to happen." You repeat, this time as a reminder to yourself. You could let yourself be friends with Bradley. You could even let yourself have a crush on him. But you could never let yourself cross that line.

It's better that way

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[beauty-and-passion]

Eurovision 2023: more about the true winner because I said so

Hey, guess who is not over Eurovision 2023 yet.

It’s me, I am who.

I have never been so invested and still so obsessed over this year’s Eurovision. I mean, I am always hit by the post-depressive phase of Eurovision, but that lasts a couple days - during which I usually go through all the beautiful moments and listen to all the songs on repeat - then I’m back to my regular schedule of stupidly long analyses and fanfictions.

(By the way, sorry for all the Americans who follow me and have no idea of what I’m talking about or what happened in this year’s Eurovision. Just bear with me, I will come back to posting Sanders Sides stuff. Just not today)

This year... well, this year was truly something. And if the last year and the one before I was like “aww, what beautiful moments, I miss seeing these people having fun”, now it’s all mushed into one ball of feelings. I look at those artists having fun with the eyes of someone who saw how things went down. I look at them celebrating the true winner after the finale and I have this strange mix of nostalgia and heaviness.

I am not mad anymore for the result. Or better: I am and I will always be because 200 people stepped over the will of millions. But what this loss caused is just so fascinating and so unique, I want to keep exploring it - and maybe talking a little bit more about the true winner of Eurovision 2023 will help me process my feelings too.

Or I just will satisfy my need to ramble more about this incredible Finnish man, either way.

______________________

The sheer power of charisma

When you watch the entirety of Käärijä’s journey on this Youtube channel (and I suggest you do it, because it gives you a lot of food for thought), you notice a lot of interesting details.

From the moment he won the national competition and knew he had to go to Eurovision, Käärijä knew his only rival would’ve been Loreen. He said right from the start that it would’ve ended up with a confrontation between Sweden and Finland. He liked other songs and thought they could’ve been good opponents - but it’s pretty clear he knew the only one who could’ve opposed him was Sweden.

And he knew that Loreen was good. Even though I do not like her songs, even I have to admit she has good vocals. Sure, the vocals are the only thing I understand because she mumbles the rest of the song, but the vocals aren’t bad.

Käärijä knew she was the favorite to win. He praised her performance and called her “queen”, so he has been the first one to recognize her as a worthy opponent. He wasn’t so naive to think “I can easily beat her”.

However, he had some tricks up his sleeves. He knew his song was perfect for Eurovision, he basically designed it for that. He knew his performance would’ve got people’s attention. And he knew he had a lot of charisma.

You can say anything you want about him, but you cannot deny this man is charismatic. And this is a lot interesting, because charisma doesn’t have an exact definition and it’s not the same for everyone. And yet, we can all recognize and identify it as “charisma” when we see it.

The definition Wikipedia offers is that charisma is “a personal quality of presence or charm that compels its subjects”. And it’s undeniable that Käärijä has it. He has that genuine, simple honesty we see in childrens only and this activates our protective instincts, because we feel the need to protect him too. He is funny and makes us smile and everyone loves to smile and have fun. He is simple and humble and that makes him look more approachable and friendly than a superstar.

And his presence on stage is very, very good. He’s eye-catching and he knew it very well. He was the flashiest and the most interesting to look at - both because of his clothes and his appearance. Just compare him to the Cyprus guy: I don’t even remember the Cyprus guy’s face, but I doubt I will ever forget that iconic neon green bolero.

And I am sure he knew that very well. He knew the public would’ve loved him. He knew he would’ve gotten a lot of points because of the public. He knew he would’ve connected with them and not with the jury.

And so it was. The numbers are clear: he was and still is the public’s favorite. His result is the second highest in history right after Kalush Orchestra’s. The entire arena sang with him. During the voting portion, they kept calling his name. Everyone called him “winner”. As the Estonian singer Alika told him: “you had the public when they announced Loreen won”.

And by knowing that, I can understand why he was so bummed. He literally had everything: the perfect song, the charisma, public’s support. And I am pretty sure that, if the public gave more points to Loreen, he would’ve accepted his defeat easier.

But it wasn’t like that: he got more points than her in both the semifinal and the final. He has always been the public’s winner, right from the start. And even if he would've gotten the theoretical maximum of public votes from Europe (432), he still would've ended up behind Sweden.

Losing because 222 people gave your opponent an unbeatable lead isn’t something easy to digest. I mean, it’s been days and I haven’t digested it yet! And I am definitely not a singer, nor I did take part in the competition. However, I voted for him and, well, I am quite pissed that my money got wasted because of a stupid unfair system. The EBU should really refund everyone who tried to vote, considering there was no way to defeat the sheer power of the jury.

So, well, the competition ended with the public’s favorite losing the piece of glass. I will get over it, everyone will get over it. Käärijä himself will get over it - now he’s still rightfully sad about it, but as he said, life goes on.

And he will soon realize that losing the competition turned him into something more than a simple winner.

______________________

The birth of a legend

If Käärijä won, he would’ve been just the winner of Eurovision 2023. People would’ve loved him like they love Kalush Orchestra or Maneskin. Everyone would’ve been happy, a little bit of post-Eurovision depression as always and we would’ve forgotten it.

But losing had an even bigger impact, because Käärijä didn’t step down to second place, but over the first place. Being so spectacularly wronged in front of the world made him ascend to the status of legend and the public went crazy for him. Cha Cha Cha reached the top of Spotify's top 50 global, people from all European countries called him “the true winner” and I’ve seen more than one American, who knew nothing about Eurovision, watch his performance and protest for the result as well.

Even Tumblr was affected by this: the tag Eurovision trended for 3 days after its ending and, after it stopped trending, Käärijä kept doing it for days. And he’s still doing it, so good job people, let’s keep the party going on for a little longer: we all deserve it, after all. You know, as a little FUCK YOU to the jury.

What about Youtube? His grand final performance reached ca. 9 mln views in three days and if you check the comment section, is full of people calling him the true winner as well.

Heck, the Eurovision channel made a video specifically about his journey, like the usually do for winners only (in fact, they did one for Loreen. And Käärijä’s video got more views than Loreen’s in one single day).

And all over Europe people are still protesting and asking for the voting system to change. The Norway delegation asked it first and I fully support them, because they are constantly robbed by the jury. I liked Duncan Lawrence’s Arcade in 2019, but KEiiNO was a completely different level. (And if you loved KEiiNO too, please check their Youtube channel because they have made a lot of other songs and OH MY GOSH THEY ARE ALL GREAT)

Käärijä united Europe with his music and his energy and I understand why Finnish people are so proud of him: there are very few artists who are able to connect people so well. And he did it by using his mother tongue, not English! That’s an even bigger win imho, because it proves that if you have a great song, a strong performance and incredible charisma, people will appreciate you and go past the language barrier without any problem.

That’s why humankind loves music, after all: because it doesn’t need to be understood word by word, to reach people’s hearts.

______________________

The hero’s journey

There are many reasons why people fell in love with this funky green man and they all differ: someone loves his bubbly personality, others were touched by his genuinity, others just fell on the ground laughing and who doesn’t love someone that makes you laugh? And yes, there are some who are just horny for him and you are valid too, because he’s a good-looking man.

However, I think that the main reason why so many people got so invested, it’s because he had the perfect hero’s journey.

He already had a story perfect for a movie, even before starting Eurovision: when he was younger, he was diagnosed with colitis ulcerosa and the disease almost took his life (this post has an interview with all details). But because of that experience, he realized life is short and he should’ve pursued what he truly wanted - i.e. singing. I mean, this alone is perfect material for a movie already.

But now he got another story, and it’s even more like a movie: the story of the young man no one knew, who left his city in his small country, to reach the big European stage. A man with a funny spirit, who connected with everyone despite his broken English - and he wonderfully improved it along the way. Just look at how much more confident he became! Truly a masterful example of how we should just talk and make mistakes, in order to get better in another language.

So we followed the adventures of this funny man and of the friends he made along the way. We had fun and cried for the beauty of his friendship with Bojan (he literally called Käärijä “my new brother” and a small part of my heart that was broken got immediately healed). We got involved in his climbing to the top, we saw him face the behemoth that was opposing him and hoped for him to overcome it.

And he got the tragic conclusion of a hero’s journey: a hero who won and yet still lost.

People love this shit. We have always loved the story of the little one against the unbeatable enemy, the nobody who got the recognition he deserves, the kind heart defeated by the corrupt system. Those are all things that touch people and all aspects of the hero’s journey. And people naturally hope for a happy ending, so if we get a sad, bad or unfair one instead, we tend to feel even more empathetic towards the protagonist. And if your protagonist is as lovable as he is, the feeling is 100x stronger.

I really don’t know if the national juries expected this to happen, when they knew who the public’s favourite was and yet decided to award a different artist. But by doing that, they became the perfect enemy to close Käärijä’s journey and build a legend.

So, well, thanks for sucking so much. You built the legend you didn’t want to.

And yes, Käärijä’s enemy IS NOT Loreen. Loreen did her thing, she didn’t bribe the judges to give her votes. The problem is the jury’s power. So, for all the people who are still harrassing her: please stop hating this woman, she just did what other artists did too.

And since we’re talking about her, please stop saying shit like “She shouldn’t have participated!” too, because this is both very stupid (everyone is allowed to participate in Eurovision) and very disrespectful towards Käärijä himself. It’s a bit like saying that sure, he was good, but, like, you know, not enough good.

And this is totally wrong because this man has been able to defeat Loreen twice, both during the semifinal and the final (at least according to the votes that matter). So stop undermining his ability: he is a good artist. Actually, an artist so good only Loreen was able to compete against him.

And if you still think it’s right to hate Loreen for whatever reason, then I would like to bring this to your attention:

The king literally proposed to Loreen. And, considering how accurate was his foresight about the whole competition, I think it’s time we start to think about when it will happen and how many children they will have.

So if you are still harassing her: stop protesting for the piece of glass and ask her when will they get married, instead. We need to know.

Also, wouldn’t that be an even more perfect ending for Käärijä’s hero’s journey? Not only the great evil (aka the jury) will be defeated, but he will marry the only woman strong enough to oppose him. 100/10 I want a movie now.

And yes, I know Käärijä also proposed to Bojan and they are fathers of a baby sea lion. But what’s the problem? Doesn’t Käärijä have two hands? With one hand can hold Bojan, with the other Loreen, duh.

(Then he will probably need another hand for Selena from Austria, because I think she developed a little crush on him but hey, that’s the life of a hero I guess.)

______________________

Have you listened to his other songs yet?

I just want to confirm they are bops and you should listen to them immediately. Also, do not forget his concert on Saturday that will be available worldwide. Let’s show love to the king.

And yes, that means another post will come out. I mean, there are still so many things we need to know! I want to see the photos of that mural people are doing for him in Vantaa, I want to see the music collaboration between him and Bojan, I want to see them visiting little Edgar at the zoo. And I can’t wait to hear about his future European tour, because he has to do one. And maybe that will fully convey him how big his impact has been indeed.

As people told him in the after party, he conquered the world. Now he just needs to see it for himself.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

OMG i just had an idea-

what about tyler x reader where reader is interviewing the boys in honor of their new album !!! the tensionnn, like just imagine EVERYONE notices that theyre totally heart eyes for each other but them and maybe josh pokes some fun at them AH

also!! im the same gal who rec'ed the idea for Cover; you did so good on it!! super excited to read more of your stuff!! :)))

Radio Interview - Tyler Joseph x Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph × Reader

Warnings: None - super fluffy

Word Count: 791 - thought this would be perfect for a short blurb type piece so whipped this up in he back of my class lol

A/N: Thanks for enjoying cover! If you're going to be a regular requester I'd love to assign an emoji so I can tell my anons apart. Next time you request just let me know which emoji you'd like to use :)

“Welcome to 47.6 Alt Music Daily! Today, we have Tyler Joseph and Josh Dun from twenty one pilots in the studio to talk about their newest album Vessel! Thanks for coming in, guys,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I glanced down to double-check their mics were on. The studio had been buzzing with energy all day, and I'd spent the morning getting ready, listening to their new album on repeat. The excitement of meeting them was something I was barely able to contain.

“Thanks for having us,” Tyler responded, his voice smooth and perfectly on the mic. Most guests struggled with positioning, but not him—his eyes flicked over to mine, and there was something there. A curiosity I couldn't quite place. His sleeves rode up slightly, revealing fresh tattoos snaking up his arms. I'd been thinking of getting my own for months, and the sight stirred a new wave of nerves I hadn’t expected. I made a mental note to ask him about it later. 

I shifted my attention back to my notes. “So, for anyone who doesn’t already know, twenty one pilots is a local Columbus duo who cover a range of genres, including rap, pop, rock, and alternative music.” Tyler nodded as I spoke, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my heart race.

“Sounds about right,” Josh chimed in, breaking the tension with a laugh.

“Okay, so how long have you guys been making music?” I asked, flipping to the next question, though the sudden warmth in my cheeks made it hard to focus.

Tyler looked like he was trying to hold back a smile. “I started when I was 16. Played piano, wrote my first song, and then released a solo album unofficially.”

“Well, I’ve been playing drums since I was about 12,” Josh added. “I’d hang around music stores until closing, playing their kits until I got kicked out.”

“Don’t ask him how many times he’s been kicked out,” Tyler interjected, shooting Josh a teasing look. “He can list every store and the exact date.”

Josh gasped dramatically. “And I’m proud of it!” His grin was infectious, but my eyes were drawn back to Tyler, who was shaking his head with amusement.

I laughed softly, glancing at my notes again. “Okay, so... where does the name ‘twenty one pilots’ come from?” I asked, trying to keep things professional, though my mind kept wandering back to the way Tyler was watching me.

Tyler’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s one of my favorite stories. It’s from a play called All My Sons by Arthur Miller.”

“Oh my god, I remember studying that in high school!” I blurted, my excitement bubbling over. Tyler straightened up in his seat, his gaze locking with mine as I continued, “It’s about a father who ran a company that made parts for World War II planes, and he had to decide whether to send out faulty parts.”

“Right! He chooses to send them out, and twenty one pilots die because of it. His son, who was also a pilot, dies in the war, and though it's never confirmed, his daughter blames the father for her brother's death. The guilt leads him to take his own life,” Tyler finished, his voice soft but intense.

It was like no one else was in the room—just the two of us, connecting over this shared memory.

“So, how does it relate to the music?” I asked, resting my chin on my hand, hanging on his every word.

Tyler leaned forward slightly, his eyes locked on mine. “It’s about those moral crossroads we all face. Choosing between what's easy now but could be disastrous later, or making the tough call that’ll pay off in the long run. It’s something we ask ourselves all the time—what’s our purpose? Why are we making music? Right now, it’s simple: we just want to make people think.”

Josh, who had been silently observing, leaned into his mic with a mischievous smirk. “Or, you know, maybe it’s also to impress someone,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Tyler’s face flushed red as he shot Josh a glare. “That’s not—”

My cheeks burned as Tyler quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh... so, about that next question?” he stammered, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension breaking just enough for me to finally breathe. “Yeah, we’ll move on... for now,” I added, glancing playfully at Josh.

The rest of the interview flowed smoothly, but that undercurrent of something unspoken remained, hanging between Tyler and me. And as the session wrapped up, I found myself wondering if maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t the only one feeling it.

//

Requests open!

[anja-the-sane-panda]

An Over Analysis on Jack's Facial/Body Language in Locked out of Heaven

Note this is all my take on the map and my brain is literally broken so take this all with a fist full of salt.

Also this is SUPER LONG, so I apologize for giving y'all a collage essay on this.

VERSE ONE:

First let's talk about the face where he stares into the player's soul

It's pretty much a poker face which makes sense with his background. He probably perfected it over the years to just keep his mother quiet and not jump on him for not liking her plans. (Too much anyway)

But then he does the first move and his cocky side comes out in a blink of an eye. Like it's almost scary how quick he went from stiff and expressionless to sassy and confident. He's hyping himself up for the performance like how other performers would do quick vocal exercises or doing a quick shake to get their bodies and mind ready. Especially since this takes place after Witch where he looked both depressed

Now the pre-chorus

He is so happy to perform

this entire pre-chorus you see him grow a true smile that just gets bigger until he gets to the top when he goes into his full routine. You can feel his excitement right through the screen. He is ready to give the people what he wants and he is going to love every moment of it Hell he even winks to us. I mean that doesn't add much but I feel the need to point that out for the Jack Rose fans.

Now in the chorus we get to see full Jack Rose, complete with sassiness and confidence. Though we also can see the same smile from the pre-chorus, which makes sense! He is having the time of his life performing and he obviously loves his fans with how he is constantly pointing and smiling at them any chance he gets.

Now the second verse/pre-chorus are pretty much the same as the first except the fact that he seems for focused than cocky when in the room of mirrors (Most likely due to his mother watching him from the reflections) And he seems more excited the closer he gets to the stage.

But now we get to the juicy stuff in the bridge hehehe

Now this part is a little obvious with him pointing to his fans during the "Can I just stay here? Spend the rest of my days here?" He is pleading to whatever deity is listening to just let him stay on that stage with people who actually love him and he loves them back, even if it's just because of his voice/performances he is taking whatever love he can get. That's his heaven, but a certain ✨slaying✨ witch only lets him bask in it for a little while before locking him out it again and again.

K in the final chorus

Small detail I didn't notice the first time but at this part it looks almost like he's reaching for one of the helicopters whilst singing "I've been locked out of heaven" (Yeah this isn't beating my theory that those copters were sent from Night Swan to watch her son during his performance)

Now that Swan tower has lit up behind him and has even taken over the screens in the stage Jack is facing the complete opposite direction, with the most he goes towards it is when he faces the player completely and a few spare glances to the crowd behind him

He knows what's behind him but he doesn't want to think about it. Also at these last few repeats of the chorus he seems to almost be belting it in some spots. Like he's trying to drown himself in the song and stay in the zone forever. But alas, it has to end

That face when his mom waves him off tells us all we need to know. He's used to her actions and distain, but it also stings a lot for him.

Also while it isn't noticeable at first you can actually see him sigh after his hand goes all the way down and he looks at the floor.

In conclusion: Jack needs a hug yesterday and this sets up his reaction to seeing Wanderlust and his fans get turned in majesty. Is he cocky? Yes. But does he love what he does? Well when it comes to performing, yes

thank you all for coming to my Ted Talk, cookies are in the lobby

[goongiveusnothing]

I was sorta still a fan during the beginning of the last tour and so I was still watching some livestreams and looking at the hsdlot updates. Every day me and my mutuals would get excited to see what he would wear and what’d he’d say during his talking break lol. But as time went on he just kept wearing the same uggo outfits and saying the same shit about “edging” and the “choke her” line plus that ugly stomping dance etc etc the same repetitive things that he knew would get a rise out of the audience. Honestly I think every harrie felt how I felt at that point, nothing was new or exciting anymore and it started feeling pointless to keep watching clips from the shows. By the second year of the tour I honestly had no idea was going on at his concerts and didn’t even know he had new band members much less who they were. He always just finds something that gets the fans excited and does it over and over but what he doesn’t realize is the reason it gets them excited is because it’s a new crumb he feeds them after starving them for so long💀Once you do it too many times the novelty wears off. He’s not gonna be able to get by in this new era of fun and authenticity and he can’t backtrack either because he already made his bed. His peak is so over lol.

this is how i see his fans acting and talking.

notice that nobody even mentions pleasing anymore? i never even see normies on other sites reviewing the brand anymore, that's how far it's fallen. people still review kylie's brands and they're all flops. nobody even knows or cares harry's stuff exists, not even his own fans!

i think fans get caught into a hype cycle where they believe he's incredible, so funny, interesting, talented. they share all the same clips and stories hyping him up. so they want everything about him they can get. when the tour comes out they want all of it. they need all the updates, the livestreams, the stories, the outfits, the angles, the one liners. they want secret easter egg sentences they can decode. they want to see his girlfriends or not see them.

and that's why olivia also helped with his tour, because fans loved to hate watch her there. hating her there was part of their entertainment. reporting she wasn't there was part of the fun.

but when you actually pay attention to him... you realize he's fucking boring! he's not talented! the show does nothing! he's not creative! he gives zero energy! he repeats all the same old jokes! he's not really flirting with men! he's not secretly gay or trans! he does seem to really love israelis! he stays away from palestinians! he does the same old shit again and again! the outfits are all fucking boring! he wears one outfit per night. the same fucking songs over and over. his friend group are all the same scum of the earth people.

so fans start ignoring some livestreams or concerts or stories about him. then it's only a few times a week they check in. then casually. then they're making jokes about him too, pretending it's just fun. then he breaks up with a girl and they lose interest because the girlfriend was part of the interest and you can't even hate on her anymore. then he stops touring and does nothing. absolutely fucking nothing. and you just stop caring and move on entirely and look back at it and be honest with yourself that most of the time you were bored out of your mind, desperate for more, more real talent, presence, activism, engagement. and you don't even miss him anymore.

[h-f-k]

Too long or?

my followers right now:

the reason i dislike the song so much it's because it wasn't needed. I understand it was an ongoing internal joke in the swiftie fandom and Taylor releasing it for red tv was fan service but as i said before she should've released it as a poem. The production of the song is horrible and so flat it made flat earthers believe the earth is round.

While it was cool to have more context the way it was given to us ruined the experience in my honest opinion. If you're gonna release the extended version of anything it better have a very good reason to exist, will improve the pace, the storytelling and the overall narrative of the og song/movie/anything? Especially with a song like all too well which is not only a fan favorite across every stage of swiftiesm (whether you're a veteran fan or a new tik tok fan) but also perfect as it is! The 10 minute version had so many stakes and so many expectations to meet and it failed so bad. With how safe taylor bets on some decisions for her music it blows my mind she really decided to extend a song everyone loves and puts it as THE masterpiece of her career, and i know she did it purely to make fans happy which is cute but it's the never ending cycle of making decisions based on what your fans will like and what the charts will look like instead of keeping the artistic value of your craft intact and sometimes that means deprive your fans of this thing they've been asking for years which sucks but it's for the best.

As i also said in my post we get to appreciate halsey's song even more now bc we have added context and we don't know how that sounds like, you can imagine it however you like and sometimes that is the beauty of reading the original draft/poem of a song. and also because again: it creates more stakes, you can't just repeat the same beat or base production (i'm not well versed on specific musical language lol so i apologize) over and over and change it a bit to break up the monotony, this isn't a random mashup you make for funsies in adobe audition at 2am.

the added lyrics are also... a bit wishiwashi in my opinion, there are extremely good and painful verses and then others that made me go (and i'm not joking) "oh my god girl, shut up" mid song.

and also, and i'm gonna make some fans angry with this take but whatever, i just dislike how you can see 30 year old taylor CLEARLY edited stuff. and i'm not talking about editing in a "let's make this song make a bit more sense bc maybe i didn't have the skills back when i was 20" type of way. i'm talking about knowingly adding stuff that you KNOW fans will talk about bc it's something that with time made it to the history books of the swiftie fandom. forced references if you will. like with the 1989 vault tracks... but that's a different discussion lmao.

anyway that's it lol

[ruanbaijie]

um ok so i have a backlog of tag games (I love them okay I just take very long to get back to them 🥲) so instead of answering them one by one and spamming everyone's dashboards, I'm gonna smash all of them together to create one HUGE tag game

tagged by @thitiponqs [x] [x] and @asterdust [x]

presenting:

nine albums or songs I've been listening to lately x nine people I’d like to get to know better x tag game with no name

1. why did you choose your url? i mean, look at him. what a bitch (affectionate).

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them. nope this place is a dumping ground

3. how long have you been on tumblr? october 2010 *awkward monkey meme*

4. do you have a queue tag? luQiao - which is the most common question i get 🌚

5. why did you start your blog in the first place? my friends were mentioning it (this was during blogging heyday and everyone was on blogspot) and i was like cool what is it let's check it out and uh i've been here ever since

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp? i wanted to something red + black (my favourite colours) to go with the overall ✨ aesthetic ✨ and xia zhiguang just happened to have this ridiculously out of this world badass modern wuxia-esque photoshoot with a red and black theme so

7. why did you choose your header? because hua chenyu is an AMAZING singer and god it's on my bucket list to attend his concert live

8. what’s your post with the most notes? this rainbow edit for jjk [x]

9. how many mutuals do you have? um so i keep an excel sheet that lists all my mutuals including main blogs (if the mutual blog is a side blog), names, what i tag their posts by, and tracked tags. said list is currently at *checks list* 288 🌚

10. how many followers do you have? 5.4k+

11. how many people do you follow? 455 but i think a lot are inactive 😭

12. have you ever made a shitpost? oh yes this is one example which i did for shl [x] and which got reposted on instagram (ugh) and i made them take it down yes i still remember it

13. how often do you use tumblr each day? too much

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? yeah a whole episode that involved death threats instant report and block

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts people don't have to reblog every single thing but at the same time this is tumblr the reblog place don't just like things all the time without reblogging yknow

16. do you like tag games? YES i can be very long-winded i love them a lot

17. do you like ask games? yes but i get worried that people don't send in anything at all and i'm just talking to myself so i don't do them

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous? definitely you @thitiponqs 💕

19. do you have a crush on a mutual? eh no i don't crush on people easily? and i probably need to meet that person in real life before any crushing happens

20. what is the last song you listened to? currently having blaze of clear sky (the insert song of episode 19 of the apothecary diaries) on repeat for DAYS now it's so good and it makes me want to cry

21. what are you currently watching? the apothecary diaries, yatagarasu, dededede, the king's avatar donghua season 3, isekai shikkaku, meet you at the blossom

22. sweet/ savoury/ spicy? SWEET

23. what is your current relationship status? single (anyone wanna date lol)

24. what is your current obsession? THE APOTHECARY DIARIES i'm so sorry i'm so late to this game but also STILL NOT OVER the spirealm it still causes me a lot of pain and rips my heart out and stuffs glass shards down my throat on a daily basis

25. what are nine albums/ songs you've been listening to lately?

齐天（华晨宇）- equal to heaven (hua chenyu)

双节棍（华晨宇）- nunchucks (hua chenyu)

斗牛（华晨宇）- bull fighting (hua chenyu)

麒麟（早安）- qilin (zaoan)

星星（早安）- stars (zaoan)

乡下来的（玖壹壹）- from the countryside (nine one one)

abyss (yungblud)

gento (sb19)

blaze of clear sky (takenaka daichi)

26. tagging (no pressure!) @alienwlw @lianhuajing @guzhufuren @miwtual @kolomo

@xiaobaosnoona @naughtynanzhu @mokacheer @alicenthighstower

[bright-and-burning]

tagged by @landoisokay and @bsaka7 to do my 9 favorite albums (with commentary. i had a lot to say...)

these are all relatively recent because i pick and choose older songs individually more than i listen to them as a single album. like i could pick at least an album’s worth of queen songs, but they’re not all off the same album, ya feel.

in no particular order!! w some explainers below the cut:

dreamland (2020) - glass animals. i almost put how to be a human being but i’ve been listening to that album basically on repeat for the last three weeks so i needed to switch it up. such an experience of an album honestly?? where how to be a human being makes me feel like the main character in an over-saturated murderous movie set in miami, dreamland is like, over-saturated fast car movie set in tokyo (the like. hollywood idea of tokyo, to be clear). forever intertwined with midnight walks through empty cities during covid, driving too fast, the first time i hung out with people after getting to come back to college, neon lights on cinderblock walls and $12 plastic handles of liquor. fundamentally bittersweet as an album imo? but so full of bangers that you forget that it’s . really sad. tokyo drifting with denzel curry was my top song of 2020 and spotify helpfully informed me that i listened to it 30 times on my 19th birthday. lol. the “get loose, streetfighter” with the street fighter sound effect… oh yeah baby that’s art. it’s all so incredibly loud also a song of all time tbh. whole album is floaty and sharp all at once, insane production, the perfect sadness layered underneath, every song building into this brilliant crescendo… perfect album for 2020 eve for like so many reasons, i could wax on about this for AGES so if u want more drop an ask no joke it’ll make my week. still holds up soooo well

lemonade (2016) - beyonce. LOL. this album dropped right around when i was getting cheated on by my gf of. over a year. and then we broke up and i signed the papers to transfer schools the next day without telling anyone. so this album fr got me through uprooting my entire life to start over. (what timing, to get cheated on right as beyonce drops her got-cheated-on album). i knew beyonce belonged on here (too influential musically to me to Not) but i was stumped on what specific album to include (i had 4 on cd in my car in high school, for example, and homecoming: the live album felt like cheating) until i remembered how much play time this one got, and how much i leaned on the album and the visuals then (which. by the way. i bought on itunes bc it wasn’t available for streaming. used precious data bc school wifi wouldn’t let me download it. possibly the last album i bought on itunes??)

save rock and roll (2013) - fall out boy. oh man. 2015 me was on one bc i was a HUGE mcr/fob/atl/p!atd/green day girl but at the Exact same time. a 1d girlie. my shuffle would literally go from mama to up all night. ANYWAYS. was stuck between american beauty/american psycho and save rock and roll, but i think american beauty/american psycho didn’t hold my attention for long and only recently came back on my radar (has some very toxic inspiration won’t lie). the mighty fall ft big sean? life changing. big fan of rappers being dropped into songs that you aren’t expecting them to feature on. “i’m either fuckin or workin so the grind don’t stop” is a work of art. young volcanoes and save rock and roll were legitimately like. the most comforting songs of all time as a sad and lonely 14 year old

when we were friends (2019) - the backseat lovers. starts out so strong and keeps it going. what an album to listen to while absurdly into someone who then starts dating your roommate lol. just like, beautiful stuff. makes me yearn. crazy good to belt out in the car while driving

cleopatra (2016) - the lumineers. feels like home, and being dumb young and in love to me. i’ve been listening to them since ho hey played on our local membership supported radio station when i was . 11?? finally got to see them two summers ago and bawled my eyes out the entire time. this whole album no skips but also like. so overwhelmingly nostalgic and infused with feelings with nowhere to go that i can’t help but want to cry. i learned how to play ophelia on a piano in a basement of a dorm i’ll never see the inside of again lol. patience makes me insane and it’s literally just piano. the lumineers in general make a lot of music that makes me ache for times and places i can’t return to, but this album is pretty peak for it

lungs (deluxe edition) (2009) - florence + the machine. god florence just does not miss does she. dog days are over another local member supported radio station hit. i started listing all the perfect songs off and then had to stop because i was listing the entire track list. floaty and romantic with a heavy edge of morbidity and violence. remember when i said i love when rappers on songs you aren’t expecting? if you listen to anything from this post PLEASE listen to you’ve got the dirtee love ft dizzee rascal from this album. a long ass album that’s good the whole way through, i’ll truly never tire of it

ctrl (2017) - sza. i think SOS might be better and eventually take this slot but i’m trying not to let recency impact this too much. drew barrymore went quintuple platinum in my bedroom in high school. it really was the perfect album for insecure 16 year old me? speaks of growth that listening to this album doesn’t hit me where i live half as much as it used to, that instead of being like damn so real sza to things like . “im sorry im so clingy i dont mean to be a lot... lonely enough to let you treat me like this” im like. damn good song

hozier (expanded edition) (2014) - hozier. take me to church another song that member supported ad-free radio station introduced me to. what a fucking album my GOD. angel of small death and the codeine scene… jackie and wilson was literally like. the love song to me. still is can’t lie. need to be saved and have hands through my hair. every single song has lines that literally make my jaw drop, i feel like i discover something new on every listen through. “free and young and we can feel none of it”… foreigner’s god makes my chest ache. i can’t fucking believe this album is ten years old???

mt joy (2018) - mt joy. another album that reminds me of home; my whole family listened to this for months on end during covid. i’m your wreck is such an opener… “and whatever happens please remember all the laughter” like i’ll cry. my instagram bio is from this song lol. the bit where it shifts into what my family calls shoulder lean mode… anyways. ASTROVAN!!! A SONG ABOUT JESUS SMOKING WEED but like. also an emotional tale of assuring mom how music’ll work out even if they’re broke the whole time. whole album gives me Feelings. this might be the happiest album on this list and it’s. not really that happy. just a very specific kind of like. optimism. we move forward even when we look back. the world fails us but we build it better. idk. like the last song is a break up song, but it’s whole thing is “so if you worry, don’t worry bout me, i always wanted you to see the california coast-line on your own time.” so like yeah, love is burning out, but don’t worry about me. i told u. Feelings.

uhhhh no pressure tagging @mecachrome @freeuselandonorris @monacotrophywife and @oscarpiastriwdc

[sushisocks]

hi i just finished rdr2, really love your stuff (FINALLY a blog that properly info dumps!! keep them coming please!!). i don't know if this is your thing, but the song I Gave You All by Mumford & Sons makes me think of arthur so much because each lyric corresponds so perfectly to his ending. obviously it's in the song title (arthur's "i gave you all i had"), but the lines "how can you say that your truth is better than ours?" and "you rip out all i had just to say that you've have won" makes me wonder what arthur's last thoughts really were?? the song has a very bitter tone, which is opposite of the game, but i can't actually tell what arthur's last words are supposed to mean, especially with him repeating "i tried...i did." were the "i dids" meant to be a plead for mercy (to remind dutch of his lifelong loyalty in hopes that he's spared from a violent death) or was it meant to be sympathetic (to indicate that they were both doomed men who were only trying their best)? or was it an apology, like "i did all i could, but it wasn't enough"? knowing his level of self esteem/guilt i think arthur would feel a very heavy obligation and responsibility, so it makes sense for him to say "i did all i could, but it still wasn't enough because i was not good enough," but he seemed to be very accepting of his death. sorry if this was rambly/late to the party, i would love to hear your thoughts about it!!!

Oh, Anon, this is the sort of thing I LOVE seeing in my askbox, I am kissing you on the lips rn for giving me the permission to talk about this so lets TALK about it!! (Sorry it took me a minute to get to it, I had to rotate ur questions in my mind for a bit so I could best formulate my thoughts, you know how it is)

First off, I Gave You All by Mumford & Sons is SUCH a good RDR2/Arthur song, I agree hugely on this, and it makes a LOT of sense for the ending notes, especially on a High Honor/Save John run. I've been listening to it on repeat since I saw ur ask, all while typing this up, and I got a lil emotional at times man. I love music recs and while I know some Mumford & Sons songs this was a recontextualization I very much needed in my life thank u <3

The rest of this is LONG so putting in a read more to save my mutuals lol

Okay, so, I now have a LOT of thoughts about what's going through Arthur's mind and what he might've meant at the end of his last mission, so lets get into it. To begin with I want to list out the lines that are said in this scene, so we're all on the same page. (Helpfully and lovingly pulled from the gamescripts wiki blog, which my life has revolved around for the past year and a half)

Dutch van der Linde: It is over now… Arthur. It’s over. Arthur Morgan: Oh, Dutch… he’s a rat. You know it and I know it. Micah Bell: He’s sick… he’s dying… he’s talking crazy. Pinkerton: There! Up there on the ridge! Arthur Morgan: (to Dutch) I gave you all I had… I did. Dutch van der Linde: I… Micah Bell: Come on. Dutch… let’s go, buddy. We made it. We won. Come on. Arthur Morgan: John made it. He’s the only one. Rest of us… no. But… I tried. In the end… I did. Micah Bell: (to Dutch) Come on… let's go. We can make it. Come on, Dutch… come on!

So WHAT is going on here? Surface level, this is the last appeal to Dutch. The last battle of wills between Micah and Arthur, where Arthur is STILL trying to make Dutch see sense. I think it's an important part of Arthur's character to understand that he believes, until the very bitter end, that there's a chance for him to reach through to Dutch. It's the main reason he heads back to camp, after saving Abigail. Milton has told him Micah is the rat, and Arthur believes that if he can just get back to camp and tell Dutch the truth, that will be it. He, erroneously, believes his word alone will be enough.

But the thing is, in my opinion, in a way Arthur is RIGHT! He DOES reach through to Dutch, but he has to die for it. That is what the "I gave you all I had" line is for.

It is Dutch, unsure who to believe. It is Micah, screaming for Dutch to listen to him. And it is Arthur, gently reminding Dutch: I devoted my entire life to you, all that I know has been with you, all that I am has come from you.

Arthur would have gone to the ends of the Earth for Dutch -- he would be grumbling and complaining the entire time, but he'd still do it if Dutch asked. He is, in this moment, telling Dutch, I gave you all I had and you took it, there is nothing left but my death, what reason do I have to lie?

It is the crack in the wall, a small moment of clarity for Dutch, which has him leave them both on that cliff, which has him turn up again 8 years later and kill Micah. Not enough to turn on Micah right away, but enough to truly have Dutch stop and reconsider. Because with those words Arthur is not only speaking on his own behalf, whether or not he knows it. He is reminding Dutch of everyone else who has died for him; Grimshaw, Molly, and Hosea, as the most notable ones, I think. Arthur slots neatly in with those three as people who truly devoted their everything to Dutch, gave him all they had, of life and time and energy, and were served nothing but death, destruction, and heartache in return.

It stuns Dutch; for once he is truly speechless, having to reckon with Arthur's words and what they mean, what they imply. Micah knows Arthur's words are more impactful, and keeps trying to sway him to his side, for ends we can only really guess at. But we already know there's no chance Dutch will go with Micah at this point. But he also wont stay with Arthur.

Then: "John made it. He’s the only one. Rest of us… no. But… I tried. In the end… I did."

One of Arthur's main objectives in Chapter 6 is saving as many people of the gang as possible. The Pinkertons are closing in and, while Arthur believes that it's just bad luck until Milton tells him otherwise, he still hopes for the best outcome possible, for the women and children, as he says.

Which is why he says John made it. Because to Arthur, John's making it, means the women and children making it. It means Abigail, Tilly, Sadie, and Jack, all waiting at Copperhead Landing, are not waiting in vain. It is the reassurance that they will be fine, and the idea that John might finally actually step up and be the father Arthur has so desperately wanted him to be for Jack. To Arthur, John making it is the best outcome.

But he still wanted to save as many people as possible. Dutch, Javier, and Bill included. They were still Arthur's friends and family. They still mattered to him. But I think Arthur realizes, dying upon that cliff, that there's no way out for them anymore. They'll get off this mountain and continue their way of living, and the government will keep hunting them. He is essentially saying the rest of them are just as doomed as Arthur is, even if Arthur is the one currently dying. And he tried.

I want to say that Arthur saying he tried, is both about saving the gang, and about being better. There are SO many interactions you can have in chapter 6 alone that's about being better than you were. Edith Downes, Sister Calderòn, Charles, Rains Fall, and Mary-Beth are just SOME that I can think of, at the top of my head. I think in this moment, Arthur is reaffirming to himself that at the very least he tried. He did everything he could, in the time that he had. He doesn't know if that's enough, or if it means more than what it is, but he tried, and that, to him, HAS to mean something.

It is him accepting that this is the end, and that he doesn't know!! He genuinely doesn't!! If he has done enough to actually change the course of events!! But God do I love the message of Arthur finding peace in having tried. In having done what he could, and seeing what changes he could, and knowing in that last breath, watching that rising sun, that he did make a difference.

Do I think Arthur is angry or bitter when he passes? Not in a High Honor/Save John run, no. I think he is disappointed and sad with Dutch. But I also think he has found a place within himself where he can accept that this is it, for him. And he is hopeful for those whom he has saved, who got out of there and live to see another day.

He gave his all, and he really really tried, and he finds peace in the end. How simultaneously heartbreaking and heartening isn't that?

[moyazaika]

Work just ended and I decided to get back and see what I missed while I was getting used to my work. I’m doing all of this while my dad, who also speaks and understands English perhaps to a lesser degree than me, is next to me. Sometimes you just need some adrenaline to remind you that you’re alive.

Regarding Indulgence. I think I’ve said it before, but honestly the way you write makes me feel defenseless. You make me want to analyze and pick apart what you’ve written just for the sake of both properly appreciating everything and just… understating. I can’t even express what I’m feeling right now. I feel like Gollum, your writing is the ring.

TWO TONGUES??? IM IN. Been a while since I read something that has a monster, more in the physical sense. “—that i’m not some big. bad. monster.” IM- IM HITTING THE TABLE, IM- “and this time, when he finds you (and he will; for there is no way you can outrun your own shadow)” I’m in love with the way you write. I’m speechless, I want to ask a million questions and just,,,, I don’t feel like what I want to say makes sense. BUT IM KAYDJQJSBQBSNBBQBS

Reading the jaded lawyer reader and the yan crime kingpin. Forget the yan, I don’t know whatever I want to be darling or if I want them. Nevermind, I also want the yan. Love the dynamic. There’s something about the banter that just scratches an itch in my brain, I just love all of this. Keep feeding me this good stuff pretty please. As long as you’re free and wish to do so, of course. Remember to rest properly.

Just finished the extra. I’m obsessed and deeply concerned for darling. Fly high darling, I know you’re not making it out alive. 🕊️ Man’s got nothing to lose, he already has nothing but his life and he doesn’t even seem to care.

By the way, I was once spacing out while working and ended thinking about red because why not. I think you once said that both the yans and red had that certain desesperation that seemed appealing to me, so I began to wonder what exactly made them so interesting to me. I ended getting obsessed with a edit that is unrelated to the point, but it’s was a Taylor’s song and there’s this certain part that reminded me of Red.

“And I love you, it's ruining my life

(I love you, it's ruining my life)

I touched you for only a fortnight

(I touched you) but I touched you”

I love the “But I touched you” part. Because, like, I feel it doesn’t really talk about physical touch. It’s something deeper, at least I felt so and in a clip of the video it seems to show so. The first time I ever came to see Red was in the overly amazing anarchy fic. That story was absolutely amazing I still remember crying at night over it. Anyways, it shows a domestic scene and perhaps that’s what made me crave them. I think that at least to a certain degree, yans win. At least from what I’ve seen and remember, they get darling and end murdering Red or doing whatever to get him away. Red doesn’t win. They seem aware of the fact that they won’t win. Why do they keep trying? What’s so important that they repeat the same mistake over and over again? And you could perhaps say that seems kinda obsessive of them. It’s almost pitiful, but there’s something that I love about tragic characters.

Btw, in the fic with Dean (the one that inspired me to draw Red) there was this other character that was all lovely dovely with Red. At least from what I remember. I’m not proud to say that the first time I read that his name was Freddy (can’t remember if that’s how it was spelled, I don’t care. Man stole my spouse 🫵 /jk) my first thought was Freddy Fazbear. Anyways, if said love was mutual, then Red could be taken out of the equation. I mean, they don’t show romantic interest in darling (I think), so that somehow makes me think that they’re somehow safe in that regard. I love to think about the different implications. And, even if it somehow pains me to see my beloved with someone else /jk, I would be glad to think that they’re somehow safe. Meanwhile darling is crawling into the wolf’s den. Way to go babe, hope you make it out in one piece. 🕊️

So I was writing this in my notes app and forgot to send it. It’s been hours since my shift ended but I didn’t want to edit certain stuff. Now, how are you doing? Have you been eating properly? Drinking enough water? Please remember to take care of yourself, I know you’ll achieve great things and your efforts will be rewarded, but do remember to treat yourself kindly.

- ❤️‍🩹 anon, apologies for sending long paragraphs. I know you said that you wanted to empty your ask inbox and I feel guilty.

NONONO do NOTTT ever apologise for sending an ask i love long asks like this the most and i promise i don’t mind!!! and even tho i am clearing out older ones, interactions like this are like the fuel that keep me writing on tumblr so dON’T APOLOGISEE

i hope works been going well nepo baby LOLOL no but truly it can be so daunting when u know ur working later that day so i’m sure you’re doing great and i’m rooting for ya !! :)

DEFENSELESS!?$)!?!??!$2$& i’m losing my marbles that’s the best compliment you could’ve ever given me nonnie T_T thank u so much,, gOllumAND THE RING NOWOSOSII that’s taking me out 😭😭😭 “my precioussss my preciousss” well then you’re the gold and i’m smaug 😜

i love monsters in the more abstract sense like wdym the monster is just. your own shadow. what. i’m working on something rn where the monster in question is childhood nostalgia or childhood fears and i’m veeeery excited for u to read that !!!!! altho two tongues is always a bonus too in a more physical sense 😝😝

i fully agree with you yan kingpin needs to be put down he’s like a mad dog but lawyer darling helloooo handsome!!!! wdym they’re bossy and no nonsense and never lose a case,,, they’re gonna be winning another case when the court decides to give me a restraining order for how much i love them 🙏🏽😭😭😭 i love darlings colder or more nonchalant than the actual yan it’s so fun 🤲🏽🤲🏽 even tho that means the darling is more attractive to me than the yan HAHHH 😭😭

FREDDY FAZBEAR NOSOSODOSO i actually forgot his name too i haven’t touched that trilogy in so long oops but yeah you’re right in saying red holds no (?) romantic attraction towards reader, but i’m still not sure if that makes them safe. i know i keep teasing u with this amazing backstory they have but trust me one day i’ll write it out and post it and i think you’ll realise all the pieces fitting together :’) but for now, i can only say so much cus i want it to be as satisfying as possible for u when u do read it.

yea thank u for asking lovely!! i’ve been tryna drink 1L a day because i want to cut back on consuming mindless junk food, and i heard it keeps you fuller so hopefully it goes well :p i hope you’re also taking care of yourself <3

[lizkreates]

Trigun Vol 1 - Part 1 (Ch 0-3)

*cracks knuckles* I'm going to throw a bunch of stuff down, like some story-structured thoughts (which might be a bunch of nonsense, but I'm gonna try!) and parts that catch my interest. Sorry if I repeat anything, I started lurking at TriMax Vol 5. :'D Here we go!

Trigun wastes no time jumping into the mysterious destruction of July. The prologue was short sweet, and now lives in the back of your mind.

The phrase "The same song of humanity sang." paired with the artwork implies that humanity's path was not one that flourished but one of destruction. Humanity brought our problems with us. Without the drawing, the line itself can be looked at positively or negatively depending on your outlook. **SPOILERS for new readers** For a story whose main protagonist isn't human, it is a gut-wrenchingly human story.

Vash looks so baby-faced here!! I love how contradictory the idea of a pacifist gunman is, at least in the story's context, where most of them choose violence.

Oh so THIS is how violent No Man's Land is.

That's Tonis!! I totally didn't catch that in any of my reads before; he looks so different in TriStamp.

Ow Vash's first signature smile. :')

The girls!! I love their intro so much, it sets them up, idk how to explain it, as people, they have their own goals. I love how the guys who made the crude jokes were immediately met with consequences. 98 really leaned into "the expense of women as a source of entertainment" which bugged me, glad to see that the manga does it less and less as you progress. Trigun would be a very different story without its feminine undertones (not just in gender) starkly contrasting the world. (I'm sure someone's written an essay on it, I'd love to read it!)

"This is the first time the name Vash the Stampede appeared in the annals of history, about a shadow of a blonde-haired man, who still lingered among the mountains of rubble."

Interesting choice to frame this as already written history! That means at least someone survived to tell the tale.

So about Vash's outlaw name "The Stampede" - HOW LONG HAS HE HAD IT?? Was it given to him after July? Before? Did he give it to himself? Did some coin it for him? How about Humanoid Typhoon? I need to know. (If you know any fic that covers this, I am chopping at the bit for it, plz send it to me.)

Come here. Closer. We need to talk about RESOURCES. Briefly. I understand I need to suspend my disbelief when something is drawn to look cool and emphasize the scale of a threat, but I like hard science. In a resource-scarce environment like No Man's Land, manga-size Goseff would be a costly and massive drain on supplies, unless Father Nebraska has his own Plant. Stampede did a more realistic take, which was nice to see!

Anytime I see wood or a lot of organic material in abundance I die a little on the inside. :') *cries over world-building* But we're here to enjoy the story! The world-building given to us is just enough so we can follow the plot.

The first mention of "Him," Knives! I love it when Nightow does an extreme vertical, half-face, close-up, of Vash, it's so dramatic. I want to appreciate how skillfully Vash's revolver is drawn here too, this man thrives on complicated designs.

98 was my first introduction to Trigun, so I didn't realize until I read the manga that they dropped his bounty here. In 98 they dropped it after the 5th moon incident. Trying to keep the canons straight is hard sometimes. :')