#i think i will.... reread some fics.... perhaps...

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

the problem with not having any new fics to read bc they havent been posted yet is that when Invisible Tigers Are Hunting You, there is no distraction

[orcelito]

minor details, but in chapter 68 of trimax we do see this bit:

the items that vash kept in his coat.

a "funbari doll" (which i cant find anything definite online about what that is with just a cursory look, so im going to run under the assumption that theyre some kind of collectable in-universe) & it's a red one, which is apparently rare. he still has the same pen radio that connects to his earring that's used waaay back on the sandsteamer. a swiss army knife, a random key, a used tissue (?), and...

a lighter? blow torch? i still cant tell what that last bar thing is tho. & i guess he had some kind of (normal) coin too? but Only One.

love the characterization implications for this lol. definitely the kind of pocket contents i'd expect from a silly immortal with a big coat

[pomefioredove]

First of all, love your writing it always makes me do a flustered happy giggle. And for the flirty prompts could you do Leona with "I can't stop thinking about you."?

THANK YOU and also ohohoho

summary: "I can't stop thinking about you" type of post: short fic characters: leona additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, fluffy and sappy

You were persistent, he'd give you that.

After months of brushing you off, ignoring you, avoiding you, and giving you some not-so-subtle threats, Leona was beginning to think you actually did want him to sand you.

It was almost as if you liked him, or something.

How stupid, he had thought. No one actually liked him. His classmates respected him, his own family tolerated him at best...

But no one seemed too bothered with actually getting to know him.

Except for you, that is.

Perhaps, then, that was the reason he started reading the little notes you'd leave under his pillow, keeping the little handmade things you gifted him.

It was adorably naïve.

He'd stay up late, reading and rereading your messages, wondering how hard one would have to hit their head to consider pursuing him as a friend.

A school full of herbivores, and you wanted him.

Leona would let you ask questions, and he would answer them patiently. He'd even ask a few of his own.

He let you braid his hair once, and it felt nice, though he would never admit that aloud.

Soon, his name on your tongue sounded natural, as if it were meant just for you to say, and he wondered if you felt the same about him.

You were persistent, and then patient.

Even at his worst, on the days where the world was too loud and he couldn't even get up for fear of reminding himself that he was still him, you were there.

You never gave up on him, no matter how difficult he was, and he was surely difficult. Leona thought it was annoying, and, suddenly, he couldn't live without it.

He felt sick around you. He knew what it was, but he wouldn't say it.

Not out loud.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he murmurs one night, your hand held delicately in his, as if he were still afraid of scaring you off.

You say nothing, not that you need to.

Instead, you give his hand a firm squeeze, holding it tighter.

You were never scared.

[little-diable]

The Chase – Draco Malfoy (smut)

Since y'all seem to enjoy my Draco fics that have some rougher smut in them, I couldn't stop myself from writing this. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Draco has been feeling frustrated for days, something that finally changes as he tells his wife that he's ready to hunt her down and remind her who she belongs to. Basically pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, rough smut, tied wrists, dom!Draco, hide/seek, oral (f), some degrading

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!wife!reader (1.8k words)

Her eyes were focused on her phone, while her heart was racing in her chest, pounding with a strong beat that whispered to her, urging (y/n) on to prepare for what her husband had just texted her. Draco had been in some kind of mood for the past days, a rather snappish mood she hadn’t enjoyed being around, deciding to keep her distance while he worked through whatever he had struggles with at work. But the text she was now rereading for the tenth time told her that all the pent-up frustration would be left in the past after tonight. 

“You may run and hide from me, but tonight, I’ll catch you. xxx” 

Draco and her had done this a while back for the first time, letting him hunt her down before using her like a vessel for his frustration and anger, littering her body with marks she’d trace in the midnight hour with a proud smirk. She loved the chase, the thrill shooting through her body while her adrenaline spiked. 

(Y/n) knew that Draco would find her in no time, very well knowing that neither of them could go long without touching their significant other, especially when both were urged on by their frustration, their need and hunger for one another. She could already feel him buried deep inside of her, letting her walls clench around nothing at the mere thought of being fucked by her husband. 

Perhaps he’d use their blindfold, perhaps he’d tie her to the bed, while fucking her from behind, whatever it was he was about to do to her, (y/n) would take it all with a satisfied grin, ready to offer every inch of trembling body to her husband like a sacrifice. 

Tonight she’d let him play, tonight she’d let him win their chase – very well knowing that whatever he’d do to her would be her greatest win after all.

……

“Honey, I’m home!” Draco’s voice echoed through their house, ringing in her ears as she hid beneath their bed. It wasn’t a creative hiding spot, and yet it was the perfect place for them, knowing he’d find (y/n) in no time, to fuck her rough like she knew he would.

The sound of his feet meeting the wooden ground made her breath hitch in her chest, while picturing the suit perfectly clinging to his frame, with the first few buttons of his shirt undone, and how he was wearing his blonde hair slightly gelled back – a sight that would make her fawn over her handsome husband. 

“Where are you hiding, pretty girl?” She heard Draco step into the room next door, opening their dresser, and closing it again after a few more seconds. (Y/n) counted the passing by seconds, letting the numbers echo through her mind while Draco kept taking his time, stepping into their bathroom for a few seconds. 

“I can’t wait to fuck your tight cunt, while you scream my name, it’s the only thing I could think of today.” Draco’s voice dripped with something dark, something that drew a soft moan from her while she stayed hidden. His feet came into view as he entered the bedroom and closed the door behind himself, seemingly all too aware that she was hiding close by. 

“Fuck, honey, I will make you tremble, make you forget your name while you take my cock like you were made to do.” Without another warning he crouched down to reach for her, pulling (y/n) from her hiding spot with a satisfied grin. She barely got any time to understand what her husband was doing as he picked her up and threw her down on the bed. 

(Y/n)’s gasps echoed through the bedroom as she stared up at Draco, focusing on the smirk he wore, paired with that dark gaze that pushed heat straight to her pulsing bundle. Draco settled between her naked legs, only wearing a shirt of his and her already damp panties, to reach down and kiss her breathless. 

It had been days since he had touched her, let alone kissed her like this, a teeth clashing kiss that made their hearts race and their limbs tingle. Her fingers found their way to his blonde hair to tug on his roots, trying to pull her husband even closer while he shifted his weight onto his right hand as his other hand reached for their bedside table. 

“Give me your hands, pretty girl.” He murmured the words against her already swollen lips. (Y/n) wanted to protest, wanted to beg him not to tie her to her bed, but the warning gaze he shot her left her breathless, unable to speak a single word. Draco gently took her wrists to tie them to the cold metallic frame of their bed with the dark green rope he enjoyed using on her. “Such a pretty sight, but I think we’ll have to get rid of that shirt, I want to see all of you.”

“Draco,” the warning tone dripping from her voice left Draco chuckling as he reached for the small knife they used whenever they were high on the thrill, staring at one another while he’d trace her skin with the knife. All (y/n) could do was tug on the rope as he sliced the fabric of his shirt apart, exposing her naked upper body to his twinkling eyes.

“Fuck, look at you, baby.” His head dipped down to press a kiss to the valley between her breasts before his hand dropped the knife to cup her right one. She was a moaning mess, choking on her sounds while he pressed his middle against hers, letting (y/n) feel his hardening cock. 

“Fuck me, Draco, please, it’s been so long.” He spared her words no attention while he sucked on her hardening nubs, drawing gritty sounds from (y/n) – sounds that made his cock twitch in his suit trousers. Draco gave himself a few more moments to suck marks into her skin before he finally let his hands find her panties to move them down her legs.

The two held eye contact as he rose to his feet, while staring down at her to slowly undress himself. Draco was teasing her, enjoying the desperation tugging on (y/n)’s features while she watched him, unable to touch her husband. His shirt was dropped to the floor as his hands began to work on his belt and finally on his trousers and underwear to expose his hard cock to her wandering eyes. 

Precum was glistening on his tip as Draco slowly stroked himself, giving (y/n) a show as she could only tug on the rope and try to shuffle closer to him. She was impatient, burning from inside out, all because he made her feel this whirlwind of emotions, high on whatever he’d offer his wife. 

“Spread your legs for me, baby, show me how much you need me.” Her body blindly followed the command. She spread her legs for his bright eyes, letting him take in the sight of her arousal-covered folds, of her pulsing bundle, and the beautiful skin he’d kiss any moment now. Draco moved slowly, calculated as if he had thought of this strategy for hours on end, trying to figure out the best way to make her tremble in need. 

Their eyes kept searching on another, Draco settled back between her legs to let his tongue brush through her slit, moaning at the taste of her arousal. Both knew they wouldn’t be able to drag this out for much longer, needing to feel one another in the most intimate way imaginable. His tongue moved fast, brushing over her clit to draw a loud moan from (y/n) while she arched her back off the mattress. 

“Oh god, ‘missed you so much.” (Y/n) mumbled her words, confessions that left Draco smiling against her naked cunt. His bright eyes intently studied her, while he pushed two fingers into her tightness, spreading her walls to prepare her for his twitching cock. He allowed himself to fuck her for a moment or two before finally pulling away from her, set on pushing her over the edge with his aching cock buried deep inside of her. 

“You’ll take my cock like the good girl you are, and then I may allow you to touch me.” His words echoed through her mind, a small distraction for a second or two as Draco aligned himself with her heat, only to push into her as she nodded her head. Both moaned in unison at the familiar sensation, already high on the feeling of her tight walls clenching his cock, begging him to fuck her into oblivion. 

The rope burned into (y/n)’s skin as she kept tugging on it, praying to whoever was listening that she’d be able to feel him soon enough. Draco fucked her without holding back, letting his body meet hers with every ferocious thrust that left both moaning, choking on the sweetest sounds clawing through them. 

“Fuck, I love you, my perfect girl.” Draco’s words dripped with arousal, with a hunger that made the inferno burning deep inside of her grow, threatening to leave marks with its heat – marks that may never fade again. Her walls fluttered around his cock as his thumb found her clit, offering the extra stimulation she desperately needed.  

“Let me touch you, please.” (Y/n) whispered her words with wide eyes and parted lips, hoping that her husband would finally give in. It took Draco a few more thrusts before he followed the call and tugged on the rope, letting it drop to the mattress while her hands instantly found his face, pulling him in for a kiss. 

Their tongues fought for victory while Draco fucked her closer to the edge, making her see stars whenever he met her swollen spot. Her hands found their way down his neck to his shoulders, letting her fingernails scratch his skin to draw groans from him, and finally letting them claw into his skin to draw some blood. 

“Cum for me, baby, clench my cock while you scream my name.” He marvelled at (y/n) as she came, letting her head roll back to expose her throat to his wandering lips. Draco left his marks on her throat as he fucked her through her high, only following her down the edge as she panted his name again, like a prayer leaving her soft lips. 

“Don’t ever go that long without touching me, do you hear me?” (Y/n) whispered her words as he rested on her chest, letting them both of them relax as the sweet sensation clung to them, reminding them of one another’s love. 

“I promise, even though this was fucking worth it.”

[cybernaght]

The fandom echo chamber: fanon, microanalysis and conspiracy brain 

As someone who has been in fandom spaces, on and off, for 20 years, I find some fascinating trends popping up in the last decade that I thought to be fandom-specific but clearly aren’t. So, I would like to do a little examination of where those things come from, how they are engaged with, and what it says about the way we consume media. This is a think piece, of sorts, with my brain being the main source. As such, we will spend some time down the memory lane of a fandom-focused millennial.

This is largely brought about by Good Omens. But it’s also not really about Good Omens at all.

Part one. Fanon.

The way we see characters in any story is always skewed by our very selves. This is a neutral statement, and it does not have a value judgement. It’s simply unavoidable. We recognise aspects of them, love aspects of them, and choose aspects of them to highlight based entirely on our own vision of the universe. 

Recognition comes into this. There is a reason so many protagonists of romance novels have a “blank slate” problem. Even when they do not, we love characters who are like us or versions of us that we would like to be. And when we say “we”, I also mean, “me”. 

(I remember very clearly this realisation hit me after a whole season of Doctor Who with writing which I hated utterly when I questioned why I still clung so incredibly hard to Clara Oswald as my favourite companion. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. Oh. Well. That would do it, wouldn’t it?)

Then, there is projection, and, again, this is a neutral statement. Projection exists, and it is completely normal and, dare I say it, valid way of engaging with — well, anything. Is the character queer? Trans? Neurodivergent? Are they in love? Do they like chocolate? Are they a cat person? Well, yes, if this is what the text says, but if the text does not say anything… You tell me. Please, do tell me. Because, in that moment of projection, they are yours. 

And then, there is fandom osmosis, and that is the most fascinating one of them all, the one that is not very easy to note while you are inside the echo chamber. It’s the way we collectively, consciously or not, make decisions on who or what the characters are, what their relationships are, and what happens to them.  

(Back when I was writing egregiously long Guardian recaps on this blog I actually asked if Shen Wei’s power being learning actually was stated anywhere in the canon of the show. Because I had no idea. I have read and reread dozen of fanfics where that is the case, and at some point through enough repetition, it became reality.)

We are all kind of making our own reality here, aren’t we? 

Back when things were happening in a much less centralised manner - in closed livejournal groups, and forums of all shapes and sizes - I don’t remember there being quite as much universally agreed upon fanon. Frankly, I don’t remember much of universally agreed upon anything. But now, everything is in one place: we have this, and we have AO3, and it’s wonderful, it really is so much easier to navigate, but it’s also one gigantic reality-shifting echo chamber, with blogs, reblogs, trends, and rituals. 

Accessibility plays its part, too. If you were, say, in Life on Mars (UK) fandom between seasons, and you wanted to post your speculation fic, you had to have had an account, and then find and gain access to one of the bigger groups (lifein1973 was my poison, but ymmv), and then, if you feel brave you may post it, but also, you may want to do so from your alt account if you wanted to keep yours separate, and then you would have to go through the whole process again. And I’m not saying that fan creations then were somehow inherently better for it than fan creations now (although Life on Mars Hiatus Era is perhaps a bad example - because some of the Speculation Fic there was breathtaking), but there is something to say about the ease of access that made the fandoms go through a big bang of sorts.

(I mean, come on, I can just come here and post this - and I am certain people will read it, and this blog is a pandemic cope baby about Chinese television for goodness sake.)

The canon transformations that happen in the fandom echo chamber truly are fascinating to witness as someone who is more or less a fandom butterfly. I get into something, float around for a bit, then get into something else and move on. I might come back eventually when the need arises, but I don’t sustain a hiatus mind-state. This means that when I float away and return, I find some very intriguing stuff.

Let’s actually look at Good Omens here. Season two aired, and I found it spectacular in its cosy and anguished way; deliberately and intelligently fanfic-y in its plot building; simple but subversive, and so very tender. (I will have to circle back to this eventually, because, truly, I love how deliberately it takes the tropes and shatters them - it’s glorious). And, to me - a person who read the book, watched the first season, hung around AO3 for a few weeks and moved on - absolutely on-point in terms of characterisation. 

So imagine my surprise when the fandom disagreed so vehemently that there are actual multi-tiered theories on how characters were not in possession of their senses. Nothing there, in my mind, ever contradicted any of the stated text, as it stood. This remained a strange little mystery until I did what I always do when I flutter close to an ongoing fandom.

I loaded AO3 and sorted the existing fic by popularity. And there it was, all there: the actual earth-shattering mutual devotion of the angel and the demon; willingness to Fall; openness and long heart-aching confession speeches. There was all of the fanon surrounding Aziraphale and Crowley, which, to me, read as out of character, and to one for whom they became the reality over the last four years, read as truth. 

Again, only neutral statements here. This is not a bad thing, and neither this is a good thing, this is just something that happens, after a while, especially when there are years for the fandom-born ideas to bounce around and stew. I can’t help but think that so much of what we see as real in spaces such as this one is a chimaera of the actual source and all the collective fan additions which had time and space to grow, change, develop, and inspire, reverberating over and over again, until the echoes fill the entirety of the space. 

Eventually, this chimaera becomes a reality. 

Part two. Microanalysis 

Here are my two suppositions on the matter:

1. Some writers really love breadcrumb storytelling. 

Russel T Davies, for instance, on his run of Doctor Who (and, if you are reading it much later - I do mean the original one), loved that technique for his seasonal arcs. What is a Bad Wolf? Who is Harold Saxon? Well, you can watch very very carefully, make a theory, and see it proven right or wrong by the end of the season. 

Naturally, mystery box writers are all about breadcrumb storytelling: your Losts and your Westworlds are all about giving you snippets to get your brain firing, almost challenging you to figure things out just ahead of the reveal. 

2. We, as humans, love breadcrumbs.

And why wouldn’t we? Breadcrumbs are delicious. They are, however, a seasoning, or a coating. They are not the meal. 

Too much metaphor?

Let’s unpack it and start from the beginning.

Pattern recognition colours every aspect of our lives, and it colours the way we view art to a great extent. I think we truly underestimate how much it’s influenced by our lived experiences.

If you are, broadly speaking, living somewhere in Western/North-Western Europe in the 14th century, and you see a painting in which there is a very very large figure surrounded by some smaller figures and holding really tiny figures, you may know absolutely nothing about who those figures are, but you know that the big figure is the Important One, and the small ones are Less Important Ones, and the tiny ones are In Their Care. You know where your reverence would lie, looking at this picture. And, I imagine, as someone living in the 14th century, you may be inspired to a sense of awe looking at this composition, because in the world you live in, this is how art works. 

If you, on the other hand, watch a piece of recorded media and see the eyes of two characters meet as the violins swell, you know what you are being told at that moment. You don’t have to have a film degree to feel a sort of way when you see a green-tinged pallet used, when cross-cuts use juxtaposing images, or notice where your focus is pulled in any given shot. This stuff - this recognition of patterns - has been trained into us by the simple fact that we live in this time, on this planet, and we have been doing so long enough to have engaged recorded media for a period of time. 

As humans, we notice things. Our brains flare up when they see something they recognise, and then we seek to find other similar details and form a bigger picture. This often happens unconsciously, but sometimes it does not. Sometimes we do it on purpose: finding breadcrumbs in stories is a little bit like solving a mystery. It allows us to stretch that brain muscle that puts two and two together. It makes us feel clever. 

So yes, we love breadcrumbs, and, frankly, quite a lot of storytelling takes advantage of this. It’s very useful for foreshadowing, creating thematic coherence, or introducing narrative parallels and complexity. It’s useful for nudging the viewer into one or the other emotional direction, or to cue them into what will happen in the next moment, or what exactly is the one important detail they should pay attention to.

Because this is something media does intentionally, and something we pick up both consciously and not, it is very hard to know when to stop. We don't really ever know when all of the breadcrumbs have been collected. It becomes very easy to get carried away. There is a very specific kind of pleasure in digging into content frame by frame, soundbite by soundbite, chasing that pleasure of finding. 

But it is almost never breadcrumbs all the way down. They are techniques to help us focus on the main event: the story. I truly believe those who make media want it to reach the widest possible audience, and that includes all of us who like to watch every single thing ever created with our Media Analysis Goggles on and those who are just here to enjoy the twists and turns of the story at the pace offered to them. And I think, sometimes in our chase to collect and understand every little clue we forget that media is not made to just cater for us.

One can call it missing a forest for the trees. But I would hate to mix my metaphors, so let’s call it missing a schnitzel for the breadcrumbs. 

Part three. The Conspiracy Brain. 

If you are there with me, in the midst of the excited frenzy, chasing after all those delicious breadcrumbs, then patterns can grow, merge together, and become all-encompassing theories. Let’s call them conspiracy theories, even though this is not what they truly are.

So, why do we believe in conspiracy theories?

One, Because We Have Been Lied To. 

All conspiracies start with distrust.

If you are in fandom spaces - especially if you are in fandom spaces which revolve around a queer fictional couple - especially-especially if you have been in such spaces for a period of time, you have most certainly been lied to at one point or another. 

We don’t even have to talk about Sherlock - and let’s not do that - but do you remember Merlin? Because I remember Merlin. Specifically, I remember the publicity surrounding the first season, with its weaponised usage of “bromance” and assertions that this whole thing is a love story of sorts, and then the daunting realisation that this was all a stunt, deliberately orchestrated to gather viewership. 

And, because we were lied to in such a deliberate manner for such an extensive period of time, I genuinely believe that it forever altered our pattern recognition habits, because what was this if not encouragement to read into things? Now we are trained to read between the lines or see little cries for help where they might not be. Because we were told, over and over again, that we should.

(Yes, I think we are all existing in these spaces coloured by the trauma of queer-bating. I am, however, looking forward to a world where I can unlearn all of that.)

Two, Cognitive Dissonance.

The chain reaction works a bit like this: the world is wrong - it can’t possibly be wrong by coincidence - this must be on purpose - someone is responsible for it.

Being Lied To is a preamble, but cognitive dissonance is where it all originates. In so many cross-fandom theories I have noticed a four-step process:

A) this is not good

B) this author could not have made a mistake 

C) this must be done on purpose

D) here is why 

(Funny thing is, I have been on the receiving end of the small conspiracy spiral, and it is a very interesting experience. Not relevant to this conversation is the fact that a lot of my job revolves around storytelling. What is relevant is that my hobbies also revolve around storytelling. And one of them is DnD. Now, imagine my genuine shock when one of the players I am currently writing a campaign for noticed a small detail that did not make a logical sense within the complexity of the world, and latched on to it as something clearly indicating some kind of a secret subplot. Their thinking process also went a bit like this: this detail is not a good piece of writing — this DM knows how to tell stories well — this is obviously there on purpose. It was not there on purpose. I created a clumsy shorthand. I erred, in that pesky manner humans tend to. And, seeing this entire thought process recited to me directly in the moment, I felt somewhere between flattered and mortified.)

This whole line of thinking, I think, exists on a knife’s edge between veneration and brutal criticism, relentlessly dissecting everything “wrong”, with a reverent “but this is deliberate” attached to it like a vice, because it is preferable to a simple conclusion that the author let you down, in one way or another. 

Three, Intentionality 

I believe that there is no right or wrong way of engaging with stories, regardless of their medium, and assuming no one gets hurt in the process. While in a strictly academic way, there is a “correct” way of reading (and reading into) media, we here are largely not academics but consumers; consumption is subjective.

However, this all changes when intentionality is ascribed. 

The one I find particularly fascinating is the intentionality of “making it bad on purpose” because, as open-minded as I intend to always be, this just does not happen.

It certainly does not happen in long-form media. Even in the bread-crumb mystery box-type long-form media. 

When television programs underdeliver, they also underperform, and then they get cancelled.

If all the elements of Westworld Season 4 that did not sit together in a completely satisfactory way were written deliberately as some sort of deconstruction for the final season to explore, then it failed because that final season will now never come.

(There will likely never be a Secret Fourth Episode.)

And look, I am not here to refute your theories. Creativity is fun, and theorising is fantastic. 

But, perhaps, when the line of thought ventures into the “bad on purpose” territory, it could be recognised for what it is: disappointment and optimism, attempting to coexist in a single space. And I relate to that, I do, and I am sorry that there is even a need for this line of thinking. It’s always so incredibly disappointing that a creator you believed to be devoid of flaws makes something that does not hit in the way you hoped it would. It’s pretty heartbreaking. 

Unfortunately, people make mistakes. We are all fallible that way. 

Four, Wildfire.

Then, when the crumbs are found, a theory is crafted, and intentionality is ascribed, all that needs to happen is for it to catch on. And hey, what better place for it than this massive hollow funnel that we exist in, where thoughts, ideas and interpretations reverberate so much they become inextricable from the source material in collective consciousness. 

Conspiracy theories create alternate realities, very much like we all do here. 

So where are we now?

I am not here to tell you what is right and what is wrong; what is true, and what is not. We are all entitled to engage with anything we wish, in whichever way we wish to do it. This is not it, at all. 

All I am saying is… listen.

Do you hear that echo? 

I do. 

[i-hate-peas]

The Old Guard Fic Recs

So I've been a long time lurker within the fandom without ever getting particularly involved, but I wanted to show some appreciation for some of the super talented people who go here, because I have read a lot of incredible TOG fic.

Most (probably all) of these authors have loads of other amazing fics, but I've tried to just chose one from each, to keep the list a vaguely reasonable length. Although then I cheated and did some honourable mentions.

** just a note to say I started this list year (s) ago and forgot about it until literally today when I saw fic recs going round. Any of these fics I haven’t put a description for it’s because I didn’t do it at the time, and if I go back to reread them all this would never be posted, not through any lack of affection or enjoyment **

If any writers want tagging/ untagging etc please let me know! (i knew/ could find some blogs more easily than others lol)

Within Canon

Old Olives by aeli_kindara

Garden of Gethsemane mention = instant tears

Death in Her Hands by superblackmarket

Nile's growing relationship with Joe and Nicky. All of their fics are so beautifully written, but I especially love Nile's relationship with the boys and her facing her own immortality.

Honourable mention: Station to Station

Between the Hour and the Age by hauntedjaeger (@hauntedfalcon)

Andy! Nile!

Ouroboros by CypressSunn (@cypresssunns)

Set after the film, literally just read it.

compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience by Jack_R

A pair of early days Joe Nicky fics that reminds me of 'my wife is a bitch and i love her so much'

let's give them something to talk about by lacecat

When The Cherries White With Blossoms, Be Ready & Be Brave by chapstickaddict

Unearthed by merle_p

I think this is one of the most kudosed fics in the AO3 tag, but it deserves the hype!

Kidnapping for Dummies by Amiril

Similar to above, already very popular, but great and very funny!

The Last Man on Earth by Survivah (@optimismology)

I will admit I don't normally go for Booker/Nile, but this fic sold it to me. Looking at them and their developing relationship as the newer immortals.

Canon Divergent

Retrograde by Pinkninja

I mean this fic is the Big Bitch of the fandom for me, if you haven't already read this, where have you been? But also if you haven't already read this I am so jealous, read it and take your time with it and bawl your eyes out over it and appreciate the joy of reading it for the first time. The level of detail and planning in this fic is indescribable. It follows Nicky trapped in a Time Travellers Wife style life where he jumps back and forth throughout his own timeline, whilst Joe lives his life in chronological order. Exquisitely written.

If Never Again, If Every Day by gallifreyburning and takiki16 (@gallifreyburning, @takiki16)

Another absolute Titan of the genre. I know you’ve already been recommended this 500 times, what more can I say.

though I'm dying to (fall in love with you) by yusufsmoon (@babygirlyusuf)

Travellers from an Antique Land by kaydeefalls (@kaydeefalls)

Andy, not Quỳnh, trapped under the sea. I love all their fics.

AUs

Makes Me Want You More by Sixthlight (@sixth-light)

Perhaps not the typical favourite choice from Sixthlight, one of my absolute favourite TOG authors, but one that is funny and lovely and sweet that I keep coming back to. Shorter than many of theirs but perfectly formed.

pumpkin gnocci verse (series) by Liadan14 (@bewires)

I mean it's got estranged family, suspenseful chronological structure, cooking, spies, intimate and honest sex scenes, hilarious misunderstandings involving keeping halal, lovely found family moments, and the actual recipes used. What more do you want.

The Reality of Everything by Marbletopempire

One of the fics I desperately waited for each instalment for. Very funny, lots of sexual tension, plenty of Cate Blanchette spotting opportunities.

sine qua non by mellyflori (@werebearbearbar)

One of the first of their fics I read, with a very sweet build up of misunderstanding to friends to lovers, involving growing up, discovering sexuality, trying to be nice about your best friend's bad boyfriend, and a long suffering sofa.

The Brooklyn Verse (series) by GayLittleEarring, yusufsmoon, nicelytousled (@marwankenzarisgaylittleearring @babygirlyusuf @nicelytousled)

I saw the creation of this on Tumblr before it was a fic, and it lived up to every expectation. Very sweet and sincere, with lots of great discussions about art, whilst also very funny (Lamp the free loader, Joe sending thirst traps out of irritation) and hot. ItalianAmericanNickyfromBrooklyn and Joe my beloveds.

a good (eighth) impression by deaniker

I love a good hook-up to 'oh shit I have feelings' fic, and this is even more entertaining because Nicky is Lykon's ex, and Joe has very much seen him at his worst.

You do not have to be good by emjee (MerryHeart) (@emjee)

At one point a tumblr post about Joe the Professor and Nicky the Priest got very popular, and I'm not sure if this fic was inspired by that, but is one of the great fics with similar concepts. Such a lovely, gentle fic about love and also identity, featuring also Nile and a very sweet snail.

it's such an almighty sound (series) by raedear (@raedear)

A secret service AU that goes full enemies to lovers, with lots of tension, plotting, betrayal, frustration, and tenderness.

Honourable mention: take my hand (you got me rockin' and rollin')

fight 'til the day that i die 'verse by incurableromancer

Suspenseful, noir, super hero AU that has such a great writing style and is very atmospheric.

if you do take a thief by knoepfchen (@knoepfchen)

Cluedo style AU with lots of fun twists and slow building of backstories, with the whole gang.

Honourable mention: life is not the things that we do (it's who we're doing them with)

[saltandfire-blog]

All Time Favorite Lucemond Fics

Thought I’d post some baddies to help us heal from this last season.

ñuhon - When Lucerys lives and wakes up to oblivion, Aemond decides that—more than an eye for an eye—Lucerys in his entirety would be for Aemond to completely own.

In other words: Omega Lucerys survives yet loses his memories, and Alpha Aemond takes his revenge on him creatively.

Holy fuck, this might actually be one my favorite fics of all time. INCREDIBLY well written and perhaps one of the most tragic/romantic lucemond pieces I’ve ever read. I also find myself adoring the Daeron/Joffrey dynamic that is unexpectedly thrown in that I didn’t know I wanted.

all I had to give - Lucerys has waited for Aemond to find him again since his fall. He is only surprised it took this long.

I think this was technically my first a/b/o lucemond verse fic that blew my heart away. Aemond and Luke’s portrayal in this might actually be my favorite. And the added Alysmond is a +❤️

real gods require blood - Before King Viserys I Targaryen draws his last breath, the Greens make their move. Rhaenyra Targaryen and her family find themselves prisoners in the Red Keep, cut off from their dragons and at the mercy of a new king.

Terrified of what fate awaits his family, Lucerys Velaryon turns to the only person at court willing to help him, no matter the price he has to pay.

Or: Lucerys offers himself in exchange for his family’s safety. Aemond could never refuse.

Not only is this fucking incredible to read, it might be my favorite smutty fic out there. The dialogue between Aemond and Luke just hits sooooo amazingly, this is one of those fics I go back to regularly to reread. I await the authors part 2 of this with baited breath!

Consanguinity - When the bastard Addam of Hull claims Seasmoke, it throws House Velaryon into disarray. All except Corlys, who spies the perfect opportunity to help his heir out of the delicate situation he has found himself in with an impromptu suggestion.

Though quite why Prince Aemond seems so affronted by the match is anyone’s guess.

Speaking of fics I go back to reread - this is definitely another one!! @nashiriel is an absolutely incredible writer and I can’t wait to see where she goes with this! I don’t like to spoil other people’s work…but I love a pregnant Lucerys a/b/o verse with a deliciously angsty twist ❤️

Divenire - Lucerys survives Storm's End however now he needs to survive Aemond, his obsession over a debt paid and the Dance of the Dragons.

This is one of the first Lucerys/Aemond fics that blew my mind. Is it insanely demented and toxic? Yes. Is it amazingly well written? YES! You decide if it’s your cup of tea, but I always return back to this one every once in a while when I want a pure hate no happy ending fic.

Heir of the Tides series - In 120 AC, Aemond Targaryen lost an eye to his nephew. In 129 AC, he demands the price to be paid.

Later on, Lucerys Velaryon will tell his mother that it was a fair exchange. (or, the author went out and wrote the eye fic she so wanted to read).

I admit, I am an absolute sucker for the idea of Luke taking his own eye out. Add on top of that a Luke who takes more of a role in his Velaryon inheritance - and can’t forget the battle of the Gullet 🤌🏻 !! Definitely a series to invest in.

Life for life, eye for eye - Aemond finds his nephew, somehow surviving the death of his dragon over Shipbreaker Bay, washed ashore, an empty socket where his right eye should be. The message, to Aemond, is obvious: the gods have given Luke to him, to do with him as he sees fit.

Meanwhile, when Luke wakes up, prisoner to his uncle, his world quickly narrows to one thing and one thing alone: surviving, so he can return to his mother, and the rest of his family, alive.

--

In which Aemond surpasses Daemon for title of 'worst uncle' by several miles and Luke suffers.

Ok so please beware, this is about as dark as it gets. If you’re triggered easily, this isn’t the fic for you. It explores extreme Lima and Stockholm syndrome forsure, but if you’re into this ship I’m sure you must know it consists of a broad spectrum of very dark, toxic fics, and this is one that just so happens is amazingly well written. Please keep in mind, if you don’t like, don’t fucking read.

Portrait of a Prince on Fire - Ser Luke Strong, legitimised bastard of the lord of Harrenhal, has found favour at the sumptuous court of Viserys I as a court painter. But he is also Lucerys Waters, unacknowledged bastard of Princess Rhaenyra of Dragonstone. The secret of his true parentage and the life he could’ve had eats him up, and he drowns his regrets in drink and brawling.

Prince Aemond hasn’t been seen outside court since he lost his eye, over a decade ago. Now he is about to be wed — and the king commissions Luke to paint the portrait that will be sent to Aemond’s betrothed.

They hate each other at first sight — but as Viserys lies dying, the portrait sets them on a collision course that will send them spiralling inexorably together. And as the realm descends into war, they will have to decide whether to hold on to each other as the world they knew begins to shatter.

Another fic I am completely obsessed with! @fruitageoforanges has probably written one of my all time favorite portrayals of Aemond and I love the refreshing take on Lucerys I’ve never seen done before in this ship. A 17th century AU that has an awesome amount of fashion I adore and is an absolute must read 😉❤️

Star-Crossed - Lucerys is taken captive by the Greens after his fall. When Aemond is assigned as his constant guard, and so constant companion, the romance that blooms between them spins the Dance of the Dragons on its head.

Or: two young lovers from rival factions of the royal family come together in a violent world.

I can’t list off lucemond fics without giving this one an honorable mention.

Dirección de la Luz - A decade had passed since Hwa Yeong was exiled from Yin. He had traveled through the entire empire three times and still had not found his death.

Until one day he met the dragon prince.

Or: Pregnant and solely with the company of his dragon Arrax, Lucerys Velaryon travels to the Yi Ti Empire and begins a new life away from his family and Aemond Targaryen.

A fic published in Spanish, but there is a translated version linked or you can translate yourself as I found myself doing because this story drew me in SO hard I couldn’t wait for the translator to update lol. This is such an original idea and SO fascinating to read with the authors portrayal of Yi Ti culture with such amazing detail!! I can’t give this author enough praise and encouragement to keep going!

the beast you’ve made of me - Lucerys Velaryon is no coward. He is frightened. He is alone. He is a bastard. He is a prisoner of a war he would do anything to stop. But he is no coward.

Lucerys survives Shipbreaker Bay. Aemond is baptised in the storm. This is the aftermath.

If you want Team Green Lucerys, this is your story. When you have to join the enemy to save your family with long term goals, Luke really goes through it in this one, but the political seesaw between his love for Aemond and his family is fabulous to read unfold 🤌🏻

Hope I’ve given you guys some beauties to read if you haven’t already 💎🗡️🩸

Lucemond is a beautiful, terrible place 😉

(Tried to @ as many as I could that are here on tumblr)

[chthonic-cassandra]

hello my friend! currently rereading dracula, as you know, and wondered if you have any recs for where to start with criticism about the novel? 🖤

This question makes me so happy! <3

I am dreadfully out of date on this, but I can certainly give you places to start; these are not all necessarily recommendations for criticism I like (there's precious little of that), but more introductions to classic criticism in the field.

The classics

The Norton Critical Edition of Dracula (edited by Nina Auerbach and David J. Skal), alongside the Cambridge Companion to Dracula, are both good introductions which collect representative examples of some of the most popular scholarly strains of thought on the novel. When someone asks me to recommend an edition of Dracula to start with, I always suggest the Norton.

Leonard Wolf (who was not Virginia Woolf's husband, but who was one of Anne Rice's college professors) was one of the most important voices in the critical reevaluation of Dracula which started in the 1970's. I often disagree with him (so much so that I once wrote a fic about how much I disagree with him), but his annotated edition of Dracula was my first. His important works are A Dream of Dracula and Dracula: A Connoisseur's Guide. He (along with Radu Florescu and Raymond McNally) was an important early proponent of the "Dracula is Vlad Tepes" theory, which was hotly opposed by...

Elizabeth Miller, ornery grand dame of Dracula criticism. She is extremely invested in being the most reasonable and the least prone to flights of fancy of all the critics, which means she does often say useful things, but she's also a little boring. She's best known for Dracula: Sense and Nonsense, but it's more a litany of complaints than actually analysis. Her books in general have useful primary source stuff.

Once you get into analysis of Dracula reception and adaptions, then I can with a full heart recommend David J. Skal's Hollywood Gothic, full of delightful trivia, which was truly Skal's strength.

Recommendations I more stand by:

Donald Glover's Vampires, Mummies, and Liberals: Bram Stoker and the Politics of Popular Fiction is one of the very few works of Dracula criticism that I thought actually dealt in any kind of thoughtful way with the racial politics of the book.

Christy Desmet's essay on Ophelia, Ellen Terry, and Dracula, collected in Shakespearean Gothic, was excellent and I still think about it; the whole collection is very much worth reading.

Loved Ann-Louise Kibbie's Transfusion: Blood and Sympathy in the Nineteenth Century Literary Imagination, which isn't all about Dracula but obviously deals substantially with it.

As a teenager I had a lot of fun reading the uploaded issues of The Journal of Dracula Studies and sometimes fantasized about submitting something to them while concealing my age/lack of higher education to see what happened (I never did). I remember feeling very vindicated by Katharina Mewald's "The Emancipation of Mina?" but don't know how it would hold up now. I haven't kept up with the most recent issues (perhaps I will start!) but at a glance there seem to be some interesting things.

ETA forgot about Allison Case's Plotting Women: Gender and Narration in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Novel! Good Mina material, comparing her with Marian in Woman in White.

[multistanisms]

Save a Horse || Ateez

FANDOM: Ateez

PAIRING: Hongjoong x fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5407

RATING: M

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: Biting, degradation [honestly, I'm not sure, so if anyone finds one, please let me know?]

SUMMARY: The staff of KQ know full well about the nonhumans who have taken the world by storm with their music. The last to reveal their nature is Hongjoong, a demon-siren hybrid. Despite staff worrying for his girlfriend, what only the members know is that the little witch is a delight that's not afraid of Hongjoong's darkness.

TAGLIST: @daceydeath, @justaaveragereader, @no1likemybbgcharlie, @spookidema

AUTHOR NOTES: Y'all please be nice, I haven't written smut in literal years. I saw the outfit Joong wears in this fic when I got to see Ateez back in July, and it has just sat and rotted my brain to mush, so here we are. Not beta'd this time around, but I did reread three times to try and catch everything. Much thanks to Dacey and Syd especially, because sometimes my depresso bean self needs some encouragement to share my weird joys. Enjoy, my dearies. <3

☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑

One of the perks of your audio production degree was a free seat at the mixing booth during shows when you don't want to stay at the hotel waiting on Hongjoong to get back. Tonight was one such night, but the staff kept looking at you in a way that confused you. While the other members had been open with the company about their races from debut - from Seonghwa’s selkie blood to San’s Cheshire form, Hongjoong had only recently revealed to staff that despite masquerading as a regular human, his heritage ran closer to the other members of Ateez - as he was a demon/siren hybrid. Perhaps they were concerned for you, though they were unaware you yourself were a witch. Sitting at the booth as you watched the crowd pour in from the rain outside, you pulled your phone out to text your boyfriend. 

⇐: Hey gorgeous. How's it going?

My Captain: There's my beautiful girl. We were just talking about you.

⇐: Who's we, Joong?

My Captain: Hwa, Mingi and I. I was asking for opinions on what I should wear during the last set.

⇐: And you didn't ask me? 

My Captain: I want it to be a surprise, precious. It is our anniversary, after all.

The text stops you and you have to swipe down to check the date. Sure enough, it's the one year date since Hongjoong asked you to officially be his mate. Neither of you counted the two years of fuck buddy/situationship before that.

⇐: It really doesn't feel like it's already been a year already, holy shit. I didn't get you anything, baby. 😭

My Captain: Don't worry, after the flight to the next city, we have two days before we even have to do anything big. I'm sure we'll think of something.

⇐: How about we start with me making dinner?

My Captain: The show lets out late, beautiful. We have to do the send off tonight, which takes longer. But don't worry, I've got it handled.

⇐: Should I be concerned?

My Captain: Hardly. Just have fun. I'll listen for your screams in the crowd. 😉

⇐: Like you'll hear me with the sold out stadium of Atiny, baby. The seats are already almost full.

My Captain: Come now, you think I can't find your voice even with a full house? I know it so well, after all.

The blush that heated from your neck up into your face made you lower your head. You waved a hand dismissively when one of the nearby staff asked if you were okay, diverting by asking for some water. Once the member had wandered off, you took a breath to settle yourself before responding.

⇐: You have a show, Hongjoong. Focus on that instead of my screaming, yeah?

My Captain: Oh, I know there’s a show. Don’t worry, I’ll get the screams later. 😚

Your eyes roll at his antics, slipping your phone back into your jacket pocket and settling into the rolling chair as you move to watch the stage and willing the blush on her face to fade. The show is always a work of art, the energy Hongjoong and his team gave never failing to amaze you; though with none of them being human, it makes sense their energy is slow to fade. You loved watching the group perform, but sometimes it was hard not to focus on just Hongjoong. You enjoyed the concert in its entirety, but as the boys came back for the final encore set, you couldn't help the sharp intake of breath as you saw the outfit your boyfriend was wearing. Dark blue jeans clad his legs, covering the black boots he wore. His shirt was a black button up that hugged against his body, perfectly showing off his torso while simultaneously still leaving room for the imagination - though you didn't need to use it. The bolo tie was a good accent of silver against the shirt, but the obvious piece de resistance was the dark colored leather cowboy hat he wore atop his head. The sight alone stole your breath, unable to even glance at any of the other members for the duration of the encore. “You fucking menace.” Your tone is a quiet, breathy growl as the boys all line up on the lift to be dropped down and you move to stand, bidding the staff goodnight and making your way to the dressing rooms. 

Hongjoong is still wearing the hat as he laughs with Wooyoung and Mingi, but the moment he lays his eyes on you and all out smirks, you know he chose the outfit on purpose. He steps to one side so he can pull you to him, dipping his head to kiss you while his hands slid to rest at the small of your back. He's extra warm from performing, but you settle into him with ease. “There's my girl.” he teased when he pulled away, smiling down at you.

“What are you trying to do in this, huh? Drive me absolutely insane?”

“Partly. I do have a few better ideas, though.” He grinned, one hand moving to tuck his fingers under your chin and bring your lips back to his. “But those have to wait until we're back at the hotel.” He laughs quietly when your response is a quiet whine as you pout. “Don't worry, baby. All that's left is send off, you don't have to wait much longer.”

“But you look so good.” you counter, arms moving from his waist to snake at his neck and let your fingers play with the hair at the back of his head. 

“I know, Y/N. Tell you what. You take my card, get us something for dinner and I'll meet you at the hotel, okay? I'll come straight to you as soon as we're done.”

“Promise?”

“Swear it.” Hongjoong replies, stealing another kiss. 

“Fine.” You reluctantly pull away, immediately missing his warmth as he enters the dressing room. As the door closes, you catch the familiar sound of San’s naturally pouty voice as he teased his leader. You laugh a little, aware of the muffled noises inside as you lean against the wall by the door to wait. The chatter inside bursts louder as Hongjoong reappears, hat no longer resting atop his head. “Awh, where'd my cowboy go?” You tease as your lips pout playfully, which grants you another kiss. 

“Don't worry, baby girl, I'm still your cowboy,” he assures, hand slipping his card into the back pocket of your jeans. “And only your cowboy.” He laughs as you hide your face in your hands at the growl in his voice, his own coming to wrap at your wrists and gently urge them away from their position as he changes to a softer, playful tone. “Come now, don't hide from me, Y/N. You know I love it when you blush for me.” 

“Oh hush, you. You shouldn’t be fucking growling at me in public when you look like this.” You huff playfully, but you're powerless to the soft tone he uses, looking up at him just so you can see him smile at you as if you'd hung the moon itself. “Just come home quick, yeah?”

“As soon as I can slip away, I will be there.” 

You go to step back so you can leave, but as he opens the door to leave you, you reach for his wrist, tugging him back to you to steal one last kiss, smirking as you nip your teeth over his lower lip and he groans loudly. His eyes flash crimson, and you know you’ve tempted him in return. Satisfied you've returned the favor when he's already tempted you, you ruffle your fingers through his hair and quickly step out of reach. “I love you.” You laugh as you slip out of view. You can just barely catch the familiar ring of his darker laughter, knowing that you were in for at least a little bit of trouble when he got back to the hotel. It was worth it, though, seeing as he'd sauntered around on stage in the outfit just to rile you up. 

All’s fair in love and war, right? 

You pass through familiar faces of staff, congratulating them as you find your way out to the underground garage where your rental is parked near the bus. Traffic is still going to be a mess, but not as insane with the show having a send off, so you have time to think of what to get for dinner. You settle on fried chicken, looking up the nearest place that serves it because you don't think you have time to finish cooking before your boyfriend joins you. Once you find a place, you order food for the two of you and head towards the restaurant. As you pull into the shopping center and get out, you spot another shop nearby that catches your eye, and you go there first before grabbing dinner and stopping to get some ice cream for dessert. The drive from the shopping center to the hotel isn't long, thankfully, and you find yourself sliding the key card through the door in no time at all compared to leaving the arena. The company always makes sure there's decent accommodations for everyone, and you set the bag of food in the kitchenette counter so you can put the ice cream away. You then go to change into more comfortable clothes - a pair of pajama pants and a tank top you'd stolen from Hongjoong (who had purposely gotten it too big so you would steal it). You turned your little speaker on to play music, going about moving the desk chairs closer together and setting out the boxes of food. You're singing as you go about the process, lost in the sheer domestication, and don't register the sound of the door unlocking. Hongjoong’s voice harmonizing with your own as his arms wrap around you from behind startles you from your mind and you laugh a little. “Hey there, gorgeous.” You greet, adjusting so you can tilt your head back and let him kiss you. “How was send off?”

“It was fun, but honestly, I was also a little out of it.” Hongjoong admitted. “I’m pretty sure I missed interacting with a few fans.”

“I'm sure they'll forgive you.” You playfully banter back. “You deserved to be distracted after what you did to me.”

“Oh, I plan on doing a lot more than distracting you, princess.” Hongjoong's voice pitches into a growl, head dipping to bite at where your pulse beats just under your jaw. He holds you securely even as your legs threaten to give out. 

“Fuck, Joong.” You breathe, one hand moving to slide into his hair. You can feel the laugh even as he continues to bite and suck at your skin, intent on making sure a possessive mark is left behind when he's done. 

“I know all your sweet spots after three years, baby. You should have known I'd use them after that tease.” The smirk in his voice is evident as one hand snakes lower so he can slip it beneath the fabric of your pajama pants, but stops just beneath the hem to simply brush his fingers over your hip gently.

“Kim Hongjoong, we've been over this. It isn't a tease if you have every intention of following through.” Your words are breathless even as you correct him, barely keeping yourself up because true to his word, Hongjoong knows every spot that drives you wild. “And if you thought for a moment I wouldn't follow through when you look this delicious, well, that's just sad.” You're very aware of the heat pooling in your body, turning into putty with every touch and kiss Hongjoong places on your body. 

“Did you think I wouldn't follow through?” He smirks, stepping away to pull you towards the bed. “Did it not occur to you that I picked this exact outfit specifically for you?”

“Oh yeah, just for me? Why, so I could jump your bones, handsome?” You tease back, your voice shaky from desire as he brings you to the bed. 

“Maybe. Would that make it better, princess?” Hongjoong cooed, moving to make you sit on the foot of the bed so he can settle on his knees between your legs. Dark eyes looked up at you, the sheer lustful adoration in them making you bite your lip and moan. 

“How are you so fucking gorgeous on your knees? It's not fair.” You pout, moving to tilt the hat back so you can see his face better. He smirks up at you, reaching up to remove the hat and set it aside, hands moving to the waistband of your pants to tug them down, his eyes watching you as you adjust to help him remove the fabric easier. When his eyes lower, he groans, eyes closing briefly. 

“What are these?” He coos breathily, fingers trailing up your thighs to tease over the navy colored lace of the underwear you have on. 

“I figured since I didn't have a gift, I could find something else to give you.” Your voice is smug even as he brushes his thumb over the fabric covering your core, biting your lip. “Happened to find a shop that was still open and I know how much you like me in lace.”

“I do love you in lace, baby, but you've never made a special trip like this just for me.”

You pout at his response despite the desire burning through your veins. “Do you not-”

“I love it, princess, please don't doubt that. You're fucking spoiling me with this. I couldn't ask for a more perfect anniversary gift. I simply can't decide if I want to ruin these panties while you're wearing them or take them off and just devour you.” One hand is pressed at the crotch of his jeans where his length is already visible through the denim, and you almost feel sorry for his indecision. Almost. 

He started it by wearing the damn cowboy outfit he's in, after all.

“Would seeing the set help you decide?” you ask, and the feral heat in his eyes as they swirl crimson in desire when he looks up at you makes you giggle, crossing your arms over your body to grab the hem of the shirt and pull it off, revealing the matching lace bra underneath the tank top. There's a pride that swells when he moans loudly at the sight of you in nothing but the lingerie set. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he lurches up at you, sealing his lips over yours as his hands move to cup at your chest, massaging your breasts as he moans into your mouth. You can't help but laugh out a soft moan as he trails his lips further down your neck, leaving open mouth kisses and a faint touch of saliva on your skin. “So beautiful, so soft…can't believe you're really mine.”

One hand moves to play in his hair, gripping at the brown tresses gently. “I'm only yours, Joong, my delicious cowboy. You claimed me a long time ago.” You shiver as his laugh vibrates through you, his hands moving to unclasp the bra before nudging at you to lay down so he can hover over you, your arms above your head as you look at each other longingly. “Our food will get cold, baby.”

“There's only one thing I'm hungry for right now.” Hongjoong breathes, holding himself up with one hand as he dips his head, taking one nipple in his mouth while his fingers scratch gently and pinch at the other. The ministration makes your back arch, one hand returning to his hair to tug at the strands. It earns you a pretty little moan, Hongjoong switching his mouth to the opposite nipple. Teeth graze over the sensitive bud and you gasp, hips bucking up suddenly and letting you feel just how hard your boyfriend already is for you. Hongjoong laughs, pulling away to kiss you. “I love how responsive you are to my mouth, princess.”

“I'm responsive to you, Hongjoong, not just your mouth.” You manage to breathe back, tongue wetting your lips when he pulls away. 

“Well, I plan on using my mouth thoroughly first.” Hongjoong grins down at you, starting to trail bites and kisses down your body. When he gets low enough, his teeth clasp onto the fabric of the panties and tug. Unable to help yourself you prop up on your elbows to watch him, hips lifting just enough to aid his task. His eyes stay locked on you as he works the fabric down. Once it's low enough, he uses his hands to finish removing it, kissing up the inside of your thigh. “Mhmm, how many times should I drive you over that edge, hmm? My precious girl.”

You can't help but reach out to card your hand through his hair again, licking your lips. “As long as I get a chance to reciprocate in between. It's not just about me, baby.” 

“I could get off just listening to your noises, Y/N. You know that.”

“Mm, but I like getting you off in other ways.” You fire back. “My cowboy needs some physical touch, too.” You're more than aware of the shiver than runs through his body, picking up the hat to put it back on his head. “Let me ride you like a good girl, yeah? What is it they say? Save a horse, ride a cowboy?” The words seem to break his will to debate, arms wrapping around your thighs and tugging you towards his face.

“Let me taste you first. I want you to fall apart on my tongue before you go on your ride. Be a good girl and speak up for me.” He doesn't give you a chance to respond, mouth enveloping your folds and swirling his tongue around your clit. Having him between your legs like this is nothing new, he loves getting to please you in this way, but the hat sits just so that he can look up at you and yet you couldn't see him, which somehow added to your arousal. One hand moves up to lace his fingers through yours, squeezing your hand as he moans. The sound vibrates into your body, making you wetter as your eyes close and you moan in return.

“Fuck, Joong, baby,” you know you can't last long after the build up, and it doesn't bother Hongjoong at all, he sucks harder at your clit, sliding two fingers between your folds as he continues. The sensations are too much and not enough, your body unable to decide if it wants to pull away or press closer. Hongjoong obviously senses it, adjusting so he's hovering better over your core, slowly adding a third finger before scissoring them. Your back comes off the bed as you cry out, eyes closing as you grip at the sheets and your head slams back onto the bed. You're right on the edge, feeling your body quake from how tight the coil of your pleasure is. “Joong, mm, Hongjoong, fuck, don't stop, please baby, don't stop.” It’s obvious he has every intention of having you hit that first orgasm quickly, his mouth sucking harder as his hand speeds up at your pleas. It doesn't take much longer before your legs fight against his hold, your release spilling on his fingers and tongue while you half scream his name. He doesn't stop though, making sure you ride out the high as he takes every bit you give him, moaning like he's just had his favorite meal. When you whine, he pulls away, knowing it means you've become too sensitive.

“Did your cowboy do good?”

“So good.” You pant, watching him with half-lidded eyes. “But it's my turn now, Joong.” He smirks up at you, moving onto the bed so he can kiss you deeply, swiping his tongue over your lower lip to ask for entrance. You open your mouth eagerly, letting him make you taste yourself as you moan into the kiss, pulling at his shirt to hold him close. His hands lift to start unbuttoning his shirt but you smack at his hand. “No.” you whine. “Let me taste you while you're still like this, please? You can take it off when you fuck me, I just want to see you fall apart like this.” You beg, fingers already working open his jeans as you start to slide off the bed and try to tug him over. His hands catch your wrists, however, a stern command escaping his lips as your knees touch the floor. 

“No, baby girl, get up from there.”

“But-”

“Y/N, I didn’t say no. I just don’t want you on the hotel floor like a common whore.”

“But I’m your whore, Captain.” you counter, grinning when the name makes his gaze darken. “I don’t mind being on my knees for you like a good girl.”

“Princess, we’ve already been over this.” His grip at your wrists tightens and he tugs you up to standing, getting off the bed himself to look down at you from your height difference. He leans in, swiping his tongue up your neck and grazing his teeth over your pulse before growling quietly in your ear, the sound alone making you shiver. “You may be my whore, but you will not sully yourself on the floor of hotel rooms. So if you’re so intent on sliding my cock down that pretty little throat of yours,” he pauses to dip his head to the other side, biting hard at where your neck and shoulder meet, smirking at the moan you make and the way your body quivers before he lifts his lips to your ear again. “Get your ass back on the bed like a good girl.” 

The obedience is immediate, you crawling onto the bed the moment he releases the hold on your wrists, tongue wetting your lips as you wait patiently for him to join you. You sit back with your legs tucked underneath, hands clenching as you lower your gaze for a moment. When he moves to join you on the bed, he slides his jeans down just enough to reveal the boxers underneath, leaving the clothing on per your request as he settles on the bed and leans back against the headboard. You can feel his gaze on you, a shiver of pleasure down your spine as he hums appreciatively at your nude form before opening his arms. 

“Come here, darling girl. Let me kiss you.”

You move closer to him, scooting up the bed and letting him guide you between his legs so he can lean into him, sealing your lips together. You moan as his fingers wind their way into your hair, his nails becoming claws to faintly scratch over your scalp. This kiss is heated, Hongjoong dominating the contact with ease as he holds you to him. Your hands move lower, fingers brushing over the outline of his cock through the boxers he wears. “Please, Joong,” you beg between kisses, voice little more than a whine. “My Captain, my soulmate, please.”

Hongjoong hums, the sound vibrating in his chest as he swipes his tongue over your lips again. “What is it, my precious? What do you want from Captain, hmm?” He’s mocking you, and you know it, but it’s so undeniably sexy because he saves the sexual torment specifically for you. “Use your words, be a good girl for me, yeah?”

One hand moves shamelessly over his erection, whining helplessly as you press just faintly against the bulge. “Let me taste you, please. I need it.”

“Mm, look at you, begging so pretty for me.” he smirks as he drags your bottom lip between his teeth, and you’re very aware of the way he’s completely dropped his human facade, fangs catching your skin as he tugs your lip teasingly. “So good and obedient. I haven’t even given you my cock but you’re already drunk on it.”

“Drunk on you, Hongjoong.” you weakly correct, whimpering as one hand reaches up to wrap around your throat for a moment. 

“Yeah, it’s just my presence making you so wet and needy?” he tilts his head, crimson eyes glowing and he smirks at you, and you’re very aware of the way you can feel the emotions between each other.

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand covering the one he has at your throat. “Please, Joong. Please let me have you in my mouth. I can be such a good girl, please.”

“Oh, I know you can be. You’re always so good, even when you’re getting punished.” Hongjoong growls, leaning to kiss you roughly. “Have your fill, my princess. I’ll let you enjoy my cock.”

You almost collapse into his lap, thanking him wildly as your hands move to slide the boxers down and let his shaft free. There’s already precum glistening on the tip and you lean to swipe your tongue over it, proud when you hear Hongjoong moan and his length twitches under your touch. You start slowly, lowering your mouth over him through a few breaths through your nose, waiting until his shaft grazes the back of your throat before moaning. Hongjoong has one hand gripping the sheets, claws tugging at the fabric as the other moves to pull your hair from your face. 

“Look at you, knowing how to use your mouth like a good little slut.” Hongjoong both praises and degrades, fully aware of the way you squirm at the words. “You like making me writhe for you, don’t you? Like watching me while you fuck me with your mouth?” The hand in the sheets moves as the other tugs at your hair, pulling you from his length enough to brush his fingers over your lips while one of your hands wraps around him to stroke him while he holds you away from the length. “I showed you how good it feels, and now you love to do it, huh?” He watches as you nod. 

“I like seeing how good it makes you feel,” your voice is rough, but you hold his eyes, smirking at him. “I love the way you moan and hiss, the way you praise me for pleasing you right.”

“You do love to be praised, huh?” Hongjoong mocks, hips rocking up into your hand as he speaks. “You get so wet and needy when I tell you you’re doing a good job. My perfect mate, my good girl, always being so attentive to my reactions. I taught you so well, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Captain.” you reply.

“I should reward you, princess.”

You shake your head a little. “Not yet, please. Let me be a good girl and please you first.”

“You’re already being such a good girl, though, Y/N.” He teases, but when you once more shake your head, he smirks at you. “Ahhh, I know what it is you want. You want us even before I fill you with my cock, don’t you? You want me to cum all over your tits so I can clean up my mess, yeah?” When you moan with a near-frantic nod, legs squeezing together as you lick your lips, he hums thoughtfully.

“Yes,” you beg, eyes closing. “Yes, please, Hongjoong. My soul, my captain, my love.” Your hand still works over him, and you know he’s aware of the way he’s leaking precum, his eyes never leaving yours. He then nods, relaxing the hold on your hair so you can once more dive onto him, hollowing your cheeks every few bobs of your head to further spur him to his first end. You recognize the way his head tilts back, the way his legs fall open even more, how his hips roll erratically up into your mouth. Suddenly, his hand tightens and pulls you up, a string of saliva connecting your now swollen lips to his throbbing member. Your hand returns to stroking him, adjust so your chest hovers near his shaft. His free hand moves to join your own at his length, applying just a little more pressure as he watches you.

“Can’t wait to see you painted in my cum, to clean up your tits while you ride my cock.” he pants, body quaking as he gets closer. A few more pumps from your hands and his release hits him, coating your breasts in his seed as his head falls back and whacks the headboard, his eyes closed as he breathes. “Fuck, princess,” he huffs, opening his eyes to smirk down at you. “Such a good job. Couldn’t have asked for a better mate than my magic girl.”

You giggle breathlessly, moving to close his legs so you can tug at his pants, smirking up at him as he comes down from his high, watching you as he catches his breath. “I love when I get to see you like this.”

“Drained of every fluid and aching for more of you?” Hongjoong jokes, his eyes still glowing even in the light of the hotel room. 

You shake your head, letting the denim and the boxers fall to the side of the bed, scooting up to straddle him while your fingers begin unbuttoning the shirt. “Your true form, Hongjoong. The demon I fell in love with.”

“I fell in love with you first, you know.” Hongjoong sits up to help you slide the shirt off, hands then roaming over your body. “The first time you asked to see this form, I knew I was lost on you. You stole my heart when I didn’t even think I had one to steal.” he tilted his head to kiss at your shoulder and up to your neck, his claws teasing over your skin. “That’s why I can never get enough of you, my princess.”

“Is that why I have a mating scar and a ring?” you teased, sliding up to drag the pads of your fingers over his shaft, the contact easily stirring it back to life, hardening under your knowledgeable touch.

“You have both because you said yes,” Hongjoong countered with a moan as his arousal spiked again, biting at your pulse as your fingers caressed over his length. “You have them because I love you and my soul is yours. The sex is just a bonus.” You can’t help but laugh, adjusting so you can ease his semi-hard (and getting harder) length into your folds, both of you moaning as you became one. The moment he bottomed out, Hongjoong was pulling you into a deep kiss, hands on your hips as he devoured your mouth before dipping his head to swipe his tongue through the sticky mess still coating your breasts. “I could go so many rounds and not need a break. You feel and sound so good.”

“We still need sleep, my beloved demon.” you breathed, tilting your head to kiss at his neck. “We have a flight in the morning.”

“Then let’s make sure your ride lasts.” Hongjoong smirks as he looks at you, leaning to to swipe another bit of his own release from your chest. “Because I am so far from done with you.”

“All this from some lace lingerie? Maybe I should buy more.”

“You started this, my precious girl.”

You make a point to lift your hips and drop without warning, smirking as Hongjoong almost screams out a moan. “Don’t get it twisted, Hongjoong. You started this when you decided to flaunt around in a full cowboy outfit like I wasn’t going to devoid you over it.” 

He responds by picking his hat up from the bed where it had fallen, placing it on your head with a smirk. “I’ll wear it anytime you want me to, gorgeous.”

“What if I just want you in the hat, hmm?” you ask, laughing out a moan as he begins to guide you on him, the two of you falling into a rhythm as he watches you. 

“I’m your cowboy, remember?”

“Yeah? Let me save a few horses, huh?”

Hongjoong smirks, fangs showing as he tugs you against him into a kiss, which allows him to change the angle of his hips as he picks up the pace to hear you moan more. “You can ride me anytime, Y/N. Day or night.”

[we-stan-cale]

I have enjoyed some of the TCF reaction fics, but I feel like there's a major problem.

Namely, that it's really hard for fic writers to stay motivated for over 700+ chapters, so it feels like they all start off strong for the beginning (especially rescuing Raon) and then peter out. We never get to the really good stuff.

Never reach that flashback when Cale reads the letter from the GoD, or see reactions to Choi Han rushing over to see Kim Rok Soo after getting Choi Jung Soo's records. Never have them see the Sealed God's test, and really... Post-apocalyptic Korea horrified Alberu, for good reason. Not that it's explicitly stated, but when is it ever? He had quite the reaction when he was trying to decide what to tell everyone else.

I've had some thoughts on how I would do it, but fair warning - I'm not much of a writer, and will probably never write it. All my respect for the ones that regularly write fanfic because I have like - less than a handful? Maybe, maybe, if I haven't moved on after finishing this reread, I'll try writing it myself.

The other thing is that I've been reading part 2 - only as far as eatapplepies has translated as I find mtl more confusing than helpful - and I'm really liking the Heavenly Demon. He seems to have fallen for our Cale pretty hard, and I'm interested in seeing how that goes.

So I have been playing around with ideas.

First - Dodam is trying to find 'that terrible bastard', and is dragging around his Choi Han.

He reaches Korea. Og!Cale as KRS, specifically. He has his own attribute, one to help him track down Cale, so he can pull up visions/memories related to that.

He pulls up the dream meeting between Cale and KRS.

There are a few team 1 members present, particularly Kim Minh Ah. Cue a bit of chaos, some 'aha' moments, and the long and the short of it is Dodam is going to pull up some of just what they're team leader is up to. (And if Dodam can figure out exactly which world or dimension to to next, and OG! Cale gets the bittersweet ability to see how his deal with the God of Death prevented the destruction he'd lived through, well... That's fine too)

During that brief moment, the Henituse noticed some strange mana fluctuations and managed to get Rosalyn there. She's basically able to tap into the feed and see and hear what's going on.

And divine intervention (like perhaps a god of love) extends the feed to the Heavenly Demon.

What would follow would be an abbreviated version of the key points. Sure, it loses some of the flavor... But we don't actually need, say, the amusing anecdote where an elf mistook Cale for a dragon.

Anyways, the more I thought about it the more I thought about how team 1 would react.

Because the minute they see those monster statues you know they'll all be going 'what the fuck?!?'

They will probably also nod knowingly at some of Cale's more shocking plans. Like hey, there he goes agreeing to help the Mogoru Empire put out the fire he started with the Whipper kingdom.

Nod, nod

Just like he did when they were dealing with that one corrupt guild

And if they ever get as far as seeing the Heavenly Demon, I'm sure one team member will be like 'Is.. is he flirting with Team Leader-nim?!?'

Cue stories where Team Leader Kim Rok Soo avoided a honeypot - except now they're thinking maybe he was just too dense to notice?

[writermask-0807]

“heaven’s blessings.” {king baldwin iv x reader}

A/N: ahaha so yk how i said i'm gonna watch kingdom of heaven?? (it isn't available on bflix or any other website/app i checked 😭 someone pls help) i haven't yet 😅 (ALL HISTORIC AND KOH CRITICS PLS DONT COME FOR ME I DONT MEAN ANY HARM) so there's probably gonna be a lot of stuff wrong with this, and um. yk how i also said i was working on a koh fic?? yh this is not that one. for some reason i couldn't go any further than a couple of paragraphs, so here i am. with this absolutely shitty fic that looks even more horrible as I reread but. hope you enjoy?? 😭😭

warnings: hanahaki, some descriptions of hanahaki (?? it isn't that graphic or anything tho), also feel like i used 'bcos' too much, angst with no happy ending 😭 I promise the other one is happy!! 😭😭

word count: 322

thinking of king baldwin iv w hanahaki.

don’t you think that he would be the type that, as a man of strong faith, to think that this, too, is a blessing from god?

as a man of already frail health, this new illness is bound to take an even more horrible toll on his battered broken body;

taking root under his disfigured skin. fronds twining through his veins, greenery curling round his ribcage, twisting in his airways, stealing his very breath. blooming quietly in the darkness, petals like cremation ashes falling past his bruised lips like a prayer, some holy thing that can’t be attained.

because that’s what you are.

unattainable.

because knowing you - you with your tender smiles and your healing hands and your kind heart - you might probably still accept him, even with all of his ugliness, his ruined skin and broken bones, even with this blessing that’s really only a curse. but he can’t allow that. he can’t possibly be that selfish.

not to you, never.

it’s why he flinches away from your touch (no matter how much he yearns for it), soft and feather-light as it is, why he forces himself to look away from your wide eyes, your expression that’s hurt but you smile through it anyway because you wear your heart on your sleeve and you’re so gentle and kind and loving-

and he can’t.

and maybe that’s what his love for you is meant to be, in this lifetime. a love that seeps through skin and blood and bone. a love that lingers like an illness, because he can’t let you.

a blessing.

(and it’s only when the end is near that he gathers the delicate flowers into his arms, holds them close to his chest. this is the closest he can ever let you be.

and as his eyes flutter shut for the last time, he dares to hope-

perhaps, in another life.)

[sadly-never-after]

I reread Kitty's diary because of a fic I am writing and I'm sick.

No but seriously as a first gen immigrant Lizzie is so dear to me and her relationship with Daring (& Duchess) is so fucking heartbreaking and I've been there, I've been there, I've LITERALLY been there.

(A guy who I reluctantly befriended and started trusting started dating my roommate three days after he and I stayed up till 03am in the morning having an extremely intimate conversation in which he ended up embracing me in an overly romantic manner. After that he ignored me for the rest of our remaining time together. Also I think he stole my necklace)

This is a silly doll line for children but Lizzie feels so weirdly realistically written when it comes to her experiences as a child-teenage immigrant-refugee. Her culture is alien and strange to others, she can't go home again, she comes off as hostile and mean-spirited purely because of linguistic differences.

And then Daring...

Iirc her official description on Storybook romance she explicitly states that she only wants to start dating when she is back in Wonderland. She knows how difficult a romance with an Ever Afterling would be. She knows that feeling of wanting to have someone from your own home, not due to bigotry but because there's a part of her that will never be understood by an Ever Afterling. And then she lets her guard down. Here he comes, Best Ever After Boy, guess I could try to be your Best Ever After Girl. He is acceptance of her host culture personified. He is the proof that she could thrive Ever After too. To top it off he laughs at her oddities with little mockery. Kitty comments on how she changes herself because of him. On how she almost starts hiding a part of her identity and heritage as a way of adapting and becoming (in her eyes) more suitable to Daring Charming.

And it's not enough.

I know a lot of people are really pissed at EAH for what they did to Dizzie and I get that but I kind of love that development for how heart wrenching it is. It is painful, and not even only for the Lizzie shippers but also for Duchess & Lizzie whose friendship was already unstable because of the events of NTP.

And the fact that none of the episodes or diaries in the future address this makes it even better/worse (depending on your liking of angst) because there's this apparent lack of remorse from Daring who doesn't seem to ever think back on their story. Tbh I think one way the writers could have gotten to develop a better darabella would have been to have her help him in some manner to acknowledge the pain he caused on Lizzie.

You are a teenage refugee. Your family and home is inaccessible. Your only friends are those who escaped with you. They are the remnant of your home. They are the only ones who understand. They are the only ones you trust. You deprive yourself of other connections because you've experienced the pain of rejection, you refuse to change but are forced to adapt. You begin to trust and perhaps to even love. And the two people you loved defrost your heart and proceed to shatter it.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

10 Jikook Fanfictions Part 1

I said I'd make a list before the end of the year and I kept my promise. Now, it's difficult to choose, especially when I have more than 300 bookmarks and unfortunately I also started doing that some year and a half ago. Safe to say, there's probably plenty of good fics I read that are now lost. Anyway, enough with the boring chit chat, here's 10 random jikook fics in no particular order and most likely, several other parts will follow, probably next year 😉

1. Dead in the Water

It's been a couple of years since I read this and honestly, I barely remember much, but what I do know it's that it had an impact on me. Usually fics that have death as a central theme end up resonating with me, but perhaps it's because I've always been attracted to more darker fiction. This one is gritty and there's a lot of pain and I must have cried a lot (those tend to stick in my head)

2. we're holding hands beneath the silver screen

I think this story is taking place in the 90s (you'll see that a lot of the fics I recommend are taking place in the past). I think I ended up reading everything ChimneyCricket wrote, but this one remained a favorite. Coming of age during a summer in Jeju in the 90s. Apart from the theme, it's the writing that made me stick with it.

I'm not the biggest fan of young adult stories. Or better yet, it's not something that I'd go to as a preference. When I do, it's more of an indulgence and thankfully, I found some writers (like this one) who can do a really good job with the genre.

3. Stockwell

Another writer that I've become a big fan of after reading one fic of theirs. And I think it might have been Stockwell that did it for me. I like that it's fanfiction with adult themes for an adult audience. And I also resonate with a lot of the cultural references and themes. I will also admit that this fic leaning into the enemies to lovers trope was a selling point because I'm a sucker for it. I can't help myself.

4. Burn for You

This is a complete self indulgence for me and I embrace it. Just like watching Bridgerton is a guilty pleasure for which I don't actually feel guilty (and the inspo for this fic). This story has everything and I must say the combination of lust, fear of revealing feelings, rumors, proper behavior and hidden romance is a lethal combination!

5. Light of a century

I might have recommended this story before, but it being inspired by Up on Poppy Hill is not just due to the plot, but the writing is able to evoke that studio Ghibli mood. This fic is to be read on a hot weekend afternoon.

6. Map of the Soul

This might be one of the most complex fanfictions I read due to the amount of research needed, but also in the depiction of political contexts and identity politics. Most of all, I like it because as much as relationships are a vital part of the story, there is an entire world surrounding the main characters. Events and other people that have also room to develop and not just remain props that advance the story.

7. Proceed with Caution

I don't know what snatchim did with this fic, but it's the only one I ever reread multiple times and I'll probably do it again in the future. I don't even reread books from my library, let alone fanfics. But Proceed with Caution did it for me. Perhaps it's because of the process of Jungkook inevitably falling for Jimin and even though it's a bad thing considering the context, it's so good. Maybe it's the image of Jimin with a bellybutton ring or maybe because the picture of hot Californian days in the 70s is so vivid, it feels like a nostalgic Paul Thomas Anderson movie.

8. Dishwater World They Said Was Lemonade

The description does not do this story justice because it's so much more than that. It's a canon compliant thriller with really complicated and complex characters and once again, a story meant for adults who understand that it's fiction. Unfortunately, judging by the comment section, a lot of people cannot distinguish betweem real people and characters. For those of you who might be fans of Korean thrillers, this story might be the one for you. It's also one of my favorite jikook fics as well.

9. souvlaki

Need I say more, considering the description? This is a self indulgence as well, but of a different kind. If I happily read tropey fics, I also like the ones that can sound like a uni course. Set during the 1997 FMI crisis in SK, any reader will get familiar with a socioeconomic and political perspective of that time through the eyes of the main characters. If you're only looking for romance, this one is not for you.

10. you wouldn't remember

I think littleflumes might be currently my favorite writer of canon compliant jikook. I think the author really captured their dynamic in its essence and the room left for fiction perfectly fills in the holes left in the last 2 years and up until the present. But what did it for me, not only with this story, but the others in the series as well, is that it's concentrated almost entirely on the two main characters, almost living in a bubble of their own in which their relationship can be explored.

[wystiix]

talk to me, please

❥ pairing: venti x gn!reader ❥ synopsis: Venti anxiously waits for a text from you to the point where he overthinks and nearly spirals into madness—will you please just fucking reply already? ❥ cw: crack, attempt at humour (kms), fluff maybe?? not proof-read so some stuff may not make sense lmao ❥ additional tags: lowkey kinda revolves around texting, venti's perspective, no pronouns for reader, modern setting, venti is a humanities major cuz i said so, does this count as socmed??? idk someone tell me i need to sleep it's 2am ❥ word count: 955 ❥ notes: bonjour hi hello kumusta. my foot is fucking asleep and my leg feels numb and my back hurts and i'm tired an it's 2am i have school i need to stop. okay so for context i was texting this girl and she wasn't replying so i went crazy, and then i thought "wait i could write a fic about this" and here we are. it was actually kinda fun writing this HAHAHAHAHA but i had to rush it cuz i have other stuff to do so uh it may be a bit quick. (see end notes after reading cuz i said so /j)

The clock ticked. It had been three hours. Venti stared at his phone, impatiently waiting for you just please, please, please reply.

Try to distract yourself, one may say, and mark these fucking words, he did.

He tried everything. From listening to music to doing the dishes, to cleaning his room. Oh, but that was not all.

For the past few hours, he reorganised his notes, desk and playlist, walked at least twenty laps around his dorm, ate all his snacks from the pantry like a fatass, cleaned up his closet and planned what he was going to wear a week from now, learned a new song on his guitar and even counted every single one of his ceiling and wall tiles.

There were exactly 146 tiles in his dorm. That number now forever haunts him.

Practically exhausted from being way too productive than he usually was, he slumped down on his bed and opened the app he used to text you. There was still no reply.

Venti buried his face into his pillow, letting out a groan of frustration.

It was incredibly frustrating and it nearly drove him crazy. Were you seriously that busy? Normally you would respond within a span of seconds, a few to thirty minutes at the latest. But fucking three hours?

He couldn’t let this opportunity slip away. You both had been talking for over a week—he couldn’t afford to mess this up. 

But what if you suddenly lost interest? Oh, it felt far too early for that. Was he finally going to have that Mitski experience? Was he going to be those depressed poets who poured their hearts out through their ink on the paper when a single minor inconvenience happened to them? 

You were killing him. And it was not softly. Venti felt as if his heart was shattering into a million pieces.

Was this his destiny, his punishment for choosing to pursue such a depressing major in humanities?

How cruel the universe is.

He sighed in defeat, opening his notes app to write and exude a poetic, Shakespearean ballad about this before his phone suddenly buzzed.

Ding! You have received a new message from [Name]!

Holy shit has his fingers never moved so quickly before in his entire life, clicking on the notification faster than he could blink. Your sudden message almost gave him a heart attack, for fuck’s sake.

So much for living and breathing Shakespeare.

Oh, how his heart fluttered. A simple message, yet it had him forget about his lament just a few seconds prior and he found himself swooning, practically glazing your message as if it was the most fascinating piece of literature he had ever laid eyes on.

Venti paused, rereading your message 25 million times, unsure how to reply. Should he respond right away, or would that be too eager? He didn’t want to come off as desperate, but three hours of waiting had been excruciating. Perhaps he should wait a minute or two… No, that would be too long!

God he wanted to punch himself in the face for clicking that notification too fast, now he has to think of a response on the spot or else he’d look like an asshole.

He started to type out a response.

k, i see.

He paused, immediately deleting the message with a shake of his head. Too dry, he has to sound interested. I understand! Would you like to shift the conversation to a less taxing topic? Delete. Too formal. LMAOOO dw dw, what was it about anyway? Delete. ahh hope the essay didn’t stress u out too much!! Delete. i’m madly in love with u Delete. Had he sent that he would find the nearest cliff and leap off.

Venti sighed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Why was this so complicated? He wanted to sound interested, but not desperate; casual, but not indifferent. He ended up typing something simple and hitting send before he could second-guess himself again. Sometimes, being simple is the ultimate sophistication.

He fought the urge to chuck his phone across the room. Shit, was that too casual? How long were you going to reply this time?

There were immediate blinking dots.

The tension in his chest eased as he found himself giggling at your comment. He realised the way he was acting earlier was ridiculous, maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Venti felt the weight lift off his shoulders. The conversation was back on track, and he could breathe easy again. Just as he was about to put down his phone, the blinking dots appeared again, and he immediately reverted his attention back to it.

Another message.

What.

What the fuck. Was this real?

He put his phone face down, allowing everything to sink in.

What the fuck. Coffee? Tomorrow? With you? Did you just ask him out? Was this real? Was he real? Were you real?

The anxiety that lingered within slowly ebbed away as he stared at the ceiling tiles—the same tiles that haunted him earlier. However, they now seemed oddly comforting.

“Holy shit.”

Gods above, was this a blessing? Maybe his love life wasn’t so hopeless after all.

Venti’s gaze drifted to his closet, where he noticed that same outfit he intended to wear a week from now. A cozy, soft-beige sweater with a hint of cream peeked out from behind a row of neatly hung clothes, gently draping over a pair of charcoal chinos.

He grinned like an idiot, giggling and kicking his feet like a little child who just received their favourite toy. A string of “oh my god, oh my god” repeated endlessly in his head like a loop.

And for once, the silence didn’t feel so heavy.

❥ notes: hi so yes. yes i did what he did here. yes i counted my tiles, but it was my bathroom tiles instead. there are like 121 tiles in the bathroom, including the hidden ones. in this fic i just added the average number of tiles to that number which was like 25 tiles??? lowkey idk i just estimated. and yes i did plan my outfit a week from now, which is for church. yes i cleaned my room. yes i walked more than ten laps around my living room. i was restless. yes i was productive as hell. lmfao by the time i was done with the fic she replied to me so yay!! win!! also pls get the "you were killing him and it's not softly" reference i hope someone at least gets it or else i'm gonna cry myself to sleep. yeah anyways im gonna sleep gn <3

[im-not-samantha-im-samanta]

Request by: @jellibean2018

Hello, Jelli! About two months ago you sent in a request, however my tumbl did me dirty, and I ended up with your ask, and the entire fic deleted! (Though, much to my relief, I found screenshots of the fic in a chat with my friend who was reviewing it. Thank god).

So, I have to tag you, and remind you what you wanted.

From what I remember, you wanted a fic with a female sinner Reader who was once a victim of Alastor's, and the two ending up meeting again in hell. You also wanted an unsettling vibe with Alastor reveling in the memory of killing Reader.

I also want to add that I apologize for how long you had to wait for this fic to be done. I haven't been doing well with fics lately, so this was a struggle. And my mental health started going shit too which is why I stopped posting for so long...

Anyways, I really started to struggle with writing fics, so I ended up experimenting with this one - it's kind of written with huge metaphor kind of style? Hope that's okay with you...

Anyways, hope you'll enjoy reading this at least a little, and I once again apologize.

_

🎙️// The sweet history we share... //🎙️

{Alastor x female!Reader}

___________________________________________

Type: Fanfic

Settings: Not specified

Genre: Unsettling? Can't tell if it actually gives that vibe though,

!TRIGGER WARNING!: Mentions of cannibalism, murder, violence, blood, saliva, dead bodies, Alastor revels in the memory of killing Reader, possible yandere vibes? Alastor sees Reader as nothing but a meal, but he puts her on a pedestal - that's probably some kind of fucked up attachment that surely has a name? I'd say the vibe is quite unsettling, but I can't say that for sure, Angel indirectly suggests the use of drugs and hints at sex related activities (but it's just a single line), and that's probably all?

Sidenote: Reader is written as a female just as requested,

Sidenote: I have no idea if I wrote Alastor well... but it feels like I really made him ooc as fuck and ruined the whole request,

Sidenote: Rereading this I think everyone is ooc as fuck even if they have minimum dialogue,

_

That should be all,

Hope you'll enjoy,

___________________________________________

Ah, nostalgia. Ah that sweet nostalgia. And that embrace of her.

She comes in unannounced, an unexpected guest. But oh is she welcome.

And oh so welcome are those treats she brings to the table.

She easily settles in, making herself at home. And into a cup, a bunch of memories she pours.

And that demon, the radio demon as he's called - he drinks from that cup greedily.

And like a man dying of thirst, he can't help but ask for another cup to be poured.

His senses feel high, his body tingling. A feeling of addiction is what fills him.

And he can't get enough of those sweet memories, so, he downs one cup after the other.

But with each greedy little sip, the thirst only grows and grows - he's not had his fill still.

So, the demon goes on and on, tasting one memory after the other.

And his mouth waters a big deal the more he can taste, and he savours each and every one.

Ah, and he can't tell which one of the sips of memories he enjoys the most, which one is the most saliva inducing one.

Is it maybe the giddy old memory of how he followed you through the town?

With you completely unaware? Naively trusting those poorly enlightened streets?

Trusting that a bit of weak light will keep you safe?

Or perhaps it could be the sweet memory of the thrilling chase through the forest?

That one forest where thousands of dead bodies laid buried deep in the ground?

Those dead bodies in whose footsteps you followed suit?

Oh! And what about that memory of how you so desperately tried to navigate around and hide, escape his clutches?

Even if he could hear your sharp breaths as clear as the day?

Oh! Or maybe his favourite one could be the moment of when he tackled you down?

Pinning your body under his, finally cutting the chase so the real fun can begin?

And that beautiful moment of how you hopelessly dug your nails into his skin til blood trailed down his arms?

That one beautiful moment engraved into his head of how you desperately clawed at those lanky hands of his?

His hands that trailed, squeezed and pinched at your body, feeling you up like a winning prize, like a fine piece of venison?

Ah, it was so hard to pick which one was the most treasured one!

Hell, it could even be the simple memory of the melodious sounds of your cries.

That melodious, angelic sound of your pleading, whimpering, sobbing and screaming.

Especially those sounds you made when he bit down onto your flesh.

Oh, and that taste that hit his taste buds back then...

He still remembers it like it was yesterday.

And his tongue still tingles, and saliva still floods his mouth every time he thinks of just how tasty you were back then.

And now his mouth waters as he silently wonders... would you still have such taste even now?

Or did becoming a demon change the sweet, addictive flavour of your fragile flesh and thick blood?

Oh, how his senses urge him - beg him - to just grab you and take at least one single little bite...

I'd be really easy too, now that you're a part of the hotel staff.

Silly little you, you didn't flee when you were faced with the fact that he - the one who took your life - also works for the hell's princess now.

You didn't take the more than gracious chance to turn on your trail, run and never return while you still could.

No, you are too stubborn, and you insist on staying, even despite how frightening seeing him on the daily is for you.

Silly little you! Don't you realize how easily he could snatch you away and repeat history?

All it would take is a single moment of when you're alone and-

Ah, but he can't do that - at least not yet...

Where would be the fun in that?

It sure would be a shame to end your lovely reunion this fast and early on, no?

Not to mention the odd, messed up attachment the deer demon feels towards you...

Now, not to be mistaken! What he feels isn't the usual attachment one would think of!

It definitely isn't the good or healthy kind either...

So, we shall not be mistaken, let's not get our hopes up and think he cares - for he doesn't.

You mean nothing to him - at least as far as it comes to you as a person.

Your value could be most likely compared to something of a sentimental value, a plaything at best if you will.

Still, no matter what you are to him - you are by far his most favourite one at that.

That's what can be said for a fact.

And for reasons beyond us and even Alastor, those memories he shares with you are put on a pedestal - put way above the rest.

There were so many faces that twisted in fear, so many names he kept tabs on, so many tastes he's tried, and so many lives he's taken.

But very vast portion of them is long forgotten, not really standing out all that much.

Nor holding any real value. Barely any of them mattered...

But you, on the other hand - oh, he could never forget about that one lovely night you shared...

And even when more victims - more faces, more names, more tastes - came, they couldn't compare.

No, they never could.

Those memories of you and your taste were always stuck in the back of the radio demon's head no matter what new person was on the menu - what new dish was on his plate...

So, one can only imagine just what he feels now that you're back within his grasp.

Oh, not even his wildest fantasies could've come up with or prepare him for such sweet moment!

This was like a gift from the Devil himself!

Yes, a gift - one that Alastor would make sure to cherish greatly...

Ah yes, he would cherish you so.

He'd take his time unwrapping you like the perfect little gift that you are - he would savour you.

And only when he'd get tired of messing with you, only then he'd get to the real deal.

Oh, and when he'll finally do, it'll be like a starving man plunging onto bread crumbs!

It'll be such a beautiful, satisfactorily moment - Alastor can almost feel himself drooling at the mere thought of the moment.

Oh, how he just can't wait for the very moment!

The moment is so close, and yet so far - and every little glance your way is like a test.

A test of how long he can resist the temptation.

Every little move you make, every little noise that leaves you, every little expression your face twists into.

Oh, he can barely hold himself back!

His body feels so restless, and his thoughts are all over the place.

And no matter how much he reminds himself to be patient, to not cut straight to the chase just yet.

He still can barely keep himself in check.

His thoughts are going to dangerous places, and your familiar, sweet scent teases his nose.

Oh, and you're so within reach too!

It'd really just take a single little moment and-

"Geez, that perv's still at it?".

Oh, that's right.

He's almost forgotten about those curious eyes watching him from afar.

Watching, and trying to see inside his head...

But judging by the response Vaggie's hateful comment receives, it seems she's the only one to see right through him.

The only one to see the real danger behind that wide smile he always wears...

"Ya-uh! His eyes have not left her ever since she's joined the hotel staff!".

Ah, Charlie. Dear, sweet Charlie - now she's something else.

She's completely different from her girlfriend - she's quite naively trusting and optimistic.

Fully believing that there's a piece of good in everyone.

And hence not being concerned for your safety when the deer demon started to show an interest in you.

Ah, that sweet, silly little thing.

Caught up in trying to see only the best in people and their intentions...

It's amusing - and truly adorable.

And oh, does it play into Alastor's favour oh so well...

"Okay, that's like so sick and totally-".

Oh, Vaggie - she tries, she really tried to warn the others.

Make them see Alastor for what he truly is.

But aside from Husk, nobody really listens to Vaggie's concerns.

No, she's not all that listened to when she voices her opinions on the deer demon.

Not even when she expresses her concerns for how the latter constantly follows your every single step no matter the time of the day, no matter where you go...

And to think she has quite enough of a say in things as the hotel's manager, as well as the princess' girlfriend!

Oh, that poor little thing - it must be such an awful feeling.

How humorous!

And oh, how unfortunate...

"Ah! Do you think he's-?".

Niffty is completely on board with Charlie.

Similarly to the princess - she too doesn't see the real harm in Alastor's advances towards you.

Seeing his behaviour as nothing other than subtle romantic gestures.

The little demoness' version of romance sure is rather twisted...

And yet, it's still quite surprising Niffty doesn't see the harm in things.

After all, she herself knows Alastor just as well as Husk does...

"Yeah! Strawberry pimp totally got the hots for that one!".

Angel was caught up in the spiderweb of romanticizing the same thing as well.

Just like Charlie and Niffty, he couldn't see the truth...

"What? No! Are you all crazy?! That's not the case at all! How can you all not see that?!".

Oh, Vaggie - again and again, she really tries and tries.

But the result is always the same - nobody pays her warnings or concerns any thought.

And yet she still keeps on going.

What a miserable little thing she is.

"Oh my- I have like the best idea!".

Not even Charlie notices how Vaggie nearly begs for them all to see things from her point of view.

None of them can see things for what they really are.

Alastor's got them all right where he wants them.

Without even having to try much...

"We should totally get the two to have some alone time!".

Charlie is quick to naively play into the radio demon's games.

Without even knowing she's doing that.

She can't see this all is exactly what the deer demon wants...

And neither can Angel or Niffty.

Aw, those naive little fools...

"Yes! We should- like- create some really romantic atmosphere and leave them to it!".

Niffty follows through in Charlie's steps.

She too plays right into what Alastor wants.

Though whether or not she's aware of it is up for a debate...

"We should lock 'em up in a closet together or somethin', or even give them a little... somethin'... to just... ya know, set just the right mood in.".

And angel is quick to fall for Alastor's games too...

Ah, those silly fools...

Unaware they're making all this much easier than it should've been.

They're sealing your doom - the inevitable end you're ought to meet at his clutches.

They're making this all too easy...

They're shoving the little mouse right into the lion's den.

What unfortunate silly fools.

And what an unfortunate little you.

Your friends are serving you to him on a silver platter.

All of them - or nearly all of them - thinking they're doing you a favour.

Thinking they're simply helping a mere fool in love gain the heart of his love interest.

When in reality, they're actually helping a starving predator get closer to his chosen prey...

It was rather humorous - a good source of entertainment for sure.

So, Alastor would humour the group.

He'd indulge in their schemes of trying to set you up with him.

He'd gladly play along and lead them to think he's interested in you.

Well, interested in you they way they think he is, not the way he actually is...

No, they can't know what he actually wants from you.

They won't know.

He'll make sure of it.

They won't know until the very last moment, until the deed's already done.

Or, he'll lead them to think your disappearance has nothing to do with him.

After all, the sudden disappearance of a poor little sinner like you would be nothing new in hell.

You'd just be added to the endlessly growing numbers of hell inhabitants going missing.

Your disappearance would be just a part of the mere statistics.

Well, he'll see.

All depends on which option would prove to bring more benefit.

As well as which one would prove to be more entertaining.

That's what, to the deer demon, matters the most at the end of the day.

For now, he'll just go with the flow and let the situation progress by itself.

With the occasional shove to the right direction, of course.

But it doesn't seem like he needs to wait for that long for everything to be set in motion...

"Hey, Al, you got a minute?".

Yeah, he really doesn't need to wait for that long...

___________________________________________

[hiemaldesirae]

thinking of a witch/fae radiostatic au after rereading some of my guilty pleasure fandom fics hhhhhnneuhg

basically the gist of it is, unseelie king alastor gets kidnapped by witch vox's village and now vox needs to figure out how to keep alastor from dying because his death means the rest of the court coming for blood while also trying to make sure the fae king doesnt try and fucking eat him or something. oh also they knew each other before.

Vox's mother always used to say, there's comfort in routine.

Perhaps that's why Vox finds himself redoing the same three-card spread over and over, despite always managing to get the same results. He chews on his fingernails as he frowns harder, reshuffling once more.

"Whatcha doing?" Angel Dust, the only other witch in the village, pops up behind him, startling Vox, who sighs and relaxes once he realizes who's behind him. "I thought you were busy helping the healers, man. Are you just doing tarot readings while we're working ourselves ta' the bone?"

Vox frowns, pressing his lips together.

He doesn't have anything against Angel, really, it's just difficult talking to people who aren't Vel or Val. And maybe it's more difficult talking to Angel because of his relationship with Val, but that isn't something he's willing to admit in front of his best friend's boyfriend. "Well, I got basically put on house arrest today because apparently, the fae they brought back was so strong they didn't trust me not to get too interested in them and throw the whole plan off."

"Couldn't they've least stationed ya with the healers? You can serve that house arrest after we make sure no one's dead," Angel groans. "I mean, didya see the state everyone came back in?"

He had. Vox had watched with white knuckles as they'd brought Velvette and Valentino's unconscious forms across to the healers lodge and tents, doing and redoing protection spells around their home and the village wards. He had wanted to help as soon as he'd seen them, but the village chief had ordered for him specifically to stay home.

So he'd busied himself with tarot cards. But it seemed even that wasn't working out for him, because...

"Oh, shit. This is... a pretty fuckin' bad spread, ain't it?"

"You tell me," Vox grouses. He shuffles the cards again and tries another time, only for those same three cards to appear again as if mocking him. Three of Swords. The Tower. And of course, Death.

Now, of the three, death was probably the most positive card of the spread. All it meant was change- not necessarily as dark as its name. But the tower and three of swords... well. Those only spelt out foreboding fates.

"What didya even ask?"

"It's about the fae they brought in." Vox taps his hand against the counter before starting to reorganize his cards. No sense in leaving them out now, after all: their message had been clear and simple. This was a mistake. You're all fucked. "Apparently, they're on par with royalty. Which as you can probably guess, isn't very well known for their kind tempers. So I was doing readings to try and see what might happen from keeping them here, and..."

Angel grimaces. "So... you're saying that we're fucked, basically?"

"You can do your own reading if you want," Vox says cryptically as he stands up, stretching his limbs. "Anyway, I'm going to go and strengthen the protection shield on the village wards. Not much else to do while I'm stuck here, anyway."

"Right... well, guess I'll see ya round then."

"Mm, see you."

When Angel leaves, Vox breathes a sigh of relief. He unclenches his hand to regard the skeleton key he'd stolen from the chief hours earlier on complete autopilot, hardly even realizing he'd taken the damn thing til he'd gotten back home and started performing frantic readings.

It was the key to the village cellar, a place located on the edge of town. Vox, Val and Vel lived closest to it- which worked out well, considering of the three of them, two were part of the village's elite fae hunting brigade and the last was one of the villages only two witches, and the more experienced one at that. He supposed, given the circumstances, that the fae who'd beaten his friends to a pulp was probably down there. And, well... Vox was nothing if deathly curious.

So that night, on a half moon, Vox quietly exits the house, being sure not to accidentally trip an alarm on the way. He makes his way to the outdoors cellar and unlocks the door, making his way downstairs into a damp and cramped room. His eyes are immediately drawn to the large iron cage hanging in the dead centre of the room, sucking in a breath as he takes a small step back. The cage is impressive, but what's inside of it...

A mass of shadows writhe and twist around a restrained figure, dispersing slightly around where the fae's eyes must be. Vox flinches back when a ghostly grey-black hand reaches out for him, its dark tipped claws so sharp he's sure the fae could have sliced him to ribbons had they not been restrained by their shackles and prison.

It serves its purpose: Vox is immediately and incredibly intimidated. Having said that, he came here for a reason, and he's not so much of a fucking coward that he'd simply flee with his tail between his legs at the first sight of an adverse reaction from the captured faerie.

"Hey, uh... I know you probably don't believe me- and you probably shouldn't, honestly, but- er, I'm here to help you. As much as I can, anyway." Vox raises his hands up in the air as he moves slowly toward the cage, keenly aware of the fae's fixed gaze on him all the while.

He reaches out and slowly, cautiously, places a small, dead rabbit on the precipice of the cage's platform. It was one he'd caught with a trap that afternoon, under the excuse of storing away fresh meat for Velvette and Valentino when they returned- but, well, there were other animals he'd caught, too. They wouldn't miss one tiny rabbit.

The shadow cloaked faerie regards the mound of fresh meat for only a second before jerking forwards and swallowing it whole.

Vox watches with rapt attention, mesmerized by the faeries brutality. He almost doesn't notice when the fae turns to address him, voice raw and scratchy and deeper than the ocean. "What did you do that for?"

"Cause..." Vox worries at his lip.

He doesn't really want to lie to the fae- he's not dumb, alright, that'd be a practical death wish, even if he was lying with good intent- but he's also not so sure how it will react to being told he only did it out of curiosity. Because he wanted to see just what it was that his reading deemed so dangerous to their little town. "I guess... I wanted to see what was so strong that they took down half the village guard."

The fae startles at this. The shadows surrounding their cage shrinks back a little, finally unveiling enough of their appearance for Vox to put a face to a... well, for Vox to get a good look at them.

Dark reddish brown hair with black streaks at the edges sharpen into pointed deer ears, with two short buck antlers growing from the fae's head. They have deep crimson eyes, tinged with flecks of bright green- it pairs well with their skin, a deep, rich brown that reminds Vox of rich autumn soil at the harvest. He's... pretty sure this fae is a man, but appearances can be deceiving, and he's not quite keen on being cursed for assuming blindly.

"Hm. Well, you weren't among the host that came to attack me, were you now?" The faerie's eyes narrow as Vox stutters out a faint no, babbling out excuses to lead them away from the conclusion of him being a witch (and thus always placed under pseudo-house arrest when time comes for a fae hunt). "Then, you don't realize what a mistake your village has made, do you, dear?"

Vox pauses. "What do you mean, mistake?"

The room's temperature drops almost the moment the question falls from his lips, and Vox pulls his cloak closer to himself as he distances himself from the cage, willing his arms to stop trembling as he watches. The shadows around the fae pull close again and coalesce into a cape of sorts, rising above the faerie as they entwine themselves around the fae's head, almost like- almost like-

A crown.

"Oh, shit."

The Unseelie Fae King gives Vox a tight lipped smile. "So, do you see now?"

Well. At least that answered what the tarot cards were trying to tell him.