#maybe ill actually make a full gifset

[denkryn]

here is sharon stone in the quick and the dead because i am gasping throughout this entire movie

[softjeon]

Devil’s Hand | Pt. 1

• Pairing: King!Namjoon x Jungkook • Side-Pairings:  Namjoon x Jimin | Namjoon x Yoongi | Prince!Hoseok x Jungkook • Genre: Angst / Smut | Royal!AU ( → Gifset Trailer) • Words: 7k | Co-Writer: Cat @cassiavioletblue • Disclaimer: alcohol, abusive relationsships, abusive behavior, (sexual) violence, major character death

↳   There had been rumors, but in the end it was not really a secret that Namjoon loved delicate and beautiful things. Especially when it came down to his lovers and his castle. It was decorated with lot of flowing, long blue curtains, colorful paintings in every room, rows of marble columns leading along every aisle. There was a large garden surrounding the palace, which was by far Jungkook’s favorite place to be – next to the king’s bedroom.

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The only sound in the room came from the scratch of the King’s quill. It didn’t stop on the parchment, only pausing for a second when his consultant and closest confident Yoongi was gathering the signed one's together, only to hand out a new paper to sign. Jungkook waited patiently after he had entered the room, looking around. There were bookshelves lining the walls in great stacks rising nearly to the ceiling and right above the king’s head was a painting of the King’s realm. “Good,” Namjoon’s voice echoed through the room as he put his quill aside and stood up, his gaze falling onto Jungkook. A smile appeared on his lips, making the young man’s heart skip a beat. “My king-,” Jungkook began, sinking to one knee and only when the King raised his left hand, motioning for him to rise, he came closer.

It was Jungkook’s job to do anything his highness desired. He had been there at the king’s side, getting up early every morning, for as long as he could remember, fulfilling every wish that Namjoon asked of him. His mother had done this job before him, serving the king’s parents – and now he was following her footsteps, just like it was supposed to be, with serving Namjoon. 

Kneeling on the floor a little while later again, Jungkook adjusted the king’s gown once more. With a smile he got up again, starting to button up the king’s shirt. “You look very handsome in your new attire, my King,” Jungkook spoke softly not wanting Yoongi to hear or else he would get scolded for it later again. No one had to know too much about his admiration for the king. There had been rumors, but in the end it was no secret that Namjoon loved delicate and beautiful things. Especially when it came down to his lovers and his castle. It was decorated with lot of flowing, long blue curtains, colorful paintings in every room, rows of marble columns leading along every aisle. There was a large garden surrounding the palace, which was by far Jungkook’s favorite place to be – next to the king’s bedroom. He loved feeling the silk beneath his naked body, feeling Namjoon’s hot breath on his skin as the king was hovering over him. The king strived for power, might and sex and Jungkook was one of his prized possessions. He had to bite his lip, as the blush heated up his cheeks and Jungkook quickly turned around to get Namjoon’s jewelry.

“Prince Hoseok has arrived for tonight’s celebration,” Yoongi announced, turning away from the window towards Namjoon again. His brows were furrowed, his shoulders straight and Jungkook chuckled at his stiff behavior. “Do you want me to order Jin to escort the prince personally tonight? He can keep an eye on him,” Yoongi spoke further, ignoring the young man that was still fumbling around the king’s attire. “We don’t want him to act out like last year again, right?”

It was no secret that Hoseok had gotten horribly drunk last time he visited, it had been Namjoon’s birthday and of course he had been expected to come and show his respects. It hadn’t looked very respectful though when it had ended with Hoseok fighting some knights in his drunken state, screaming something about how he was better then them, better than everyone in this goddamn kingdom. Jungkook would never forget the look in Namjoon’s eyes.

A short while later he nervously pulled at the seam of his own shirt, almost ripping down the delicate embroidery with his force. After getting Namjoon dressed he had left him in the care of his other servants, dressing up himself. Of course Jungkook, as someone closely related to the king was supposed to look his best when someone as important as Prince Hoseok was visiting for the king’s birthday. Although he wasn’t allowed to stay too close to the king at official feasts as he wasn’t of higher rank. Still he stayed close to be of help the second Namjoon needed him.

He was really on edge today. The feast was important and way too big for his liking with way too many people that he didn’t know (and in general to be honest) but what was even more stirring was the fact that there would also be an ambassador present and a whole entourage of other people, all from the neighbourhood kingdom that accompanied Prince Hoseok today. They were supposed to arrive shortly and were probably here to help the discussions that were going on at the moment. There had been conferences about trade links between both countries before and he probably wanted show their ‘good will’ as they seemed to have gotten more heated lately - even though it was strange that the old King hadn’t payed a visit himself. There were some rumors going around that Hoseok couldn’t wait to be king and was practically taking over his father's duties piece by piece not caring that it made the old king look weaker than he actually was.

Jungkook had no idea what all the discussions lately had been about but he guessed it was the same as usual; their natural resources of mineral deposits. They had a lot of iron ore here in their kingdom, so much actually that there was no way they could ever tire their sources within the next few centuries. it was even used for children’s toys. Or decorations. Like there was a geode the size of two men somewhere in the royal gardens.

Jungkook had hid in it one time while playing hide and seek with the king. But Namjoon had been summoned by a minister to an impromptu assembly with important people for a reason Jungkook didn’t remember so he had stayed in there for hours and had eventually fallen asleep. His butt had hurt so badly when he had been woken by one of the maids. She’d been furious because half of the stuff had been sent to search for him. He hadn’t been allowed into the gardens for a week.

Jungkook sighed, scanning the room full of fancily dressed people again, stopping at King Namjoon who was sitting on his throne all stoically. Though Kook knew the older hated this just as much. Not for the same reasons as Kook did but he hated that he had to sit there without being able to do anything while hoards of people came up to him to greet him when instead he would have preferred to eat something of the delicious and beautifully prepared buffet or wander the gardens or maybe just take a nap. He didn’t get a good nights sleep in a while, the nights were always too short, the days too long, filled with political duties and boring conferences.

There was a whisper going through the hall, like a gust of wind from one side to the other, starting from the entry and ending at Namjoon’s throne. When Namjoon straightened immediately Jungkook turned to look what all this fuss was about and froze a little when he saw the source of it all. Prince Hoseok had finally arrived and he was in midst of about thirty people, all of them dressed in gold and diamonds, an absurd showing off of wealth and prosperity. An ill tongue could say that it looked as if Hoseok was trying to get the spotlight away from Namjoon and onto himself. The Prince himself looked very comfortable and relaxed, nonchalantly waving one of Namjoon’s maids over to get him a glass of wine.

“Ah, my dear king,” Hoseok bowed, not even caring to get on one knee in front of the king. He reached for the wine the maid brought him right away, drinking the glass empty in one go. The prince held his head high, walking ahead as if he was owning the castle, very well aware of the fact that it was maddening Namjoon. It was his territory after all. Meanwhile Jungkook’s eyes followed the prince movements, as he walked up to the throne with a smile, ready to jump up the second Namjoon would ask for him. “Another year has passed, and one might say you’d still look as young as ever…we could argue about that, but…,” Hoseok kept teasing his old ‘friend’, “Either way, I didn’t come empty handed this time.”

Namjoon’s mouth was a thin line. In private he would have told Hoseok to get his shit together and stop being a cocky douchebag but out in the great hall he had to maintain his image as calm, perfect king and that meant not reacting to Hoseok’s antics. Therefore he answered with a smile although his eyes where still icy, giving away that he’d rather preferred to throw an apple against Hoseok’s head than be nice to him. “I’m pleased to see you my friend. And you also brought a gift? How thoughtful of you. I’m sure it will be carefully chosen and tasteful, just like you proof with your appearance.” He gave Hoseok a once over, leaving no doubt that he thought his showy and pretentious attire was absolutely distasteful.

Jungkook couldn’t help but giggle softly, when he heard the undertone of Namjoon’s voice making the prince snap his head around to the young man. He stopped immediately, feeling Hoseok’s piercing gaze on him. Jungkook held his gaze even as his heart skipped a beat at the dark intensity in his. The slanted smile that appeared on the prince’s lips soon after was almost…beautiful. Jungkook quickly averted his gaze, looking over to Namjoon for a second as a blush crept up his cheeks.

When Hoseok turned back around to the king, his smile didn’t waver. He waved his hand, calling out a name that Jungkook didn’t catch, when a young man stood out from the crowd of people behind the prince. He was moving slow, sensual, his eyes devouring the king’s as he got down on one knee. The prince simply walked around the table, letting everyone wait patiently for what he brought this year, as he sat a few chairs away from Namjoon, not wanting to miss the show himself. “I am sure you will like this,” He nodded towards the king and with another wave of his hand music began to play and Jimin snapped his eyes open, a smirk playing on his plumb lips.

Despite their underlying hostility Namjoon was intrigued the second his eyes met those of the dancer. He was beautiful just kneeling there - but it was nothing compared to what he looked like while he was dancing. When the music started Jimin reacted instantly, his body moving so fluidly and naturally as if the music itself was controlling it and not Jimin. He was utter control, right down to his toes and up to his fingertips, no gesture, no expression seemed wrong, it all came together into a wonderful, stunning piece of art. Suddenly he pulled out a fan from the depth of his sleeve, it barely took a second and didn’t interrupt the dance at all - and with him came a few other dancers that accompanied him now, joining him for graceful formations and artistic pictures created with their fans and bodies. Still no matter how many people there were, it was impossible to take your eyes off Jimin. He owned this dance and he knew it, pure confidence shining in his eyes. It was incredibly sexy. The dance ended way too soon and before he could even think of it Namjoon found himself applauded enthusiastically, the rest of his court joining in until Jimin, who had kneeled down in his final scene again was rewarded with thunderous applause.

Jungkook stood in awe, as he slowly clapped along with the others. He hadn’t expected that, especially not from the prince. Unintentionally Jungkook was searching for him, seeing him take a sip from his wine proudly, as his gaze met his again. A shiver ran down his spine, but he willed himself to smile.

The dancers vanished soon after and Hoseok loved the attention that it got him. He nodded towards the king, cheering his glass as a smile graced his lips. For the first time in a long time, Namjoon actually liked his present. This was too easy.  

Against better Judgement Namjoon was Interested. He leaned into Hoseok's direction, waving him over towards him. “He’s amazing! Where did you get him?” There wasn’t many things a king who had practically everything could want but no one in his court could dance like that. If Jimin was from a certain school or region in Hoseok’s kingdom where there where more like him then perhaps he could get one of his one. Jimin would fit so well into his court, entertaining envoys and high class allies that visited his court. He hesitated for a second and then pushed further, asking a very private question. “What else is he trained in?”

Hoseok raised an eyebrow at Namjoon, smirking knowingly. He knew damn well how good Jimin was at making people lose his mind over him in the matter of a few seconds... 

“Everything you wish for,” The prince spoke, putting his arm around the king as the people around them continued to eat, dance and celebrate the king’s birthday. “You don’t need to be bothered about where he’s from, but only know that I will gladly let him stay for your entertainment,” He said and waved a maid over, to make sure she would get Jimin back as soon as possible. “That’s what friends do, right?”

Namjoon was tensing, the guards by his side tightening their grip around their weapons when Hoseok got close to Namjoon like that. However all anger about the prince’s reckless behaviour was forgotten when Hoseok told him that he would leave Jimin at the court for him. Which basically meant Namjoon could do whatever he wanted to him. Hoseok’s sudden gratitude had him suspicious and for a second he forgot his manners, glad that they were on their own with no one else listening in on them (but the guards and maids and they didn’t count, everyone important was dancing ad eating and having a good time), “Wait, he’s not sick, is he? Is that why you’re leaving him here?“ To practically accuse another prince of threatening his life with an unknown disease was pretty insulting - but so was getting drunk and fighting one’s guards so Hoseok couldn’t really play the offended here.

But before Hoseok could answer, a soft voice behind the king got both of their attention. “I am not sick, your highness,” Jimin got down on one knee again right before Namjoon and the prince. 

“I am tired of playing games with you Namjoon. We’re old enough now, to keep our relation separated from our past mistakes, aren’t we?” He put a hand on the king’s shoulder, before Hoseok reached out for Jimin, placing a finger under his chin to make the young man look up. “It’s my apology,” He said in a soft tone, “And I hope you can forgive me and take him as my present to you.”

Namjoon was pleasantly surprised. And if he had hesitated before all of his doubts went out the window as soon as he saw Jimin looking up at him. The younger looked angelical, so soft and pure that there was no way there could be something evil inside of him. Namjoon copied Hoseok with reaching out to Jimin's face, caressing the youngers cheek. He breath came out shuddery when Jimin leaned into it shamelessly, submitting so easily it made Namjoon wonder what else he would submit to. He traced Jimin’s plump bottom lip with his thumb and the dancer opened his mouth slightly looking so utterly tender and vulnerable that Namjoon wanted to take him apart right there. Without even looking up at Hoseok he nodded. “You are right. We should move on from the past. And we will. I’ll accept your apology’

Jungkook watched the encounter from afar. His chest was rising heavily with every breath he took, as he bit on his bottom lip to keep himself from barging in. Of course, Jungkook knew that Namjoon had more than one lover, but so far, he had the advantage of being the king’s favorite. The look on the king’s face was way too familiar to him and Jungkook tried to take a deep breath, one that didn’t make his heart hurt and threaten the tears to spill. “Get yourself together,” Yoongi hissed at him, making the younger jerk violently as he didn’t even realize that he came over. He hated being scolded by the superior. “The king wants you to prepare a room for the dancer,” He ordered and Jungkook’s gaze fell onto Namjoon again, before he quickly turned around and did as he was ordered to do.

Hoseok had left Namjoon alone with Jimin, who was reaching out for the king’s hand that he had offered him to get up. “Thank you,” He spoke softly, letting his gaze wander around the enormous hall that was filled with people from all kinds of backgrounds and statuses. “Your palace is quite impressive, I feel honored to stay here,” He lowered his gaze to show his gratitude.

Jimin was well mannered - and so beautiful that he felt the desire running down his spine, hot and tingling. However it wouldn’t be appropriate to make the prince’s gift join his bed the very first night he had gotten him. He had someone else for that. He excused Jimin with a nod for the younger to enjoy the feast and maybe eat something (he looked a bit on the skinny side) and then scanned the crowd for Jungkook. Normally the younger was always within sight. Not now though. Namjoon furrowed his brows and waved one of the maids over to get him a drink and then go search for Jungkook. It made him nervous to not have the other close.

Jungkook closed the door behind him again when he had finished preparing the room for the dancer. For a moment, he thought about just going back to his room and call it a day, but knowing the king, he would definitely pay for not staying all night for his birthday, so he quickly turned around and walked down the hallway. He was almost running, not really looking where he was going and only starting to slow down when the music of the orchestra was audible again. Walking back inside the main hall, Jungkook put his professional smile back on, as he greeted a few guests, bowing deeply. Unfortunately, he had been doing it while walking backwards at the same time, not wanting to displease anyone coming his way, so what he couldn’t see was that someone was standing right behind him as he bumped into him only seconds after. His ass met that someone’s crotch area and Jungkook squealed, turning around quickly.

“My apologies,” He stammered quickly, his eyes widening when he saw who it was - the prince. Of course it must be him. 

Jungkook cursed himself in his mind, before his gaze fell onto the red wine stain, that was now decorating the prince’s white, golden shirt. “I will personally make sure to clean your shirt, Sir. I am so sorry,” Jungkook’s cheeks flushed red but to his surprise, Hoseok only laughed, waving the younger one off. “Next time just tell me your name first, before you lean down in front of me.” The prince chuckled and Jungkook couldn’t help but turn as red as if someone had poured a bucket of red paint over his face. The prince was amused, pinching the younger one’s cheeks as he looked him up and down, sending a shiver down the boy’s back. But before Jungkook could mumble something about apologies again, the prince simply caught his wrist, making him stunned and freeze in his movements completely. “How about a dance as an apology?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow, loosening his grip as he took Jungkook’s hand in his, “We have something to celebrate after all, don’t we?”

Jungkook got pulled onto the dance floor so harshly that he almost stumbled, before he could feel the arms of the prince holding him close and safe. One arm wrapped around his narrow waist and Jungkook gulped, while Hoseok’s eyes were piercing right through him. “Prince Hoseok, I am not one of status. I don’t think…”

“I don’t care,” Hoseok interrupted him and easily started dancing, leaving Jungkook no choice but to follow the rhythm. The young boy had no idea, how the situation had turned so quickly, but he had to admit that he was starting to like it. Prince Hoseok was always known as a great dancer and it was fun to let him lead and waltz through the room. He couldn’t help but giggle, biting his lip quickly to keep from smiling, when he noticed the stares of the staff and people around. So, Jungkook quickly kept his head down, hoping that not to many people recognized him as the one who was dancing with the prince right now.

Hoseok liked the way Jungkook was reacting. It was always good to be in contact with the people closest to your enemies, for obvious reasons and Jungkook was making it so easy for him that he wondered if the younger was really so naiv - or just really starved for attention. He decided to find out a little more about him and leaned in closely, not really because it was necessary but because he liked how easily Jungkook got flustered. “How old are you, pretty?” He gave him an appreciating smile, letting him know that he actually meant that little nickname. To be honest - something he wasn’t that often - the younger was as pretty as a doll. He wondered if Namjoon slept with him. If yes, Jungkook was just the right person to be nice to.

“I…I am twenty-two,” Jungkook stammered quietly, happy that the music slowed down a little more. It was easier to talk like this. “My Birthday will be soon though. I hope I can have a day off then, I would love to go for a horseback ride with a close friend of mine,” Jungkook said, blushing slightly. It wasn’t his place to talk this much but somehow, he had felt like it was okay to tell Prince Hoseok about it. He was smiling at him, seeming so interested in his thoughts that it made Jungkook just want to keep talking. “But I need to ask for permission first,” He sighed, shrugging his shoulders a little, shifting a little closer to Hoseok who had tightened his hold around the younger one’s waist.

Twenty two. So he was quite young. It was easier to get Jungkook out of his shell than he had thought and so he gently kept pushing to get to know him more. While they talked he let his gaze wander over Jungkook‘s features. There was a little scar above his cheekbone and he wondered if it was from punishment Namjoon had given him. He would have loved to see Jungkook‘s whole body for two reasons; one because if Jungkook had more scars it meant that Namjoon‘s punishments were cruel and Jungkook would easily fall for some kindness - and second simply because he wanted to see the other naked to know if he was just as beautiful under his clothes as he was from what he saw now. Hoseok gave himself a look that he thought would seem concerned before toning down his voice a little, trying to look as honest as possible. 

„Does Namjoon treat you nicely?“ When Jungkook hesitated for a second he added, “It‘s just – I‘ll leave Jimin in his care so of course I worry a little. I care for all of my people and I don‘t want him to get hurt, you know? So if you please could be honest with me, I‘d appreciate it tremendously. I promise I won‘t tell anyone that you said anything. I just... want to be sure that what I did wasn‘t a mistake – for Jimin. He might not look like it with all his confidence and the way he is dancing so easily but he is actually very soft and kindhearted and can be quite shy. I don‘t want the king to take advantage of that. Did he take advantage of you?“

Jungkook shook his head, taking a second before he spoke. “I shouldn’t speak about the desires of my king, but I can ensure you that he didn’t take advantage of me.” He paused for a second, his eyes locking with Hoseok’s. “He is the king after all, but he never hurt me or anyone else on purpose. I am his personal maid, Sir. It is my purpose and my desire to please him.” Jungkook said the words as if he had learned them by heart. But it was true. Namjoon never did hurt him on purpose, but it was also true that the king wasn’t one for soft sex at all. Jungkook had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. He didn’t mind it at all, as he always had the pleasure of the king’s soft caresses afterwards. 

Sometimes, Namjoon just called him over to make the younger lay there. Naked and in all his youthful glory so the king could trail his fingers all over his skin. Jungkook never dared to say a word in those moments, not wanting to ruin the intimate moments, when Namjoon let him see a more softer part of him. The one part that was yearning for quiet and someone close. Other times, the king was just merciless, all worked up and angry. It happened before that Jungkook simply had been sorting out the king’s clothes, when Namjoon came in took him by his throat and pushed him up a wall to fuck him right there. Or when he called for Jungkook, bending him over the table where they had a important discussion prior. The papers were still strewn all over the table, lying beneath him and he had to be careful not to rip them while Namjoon was fucking into him hard. Jungkook was always there for Namjoon. Had always meant to serve him. And even though the king had several lovers, it was always Jungkook he came back to. 

Jungkook put a smile on his face, bowing down deeply when the music had faded out. Suddenly the urge to find the king was aching inside of him...

“You don’t have to worry about Jimin at all. Namjoon is a wonderful...king,” Jungkook said, looking down where Hoseok was still holding onto his hand. They stood in the middle of the dance floor and Jungkook was sure that Namjoon was around. If there was one thing that the king didn’t like was someone else playing with his belongings. And though nothing had happened, Jungkook should have asked for permission first. He could only hope that Namjoon would understand if he told him that Hoseok had wanted an apology for spilling his drink on him. He didn’t want to anger the king on his birthday.

Namjoon was already waiting for him when Jungkook came back, looking at him cooly. “Where were you, Jungkook?” Of course he had seen it. All of it. How Hoseok had started talking to him and how flustered the younger had gotten. Jungkook should have been indifferent or bored or even impolite for all he cared but looking like he was enjoying himself and then dancing with the prince? Namjoon was furious. He wanted to know how Jungkook would react and if he might even lie to him - he didn’t know what would be worse, Jungkook naively telling him everything because he didn’t even think about what he was doing or lying to him. Though at least it would give Namjoon a reason to punish him for it and make sure Jungkook would never dance with Hoseok again.

“I apologize. I was dancing,” Jungkook confessed right away, his cheeks blushing as he got over to Namjoon’s left side. This is where he always stood. A few steps away to not give the expression of Jungkook being of higher status, not that his clothes didn’t give away enough already that he was only a valet. “I ruined the prince’s shirt by spilling some wine and as an apology he asked for a dance. I should have asked for permission first, but you were occupied my king,” Jungkook only looked up at Namjoon when he said the last words, hoping he would understand. “It’s your birthday after all, shouldn’t we celebrate?” He smiled at him, trying to lighten the mood.

“Don’t get cheeky with me. You can’t just skip protocol because you feel like it!” He should be thankful that Jungkook was telling him the truth right away but instead he was still angry. Jungkook was his, goddammit! He was supposed to be his only and he hated it if someone else showed interest in the younger.  “Yes, it’s my birthday - and I want to enjoy it properly. You should get me a gift, Jungkookie. Did you get me something? You didn’t, right?” Now he was downright teasing him, a mean little smile on his lips because he knew Jungkook didn’t even have the money to buy him something that would be deemed worthy of being a gift for the king.

Jungkook bit his lip right away, averting his gaze down to the floor. It was so easy for Namjoon to play with him and Jungkook wished he had the guts to talk back sometimes but at the same time he knew it would only backfire. So, he kept his head down, cheeks flushed while he apologized once more. “I won’t dance without your permission again, my king,” He said and bowed lightly, “Do you need me to wait for you in your private rooms?” His heart skipped a beat, as he gulped against the lump in his throat. The only gift Jungkook had was himself. He was the king’s property, his to play with and his birthday present if he was wishing for it.

“Yes.” Namjoon smiled, enjoying how easily Jungkook picked up on what he wanted him to do for him. But it had always been Jungkook’s strong suit, to know what others needed or wanted. And in Namjoon’s case he catered to it willingly. And Namjoon loved it. He loved the feeling of Jungkook’s body going plaint against his or the way he let him dominate their kisses. Jungkook was always there for him, always had been for literally as long he could remember and to know that he would be with him forever was the most comforting and heartwarming thing he could think of.

Jungkook nodded, keeping his gaze low as he turned on his heel and away from the crowded hall. His steps echoed through the empty hallway while he made his way towards the king’s bedroom. Jungkook couldn’t count how many times he had walked the same path. Even when he was a little boy, he had run up the stairwell, knocking at the young king’s door to ask him to play outside. Back then he had no idea what his role would be, that he had been always destined to serve Namjoon. Opening the heavy door, Jungkook shivered a little, letting his gaze wander over the luxurious room. It was almost a routine, how he fired up the fireplace to keep it warm, closed the curtains right after before he fluffed up the blankets of the bed. Taking off his shoes, Jungkook slowly began to undress.

Jungkook’s routine gave Namjoon the time to wrap things up; he couldn’t just vanish without telling anyone but he was bored by the feast already. So he excused himself the official way, thanking everyone that he was supposed to thank turning it into one of those semi-official royal acts he did all the time, officially expressing his gratitude, reassuring some of his friendship, not-quite-pledging his loyalty to the noblemen and - women who brought him gifts or had sworn an oath for him - or were just one of those families who had been close to the royal family for age. His guests didn’t really mind his absence, in fact it might even have a relaxing effect to know that the king wasn’t watching and mistakes could potentially seen as weaknesses. When he could finally leave the great hall Namjoon was buzzing with restless energy. Energy he wanted to take out on Jungkook.

Jungkook had put on a robe to still keep himself wrapped up enough for Namjoon to take off again. But the king never liked too much clothing and Jungkook really didn’t want to get his new outfit ripped. It had been very expensive and was made for special occasions – like today. He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently until he could hear the door open. His heart was beating fast and even though Jungkook had tried to keep calm, he had jerked a little when Namjoon came in.

“ Ah, I see you’re all ready for me.” Namjoon let his gaze wander over everything Jungkook had prepared and then nodded appreciatively. “Well done, Kook.” He only ever called him cute nicknames behind closed doors because no matter how long they knew each other or how close they were it wasn’t really appropriate to do that. Namjoon came close and stood right besides Jungkook, ruffling his hair a little. What had started as a cute gesture turned quickly into something more when he dug his fingers softly into Jungkook’s hair, getting a good grip before pulling the others head back a little. “Oh my, look at that beautiful mouth of yours. It would be a shame if we didn’t get to use that tonight, wouldn’t it?” He whispered against him.

Jungkook didn’t even gasp when Namjoon pulled his head back like that, only looking up at him with big eyes. He licked over his lips slowly, feeling the grip in his hair loosen as he let himself slip from the edge of the bed and get on his knees on the floor. Namjoon motioned for him to get rid of the robe and Jungkook complied, dwelling in the attention of the king’s gaze on his body. He had pulled of his own dress shirt so easily that it had left Jungkook speechless until he stood right in front of him. Jungkook looked up at him, his face flushed, lips pursed as he let his hands wander up his thighs. He easily pulled down the pants enough for Namjoon’s cock to be freed. The younger one bit his lip, blinking his eyes sweetly when he gripped him firmly, moving his hand up and down a few times. A grip in his hair made Jungkook move closer, taking the tip of the king’s dick into his mouth. He gave it a few licks and wrapped his hand tightly around the rest of his cock, starting to move his hand rhythmically while he was licking slowly, sucking the tip and holding the king’s gaze.

“Yeah, like this!” Namjoon buried his fingers in Jungkook’s hair again, massaging the boy’s scalp while also pushing him forward. Jungkook was immensely good at this. Maybe it was the practice he had or maybe it was just his will to please the king. Either way Namjoon always lost himself in pleasure when Jungkook was on his knees for him. When the younger had teased him enough he placed his hand in Jungkook’s neck and pushed him closer, feeling his cock sliding deeper into the boys warm, wet mouth and down his throat. Jungkook didn’t even gag, he was used to it. He closed his eyes when he started to fuck Jungkook’s throat in earnest. knowing that Jungkook probably did the same because no matter how much control he had about his gag reflex his eyes still teared up sometimes. “Can’t think about Hoseok when you’ve got my dick down your throat now,” He was breathless, moaning, not sure Jungkook even understood him but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Jungkook was here and he was his to do with as he pleased. His favourite little toy.

Jungkook couldn’t help but let Namjoon take whatever he needed, breathing through his nose all while he was looking up at him. He could feel himself harden from the tension, the pleasure that Namjoon evoked in him every time. Tears were starting to form in his eyes from the feeling, but it was too pleasing to quit and Jungkook only sank lower onto him. He shut his eyes for a moment, took a few deep breaths through his nose and then swallowed down, making Namjoon buck his hips into Jungkook’s mouth, moaning even louder, cursing and praising Jungkook. When he finally let go off him, the younger one was panting but he didn’t dare to wipe over his mouth. He rather gazed up again, showing off the dirty view that he was presenting. “I only serve you, my king,” Jungkook spoke, his voice sounding a little rough. He moved closer again, taking Namjoon’s dick in his hand and jerking him off slowly, while his tongue was licking over his length, moving down to his balls, where he sucked on them deliciously. Jungkook was sure that Namjoon wanted more than just a blowjob tonight. So it surprised him when Namjoon asked him to take him back in. 

“I want to come in your mouth.”  He stated, wiping over Jungkook’s face where the younger had gotten his cheek dirty. He was strung tight and was aching for relief, otherwise he might have enjoyed to fuck Jungkook hard enough for the younger to still feel it tomorrow so that he would remember he was his. There was too much exhaustion in his veins though; it had be a long day and everything he wanted was to come in Jungkook’s beautiful mouth and then pull the younger into bed with him to fall asleep next to him with his face buried in Jungkook’s hair and the youngers head close to his chest where he could feel the warm breath on his skin and Jungkook’s heartbeat close to his own.

He took him back in eagerly, doing exactly what Namjoon told him. He wondered why Namjoon wouldn’t want more tonight, when suddenly it hit him. Jimin. The dancer. Jungkook let out a small whine, taking the king’s cock in deeper, sucking on him harshly and doing exactly what he knew would drive him crazy. He didn’t care if it was just his own jealousy which was playing tricks on his mind, or if Namjoon had taken a deeper interest in the dancer. He didn’t know and maybe he didn’t want to know. Jungkook moaned sweetly, sucking on the tip deliciously while he was batting his eyelashes at Namjoon. Then he took him deeper again, swallowing around him repeatedly, showing the king why he was his favorite to play with.

“Jungkook...fuck!” He had no chance to draw this out with Jungkook going for it like that so he let the pleasure wash over him, trail down his spine and pool in his gut where it intensified with each swipe of the younger’s tongue. He came harsh and without warning down Jungkook’s throat, keeping the youngers head in place so he couldn’t pull away. Jungkook swallowed all of it like the good servant he was, only gasping for breath after when Namjoon pulled out of his mouth. 

“Damn you were really eager tonight, weren’t you? I’ll go use the bathroom and then you can clean yourself up before going to bed. It was a long day and it’ll be just as exhausting tomorrow with Hoseok around. I’ll make three crosses when he finally went back to his own kingdom again.”

Jungkook only nodded, watching Namjoon attentively when he turned around. He couldn’t keep from staring at his strong thighs, his broad shoulders and arms. In Jungkook’s eyes, Namjoon surely was sculpted by the gods themselves. Biting his lip, he looked down, groaning when he saw his own hard-on that he had to take care of. He took the robe, tying it around his waist tightly. 

When Jungkook had cleaned himself up as well, he simply followed Namjoon into his bed, losing the silk robe at the edge. He laid down beside the king, who had his back turned towards him. He let his hands caressing over the strong muscles shoulders as he massaged over the soft skin. Leaving a few soft kisses there, he pushed a little deeper, feeling how tense Namjoon was. Jungkook shifted closer when the king turned around, easily fitting into his embrace – just like they always did. His head on his chest, while he was mindlessly tracing the lines of Namjoon’s abs. 

“You’re way more powerful than him. He knows that, he’s only afraid of you,” Jungkook said quietly, gazing up at his king, “You can send Taehyung to keep him occupied maybe? If he would draw him then you at least have a few hours of silence, while Prince Hoseok can’t move.” He giggled softly, pulling himself closer to the warmth that Namjoon was providing.

“Of course I’m more powerful than him. How can you think I would ever doubt that? Stop stating the obvious!” He was irritated - even more so that Jungkook must have picked up on his thoughts about Hoseok. Still it was pretty cocky of the younger to even address that matter. It was a good thing he liked having Jungkook besides him in bed, especially when the younger was working his magic hands on his body or else he might have thrown Jungkook out of bed. 

“No, he doesn’t deserve Taehyung. It was quite nice of him to apologize - and lending me Jimin is a generous gift that I would have never expected of him. But he’s still the hot blooded over-emotional, dramatic idiot that challenged my guards and threw fruits at a servant once and who manages to get drunk every once in awhile to embarrass himself and his dad and me in process. I won’t send him Taehyung. And you shouldn’t tell me what to do Jungkook. It’s the other way round, remember?”

Jungkook blushed, quickly putting his hand under his cheek so Namjoon didn’t feel the heat radiating from him in embarrassment. “I apologize,” He said quietly, gazing up at the king. Sometimes he just couldn’t help it to not say something. He just wanted Namjoon to feel good, to feel powerful and to know that he was the best man to rule this country. Nonetheless Jungkook had to bite his lip, thinking that even though Hoseok had showed the worst parts of him in the past that maybe he could change. He didn’t seem like the reckless prince tonight. He was actually kind towards him, even though Jungkook had no status at all. It left him wondering about the prince, his heart beating faster when he caught himself thinking about Hoseok’s smile and the way he had lead him over the dance floor. It was almost as if they had been flying. The prince had seemed so carefree, far from the person he used to be and for a moment Jungkook could forget that he was only a valet.

A/N: Tadah! What? Another story? Yes! But this one will only have about five chapters and will be updated every two weeks! So get ready for it! I hope you will like this! And I hope you read the disclaimers before hand! Leave us a comment on what you think will happen next ;)

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[thessalian]

Thess vs Disability

I watched a YouTube vid about Into the Spiderverse and I kind of want to scream (more than I already did because of the political situation in my country of residence and the state of my health and how it has fucked with the state of my employment, I mean). Because that is the kind of movie I ... almost literally needed to see in the cinema. And I couldn’t. Why? Fucking migraines. Fucking. Chronic. Migraines.

I mean, the thematic elements that I’d even just got from gifsets here were enough to convince me. The video I watched just rammed that home to me. This is something I need to see in full. But even just watching those snippets on my computer screen, I know full well that seeing it in the cinema would have left me with a migraine that would have lasted at least a week. I mean, Mama was bad, but that was largely because of one scene. This is the entire film, with glorious visual effects that I can never see in their wide-screen glory because it would cripple me with a host of migraine symptoms bad enough to make me wish for death. I mean, maybe I can see it on my TV. Because my TV sits across a good-sized room from my sofa. But I couldn’t watch it up close. Which sucks because a lot of those details need to be caught - the onomatopaeic stuff, for example.

There’s a lot of stuff I just can’t do - not if I don’t want to suffer, anyway. I can’t go sunbathing or have picnics in the park - direct sunlight is one of my major migraine triggers and transition lenses do not cut it. I can’t actually work in overly-lit buildings; fluorescent lights are bad, overbright LEDs are worse, and transition lenses do jack shit for those. I can’t go to the cinema - ever. I can’t play first-person perspective video games. I have to have my computer screen set at a very specific lighting level and with very specific amounts of contrast, or I can’t use the computer at all. Hell, going home after dark is a crapshoot because waiting for a bus and having to stare down oncoming headlights to see if my bus is coming is - you guessed it - a migraine trigger. Some of these things aren’t necessary to life. Some of these are. They are unavoidable and the results are crippling.

One time when I was explaining the issues that were making my then-workplace difficult in terms of my migraines, she gave me the most scornful look and said, in sarcastic, ‘this will shut you up’ tones, “If it’s that bad, you should be on disability”. I don’t know if she sees things differently these days or if we just don’t talk about it, but she hasn’t said it since, which is good, because I don’t want the fallout that would come from me saying, “Well, given that it affects my daily life in every facet - work, travel, shopping, leisure, everything - I probably should, but since this fucking country won’t even let chemotherapy patients claim disability, I don’t stand a chance in hell”.

My mother doesn’t want to think of me as disabled. She didn’t want to think of me as mentally ill, either, even as I was attempting suicide. My mother wants me to be healthy and happy, as all mothers want for their kids. More, she wants me to be normal. All of those and her own “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” mentality (which I admire on a lot of levels, don’t get me wrong) tend to add up to “You can power through this; it can’t be that bad!” And that’s the way it’s always been, and that’s always the voice that talks to me when it is that bad. She doesn’t know the feeling of being in so much pain that it’s impossible to string a sentence together without at least one pause mid-sentence to grope for even a simple word, of having such bad vertigo that you need to hyperfocus on one thing just to keep the world holding still for a little while. How can I explain that sometimes I will do leisure activities like reading or some really mentally unchallenging video game in the worst pain moments not because it doesn’t hurt, but because the only other option would be being alone with nothing but my pain for company, and that just makes it worse? And how do I follow that with, “No, that doesn’t mean I can actually work because being able to do it doesn’t mean I would want anyone to be reliant on me doing it well“?

In the end, the question is simple: even if I can never claim the financial support that is supposed to come with it ... do I count as disabled? There are things I literally cannot do, or can only do under a very specific set of circumstances, and sometimes even that won’t stop the bad flare-ups. On top of that, I am in low-grade pain literally constantly. I mean, I look at the pain scale and my baseline is a 4. I have forgotten what a 0 feels like. I guess I just want to know. Is this chronic illness, or are the people who just liken it to ‘getting bad headaches sometimes’ right? I’m having something of a crisis, I guess - I am tired of being in pain, but there’s nothing anyone can do about the pain, so I at least want a way of accepting that this is just how it is and that ... I don’t know, that having my baseline be less than 100% productive isn’t laziness? I always get “You’re just lazy” when I don’t push past reasonable limits ... but I learned to fake it so well that no one can see. I don’t want them to. Or ... I do, but I also don’t, because we don’t show weakness in my family. Not even when we are literally incapable of being what my family defines as ‘strong’. We can be weak but we don’t show weakness. We do everything right without batting an eye and if we have to cry or be angry or anything ‘unseemly’, I guess? We do it behind closed doors. Showing emotion is a luxury. Showing vulnerability is a luxury. And it’s one I guess I have a hard time believing I deserve.

So I blame myself for my body’s weaknesses, and break myself on my own supposed strength. None of this is right. I just don’t know what else to do.

[nettlestonenell]

Why You Hate TURN’s Abraham Woodhull

Maybe you’re a purist, maybe you would only have been satisfied to have an historically accurate Abe Woodhull, key spy in the Revolutionary War’s unbroken Culper Ring.

But more likely, chances are your problem rests with the very reasons, Gentle Reader, that this blog owner cherishes Abe Woodhull and every bad decision he ever made, every morally problematic (or, if you prefer, wrong) step he ever took. Your issues are deeply rooted in the very way Abe’s character was conceived and portrayed, and as such, by the end of the series, you might find yourself a little off-balance at why you (may) have come to feel much more warmly toward him.

 Abraham Woodhull, cabbage farmer, married man and father.

To initial viewers, Abe smells strongly of impotent coward. When we meet him he’s a man with his head down, trying to get by, live through the war, farm his crop. In the first episode we’re presented with a farmer (whose crops are failing) whom, if he does not own, he leases, slaves, categorically and frequently lies to his wife, clashes with his father, owes money to a tavern keeper (Selah Strong) that he cannot repay, whose wife he is outed as a former (and we soon learn still current) flame of, has a largely unpleasant interaction with Benjamin Tallmadge (a character who already has our sympathy from that first shot of his eye opening), and whose SOLE PLEASANT INTERACTION—the ONLY true smiles he gives for the first season—is with Caleb Brewster, a character deliberately designed to become beloved and cinnamon-rolled.

I. - Costuming – Abe’s costumes are generally the least visually interesting of the show. (No! You will shout—Townsend! But you are wrong. Friend Townsend may wear “plain” clothes, but they’re tailored excellently, just ask H. Mulligan) Abe wears dark colors and country textiles. Can you think of a single outfit of Abe’s? No. No, you can’t. He re-wears a lot of his clothes, and they generally look a lot like the others. His best suit of clothes is black. His everydays are brown. He is the definition of non-descript.

Abe’s hair is a wig, and if you don’t think a ‘bad’ (or intentionally ‘bad’) wig can heavily influence viewers’ opinions about a character, you’ve never watched TURN, nor cried over Ben Tallmadge. Just look at the show working to humanize its S1 & S2 sociopath Simcoe. Off comes the wig and out comes the fluffy curls. Abe’s wig was not only never Jamie Bell’s real hair—it is with perhaps a single exception—never out of its queue. And that Sugarhouse beard? NOT designed to look good to you. In short, (or rather, not in short) Abe’s appearance is designed to do anything but draw your eye. He’s a SPY, who can pass unnoticed. There will never be gifsets devoted to Abe’s wardrobe or aesthetics.

II. Convictions – This is the story of the birth of a nation conceived in liberty. This is The Big Dance, where even if we can enjoy characters from the Empire and sympathize with them, we expect the good guys to be deeply devoted (unto giving their lives) for the cause and spread of Freedom.

When we meet Abe, this is not him. Abraham Woodhull becomes a spy under (1.) deep duress when trying to feed his family (and spitefully avoid taking money from his father) and (2.) trying to protect his former fiancée, the (of necessity) abandoned wife of a man he owes money, by arranging to have a British officer killed. These are NOT admirable motivations, nothing noble in their plotting. But they ARE far more realistic than believing in a country full of men with lofty ideals, and the ways and means to express and fight for them while fighting to feed, clothe, and shelter their families in the harsh environment of the colonies. (Of course, later we learn that Abe is also idealistic—but a lot of our views of him are well-set by the time of that reveal.)

Who wouldn’t much rather flock toward the idealism of single, pretty blue-coated Ben Tallmadge, or wild card wildman mess-you-up-with-my-ax-you-can’t-tell-me-what-to-do Caleb Brewster than plain dressed, dour Abe Woodhull, dragged under pressure into Things Bigger Than Himself for solely personal reasons. Who can blame us?

III. - Relationships – Please note that in Setauket, Abe HAS NO FRIENDS. He has not a single companion or even a congenial peer ever shown or referenced. Even Mary has the poisonous sewing circle. But Abe? Abe’s ALONE.

Platonic – All of Abe’s friends are from the past. Ben and Caleb, we are occasionally told of their past bond with Abe, but it is very rare to see it play out in the present. When Abe does see Caleb, the moments are usually fraught with danger, not rife with admiration and enjoyment. Abe’s ‘friendship’ with Anna Strong (if it ever was only that) has given way to something quite else, whether the both of them agree it has or not. Ben and Abe only rarely share the same space to interact (and always under a ticking clock) timeframe.

And yet we are never shown flashbacks. We never see the friends in happier times. We never get to be witness to another Abe. We are only given Abe as he is now. And it takes multiple seasons before who Abe is now/who he’s become is fully explained to us. (Why he is what he is, why he does what he does)

Familial – Abe’s core relationships are with his family, and, generally speaking, they are not at all healthy. At best one might term them both fraught and problematic. At worst, his father is emotionally abusive and manipulative toward him, and he, in turn, is simultaneously emotionally abusive toward his wife, with whom he continues to have sex.

His relationship with his son, Sprout (Thomas), is literally the SOLE spot of light in the life of Abraham Woodhull, and also the biggest motivator, in multiple circumstances. Argument could probably be made that Mary is of interest to Abe (for a long time) solely as the mother of his child.

We assume (though, without flashbacks we have no way to know for certain) that Abe was close to his mother and his brother, the original Thomas. Or at least that they had healthier, more loving bonds than those Abe has at present with family. But we don’t know. We only get Present Day Abe, no explanations, no nostalgic moments of halcyon days past.

Romantic – Abe is given to us as a man who re-embarks on a relationship with Anna Strong while being married to the mother of his son. So, an adulterer. And theirs is not a big-R Romantically rendered coupling. Please recall that their most explicit sex scene was cross-cut with footage of a horse dying and agonizing and violent death.

Following the death of Ensign Baker, we see the impressive mind of Mary Woodhull (who before registered largely as a figure we pitied for her ill treatment), and yet Abe, while being surprised to learn who he really married, remains largely (with the occasional exception) unsparked by her.

IV. - Lack of Safe Space

Abe’s life, difficult enough before he begins spying, becomes positively untenable with regard to stress and strain. He’s eternally tightly-strung. There are no spaces in his life where he can depressurize, no one in his circle of acquaintance with whom he can talk or share. His illicit relationship with Anna comes with its own pressures, negating time with her as a healthy way to walk away from stress.

And yet we see other Culpers like Ben and Caleb with such safe spaces, with a support network; for while they may see battle, and their lives are not without dire circumstances, there are times allowed them when they are within Washington’s camp and moments and relationships exist that enable them to decompress, to tell a joke, to put a hand out to (or upon) their comrade and close friend.

V. - Execution of his plans/missions

Yet here is Abe, the drab avian mate to the showier bluebird or cardinal, sweating it without respite, often without reliable direction in how to spy, in whether his messages get received or acted upon. There is no glory in his part of the spy chain, no pats on the back, no clear-cut satisfaction.

VI. - Sense of Self

As viewers, we like people who know who they are, be it evil mastermind or Ghandi-like crusader. Something about a character that understands themselves speaks to us, makes us feel good. Yet, in Season One we learn The Truth of Thomas’ Death. The reason Abe Woodhull is living the life he’s living, married to the woman he’s married, raising up a son in his brother’s name. And it has nothing to do with knowing himself. Rather, the exact opposite.

And in the final moments of Season Three we hear Abe finally voice it: he doesn’t know who he is. He’s trying to live another man’s life, he’s become so good at deception, so good at Not Being Seen, he’s lost track of himself.

Is it any wonder that many viewers have trouble seeing Abe?

Abe (during the series’ period of the war/spying years) may not be an easy man to like, and I daresay Ben and Caleb, and even Anna would back that up, but if you watch him expecting less of a run-of-the-mill hero [insert shiny reflection of toothy smile here] and more as a down-on-his luck highly strung man who’s torn by the grief of his brother’s loss to the point that he’s lost himself—and who finds in spying for his country a job that can actually make use of that dissociation—you’re going to find a memorable character you can root for and, yes, I’ll say it: love.

And the TURN finale will resonate even more deeply. 

[sophygurl]

Woot! Tagged by my new we-finished-a-series-at-the-same-time-and-desperately-need-to-talk-about-it book buddy @blackandwhitemotley​! (I seem to collect these - hi @wingedsaboteur​)

1) Name/Nickname: Rosemary is my name. Soph or sophy tends to be a nickname to anyone who met me on the internets first for obvious reasons. I will accept the shortening of my name - Rose - only if I can tell by the way you said it that you know the full name is Rosemary (I can tell okay). I only accept Rosie if my inner child is out because that’s HER name though I accept Rosy , from one friend who asked permission a long time ago (hey @ladynorbert​). I let any and all kids call me me Aunt Rose, not just my nieces and nephew (who is too young yet to call me anything), and my oldest niece still loves to call me by her baby name for me - AuRoo. This was probably a longer thesis on names than the question is meant to be, but that’s me!

2) Gender: Cis genderqueer woman is the best descriptor for my gender and sex. 

3) Star sign: Leo - rawr.

4) Height: 5′3′‘ - just short enough to have short people problems but not quite short enough to be seen as short.

5) Hogwarts House: I’ve had long conversations about this with one of my closest friends @c-l-ford, and we really can’t come up with a true consensus. I think I’m a combo of all four, but I realize that’s a cop-out. 

6) Favourite animal: Felines of any sort, though I’m an all around animal lover (bugs don’t count).

7) Hours of sleep: 8-12, though closer to 8 these days since the Lyrica is helping me to sleep more normally.

8) Dogs or Cats: Cats obvi, but I do love dogs. 

9) Number of blankets: Like, I know this is asking the number of blankets you sleep with on your bed, but the phrasing makes me wanna go around and count all the blankets I own. But okay - I sleep with a light blanket during warmer months, and throw a big comforter over the top during the colder ones. 

10) Dream trip: I’d love to take a cruise through the Mediterranean, taking stops in Sicily, Italy, Greece, Egypt, Turkey, Israel, Morocco, etc. 

11) Dream job: At this point, I’d really just love to be working again in any capacity. I miss it so much. I miss feeling like I had a purpose, and knowing I was doing a good job, and working harder the next day, and thinking about getting promoted, and just generally - yea - being my workaholic self. Which makes being too disabled to work for over 15 years now kind of a bummer. 

12) Time: 1:12 pm

13) Birthday: July 29

14) Favourite Bands: I’m never up on new music, so I’m gonna go with some of my classic faves here - Areosmith, Cheap Trick, The Doors, The Indigo Girls, Journey, The Monkees, R.E.M., Queen

15) Favourite Solo Artists: Ani DiFranco, Blondie, Dar Williams, Janis Joplin, Joan Jett, k.d. lang, P!nk, Tori Amos (and yes I added an s to make this one plural too, no fair asking for multiple bands but only one solo artist)

16) Song Stuck In My Head: Lady, by Styx

17) Last Movie I watched: Hidden Figures, though my stupid body fell asleep at the last third or so of the movie, so I’m gonna have to re-watch. (When I woke up, I turned to my friend and said “I missed the ending, did they ever make it to the moon?”)

18) Last Show I Watched: Madam Secretary (I’m a few eps behind though)

19) When Did I Create My Blog: I wanna say about four years ago??

20) What Do I Post/Reblog: So many. I’m a huge TV nerd, so lots of reblogs of gifsets and meta (and sometimes my own meta or short opinion bit) about lots of shows both past and present. I also dig me a lot of books and some movies, so those show up. Intersectional feminism is a big deal to me, so I signal boost a lot of stuff along those lines. I love memes, puns, cute animal pics, gender queering, and pretty shiny things. I might occasionally post personal stuff. I’m chronically ill and that affects my life to a large degree, so I’m likely to reblog stuff about that if it shows up on my dash. Around May - June, I’m likely to be posting about WisCon, my local feminist SFF con that happens Memorial Weekend each year. And in a couple of days here it’ll be November 1st which is when I let my Christmas nerd out to play, so there’ll be a lot of that then too. 

21) Last Thing I Googled: haha, it was actually the song Lady by Styx because I couldn’t remember who sang it, and because once I realized it was in my head, I wanted to listen to it.

22) Other Blogs: No other tumblrs, though I do (very) occasionally post on my Dreamwidth account - same name as this tumblr. 

23) Do I Get Asks: Not very often, though I love it when I do! I adore interacting with folks, so come at me.

24) Why I Chose My URL: sophy from sophia, the feminine divine aspect of god, and also just wisdom/knowledge in general (I was studying philosophy and religious studies when I came up with the sophygurl handle the first time). Then I added -gurl at the end because it was less likely to conflict with other ppl who wanted to combine sophy and girl together to make a name. lol

25) Following: 267 (this is why I can never catch up even on a good day)

26) Followers: 582 - can that be right? Do I have those reversed? I guess a lot of those are spam accounts. 

27) Lucky Number: 5

28) Favourite instrument: Drums of all kinds.

29) What Am I Wearing: lol a silky nightgown paired with an old comfy sweatshirt over the top and comfy pj pants underneath, and warm socks.

30) Favourite Food: Dark chocolate, broccoli, potatoes, and my family’s recipe spaghetti sauce - which I’m gonna make in a few days for the first time in ages woo!

31) Nationality: USian. 

32) Favourite Song: Imagine, by John Lennon. 

33) Last Book Read: The Root by Na’amen Gobert Tilahun 

34) Top Three Fictional Universes I’d Like To Join: Oh geeze, most of my fave universes to read about/watch are not ones I’d want to personally be involved in, so let me think. Maybe the world in Practical Magic, Starhawk’s The Fifth Sacred Thing but only if I could be part of the Bay Area world and not the LA one, Realm of the Elderlings - preferably in the Rain Wilds over other areas.

Tagging: other than the one who tagged me - if you got tagged in the body of this post for other reasons, consider yourselves tagged to do this! Otherwise - tagging anyone who wants to. Make sure you tag me so I’ll see it when you do it tho! :)

[chiisana-sukima]

The Eldritch Bunker

***Collaboration Welcome. Add Your Headcanon Too***

...because we are going to continually expand these characters                    -Jerry Wanek (thanks, @hazeldomain, for the production shorts!)

@chiisana-sukima (that’s me!) wrote, in a post that didn’t work for adding, because reasons: I think the Bunker is a Good Puppy, and loves Dean, Cas, and Sam all. But because it is a Smart Puppy, it tries really hard for each of them, but sometimes the outcomes aren’t quite what a Human might expect.

Cas and the Bunker understand each other the best. Cas understands about the Bunker being a deeply, weirdly inhuman creature whose existence is too large for mortals to fill. And the Bunker knows Cas gets bored and lonely at night while his human friends are sleeping. So when Cas wanders through the Bunker at night, the Bunker lets him explore its maze-like recesses and dimensions full of wonders and magic that Dean and Sam will never see. When morning is approaching, Cas has to gently remind the Bunker that it’s time for him to go back up to the surface levels where Sam and Dean live, so that the Bunker can lead him out, because even Cas can’t find his way back on his own.

For Dean, there’s an alcove off the garage, full of tools and parts for all the classic cars. And sometimes when its in an especially helpful mood, the Bunker leaves parts for Baby around too, or a better brand of oil than Dean usually buys, and Dean feels suspicious, because how could the MoL have had any of those things, but maybe Sam picked them up, but Sam’s not really into cars…. sometimes it’s best not to question. 

And also for Dean, the way to the dungeon is a little straighter, the corridor a little wider, the locks a little stronger, the soundproofing perfect. The holy water is always well-stocked and the salt never runs out. In the shooting range, the targets are far enough back that they’re right on the edge of Dean’s ability, so he doesn’t just keep getting useless bullseyes over and over. The bunker makes no judgements; it was built for war.

For Sam, one might think the library would be perfectly organized, all the information Sam could want catalogued and easy to find. But the Bunker knows Sam better than that. Sam likes a challenge, and the Bunker likes to learn. It scatters things around for Sam. There are always cluttered new storerooms, another archive, more magical tools to sort. That way Sam will have things to occupy his mind. He’ll make new connections, figure out things the Bunker didn’t know itself. 

And Sam’s room- the Bunker is still angry that Lucifer managed to find it. It’s the best warded room the Bunker has, radiating a false nonexistence so strongly, that from the outside it’s barely there at all. But Cas had been to it too many times already before Lucifer occupied him, and Lucifer was determined.

The Bunker is determined too though. It won’t happen again. When Sam walks through the library, sometimes books fall off the shelves and land open to pages on complex warding patterns. If he’s not paying attention as he walks to his room, there will occasionally be an ancient clay jar of holy oil in the hall that he’ll somehow fail to notice until he’s already kicked it over and broken it. By now there’s a solid wall of holy fire soaked into the floorboards outside Sam’s door, just waiting to be set alight, and a fire spell has etched itself into the wood of the door frame.

@trisscar368  wrote: Sam’s room - yes PLEASE, because your idea of it being warded like that works perfectly with the fact that it keeps changing location.

The Bunker decided not long after the boys moved in that Sam would be safe when he slept; there were too many nights when Sam would still wake up breathless, the names of lovers and lost friends and tormentors alike all dying unspoken on his lips.  Too many nights where he refused to sleep until it was almost dawn, choosing to distract himself because the memories are just a little too close at hand.  So the Bunker cocoons his room away every night in the depths of the maze; it makes sure to have him back before morning, though it doesn’t always quite put him back in the same place, not after Dean snuck in that one morning to play music on full blast.

It hasn’t quite forgiven Dean for what happened under the Mark.  Oh, it doesn’t blame him particularly for destroying doors when he was a demon; he was a demon, he was barely the same creature.  The Bunker treated him as such - it has no eyes after all - trying to protect Sam by weaving extra passages between the two of them, only letting Dean find Sam when Castiel was close enough to help.  But since that last day with the Steins, with what happened in the library, Dean’s room has a habit of being slightly… misplaced in the morning.  Dean hasn’t said anything.  He still hasn’t forgiven himself, so why would the Bunker?

It wishes Cas would stay more.  It quite agreed with Kevin (oh, the Bunker tried to commune with Kevin’s ghost, but he just couldn’t hear the Eldritch being the way Cas can) that Winchester pity sessions are annoying.  Dean tends to be happier when Cas is around, and, well, the Bunker grew rather attached itself when Cas stayed those few weeks when he was ill.  It tries to feel more like home, this weird amalgamation of ideas and memories of all the people who’ve stayed inside its walls, but it doesn’t quite know what Cas wants; austere hallways of light?�� Or dimly lit rooms smelling faintly of whiskey and leather and gunpowder.  Cas doesn’t know what he wants either.

The six weeks when the boys were gone were hard on both Cas and the Bunker.  He had a habit of forgetting the lights, wandering the halls in pitch black, losing himself in the grief and the guilt, trying to hide from the shadow of Lucifer.

Lucifer, now it hates Lucifer.  It hates the scent of rust that trails in his wings.  It hates how Sam stopped sleeping again when the boys knew Lucifer was free.  It hates how Cas sometimes wanders into the kitchen expecting to see a television on the counter, and stands there staring while he remembers where he is.

@floralmotif  wrote: Follow me below if you want to engage with headcanon speak dabbling in the idea that the bunker is an eldritch abomination. It’s just fun:

I’m actually not sure if it would like people in the same sense as a dog would. It would probably allow Cas a bit more reign just cause he can perceive it a little better and may be able to handle the concepts it presents without his brain shorting out. He may also be unaware of its nature on a conscious level. If this thing were actually a being, it would be pretty powerful even as presented. Amara needed Cas to find Dean in the bunker. This would mean that the bunker theoretically is more powerful than Chuck or Amara or is at least capable of hiding from them. It is no creature of creation. It just kind of settled there, perhaps drawn by the MoL or maybe it manifested on its own and they found it. They may be the only perception of human things its ever experienced. The Winchester’s found it after and it still had the same appearance. It’s possible it looks that way because the MoL were the first to meet it and the Winchesters don’t do anything to tell it any different. It may just be a void in reality with no perception that there is an outside at all. It’s like a computer display. It can display coffee as much as it wants but it doesn’t know what coffee is.

That being said, it’s a lot more fun to imagine it has a personality that can enjoy things and can create easy passage for sleepy Winchesters when it’s 3am and they have work to do. So Dean can find the kitchen easily even when it took him 3x as long when he was a demon. He doesn’t question it, neither of them do. It’s weird sometimes but they wave it on and the Bunker doesn’t mind that its unknown. It’s rather glad of it. No one has ever known it. The closest is maybe Cas but if Chuck didn’t notice the massive being of the cosmos, he probably wouldn’t either. Sometimes though, the bunker opens places for him. It wants to see how far it can go and Cas is a calm and curious being himself.

Perhaps it can sense intent or longing, or fear. It carefully arranges itself for whatever situation feels comfortable for it. The emotions of humans are perplexing but it isn’t a violent creature, it tries to avoid it.

                       (some shorter headcanons below the cut)

 @somekindofsaviour asked: Sam said in ep 12x12 that he has uploaded the Bunker library to an online archive. Don't you think that's really unrealistic? There must be thousands of articles and books in the library. The keywords alone would be a nightmare.

@grey2510 answered: I agree that it’s unrealistic. That kind of job would take FOREVER to do properly on one’s own, even if that’s ALL Sam were doing (and not ya know, hunting and making sure the world doesn’t end). (...)

Who knows. The Bunker already seems to have magical tech capabilities. Maybe it has magical digital archiving. Bonus feature!

@floralmotif​ (in response to a gifset where Mary is walking, and the corridors are going a different direction than usual): Now I’m thinking of an instance where the bunker gets Mary lost. She wanders around until finally getting to the kitchen and Sam and Dean think she’s slept in and she’s like “I got lost. This place makes no sense” and they both look at each other and offer her coffee in concern and confusion because they don’t perceive the Bunker’s nonsense most of the time.

@eruthiawenluin wrote:  #but what about when demon/MoC!dean is roaming the halls?    #and the bunker is //confused//    #because it can sense that there’s something wrong with him but this is //dean//  #but it tries to give sam some reaction time when dean’s after him    #and sam is almost killed for it and stays away from certain areas of the bunker   #and it kind of… panics?    #sam’s already hesitant to call him ‘home’ because of his history (and lack thereof) with 'home’  #so he’s always careful to create detours for sam   #the bunker is a bitter sam boy