#this is kind of a Jekyll and Hyde relationship

[whimsyvixen]

Praise the one who left you broken down and paralyzed

[dathen]

I’ve been thinking, I feel there’s a shortcoming in how classic science fiction is analyzed, where the only possible message is that it’s a cautionary tale about the Right and Wrong kind of science to do, rather than the genre being a speculative lens for commentary on countless topics?

Like I checked out The Island of Dr. Moreau from my library recently. Months ago, I was given a couple-sentence summary on what the plot was, and right off the bat I was like “man idk if this is what HG Wells intended but that would make a great metaphor for [religious topic]." Lo and behold, HG Wells had actually talked about the book's themes and how it was a "youthful exercise in blasphemy" re: exactly what I'd guessed. While reading War of the Worlds, I found that animal cruelty was another topic Wells was passionate about--not just in science, but in humanity's relationship to animals in general--so that's another obvious message.

What does the back of the book I got say? That it's somehow a cautionary tale against genetic engineering (including for things like plants??) that Wells somehow predicted and warned against. Not even a word about critiquing animal cruelty!

Then you've already gotten my rants on readings of Frankenstein that are only "science with hubris!" and The Invisible Man just as "science without humanity." Even Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde--which is as blunt as a Sunday School parable--gets "you can't save yourself with science!" as much as any commentary on social repression and hypocrisy.

The science is very often about science, but removing the presumption that it has to be and that's all there is to it does the genre a disservice.

[it-happened-one-fic]

The Strange Case of Doctor Jade and Mr. Floyd (Part 1) - Jade

Author Notes: Tis October, so here is a Halloween-themed fic! I read a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde inspired fic with Jade and Floyd quite some time ago (I'm pretty sure it was Azul x reader actually) but I can no longer find it, so I'm afraid I can't link it and I can't remember the author or the fic name either (such is my memory). But anyway, I wanted to try doing my own spin on the idea and, fear not, mine ended up wildly different from the one I read. And I won't lie, I kind of wanted to make this series longer, but I cut myself off at 4 chapters because (a) that's how many Fridays there are in October and (b) I didn't know where to take this series. Reader is gender-neutral and I hope you all enjoy!

Type: Gender neutral reader/ sfw/ sort of fluff/ romance implied/ platonic relationship/ kind of mafia AU/ some drama/ intrigue??

[Part One: You're Here!], [Part Two], [Part 3], [Part 4]

Word count: 2523

Trigger Warning: Mentions of blood

I looked up, immediately smiling as the door opened and in strolled Jade. An ever polite smile on his seemingly flawless face as he looked over at me with practiced gentility, “Good morning, Y/n.”

I nodded at him, reaching down under my desk to grab the package Azul had left for him just moments earlier, “Good morning, Dr. Jade. Mr. Carews called and requested that you call him back, and Mr. Ashengrotto just came by and left a package for you.”

Jade let out a hum as he eyed the small package, a slight frown appearing on his face at the mention of the first man before his two-toned gaze flickered up to meet mine. Amusement flickering in his mismatched eyes as he tilted his head, the motion causing the singularly long, dark grey strand of his otherwise short turquoise hair to swing wildly, “Did Azul say anything?”

I shook my head, as I sifted through a pile of papers. All appointments, letters, and general paperwork, “No, he and I chatted for a while, but he didn’t leave a message for you. Why? Are you expecting something from him?”

I paused to glance questioningly up at the doctor, who shook his head. An amused smile spreading across his face as he rested one gloved hand against his chin, “No, but it is as I feared. You have quite charmed my work partner.”

I snorted at his teasing, shaking my head slightly, “Hardly. He was just being polite.”

Jade hummed, straightening as he balanced the package in one hand easily, “I sincerely doubt that, my dear. I do fear he might soon come to steal you away.”

I rolled my eyes, mething his gaze once more, “Azul has no need of a receptionist, so I doubt there is any real fear of that.”

Jade let out a quiet chuckle as I held out a slender sheet of paper, “Here, this is Mr. Carews’s number. He sounded very upset when he called, so I imagine he’ll want to schedule an appointment.”

He quietly eyed the paper before accepting, “Yes, I suppose he will, considering everything that’s going on.”

I frowned at his words, perfectly used to Jade’s occasionally ominous statements by now, but I tilted my head at him nonetheless as I gave way to my own wary curiosity, “Are you talking about that new criminal that supposedly looks exactly like you? ‘Mr. Floyd,’ was it?”

Jade’s characteristically discreet smile split into a grin. One that displayed his pointed teeth that he always kept hidden behind close-lipped smiles whenever any patients were nearby, and in many ways I genuinely believed that the first time I’d seen it had been entirely accidental on his part. But at this point I also honestly suspected that Jade only smiled like that when he was truly, and perhaps villainously, amused. 

His voice was filled with humor, as evidenced by his slight chuckle as he spoke, “Ah, yes, that fellow. So you’ve heard of him too?”

I blinked slightly at his words before smiling in slight disbelief and shaking my head, “Hasn’t everyone? It seems like everyone’s talking about him. People on the streets, patients in your waiting room, the newspapers….”

I trailed off amusedly as Jade tilted his head at me, his eyes flashing with a far-too-clever glimmer, “And what do you think of this ‘Mr. Floyd’?”

I felt my eyebrows raise at Jade’s question. But, in all fairness, I suppose it only made sense for him to be at least slightly curious about the criminal that everyone had been likening him to.

Though, knowing Jade, I doubted that any of the gossip actually bothered him. In fact, Jade would be more likely to find their gossip rather amusing.

“Well, I suppose he may have a passing resemblance to you based on what people say, but it can’t be anything too awfully close. After all, neither the practice nor your reputation have been hurt by any of the rumors,” I finally answered. Lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug before I frowned slightly, “Beyond that, I haven’t heard much about him. No one actually talks about anything he’s done. Just that he supposedly looks like you and apparently can’t be caught.”

Jade blinked at my words, his eyes widening in an almost comedic fashion before a slow smile crept across his face as his gaze shifted back to something more amused, “Yes, I suppose there isn’t much information about him, is there?”

He paused, tilting his head slightly before finishing in an oddly pleased manner that had me frowning slightly, “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see how things pan out, won’t we?”

I was almost tempted to question as he turned to go but I stayed silent. Instead, watching as he walked off with his package, as I idly considered his words before tilting my head with a slight frown.

Because it was odd, now that I considered it. The way Azul kept sending mysterious little packages so cryptically.

The rest of the day rolled by uneventfully, though, with patients coming and going. Ever-thrilled to be seeing that the esteemed Dr. Jade. Though how Jade kept up the ‘esteemed’ part of his reputation was beyond me.

It was true that he was the perfect image of a gentleman and was by far a good employer whom I got along well with. But it was also true that it hadn’t taken me very long after getting hired as his receptionist to figure out that there was far more to him than just his good looks, intelligence, and faux-polite smile.

If nothing else, Jade was a master of manipulation, and he could be beyond slippery at times. And then there was the way he’d emerged from his office with a distinctly smug expression to tell me that Mr. Carews did indeed want an appointment and for me to be sure to schedule plenty of time.

And that was, of course, in and of itself perfectly innocent. Jade was a well-respected doctor after all. If Mr. Carews needed an appointment, even a long one, that wasn’t really very strange. 

But the way Jade’s pleasure had seemed all too villainous was odd and had me shaking my head with a frown even as I was walking down the street on my way home.

It wasn’t the first time I’d questioned Jade’s flawless reputation, though.

I might have bought into it at the start, when I’d applied for the job of his receptionist, but I didn’t now. 

But I also had no idea why he seemed so perfectly villainous sometimes, and the fact that I got along with him so well despite my occasional concerns had me questioning my own sense.

Jade had appeared out of nowhere, with similar timing to Azul’s appearance in town. Both reasonably well-respected from the start, and by now they’d built up quite the reputations as well as quite a bit of money.

Jade, as a supposedly moral character who helped the sick and ailing with all sorts of problems, and Azul, as a businessman who could help most anyone find what they needed.

The two of them had already been friends when they’d both shown up within days of one another and set up their businesses with the implicit understanding that they worked together.

Both of them were a bit of a mystery, and both of them were men I’d ended up working with and getting along with rather well. But all of it was still odd enough to make me sometimes question their sudden appearance and the way Jade seemed to always know stuff about people.

After all, that was why he was regarded as so good at his job. The sheer amount of information he had about what troubled individuals. 

I paused mid-step as something caught my eye through my peripheral vision, causing me to turn and look down a darkened, trash-filled street before my eyes widened in recognition.

Because there, of all people, sat Jade himself with a hand pressed to his now bloodied right arm, even though he’d only left the office shortly before I had.

My mind swirled with questions about how he’d gotten hurt, what exactly had happened, and what on earth was doing here when his house was in the exact opposite direction. But none of those thoughts slowed me down as I darted across the street. Heedless of others passing by.

I all but dropped to the ground beside him, my hand reaching out to try and shove his hand out of the way so I could get a better look at his injury as words flew from my mouth in a garbled mix of distress and genuine concern, “What happened to you?!! We need to get you some help! I’ll call the hospital and-”

He jerked back at my sudden appearance, staring at me with wide eyes, and I felt myself go still as my words came to an abrupt halt as I stared back at this young man who was so familiar but also wholly foreign to me.

A yellow right eye and an olive left one, both of which were slightly drooped at the edges, giving him an almost gentle appearance. But Jade’s eyes were sharper and more upturned at the edges, with his right eye being olive and the left being yellow.

And then there was the hair. The same shade of turquoise, but where Jade had his longer stand of dark grey hair that framed the left side of his face, this man’s longer strand hung on the right side of his face.

He was a perfect mirror image of my employer, but the simple fact of the matter was that this man was not Jade. And suddenly all I could think was the rumors of the very criminal Jade had questioned me about just today.

Mr. Floyd. The criminal that no one could catch, who looked uncannily like Jade.

I swallowed thickly as he blinked back at me, his expression slowly shifting to surprise to something more intelligent that had me both mentally and physically retreating.

I slowly let go of his hand, pulling back as I let out a nervous laugh, “Sorry… I must have gotten the wrong person….”

I trailed off as I hurriedly backtracked, about to stand and scurry away only for him to catch my hand in his, which I noticed all too late was also different from Jade’s. 

I froze at his sudden touch as I stared at where his hand now held mine captive before my gaze darted back up to his face.

If he was bothered by my sudden wariness, he didn’t show it as he stared back at me and clearly identified me despite the fact I’d never met him, “You work for Jade.”

In no way were his words a question. They were a statement. Like he knew it for a fact, and I felt myself nod even as I scrambled to figure out what I needed to do now.

I had no idea what sort of crimes this man had committed or anything about him. And even if I had paid more attention to the gossip about him, I still wouldn’t know anything. 

“Dr. Jade? Yes, I- I’m his receptionist,” And I only faltered slightly as I responded to him. Feeling both very much out of my depth.

He stared back at me, his expression oddly, before a sharp-toothed grin crossed his face that had my eyes widening as his grip on my hand tightened slightly, “I guess I’d better get you back home then? Hm~ It’d be a shame for something to happen to the respected doctor’s receptionist.”

I blinked at his lilted words. My confusion only increasing as my wariness remained. I didn’t know if he was being patronizing towards the fact Jade was well-respected due to something akin to jealousy or if it was something else entirely. But either way, I wanted to get away from him, and I certainly didn’t want ‘Mr. Floyd’ anywhere near my home.

I might not know what crimes he had supposedly committed, but I definitely wasn’t going to take any chances.

I pasted a nervous smile onto my face and pulled my arm back towards me, my motions doing nothing to break his grip as I shook my head, “Oh no. Thank you, but I’ll be fine going home on my own.”

He stared at me, almost like he was surprised by my words before he let out a harsh sounding laugh, “Nah, there are a lot of criminals out and about right now. A lil shrimpy like you might get in a world of trouble on your own.”

And just like that, he shot down my polite refusal as he stood, hauling me to my feet with him as he turned and took off down the street. All but dragging me along behind him as I stumbled along, “I’ll getcha back home safe and sound, though. But-”

He paused, his long stride coming to a stop as he suddenly tugged on my arm, pulling me up alongside him so he could grin down at me. Sharp teeth perfectly on display as I swallowed thickly, bracing myself for whatever he was about to say.

“You gotta keep it a secret from your boss, ‘Kay~?” His tone was oddly sing-songy, and I felt myself distantly nod before I immediately frowned at myself. Because I wasn’t about to agree to letting this man walk me home. Even if he had caught me wholly off-guard.

But before I could hardly object, he took off down the street, somehow knowing the exact direction to head in as I stumbled after him. But after a moment, his long-legged pace slowed so that I could keep up as he glanced down at me.

“Jade’ll be mad if he finds out I walked you home, so this’ll be our secret~” I blinked at him in utter wary confusion as he held up one long finger to his mouth and winked at me.

Because was this man, bleeding though he was, really the criminal that everyone had been gossiping about? He certainly seemed…. Odd. But despite my initial panic, he hardly seemed as horrifying as the rumors made him sound.

He was, however, still suspicious.

I felt myself distantly nod even as I eyed him warily, “Right…. But how do you know the way to my house and that I work for Jade?”

If anything, his grin spread across his face, “I remembered it. You had to put your address on your paper when you applied to be his receptionist. Remember?”

If I could have frozen in place, I would’ve, but instead the man just kept pulling me along with him as he started humming. His jaunty tune wholly at odds with my chilled thoughts.

Because his words had one painfully obvious meaning. That he’d seen the paperwork for everyone who’d applied for my job. Which meant he definitely had some sort of connection to Jade.

It appeared there really was more to Jade than I’d realized, even despite my suspicions.

[selarina]

True Blue

→ Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader (Series Masterlist)

Chapter 3: The Party

Summary: Back home after your first year of university, you try to spend the bone-dry heat of summer with your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, but restrictions prevail.

Content Warning: college bf!gojo, fluff, light angst, established relationship, birthday, implied parental issues, class differences, gojo is rich, casual violence (mentioned), social anxiety, reader and gojo are business majors (for now lol)

Word Count: 3.9k words

Author's Note: happy end of summer!! played cigarettes after sex the entire time i wrote this

Taglist: Open

In all honesty, you had expected Gojo to immediately whisk you away into a secluded corner of his house, and rid you of your clothes, blaming the summer heat or something just as ridiculous in the process. But instead, you were witnessing a far different side of him, it was baffling. Like he’s Jekyll and this version of him is Hyde in all his unfamiliar glory. He’s restrained, and poised. He’s not slinking his hands about as he speaks, they remain steady. It was jarring, to say the least. 

He was speaking of politics— and a joke? They’re all laughing, so it must be. 

You aren’t really listening, you’re far too busy raking through your eyes the crowd, watching the audience he’s garnered in all their collective gaze. It was such an odd thing to witness, the way they all hung onto his every word, as though something unseen and magnetic held their vision in place. 

You understood them though in a way. Of course, you did.

A waiter, dressed in a two-piece suit, quietly delivers another bottle of whiskey to the people near the couch. You hadn’t touched a drop, as you found yourself far too anxious to trust a drink in your hand or in your body. The crowd made you feel exposed, you felt seen in every muscle you moved. 

Your eyes flit out to the only open window in the big hall — a breeze coming in through there, and you felt you wanted to walk eastward towards it and walk through the soft twilight of the balcony. But you refrained, it would be impolite. You weren’t sure what kind of rules were in place in this crowd, but you could tell it was different from what you were accustomed to. 

You felt severely underdressed for starters. That was your tell. There seemed to be an unspoken theme you didn’t know about but perhaps that’s your fault for dropping by to surprise. Why would Satoru indulge in themes for a party if he didn’t know you were making it too? It makes sense, but you wish he had slipped out just once, so you could have prepared. Now, you felt severely plain when standing beside the fancier dolls in the room. 

A warm hand enveloped yours, pulling you from your thoughts. You turned, your eyes meeting the face of a slender woman. Her face looked ghostly, otherworldly, with a complexion of powdered milky white. 

“Mrs. Gojo,” you recognised.

“Hello, dear,” she smiled. This marked the first time you were seeing her in person. You had seen her only in photographs before, countless of them. Satoru adored his mother. She seemed like a worldly and kind woman somehow. You could tell at just first glance. 

"Hello," you replied, your voice catching as though nerves had tangled in your throat.

“You missed the memo, it seems,” she remarked, though there was no sharpness in her tone, merely a simple observation. It didn’t seem like judgment, but it still left you a bit embarrassed.

“Yeah,” you laugh an artificial laugh. "This was all very last minute on my part, so I wasn’t aware of the theme."

“No worries at all,” she reassured you, a poshness in her voice. Her hand rubbed softly against your bicep. “I could dazzle you up if you let me— a few accessories, perhaps a hairclip. That’s all it takes if you ask me.” 

The thought of being alone with Gojo’s mother unsettled you, but you nodded with a polite smile. “That’s very kind of you. I would love that.”

—

“So, Satoru tells me you’ve been seeing each other for about a year,” she begins, her voice mild but intent.

The interrogation begins, you think cruelly.

“Yes,” you answer, sitting before the mirror as his mother works your hair into shape. She promises it’ll be lovely, and you’ll have to trust her because, from this angle, you can’t see much of anything. “Almost a year in three months, if I’m not wrong.”

“Ah,” she lets out a soft laugh. “That’s reassuring.”

“What is?” A pause. “Ma’am,” you add, too quickly, and too late.

She hums, amused. “You pick things up fast. It’s just, well, he hasn’t kept a relationship longer than the milk in our fridge, so I suppose I’m just surprised. And relieved, really. I’m sure he’s told you about all his past escapades.”

“He has,” you answer with a small, strained laugh. “I’m just happy to be of service.”

“All done,” she announces, patting your hair lightly. “Would you like to see?”

“Yes,” you reply, though bemused. “But I can’t really see the back of my own head.” You try for humor.

“I’ll take a picture for you, dear. Hold still now.”

Click.

“Here,” she brings her hand forward as your eyes focus on the somewhat blurry picture in front of you. The phone looked ancient. For someone with such a huge manor, you would think they could afford the latest, but you knew how old people were – stubborn and for the routine of things. You think you’ll be one of them too. Back to the picture it looked beautiful, she put a gold hair net thing on your head, and it just elevated everything about your appearance even if you couldn't see it yourself 

“It’s… beautiful. Thank you, Mrs. Gojo.”

“You’re very welcome,” she says softly. “Now I really must head back, but I think you can take a minute for yourself before rejoining the others.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to be rude.”

“Nonsense,” she says, sternly. “If the birthday boy’s partner wants to stay in the room for a minute longer she can. Don’t worry about the crowd, I’ll have their tongues if they’re mean to you.”

The casual violence of her words is almost shocking, delivered so gently. It makes sense, though—like mother, like son.

“Alright,” you murmur, grateful. “Just a moment.” You watch her retreat, leaving you with your thoughts.

—

You took your minute, and then, as if your body had conspired against you, you drifted back to the party. Slowly, like a sloth, you moved until you reached the first approachable figure and struck up a conversation. The woman—tall, immaculately put together—turned with a ready smile. It was just too easy — this woman was a natural conversationalist. She spoke of her years at the bank, and just as easily got you to confess your future plans of assisting your mother, of starting your own business — what a miracle of a woman really. 

She advised you too. It was really not all that informative, just things you’ve already heard before, but you found yourself grateful nonetheless. If only because she relieved the stress in your muscles, they were lax now. 

“Mrs. Lee,” you hear a familiar voice from behind you. “I see you’ve met my beautiful, breathtaking girlfriend.” He finishes as his hand comes to grab your own, before placing a kiss on the back of your hand, eyes intently watching you. 

“Oh my,” the lady in front of you gushes on your behalf. “Young love in all its glory. You’ve got a remarkable girlfriend here, Gojo. She’s ambitious and sharp. You better be kind to her, you twerp.”

He laughed, that easy sound you’d heard a thousand times. “I try my best, Mrs. Lee. Now — Do you mind if I steal her away, I haven’t seen her in years.”

And just like that it was just the two of you — not in actual terms, but with Satoru, your mind tended to blur out the rest. 

“Hi,” you said, your voice soft, like you were waking from a dream.

“Hi,” he says, smiling back lazily.

“Hi,” you say again. Not really sure what to say next.

“Hi,” he said again. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d surprise you. Get the upper hand for once.”

“You’ve always had the upper hand,” he said like it was a fact too obvious to contest.

“That’s not true,” you reply, defiant. 

“It’s true, and it will always be true. Now give your poor tired boyfriend a kiss.”

And so, you do. Despite the crowd. 

The kiss wasn’t deep, restrained in a way that was unlike him. It seems Satoru may have found some shame after all. He stops kissing you but doesn't move further away from your lips. You can feel his breath upon your face, right on the side of your nose.

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi,” you say back, your hand still rooted in his hair, at his nape. “What tires my poor boyfriend anyway?”

“Why? You willing to fight the dragons.”

“The dragons wouldn’t dare fight me anyway.”

He chuckles. “No, ma’am. They wouldn’t.” A pause as his gaze lingered. “I like the gold in your hair,” he said, voice lowering. “Noticed it when you came back in.”

Your hand reached up, brushing the adornment lightly. “It’s your mother’s. She offered to put it on me.”

His eyes light up immediately. “She did? Wait — You met my mother already? I wanted to see you meet her. I can’t believe I missed it,” he frowns. 

“Aw,” you say. “I can always tell you how it went.”

“How did it go?”

“She saved me — this crowd is…” You look around, gathering all the prim and poised figures. 

“Pretentious?” he suggested, blunt as ever.

“I was going to say intimidating,” you corrected him, though his assessment wasn’t necessarily far off. You liked it though. The drama, the properness of it all — there was something about it.

“Please,” he scoffed. “They’re all insufferable, a bunch of stuck-up, overindulged jerks. Wine’s good, though. Need me to get you a glass?”

“Satoru,” you said, cutting him off, “I got you something. For your birthday.”

His face shifted, softer. “You being here is all I need. Don’t need anything else, this makes up for five birthdays at least.”

“You’re being dramatic again,” you say.“I’ll give it to you after the party—if you can find time for me. But it’s okay if you can’t. There’s always tomorrow.”

“No,” he says, bending down to leave a soft kiss against the edge of your mouth. “I’ll make time.”

“Okay,” you murmured. “Now go talk to that couple over there. They’ve been staring for ages—it’s creeping me out.”

He salutes you as he makes his way over and across.

—

"Ready?" you ask, seated behind the wheel, the evening air softly settling around you. “So, where are we going?”

“Nowhere special,” you replied, turning the key with a little growl from the engine. “But I’d still rather not tell you until we get there.”

He tilted his head, mock suspicion painted on his face. “The suspense, the mystery, the build-up…” He gasped dramatically. “You’re trying to steal my job, aren’t you?”

“Guilty,” you say, dry as dust.

“There can only be one of us,” he quipped.

“Well, you can just kill me. Skin me. Wear my face as your own and pretend until you’re caught.” The words spilled out, strange, unsettling, even to your ears.

“Why are you like this?” he asked, his tone flat, but there was amusement beneath it.

“I really, truly don’t know,” you replied, bewildered by the way your mind wandered into strange corners.

“I love it,” he says, sounding a little too close to the words you’ve been fearing, so you brush it off with a chuckle. 

“So, how long until we get to this ‘nowhere special but surprise’ place?” he asked, settling into his seat, limbs sprawling too long for the cramped space. You hope this ride doesn’t cause his back to ache.

“Half an hour, tops,” you said. “You can pick the music.”

“What?” He gasps again, mockingly scandalized. “Pinch me, so I know this is real.”

“It’s your birthday,” you shrug. “It’s the least I could do.”

He grinned — languid and lazy — a smile that makes you want to hit the brakes, stop the car, and kiss him stupid. But alas, you were a sane woman, on a mission so you drove on.

A few turns, a handful of bends in the road, and you’re there. Somewhere along the way, you’d asked him to cover his eyes, and, with a rare compliance, he obeyed—though not without protest. Now, as the car halts, he’s still singing a Lady Gaga song, his eyes squeezed shut for your benefit.

And so when the car halted as you helped him step out. 

“Ta-da,” you say, monotone. “The closest beach to the town — probably one you’ve been to a million times.”

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he says — “The sunset looks really pretty.”

“It does,” you say, turning to look at the pink, orange hues in the vast horizon past the sea. “It’s really pretty.”

“So, this is my gift? I could die a happy man.”

And you think, to your surprise, that he actually means it. There’s something startling in the way he says it—so earnest, it unnerves you. “No—what do you take me for?” you mutter, pulling the picnic basket from the backseat, heavy with fruits, yogurt, chips, and a meticulously folded blanket, the kind you only bother with for these sorts of things. "I got you something, but help me set up first."

He takes the blanket, and sets it up for the two of you to sit, as you grab his present from the backseat. Then he drops down onto the left side, legs sprawled, arms braced behind him as he stares out towards the sea.

You seat yourself beside him, since you are in a dress, you try to bend and adjust so you aren’t flashing the outside world with your indecency, despite your shorts beneath the dress. 

“So…” you start, voice feeling too quiet against the roaring waves, as you hand him the jar. “Here’s your gift.”

His fingers brush against the glass, and you watch his eyes lower, briefly lingering on the cold surface, before lifting them to meet yours. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” you said. 

And you did. You’d made the ridiculous decision to indulge his craving, driving almost two towns over to Al’s for his favorite cookies. Four, if you counted the miles from your grandmother’s. And all before noon, as if there weren’t a hundred better ways to waste a morning.

But you did. You did because you had decided the necklace you got him didn’t measure up. Not when the one he gifted you for 6 months, had real gems on them. 

You hope this makes up for it. Not materially, but the sentiments at least. You swear when you’re rich, you’ll splurge on this boy all you can, but for now, you cut your losses. 

“Thank you,” he says, setting the jar aside. “For driving all the way there.”

“The town’s so creepy and dead,” you say. 

“It is, baby. It is.” He leans in, his lips brushing against yours. “And you drove there. For me.”

“It’s whatever,” you mumble, pulling back with a small smile. “Let’s eat.”

The waves keep crashing, the sun low in the sky, casting a honey-gold light over everything. You hear the slow crinkle of the jar’s lid being unscrewed. Then his laugh. It makes you mush. It always does, but it feels heavier now somehow. You feel there’s something about being in the ocean that charges the atmosphere with something different, perhaps that is what’s it.

He pulls out one of the cookies, breaks it in half, and hands you a piece. His fingers brush against yours again. You accept graciously, as the two of you eat in utter silence, barring the sound of the waves.

“You spoil me,” he murmurs, taking a bite. His eyes never leave yours. 

You smile faintly, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “You deserve it,” you say, leaning back on your elbows, your body sinking into the blanket. You tilt your head, gaze tracing the horizon where the sky meets the water, a blurry, infinite line. 

His hand finds your thigh, his thumb moving lazily in circles against the fabric of your dress, as he leans back onto his elbows too, to kiss you. This time it’s deep. His lips are hard on your mouth, as though you feel every contour of the molding of his mouth moving against yours. 

“Hi,” he whispers against your lips. 

“Hi,” you reply, voice barely there.

“Thank you for the gift,” he says. “No one’s been this good to me in a while. You put a lot of time into this.”

You don’t say anything. Not sure what one can say without being cheesy. But if you were to say anything, you’d say it was nothing, not when you can see him beaming down at you like this, all dazed, all into you.

“I love you,” he says then. And your heart flits harshly against your chest. 

“What?”

“I wanted— I’ve been wanting to say it for a while,” he says, his thumb brushing against your hips. “In the car, and 2 months ago when you slept over after mid-terms. But I didn’t want to freak you out.”

You blink, your pulse quickening, the moment hanging between you, suspended.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says, his voice careful, and guarded.

“I do,” you say, the words tumbling out. “I do love you. I love you.” You mean it, and it terrifies you a little, but he’s smiling now. 

“Oh,” he grins, as he smushes into you, mouth first, tasting like salt and something sweeter.

“I love you,” he says again, voice low against your skin.

“I love you,” you say back, giggling. 

And then, he shifts—his body pulling away from you, the sudden absence of his warmth as chilling as the winds that whip across the beach. He sits up, dragging you with him.

“I have something else to tell you,” he says, and there’s a shift in his voice too—serious now, something grounded in his tone.

“What is it?” you ask, cautiously setting your mind for this, since he’s sounding serious in tone and stature. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he starts, hesitant, like he’s picking his words carefully. “I might drop out of college.”

“What?” The word feels like a punch, sharp and sudden. “Why?”

“I don’t care for it,” he says, his voice too casual, too careless.

“You don’t care for... an education?”

“Just business,” he clarifies. “I don’t really care about it. I want a change.”

Something mean, something bitter starts to rise in you, but you bite it down.

“A change to what?” you ask, calmly — your tone now guarded, your expression carefully neutral.

“I don’t know,” he says, and it’s the ease with which he admits it that grates at you. He doesn’t know, and he’s fine with not knowing. You don’t understand.

“What do you mean? You must want something else if you don’t want to do business, right?”

He turns to you then, and realises he should’ve predicted this, really. You loved plans, and you loved sticking to them. And this was was anything but that. He had a plan and he doesn’t want it. That’s bad enough. And now he doesn’t even have a new plan.

“Not really. I don’t know — I don’t want to do business, that’s all I know,” he says again, frustration creeping into his voice.

“Well,” you say, a little colder now, “you should probably figure that out.”

“Oh, really? Thanks, I had no idea that’s what I had to do.”

“Hey,” you say, softening your tone, trying to pull the edge out of the conversation. “I’m just trying to help. I just don’t like this situation for you.”

“I’m doing fine,” he says, trying to assure you that he hadn’t completely lost track of reality. “Dad hates this, but apart from that, no one really cares. There are so many options. I could change courses, take a gap year, intern—lots of things. You’re the only one bothered besides him.”

“Right,” you say, and that bitterness rises again, sharp and acidic in the back of your throat. “I forgot—you’re a Gojo.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he says. 

“It means you can drop out and still be fine. So I don’t have to worry about you.”

“So you don’t care that I’m dropping out?”

"I care, Satoru," you say, but it feels as though your voice is coming from some distant place now, a place he can’t reach. "Apparently, you don’t. You’re making this decision like it’s nothing."

“I’m not,” he snaps. “I’ve been unhappy for a while with the course. There’s no point in doing something I hate.”

“But to not have a backup plan? How can you make a decision like that?”

He looks at you, and for a moment, it’s like he doesn’t understand. You see the distance between you—his nonchalance, your need for structure—stretching wide.

“Can we— I told you because it’s a big decision. I’ll figure it out by the end of summer,” he says. “But I wanted to let you know. I expected the judgement but trust me a little?”

“Okay,” you say. “I just — I would never be able to do what you’re doing.”

“I know, and I could never do what you’re doing. It would kill me.”

“Okay,” you say, suddenly feeling shitty. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I trust you.” You bend forward leaving a kiss at the edge of his lips.

You sit in silence then — the wind getting colder and colder against your skin. The food growing staler, and it’s almost night now. The sun has set and you sit there, serene now, listening to the waves. 

You glance at him. His gaze fixed on the horizon, the sea’s dark expanse stretching out, infinite. His hair ruffling gently in the wind, and you notice the goosebumps pricking at his arms. It’s time.

“We should head back,” you say. “Your mother has a dinner planned, doesn’t she?”

He groans, his head falling back. “I don’t want to go.”

“But food,” you say simply, knowing that all the food in the world wouldn’t excite him to meet his family, and his extended family for a night of festivities. 

He turns to you, his eyes catching yours in the fading light. “I don’t want to go,” he repeats, quieter now, more real. “You’ll be busy with work soon. You’ll forget all about me.”

“Always so dramatic.” You move now, your limbs feeling heavy from the lack of motion. You move and straddle him now, his hands move to your waist in an immediate response. “You’re very hard to forget, Gojo Satoru.”

“Say more,” he says, smiling, beaming through his teeth. His cheeks alight red.

"No," you say, leaning back. "We should go."

"I’ll move if you give me compliments on the way back," he bargains, like a child.

“Or I could leave you here,” you say, titling your head. “All by your lonesome.”

“What a cruel, cruel woman you are,” he says, feigning a frown again.

“Let’s go,” you say now, feeling more and more convinced to stay here.

“Let’s just stay here forever,” he says, ever so ambitious. There’s a strange sincerity in his voice, to do the impossible.

You laugh, a brief, fleeting sound. "We wouldn’t survive long." You peer into the nearly empty picnic basket. "On just... Pringles."

"I could fish," he suggests, smiling again, "like in The Blue Lagoon. Build you a house out of driftwood.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d try.”

[alexanderwales]

One of the things that I really appreciate about Miraculous Ladybug is that it really went through the effort of thinking through all of the possible combinations of relationships you can have when two people with secret identities they're keeping from each other. It's a ton of fun to have these lopsided relationships that would collapse into each other and recontextualize everything these people think they know. I'm not current on the show, so maybe they do get those resolutions at some point, but it's all within this extremely slow and extremely formulaic children's show.

It gets me wondering about how far you could push it, and not in an off-hand "ha ha I have six secret identities and belong to a dozen different organizations that work at cross-purposes, isn't that so crazy" kind of way I've seen sometimes, but actually putting in the work to make these secret identities be 1) distinct and 2) purposeful and 3) have coherent conflicts.

Beyond just two people who each have increasing numbers of secret identities, you could have:

An identity shared by two or more people (e.g. The Prestige)

An identity created through magical "merging" of two or more people (e.g. Steven Universe)

Non-continuous identities (e.g. time travel, but also via memory wiping or other shenanigans where a person must answer for what they've done without having knowledge of why they've done it)

Identities that share a body but not a mind (e.g. Jekyll and Hyde)

I think a work that properly mires itself in many different secret identities eventually ends up being about both secrets and identities, which is relatively well-trodden ground for superhero stories, and yet ... also kind of surface level the majority of the time, in spite of how often it shows up? But it's also the interplay of identities that I feel most drawn to, and maybe that's what I find conceptually thin on the ground so often.

[fanartsandstuff]

My predictions:

-It's gonna be Hyde in Jekyll's body

-Layon is not going to realize it right away

-He will give some kind of speech to "Jekyll" about their relationship

-He will finish it by looking in "Jekyll's" eyes and they will be green

Anyway I'm so excited for next pages!

[eunseoksimp]

Sandstorm ; Hong Seunghan

Pairings: Bf!Seunghan x Gf!Reader

Genre: Angst, Break up

Warnings: toxic relationship, use of swear words, suggestive content and mention of sex. reader is extremely insecure and seunghan is low-key manipulative.

Description: The complexities of a tumultuous relationship between two people who love each other but struggle to see eye to eye. They attempt to compromise and reconcile but realise that with each other, they are like a violent sandstorm.

Based on Sandstorm by Mereba feat JID.

“we were low, we were high, jekyll, hyde”

‘all i’m asking you to do is trust me. for once.’

it wasn’t uncommon for you and seunghan to be arguing, only this time you thought it would be able to wait till after your 6 year anniversary dinner.

you loved hong seunghan, with every fibre of your being, but lord did he get under your skin.

the honeymoon phase of your relationship was bliss.

rarely would you argue, just eager to be wrapped up with the other, letting your bodies do the talking.

but that was years ago, a distant memory.

it wasn’t like you enjoyed fighting with seunghan, no you hated it actually.

you would feel like you were slowly losing your mind, being gaslit as you struggled to keep your words tame.

‘trust. you? how could i trust you when you let her rub all up on you,’ you were practically seething, nails digging into your palms as you desperately tried to hold your tongue.

‘oh come on. she wasn’t rubbing herself on me at all. you always do this baby.’

there it was.

seunghan had deep issues with establishing boundaries with other women.

at first you found it weird that he had a particularly high number of female friends, but you brushed it off due to his friendly nature.

you soon came to find out that this was all a mistake.

he was always adamant, ‘that girl was just trying to be friendly’, ‘i swear she’s a childhood friend, there’s no way she would have feelings for me.’

but you knew. you weren’t blind to the way these girls all looked at seunghan.

it was the same way you looked at him.

and he let them, often times even encouraging them and it caused you to go insane.

‘just drive and stop fucking talking,’ you could tell he wants to say more, but the look you give him gets him to shut up, and makes the drive back to your shared apartment relatively silent.

when you got back you practically flung open the front door, kicking off your shoes and heading to your kitchen to pull out a drink.

‘you shouldn’t drink when you’re mad,’ seunghan stood by the enterance, your shoes in his hand as he watches you.

‘maybe you should stop making me mad then,’ you retorted back, ditching the shot glass and raising the tequila bottle to your lips.

it burnt as it slid down your throat, but did nothing to quell the pit of fire in your chest, furious at your boyfriend.

‘that’s enough,’ you didn’t even notice when he was by your side, as he snatched the bottle from your hand, screwing the cap back on and placing it on top of the cupboards, out of reach.

‘give it back,’ you sounded like a spoilt child, folding your arms.

‘no turning to drinking when you’re upset. we’ve talked about this.’

the tone of his voice did something to rile you up as you stepped closer to him.

‘don’t talk to me like i’m a child,’ you poked his chest, knowing how much it annoyed it.

‘it’s getting kind of frustrating watching you blow up over nothing and taking it out on me,’ he spoke to gritted teeth and you scoffed.

‘nothing? so that girl didn’t try to slide you her number with the bill.’

he was silent, trying to come up with a rebuttal but you didn’t let him.

‘honestly i’m getting sick of seeing you let girl after girl do whatever they want with you. what kind of boyfriend are you?’

‘the kind that puts up with you. nobody on this planet would be able to put up with your bratty attitude,’ your face fell at his harsh words and he could tell he struck a nerve.

‘you know i didn’t mean that babe i’m sorry. i just wanted us to enjoy our anniversary and not fight,’ he felt bad watching you sniffle as you blinked back some tears.

‘i hate when you say stuff like that,’ you mumbled, playing with your fingers.

in an instance his arms were around you, and he bent down to place a kiss on your lips.

‘my sweet girl, forgive me?’

it was hard to say no when he said it like that, when his eyes bore into yours, his palm massaging the flesh of your hips.

you nodded, still honestly not over it, but you figured there would be no point in arguing about it tonight.

‘good girl. let me fuck that attitude out of you.’

you believed that those moments when you were under seunghan, his arms either side of your head, chain dangling over your face, were when your chemistry shone the most.

he would whisper sweet nothings, about how your pussy belonged to no one else but him, about how good you were taking him.

‘look at you angel. such a good fucking girl,’ he enunciated each word with thrusts, your whines only egging him on.

‘eyes. open,’ he would demand.

he told you that looking into your eyes, watching as you struggled to keep them open, how you could barely look at him as your mouth fell open was a sight he wanted to remember forever.

eye contact during sex was a big thing for him and was always enough to finally send him over the edge, hugging you close into his chest as he filled you up.

eventually you would forget about whatever argument you might have been having, letting him trace shapes on your bare shoulder, kissing every single mark on your body.

‘just fight the feeling, it’s all we do. Inside it’s killing me, baby.’

‘it happened again?’ yunjin asked, and you cowered under her sharp gaze, nodding.

‘i told you that boy was bad news bestie. constantly surrounded by women, you can’t think that was all a coincidence.

your best friend, yunjin, was not the biggest fan of your relationship.

she was there for the many nights you would break down in her arms, body shaking as you sobbed about how inadequate and unnatractive you felt.

she was always on the other end of the phone as you rambled on about the girls that would constantly throw themselves at your boyfriend, and moreover how he did virtually nothing to stop them.

‘girl..’ yunjin’s voice trailed off and you knew what she was going to say.

‘i’m not doing it yunjin. i can’t break up with him,’ you protested, violently shaking your head.

sure seunghan sometimes made you want to stick his head in a blender.

but he was yours, and you were his, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

these were the conflicting emotions that you both felt towards each other.

there was the want to fight your feelings, the mention of breaking up not foreign in your most heated arguments, but it would truthfully kill you both inside.

other people thought they were crazy, friends and family finding it hard to comprehend why they were both holding on to a relationship that caused so much pain, but you just couldn’t help yourselves.

‘yunjin is not your biggest fan right now,’ you teased seunghan later as you both sat at the table eating dinner, chatting about each others day.

‘i wish you would stop involving your friends in our problems,’ irritation was clear in his tone and you were suddenly in a not so playful mood.

your smile dropped and a scowl settled onto your face.

‘seriously hannie, i’m allowed to talk to my friends about my feelings. the same way you told sungchan when my whining was becoming too much for you,’ you were bringing up old situations, but your point still stood.

‘dont bring that up. i apologised for that already,’ he sighed, spoon now abandoned as he sat back.

‘all i’m doing is highlighting your hypocrisy,’ you always had something to say, always had to have the last say and seunghan was growing tired of it.

‘sure, forget i even said anything. are you done?’ he stood up, changing the topic as he planned to escape to the kitchen, using washing the dishes as an excuse.

‘walking away because you know you’re in the wrong. sounds like some shit you would do,’ he paused in his tracks placing the plates down on the counter top.

‘it’s always one thing or the other with you. if it’s not a girl, it’s my actions,’ he mumbled, but of course you still heard him.

‘maybe if you stopped doing things that would make me upset then we would not be having these issues.’

‘here we go. is it my fault that your ex cheated on you, why do i have to shoulder all of your frustrations,’ his voice rose a little, something he only did when he was really mad, but he had managed to really piss you off.

‘fuck you hong seunghan,’ you stormed off into your shared bedroom, slamming the door and only reopening it to throw out a pillow and some blankets.

‘i don’t think i’ll be able to sleep next to you without strangling you. take the couch,’ and then the door was shut again.

in the recent year, he had become accustomed to finding refuge on their couch, seeing as you were kicking him out of your room more and more.

he was past the phase of shouting at you to stop being ridiculous, or standing outside of the door demanding to be let back in.

there was just no point.

so he continued what he was doing, washing plates, wiping the stove clean, re arranging the glass cups.

he grabbed a granola bar and some juice from the fridge before settling on the couch, turning on the tv, flicking through channels for something to watch.

this lasted for about three days, neither of you speaking to the other.

he would leave breakfast out for you before going his own way, folding your laundry and leaving it outside the door.

you would make sure to make dinner when you got home first, both of you on opposite sides of the couch as you ate in silence.

you would notice him struggling to moisturise his back and be behind him in no time, reaching the spots he couldn’t.

all of these things were done without any words, and only worked because you knew each other so well.

six years being in a relationship, seunghan knew your body language like the back of his hand, and the same was said for you.

if you let out a little huff whilst trying to reach a bowl from the top shelf you would instantly see the extra arm extending above your head to help you.

after a meal you would rub small circles on your stomach and he would already be in the kitchen, water boiling as he got out the bags for your green tea.

when it got to saturday, one of the only days in the week where you would both be in the house, you realised how much you missed him.

the birds were chirping, the gentle lull of the music playing from your speaker as you leaned on the counter, tapping your foot as you waited for the hot water.

seunghan comes up behind you, head resting on your shoulder as his arms come around your waist.

you stay in this embrace, taking in each others air as you swayed from side to side in a soft rhythm.

it was moments like this, something so domestic , no words needed, just pure displays of affection.

he would kiss the top of your head, lifting you to sit on the top of their counter top as he picked up where you left off.

you watched your boyfriend with adoration in your eyes as he reached for your favourite mug, making tea just the way you like it.

‘it’s hot,’ he warned you as he saw how eager you were to bring the cup up to your lips.

‘so are you,’ you joked, really just missing the sound of his voice.

all feelings of disdain melted away once you heard the sound of his deep, hearty laugh, and the way his eyes would dissapear as he smiled widely.

gesturing for him to come closer, you waited till he was in between your legs, hands on your thighs, before you latched your arms around his neck.

he gave you a quick peck on the lips, just missing the feeling of your skin under his fingertips.

‘i love you,’ you mumbled, heart thumping as he his hands now come around your bare waist.

‘i love you too, my angel.’

and just like that it would feel like you were both on cloud nine, spending the entire day by each others side.

you would watch different rom coms, making fun of the dumb female lead and the cringy male lead, seunghan sometimes trying to imitate them.

you throw your head back in laughter, clutching at his hoodie sleeve to get him to stop, gasping for air.

when you told him you were craving pasta he was quick to jump to his feet.

‘chef seunghan to the rescue,’ he grinned as he scurried to the kitchen, making a big show out of everything.

you got your phone out, recording every step as he would exaggerate the way he cut up his ingredients, or go on about his imaginary culinary expertise.

‘you know this all reminds me of the summer of ‘07. most of our chefs had retired for the night and i was supposed to follow,’ he had began his ministrations.

‘ but then, a lovely old italian couple comes bursting through the door. i need the greatest pasta one could ever taste he basically demanded.’

‘the only experience i had back then was the ratatouille movie but you know what, i had faith from the crew i would deliver. and deliver i did.’

you could no longer contain your giggles, bursting into hysterical laughter as you practically rolled around on the floor.

‘haters ‘gon hate. you wish you were as amazing as me,’ he flicked his imaginary hair over his shoulder.

‘it smells like the pesto is burning, chef seunghan.’

‘oh shit.’

telling you his fake stories had taken away all of his attention, and he soon forgot about what he had originally set out to do.

so even though the sauce was charred, you still ate with gusto. all because seunghan had made it.

‘can i just say you would make an excellent housewife. look at you washing those dishes,’ you said, a teasing glint in your eye.

seunghan gasped, before splashing water in your direction, the sound of your squeals like music to his ears as you tried to shield yourself.

‘stop, i’m sorry. fine you win, no malewife for me,’ you push him away, saying the last part as if you were actually mad.

you both often joked about seunghan’s passion for cooking and cleaning being the perfect formula for a traditional wife.

you would tease him about retiring him so he would sit at home looking pretty as he cared for your kids.

his eyes narrow, a hand snaking around your waist as he tugs into his chest.

you press yourself closer to him, his scent now in your orbit as you nuzzle into his sweatshirt, enjoying his scent.

‘this is nice, i wish we could stay like this forever,’ he murmurs, heart fluttering as he pressed a kiss on the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you just a little tighter.

‘come sleep with me tonight?’ you lifted your head from his chest to ask and he grinned, kissing you again.

‘i want to kiss you. properly,’ seunghan confessed.

"then why won't you?"

"the problem is..," he leaned in as he spoke to you.

"if i kissed you i don't think i'd be able to stop."

"who said i wanted you to?"

he paused and beamed at you, and then he smothered you in kisses.

on the mouth, your cheeks, neck, telling you over and over again that he loved you as you laughed and clutched him.

every time he said it, you felt the words wrap fill her up.

they wrapped themselves around you, providing comfort, making you feel safe and cherished, pushing out any doubt.

he said it like he meant it.

he said it as if it was common knowledge, a fact that had been proven by scientists before.

seunghan loved you.

and you loved him back.

just two souls full of love, unable to depart from each other.

but as was always said, there was a thin line between love and hate.

you had only lasted two weeks before your next explosive argument.

‘but then i remember that you got a temper and i got no filter.’

‘you’re blowing this out of proportion,’ seunghan calls after you as you find yourself once again angry in your house.

what should have been a fun night for the both of you had quickly turned into grounds for yet another argument.

‘blowing what out of proportion? did she or did she not kiss you?’ your nostrils flared and your head felt hot.

anger surged through your veins and you couldn’t control your temper.

‘would you just listen to me. you know i would never do that to you, it just-‘

‘do i want to hear yet another excuse from you hannie? it’s always poor me i had no idea that the attractive girl i’m flirting with would take it the wrong way,’ you cut him off, a trait of yours he didn’t like.

‘i was not flirting. honestly can we act like adults. please,’ he pleads, but it only makes you want to be more childish.

‘i should say the same thing mr i couldn’t say no to her.’

‘here we go again,’ he massaged his temples, the stress starting to weigh on him.

‘yes here we go again. is setting boundaries so fucking hard for you.’

‘language,’ he speaks curtly, reminding you of how much he hated when you used harsh language against him.

‘don’t tell me how to speak. answer my fucking questions hong seunghan.’

‘i did set boundaries what do you mean? i very clearly pushed her away and told her to never try that again,’ he was exasperated, unable to understand how someone else’s wrongdoing was his fault.

‘great fucking job. setting the boundary after she already tried to stick her tongue down your throat,’ your tone was dripping with sarcasm, and you even started slow clapping.

‘be honest, you wanted to fuck her didn’t you?’

‘for god’s sake. can you stop,’ he was reaching breaking point, exhibiting great restraint so that he didn’t say anything he would regret.

‘that’s what this is about, isn’t it? you must have been having a field day, she was even wearing a cute little red dress, your favourite colour,’ you went on, your insecurities catching up to you once again.

when things like this occurred it served as a constant reminder that your boyfriend was attractive and that many girls would be willing to be in your place.

your track record with guys was not the best, one cheating on you with a close friend, the other a cousin.

you had a long history of being let down and heartbroken by men.

there was always a nagging voice in your mind that it was only a matter of time before seunghan followed suit.

‘i can’t do this anymore,’ he ran his hand through his hair, his body leaning on the kitchen counter.

‘ah so you can go back to minjeong. please don’t let me stop you from achieving your fantasies,’ you picked up your bag, searching for your own car keys, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see the hot tears streaming down your face.

‘here you go, running away from your problems instead of facing them. we can’t keep doing this you know.’

‘then maybe we shouldn’t anymore ,’ your words shocked him and he froze on the spot.

‘find a girl who isn’t as shitty and insecure as me, and maybe i might find one man that doesn’t feel like cheating on me,’ you chuckled bitterly, looking like a mad woman with one shoe on, the other in hand.

his chest was heaving at this point, his ears red hot as he waited for your next move.

‘do you really mean it,’ he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes started getting glossy.

shrugging you slipped the second shoe on and grabbed your jacket, leaving an emotional seunghan behind.

‘so we’re like a sandstorm, when we get to blows.’

this was the nature of your arguments.

like a sandstorm they were intense, and volatile, like the blowing winds of conflict that brought about the chaos and the inability to find solace or resolution in each others actions.

emotional turbulence consumed both parties as they clashed.

they carried the pain of failed attempts to reconcile, living with the consequences that arose from playing with the dynamics of their volatile relationship.

underneath all of the bravado and spiteful words, lay a desire to maintain composure and restore harmony in the relationship.

as much as it didn’t seem like it, you hated it when you fought.

but there was great difficulty in achieving peace, your arguments normally escalating quickly and dangerously, leaning wreckage in your wake.

only this time you weren’t sure your relationship would stand the test of time.

deciding it was best to hear the opinions of someone you trusted, you headed towards a bar that you frequented, looking for its owner, your close friend.

‘it’s not normal to fight this much,’ shotaro, your greatest confidant let you know, patting the top of your hand.

you knew that. that the amount of times you would have your disputes, seunghan with his temper and you without a filter, it wasn’t healthy.

it was beginning to become a cycle, a few days of peace before the storm would come and shake the both of you up.

‘what do i do,’ you sighed, exhausted and hurt.

‘you know what you need to do.’

with shotaro’s words buried at the forefront of your heart, you returned back to your home.

the lights were off, the glow from the television screen illuminating your boyfriends eyes.

you both looked at one another, at the same stage of fatigue as you shrugged your coat off and found refuge in each other.

not another word was said that night, but the silence filled in for their lack of conversation.

and you spent the next two weeks like this.

hollow, lifeless versions of yourselves.

whenever a problem would arise he could see you using all of your strength to hold your tongue, turning the other way.

intimacy just wasn’t the same anymore, the both of you seemingly having a lot to think about.

there was no more laughter, or joking around with each other.

the light drained from your eyes, and you had to wonder if this was what life was meant to be like.

so tired of fighting that you lose your voices, instead trying to pretend like everything is alright.

you started to leave the house more, needing an escape from this prison that had been created in the place you used to call home.

seunghan would often have to come and pick you up, you letting out all your grievances by drowning your sorrows in alcohol, like you always did.

his arms would wrap around your waist, guiding you into your bedroom.

he would patiently hold your hair back as you emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

he would sit on the edge of the bathtub, using one hand to hold you up as you soaked in the bubble bath.

when he would dry you up, sleep fast approaching your spent body, you would mumble some words.

it would always be about him; ‘i hate the way she looked at you, ‘i wish you didn’t go and meet up with her yesterday i know she likes you.’

but the words uttered from your mouth last night made him freeze, a chill running down his spine as his worst fear came true.

‘i don’t think i know how to love you anymore.’

it was obvious that neither of you were happy, but as selfish as it was, seunghan couldn’t imagine a life without you.

he met you at the start of adulthood, and now that he was nearing the end of his twenties, he couldn't see himself trying again with anyone else.

so he acted like you hadn’t said anything, the dull ache in his chest starting to become a part of him.

but try as he might, he just couldn’t forget it.

they said that drink words were sober thoughts, that the possibility that you didn’t mean it was low.

even at work now, it circulated in his mind, occupying every crevice of his brain.

head in his hands, he struggled to focus on the presentation due in a couple of hours, his screen stuck on the same page.

he felt his phone buzz, and in his dream like state, he viewed the message.

we need to talk. come home my love.

he leapt out of his seat, listing off some type of excuse for why he had to leave the office early as he practically sprinted down the company stairs and to the car park.

he was sure he had ran a couple of lights but he didn’t care.

his heart was thumping, chewing on his lip as the worst case scenario continued to play in his head.

when he entered your home, making his way to the living room he saw you in a similar state.

‘why were there so many suitcases?’ bile rose to his throat and he almost wanted to turn away, avoid the inevitable.

as he stood planted in his spot, you lifted your head.

offering him a weak smile, he could see how red your eyes were, your nose a similar shade and his stomach turned violently.

‘i’ll do better. i promise baby please,’ in an instant he was at your feet, clutching you like he was scared you would dissapear.

‘seunghan-‘

‘i know, you must have been so frustrated. it can’t have been easy, i just need to- i need to be better, i’ll do whatever you want,’ tears were starting to fall, splashing onto your jeans.

‘i love you, i love you so much. loving you is the only thing i need.’

biting your lip to prevent yourself from crying too, you lifted his head from your leg.

as hard as it was, you knew that the both of you couldn’t continue on like this.

‘take a piece of my love, we’ve been through enough stuff, probably need to grow up and away.’

‘my sweet boy,’ you used your thumb to swipe his tears, an intense amount of adoration and tenderness displayed on your features.

the tone of your voice, how soft it was as you cupped his face in your hand, it only made him more devastated.

‘these mirrors know our secrets. they’ve witnessed our wild, our highs spent riding the wind. and they watched as all the storms started circling our dunes. if they could speak, their voices just might crack and shake and shatter the glass into fragments.’

‘we’ve been through enough stuff, now we need to grow up and away,’ your shoulders dropped in resignation, struggling to let out what you wanted to say.

‘we can’t try one more time?’ he was defeated, desperate for a lifeline, something that would convince you to stay.

‘i don’t like the people we’re becoming,’ you whispered.

‘i was scared. that one day the hatred would overpower my love for you. that one day you’ll no longer make my heart swell, but burn with rage.’

it hurt, because they both knew it was true.

it was glaringly obvious that there was a need for the both of them to move forward, away from their now toxic situation and find peace.

they had both been through enough turmoil and the sentiment that it was time for the both of them to separate for their own sakes was shared.

‘i want to protect the love that we shared. i don’t want all of those fond memories to go to waste,’ you caressed his face, soaking him all on as if it would be the last time to do.

seunghan, although anguished, knew that what she was saying was right.

six years of being together, he didn’t want those good years to be marred by bitterness, to be trampled over.

‘i love you hong seunghan, enough to let you go.’

‘i love you, more than you would ever comprehend,’ till their final moments he was sure she still wouldn’t.

so even though it tore his heart into pieces, he let the love of his life press one last kiss on his cheek, before leaving, not one look back.

even though you didn’t make it to the end of his story, he will always have the corner folded down on your pages, because it was his favourite.

[agentmarvel]

Hello hello!! I am so excited about your challenge (literally been thinking about what prompt I could do for dayyyyys now🤭)

Could I please do angst 💔 to fluff 🩷 (if I can’t do two I’m sorry, I’ll stick to fluff 🩷 pls), with my main squeeze Johnny "Soap" MacTavish 🧼, annnnnnd the buzz words being American reader, secret relationship, “stay away from her”

Thank you🤍🤍

thank you so much for requesting! 🥰 i'm so excited to FINALLY get one for soap! this ended up being WAAAAAAY longer than i intended, almost 2k.

johnny "soap" mactavish x fem!reader

cw: graves being gross

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

Heartbreak is a special kind of beast, the Mr. Hyde to falling in love’s Dr. Jekyll. No matter how tough you think you are, how thick or calloused your skin may be, it tears its way out, rearing its ugly head with a thunderous roar that commands you to feed it. The gluttonous craving is grief. It gnaws at your bones with a bloodied maw, snarling as it downs your tears by the gallon, and there’s no proven way to set yourself free. It will sneak back up on you when you least expect it.

That gaping wound in your chest has sat hollow since you ended things with Johnny, or as you know him now, simply Sergeant MacTavish. It wasn’t pleasant, you didn’t want this, but he was too keen on keeping you a secret. He expressly forbade you from telling even your closest friends about your relationship for over three years for a slew of reasons that just became muddier over the months.

Each time you reached your limit, he’d beg you to raise your ceiling built of tolerance and patience. He swore up and down that it wouldn’t be like this forever, that someday, he’d put a ring on your finger, and you’d both be able to display your love to the entire world. But his rationale got weaker and weaker as the hourglass began to run out, and it crushed you into those final grains of sand, trickling through the tiny gap into a vicious pit of loneliness.

“You good?” A voice comes from over your shoulder, and you glance back. Commander Graves, your direct supervisor, is stationed behind you, a look of concern painted across his face.

You nod, albeit meekly, unable to trust your voice after hearing the call from General Shepherd. Shadows have been called in as air support for Task Force 141 in Mexico, and you haven’t seen Johnny - no, MacTavish - since the break-up. Oxygen catches in your chest, awaiting any sort of spark that will light the fuse on your dynamite tongue, and that’s not a conversation you really want to have with Graves.

“You know you don’t have to lie to me, right?” he says softly, putting a hand on your shoulder. You resist the urge to shrug it off, instead nodding again. “Listen, I know you’re still pretty new to my team, but you’re still part of my team. If something is going on, if something about this mission has you freaked out, you need to tell me. Can’t fix it if you won’t let me in.”

You smile, forced and small.

“I know, sir. I’m good, I promise. Just… Tired.”

He eyes you warily. The disbelief is evident, but he doesn’t press you on it. He merely offers a few oddly sincere pats on your shoulder and walks away. You let out a sigh, and focus in on your screen, a distraction to pass time until you touch down in Las Almas. 

It works almost too well. Seemingly, you’ve only blinked before you’re back in the air after gear checks, restocks, and a fuel top-off. Through the comms, you can hear Graves trying to make contact with the 141. You dread the moment you hear MacTavish’s voice again, but it crackles to life in your ear before you can truly brace yourself for it.

He sounds worn and tired, and a pang of guilt spears you in the gut for thinking he deserves it just a little. Some days, you hope he’s still hurting. You hope he’s felt even a fraction of the pain you have.

But those thoughts have no place in your line of work, not while you’re trying to help him stay alive. So your brain shuts off, autopilot kicks on, and you work as a cog in a well-oiled machine until the job is done.

*

Shadows always party after a win, no matter how small it may be. Despite having to release Hassan and it being well after midnight, the drinks came quickly at Fuerza Especiales headquarters.

You, however, couldn’t quite get into the partying mood. The inevitability of seeing him again filled your stomach with rocks, weighing you down. You mask the weight well, though. It’s not unusual for you to stick to the edge of the group; polite smiles, meaningless small talk, and high fives leaving your teammates none the wiser.

The moment you see Graves scanning the crowd of Shadows and Vaqueros, both parties equally rowdy, your heart drops. If he’s here, you know they won’t be far behind. It’s too much; you’re not ready for this. You’re not ready to be in the same city as him, much less the same room. Anxiety grips you at the thought of him even seeing you. You don’t know how he’ll react. What he’ll say, what he’ll do… You used to think his unpredictability was one of the best things about him. Now, you’re not so sure.

Graves beelines for you the second he spots you. You can see the bundles parting to accommodate his passing through. As much as your brain wills you to move, finish your drink and take off to grab another, you seem to be rooted in place. Your feet won’t move, and you silently curse them, not exactly up for a chat.

“Hey, you,” your commander hums, sidling up in front of you. “Glad to see you stuck around.”

“Was just about to leave, actually,” you answer plainly, staring down at the honeyed whiskey in your glass. He nudges you with the toe of his boot until you look up.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t.” It’s an attempt to sound earnest, but it comes off as more condescending than anything. “I was hoping we’d have some time to get to know each other a little better. You’re still pretty new, and I like to know my soldiers pretty intimately.”

You open your mouth to respond, off-put but polite, but words seem to elude you as you catch sight of a familiar mohawk. Even from this distance, you can still see just how blue his eyes are. You can still make out the Scottish brogue as he laughs with the man in the skull mask - Ghost, Simon, right?

It hurts. Every bone, muscle, vessel, nerve screams. Seeing him again, knowing he’s just out of reach and you have to stand your ground. No matter how much your being craves him - mind, body, and soul - you can’t. You just can’t. Your throat goes dry, heart racing, eyes welling up. And when he looks your way, looks you right in the eye, you crack. 

“Mind tellin’ me what’s got you so distracted, Shadow?” Graves asks softly, hand finding your shoulder again, like before. You shake your head, teary eyed, unwilling to look away from MacTavish as he makes his way towards you. “C’mon, darlin’, somethin’s gotta give.”

“I’m sorry, sir - “

“Phil. Just call me Phil, okay?”

You sigh, wiping the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Okay, I… I’m sorry, Phil. I can’t really talk about it.”

“Business or personal?”

“Personal, sir. It’s complicated.”

He takes hold of your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a gentle warning to look at him. You struggle with it, but you relent, hoping that maybe you’re just hallucinating.

“Relationship troubles?”

You hesitate.

“No… I mean, yes, but no. Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“So, you’re not seein’ anyone?”

He pauses for a moment, the look in his eye shifting from something sincere and worried to something unnervingly predatory. A faint glimmer of that sincerity remains, and that’s all it takes to tell you it’s all been a charade. It’s not about welcoming you to his team or bonding. He’s trying to fuck you.

“No, I’m not, but - ”

“Then how about we take some time when we get home, clear those thoughts outta your pretty little brain, and we’ll make some memories to replace him.”

You recoil, taking a step back in the implication. It’s disgusting, to say the least. But you don’t get the chance to answer for yourself.

“Like fuckin’ hell ye will,” MacTavish barks, fighting tooth and nail to get through a stone wall in the form of Ghost and Alejandro. “Ye better stay the fuck away from her, Graves. Only gonna warn ye once.”

“Soap, I was wonderin’ when you were gonna try to swoop in and snatch her up. You can smell a pretty girl from a mile away, can’t ya? Too bad I beat you to it. Don’t pay him no mind, sweetheart; thinks he’s irresistible.”

“I swear tae God, Graves, ye better get yer bloody fuckin’ hands offa her. I’ll - Ghost, fuckin’ move!” He’s still struggling, Ghost’s brick shithouse body being the only thing in his way.

Graves raises an eyebrow, never looking away from you.

“Wait, you know him, don’t you?” You don’t answer straight away. “Is good ol’ Johnny what makes things complicated?”

Again, MacTavish butts in.

“Nothin’ complicated about it, ye fuckin’ bawbag. S’my fuckin’ wife!”

Everything stops. Graves goes quiet, Ghost’s stock-still, and you can’t hear the chatter around you anymore. You look at Johnny, wide-eyed and wired. He’s staring right at you with those bright blue eyes, a pleading expression on his beautiful face. You swallow hard.

“John,” you breathe, blinking back more tears.

“Don’t,” he warns, side-stepping the shellshocked Simon. “Dinnae say it. I love ye, and I ken ye still love me. No point in wastin’ yer time on a lavvy heid like Graves. I won’t keep secrets anymore, bonnie. Lemme show ye I’ll be better for ye.”

Graves looks between the two of you briefly before leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“When you two are done with whatever this is, come find me. I’ll make ya feel better.”

He chucks you under the chin with a click of his tongue before losing himself in the throngs. You didn’t even get the opportunity to tell him to go fuck himself.

Johnny is on you in a split second, inches away with your face cradled in his palms. He wholly consumes all of your senses, blocking out the rest of the world with the breadth of his shoulders, the smell of his aftershave. You’re frozen in place, trails of tears dripping off your cheeks.

“Can we please talk privately?” he asks softly. “Away from all this. Just us. I need ye tae hear me out, and ‘m not above beggin’, bon. Meant what I said; I love ye. Just wanna talk, okay? Please?”

You sigh. The options hold equal weight. But a soft swipe of his thumb across your cheek decides for you.

“Okay,” you whisper, nearly inaudible above the echoing din. He raises an eyebrow. You nod. “Yeah, okay. Can we just… step outside?”

“Ye got a bunk on base for the night? Let’s go grab yer things and talk there, yeah?”

“John, I can’t just leave. I still have a job to do.”

“Nah, yer done with this shite.” He shakes his head resolutely, moving to wrap both of his hands around one of yours. “I’ll call Shepherd myself if I have tae, tell ‘im yer takin’ immediate leave for an emergency. Not lettin’ ye get away again, bonnie. I ken I fucked it up, and I’ll spend the rest of my life makin’ it up tae ye.”

pick your prompt here! 💌

[the-bar-sinister]

Fanfiction | Self Ship | Whump

Frequent tags:

Selfship

Villain f/o

whump prompts

blog updates

friend mail

villain posting

drabble

fanfiction

Archive of our Own account

👉 he/they | queer | married | adult | elder millennial

👉 plural | fictionkin (serious/spiritual) 

👉 Muti shipper | Poly shipper

No DNI we block at will 🫡

Please do not send us asks about babies, pregnancy, or raising children.

Source fandoms: Resident Evil, One Piece, Metal Gear, Marvel Comics, Persona games, Slayers anime, GTA V, Great/Ace Attorney, Homestuck, Danganronpa, Fire Emblem Three Houses, Urusei Yatsura, Digimon, Girls Frontline, Steven Universe, Pathologic, Jem & The Holograms, Peter Pan, Welcome to Demon School, Disgaea, Sherlock Holmes media

non-source fandoms: Invader Zim, ABC’s Lost, Twin Peaks, Silent Hill, Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Vampire Chronicles (books), Doctor Who Labyrinth, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Final Fantasy (4-9), Pokemon, Black Lagoon, Miami Vice, Bioshock, Bioshock Infinite, Prey 2017, Dishonored, Call of Duty, Red Dead Redemption, Frankenstein, the Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Gargoyles, Fallout New Vegas

Favorite genres: horror, mystery, thriller, noir, crime fiction, psychological thriller, supernatural horror, sci fi horror, gothic lit

Shipping, plurality and squick explanations under the cut.

Our ships: We are a polyshipper and a multishipper. We ship multiple characters together in the same context, in the same relationship, in the same fics etc.

A "ship" for us does not equal in OTP or an ideal relationship. We use the word "ship" to denote any romantic or sexual relationship between two characters, even when that relationship is unhealthy, toxic, twisted, and bad for one or both participants. Ships are a narrative tool, not something aspirational. 

Plurality: We are a plural system– many people living together in one body. We have been plural since we were children, and we have been blogging about our plurality for 15+ years.

Please do  not use psychiatric or pathologizing terminology for our plurality. We do not refer to ourselves with terms like DID, alter, or introject, and our system members do not have defined roles.

Our preferred terminology is: plural, system member, and fictive.

System members tend to sign or tag posts and refer to one another with a two emoji 'signature' rather than a name. Unsigned posts are understood to be a product of multiple members or a joint consensus. 

squicks / tropes we prefer to avoid

non-con of any kind (but especially underage non-con and non-con incest) 

pregnancy & babies (especially as the joyful and expected result of a romantic hetero-presenting relationship)

nonbinary or trans characters deciding it's better for them to perform their assigned gender at birth

Characters submitting to the will of a lawful aligned god.

Parental control and discipline being shown as narratively positive and correct 

characters giving up their careers and aspirations and 'settling down' when they fall in love

prophecies that are unavoidable and/or narratively depicted as inherently good and just

characters following the life-path set out for them by their parents/following in their parents footsteps

filial duty and filial piety in general

pretty much anything to do with traditional family structures, gender roles, and lawful aligned religion, honestly

wing whump / characters having their monstrous or inhuman traits harmed

monstrous or inhuman characters becoming human (especially when presented as positive)

soul destruction / soul death

characters being metaphysically kept apart for all time

any kind of 'conversion therapy' or metaphorical conversion therapy (especially being portrayed as positive)

We are: 

non-christian | magical practitioner | chaotic neutral

polyamorous  | largely aplatonic

trauma survivor | abuse survivor

Weird | Freakish | Monstrous

[h7jfangirl]

TGS UPTADE 🎩✨

Ten years... Ten fucking years happend after tgs first page

After all this time, at least for a momento we were thinking about how the 'first revelation' moment would be, who would be the first person to discorve Dr Henry Jekyll's darkest secret? The real truth beahind Mr Hyde?

We though about Laynon, because he is the main love interest of the story and also a protagonist himself

We though about Rachel because she cares so much about Mr Hyde

We though about Jasper because he may understand Henry's situation

And we though about Frankestein

And today, Monday 12, 2024. We finally have the anwser

She really said 'New grandson unlocked'

Victoria Frankestein, was the one who had the honor to be the first person to know about Dr Jekyll's secret, a secret he is been keeping inside for two whole years, a secret so delicate that could destroy his life in the wrong hands...

But Frankestein isn't the wrong person, maybe not the best netheir but not the worse

And this is how the chapter ends, and by Sage's words we can tell we are getting closer to the CLIMAX of the whole story.

If we think about it, in this moment she dosen't have any idea of who Mr Hyde is. For her, Henry just suddenly transfromed into a blonde with green eyes

She could think anything right now! Here some ideas

Frankestein would think that Edward is the real scientist/person and Henry's identity it's his experiment, something that Hyde may like it a little too much...

Frankestein thinks that Henry made a experiment to change the body's looks and she is fascisnated with it because it's perfectly done

Frankestein understands that Henry is Hyde but thinks he did this to himself just to impress her, and she would feel proud for turning Jekyll in the 'right path' of the mad scientist

Or maybe she dosen't even think that's actually Henry but that she found some kind of random creature that take's others indentitys

Whatever she though on that moment, it will not go anywhere because Creature is right there, and they met Hyde before

Creature will explain who Mr Hyde is to Frankestein, so that's the moment when she will realise that Henry it's not the man she belive he was (Maybe she will apologise for her behaviour towards him) or idk, this looks like the start of their official 'redemption arc' in their relationship, where both characters finally can understand each other in a real way

Think about it, Henry will not have to pretend being 'the perfect doctor' that he thinks he needs to be with everyone, something that Frankestein hated of him even before he could even talk to her. Now, Henry may have someone that can understand him completely and knows whats the real hell is been through all this time, that remenber, he is been going through this all by himself without anyone to actually talk to.

Think on a more positive light, it would be sweet to see Frankie treating Jekyll and Hyde nice like she does with the logders, or mostly Hyde (Not hating Jekyll really, Hyde is just happend to be her favorite) and the rest of the society seeing it like;

The logders: oh, They are getting along now!

Robert: oh no, they are getting along now

But well, whatever that happens I just hope THIS IS GONNA BE AMAZING AAAAA

Okay, good bye now! (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

[magiefish]

Something I've kind of noticed about a lot of the academic scholarship I've read about Frankenstein / Dracula / Jekyll & Hyde is that everyone just seems to completely dismiss/ignore the characters as actual characters most of the time unless they're the Main Guys. Like, they'll go really in depth about Victor or the Creature's motivations and backstory and spend ages talking about Jekyll's relationship to Hyde and stuff, but the second it comes to characters like Enfield and Elizabeth or Lanyon and Clerval or frankly the Entire Rest of the Cast of Dracula, they just immediately seem uninterested. They'll just sort of vaguely gesture in their direction and go 'Oh yeah X and X thing happens to this character and here's a one sentence summary of their personality which doesn't really matter because this entire cast is interchangeable, anyway, onto the next theme' and half the time their One Sentence is just textually incorrect (looking at the New Woman/Traditional Woman descriptions of Lucy and Mina). And the reason I find this so baffling is because with other analysis I've read (e.g. Great Gatsby stuff) people seem to actually slow down and consider the characterisation and motivations of the cast as a whole with like. Nuance. Like they sit down and treat the characters as multifaceted and complex and having actual relationships with one another, and then you get to these books specifically and no one seems to care? Like they'll go really in depth with various interpretations and historical context for the Big Guys, and then never apply the same sort of examination to anyone else, and if they do, very rarely and probably only for one other character e.g. (Utterson or Mina).

If I had to posit an explanation, I would say its a combination of the archetypal nature of the title characters and the admittedly patchy writing of these books (which arguably lends to their archetypal status). I think academics kind of assume that the primary draw of these books are The Big Guys and the expansive themes and ideas they cover and that everyone else is just a pawn there to enable the narrative around the Big Guys, and the propensity for film adaptations to scrap or rewrite characters probably compounded this impression. And while I think this is at least partly true, the thing is, these characters were not always archetypal Big Guys. They originated in stories alongside *these* other characters *specifically* and it is worth asking what it is about the rest of the cast that makes the story interesting as well. Because, let's be real, if there was approximately no interest in the fucking *narrators* of Dracula, the best friends of Henry Jekyll, or the victims of the Creature, the original readers would have been completely bored out of their minds for most of these novels and public interest in them would not have been as great as it was. All of these novels were stories before they were myths, and academics should not be letting pop culture eclipse them unless they're specifically talking about the relationship between the two.

Overall, I just feel like academics are not only shooting themselves in the foot, but also doing a disservice to these stories by not bothering to investigate the other characters because frankly. It's lazy. It's lazy to dismiss an entire cast and basically skim read any sections involving them just because it's easy to focus on The One Guy. If you people really cared about themes, you'd understand that characters are inextricable from them. Like shit dude I see more care given to characters in essays about Greek tragedies, you guys are waaaay fucking behind

[echooefrost]

TGGTVAV x TGS AU!

Ok so Sage has always been talking about The Gentleman’s guide to Vice and Virtue and I finally got around to reading it and to say the least… I LOVED IT, every part of it! Whilst reading this fantastical tale, I just COULD NOT stop thinking of the Jekyon parallels to Monty and Percy… Just AGRGHHH they are all such big, lovable, queer Victorian idiots! Anyway If you couldn’t tell by the title of this post, I slam-dunked that book into my favorites pile and hastily made another AU. (also,,, SPOILERS! I am warning you. But what are you doing? Go read this book already!) 

In short I’ve basically taken The Characters from TGS and dumped them into the storyline/plot of TGGTVAV, In saying that neither Jekyll or Lanyon are strictly Percy or Monty, if that makes sense? I contemplated this over and over and I just couldn’t cram Jekyll or Lanyon’s characters into Monty or Percy’s. as an example; Lanyon’s personality is a lot more similar to Monty’s than Percy but Lanyon isn’t bisexual (a big aspect of Monty’s character) Yet at the same time both Lanyon and Percy play the Violin, both have dreamy freckles etc. But he just doesn’t fit into either of them, same goes with Jekyll; Jekyll and Monty both share similarities but are both very different, yet not different enough to take the role of Percy. So with all of that confusing explanation, Jekyll and Lanyon remain themselves with a few extra ~touches~: 

Jekyll is going to be sent to the mental asylum in Holland due to the existence of Hyde. Lanyon finds out about Hyde when he involuntarily transforms in Marseilles. 

Lanyon still plays the Violin and brings it on the Tour with him (for the reasons of plot accuracy and me pushing the Violin-Lanyon propaganda) 

Lanyon takes Monty’s position of power (as in his father is an Earl, and sends them on Tour) although Lanyon is rich, racism still very much exists and isn’t a terminated theme.

Before I continue and as a side note: Felicity Does not exist. As much as I wanted to work her into this, I just couldn’t without complicating a bunch of things, and as I said this is an Au, my au and I can do what I want - I do love Felicity but She just wasn’t going to work here.

Frankenstein (still a woman) takes the role of Mateu Robles because I thought it would be fun to play on the idea that Frankenstien created life and that Mateu’s panacea can heal people. After researching and experimenting, Frankestein tried the potion on Elizabeth but it stopped her heart, similar to how Frankenstein's original creation (the creature) ended up killing her love. I thought it would be interesting, that because Frankenstein kind of killed her wife, she created Helena and Dante the same way she made the creature, although they technically aren’t human, Helena and Dante still look and act like humans, and they believe Elizabeth equally as their mother as they do with Frankenstein. (Don’t ask me how a WLW relationship would work in the 1800’s ,,, everyone just thinks that Frankie is a guy {kind of like in TGS} ) 

Queen Lucy is Scipio because a.) We need more female badasses and b.) take ONE LOOK at her character design and Tell me she DOESN’T Look like a pirate queen- I also just think Lucy is a super fun character that I wanted to incorporate here. 

Those are about all the added things/changes - the rest basically just follows the same points of the plot :0 

If I’m completely honest, I probably won’t do much with this I just had an idea and wanted to share it :))

Here’s a little image of them - Also I gave them both slightly longer hair because I looked at fanart of Percy and fell in love. 

[nortism]

Nor's Les Mis Fic Recommendations

I've been scouring les mis ao3 for a few months now so here are my fav fics I've found. I've tried my best to tag tumblrs where I can but let me know if you are the author of any of these and I'll tag you!

Three Days (or The One Where Javert and Valjean Take a Road Trip Through France and Raise a Child) by zamwessel

Rating: E

Ships: Javert/Jean Valjean

Summary:

Javert calls what he thinks is Valjean's bluff about needing three days to find the child Cosette and intercede for her. The Inspector comes along for the ride -- and gets much more than he bargained for, in the process.

Notes: First Les Mis fic I ever read and its an absolute banger. It's pretty much exactly what it says on the tin and I'm a sucker for a kid fic so I absolutely adored it.

A Change of Bizarre Kind by M_Moonshade

Rating: E

Ships: Javert/Jean Valjean

Summary:

Six months ago, Doctor Henry Jekyll sought to escape the dramatics of London by coming to M-sur-M. Tonight his murderer pays a visit to the Mayor Madeline. (Being the Curious Case of Inspector Javert and Mister Hyde)

Notes: Criminally underrated. Jekyll and Hyde AU but I went in knowing very little about that book and I could understand what was going on. Each chapter contains bits from the past and present day until the timelines eventually add up which makes the main mystery all the more compelling. Also Fantine is alive and well which is always nice.

Our Souls Still in Fetters by Cinaed

Rating: E

Ships: Javert/Jean Valjean

Summary:

After Javert is assigned to discover a blackmailer within a public-house that caters to men who prefer other men, Valjean is unexpectedly drawn into the case. Together they must stop the blackmailer before any lives can be ruined...including their own.

Notes: This author has so many great Valvert fics but this one is probably my favourite. There's the classic "undercover as a couple" trope as well as old timey gay bars. Also a huge fan of how this author portrays Cosette and Valjean's relationship.

In Defiance of all Geometry by idiopathicsmile

Rating: T

Ships: Combeferre/Enjolras/Grantaire

Summary:

Amis House might not be the biggest student co-op, or the fanciest, but it's got something all its own. Specifically, smoke damage on the kitchen ceiling from that time Courfeyrac lit a political pamphlet on fire. In which there are secrets, pining, pancakes, and revelations, and sometimes the shortest distance between three points is not a triangle but a circle.

Notes: I love a good poly fic and this is one of the best. Also just a generally fun and wholesome friendship fic. Definitely a nice comforting read after all the old man angst I've got on here.

Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight) by Need_To_Comment_Rising (@aromantic-enjolras)

Rating: T

Ships: Courfeyrac/Enjolras, Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Its complicated)

Summary:

Enjolras takes a swig of his drink with everyone else, and then smirks at Courfeyrac over the rim of his glass. "You didn't seem to mind much me being bossy yesterday night when I had you in my bed..." At his side, Grantaire chokes on his drink and starts coughing. But how did we get here, you might ask? Well, let’s rewind. ------- Enjolras and Courfeyrac have had a friends with benefits arrangement for a while. But when Coureyrac starts dating Combeferre, Enjolras is left with the question of where he fits in the new status quo...

Notes: Another poly fic with aromantic!Enjolras. I love fics with unconventional relationship dynamics as well as people actually communciating with each other (though not before there's been some hijinks ofc). Criminally underrated.

How Marius (Painstakingly) Won the Hand of Mlle. Fauchelevent by writingsyrup (@syrupsyche)

Rating: G

Ships: Cosette/Marius

Summary:

When setting out to woo his beloved Cosette, Marius had never imagined that it would bring him to this: sitting at a dining table next to her grim-faced father, and staring at the marble that was Enjolras picking at his peas. Or; Enjolras and Cosette are siblings in 19th century France. Marius has to deal with the consequences of this.

Notes: Probably the best Marius characterisation I've ever read, he's just so awkward and weird bless him. I love a good awkward "meeting the parents" and this filled that hole in my heart. Is part of a wider series but can be read as a standalone.

Omnia mutantur, nihil interit by Apathy and saltedpin

Rating: M

Ships: Javert/Jean Valjean, Cosette/Marius Pontmercy

Summary:

Valjean's panting breath does not belong to him. He scrambles out of the bed and stumbles on too-light feet to the mirror in the corner, although he already knows what he will see. Peering back at him from behind a curtain of dark hair, wide-eyed, is Éponine Thénardier. Jean Valjean awakens one morning from uneasy dreams to find that something quite unexpected has happened during the night.

Notes: Cosette and Javert get bodyswapped and Marius is weirdly into it, if that's not enough to convince you to read this fic then idk how to help you. Not normally a huge body swap fan but this was absolutely hilarious as well as having some genuinely sweet moments. Also Theodule is there which means something to some people.

It's Not the Same Anymore by ShameDumpster (@shamedumpster)

Rating: T

Ships: Enjolras/Grantaire

Summary:

Grantaire is a bookstore clerk in his late twenties, and to everyone’s eternal disbelief, a father. It’s been years since he’s seen anyone from his former group of friends, after a falling out cleaved him from the ABC, but everything changes when Enjolras walks into his bookstore. Can they rekindle their friendship, or something more, while they both come to terms with how their lives have changed over the past decade?

Notes: SO SO GOODDD!! Top tier slowburn kid fic, I could wax poetic about it for days. Had me gripped from start to finish.

Acts of Mercy by cruisedirector and Dementordelta

Rating: M

Ships: Javert/Jean Valjean

Summary:

After witnessing and reporting a murder, Javert is dismissed from the police and takes a job protecting the women in a brothel, where many of his long-held ideas about justice are challenged.

Notes: Breaking, man from the 1800s finds out that life for women is hard. Such a solid redemption arc fic with some really memorable ocs.

Lynx's Claws and Wolf's Mane by Kaleran

Rating: T

Ships: None

Summary:

When he is older, when he is a prison guard, he thinks back to his childhood and realizes he had been considerably fortunate. "Prison is no place for a girl like you," his mother told him often, usually fussing with what rags they could use for clothing. "Forgive me for this, draga mea." And so, instead of a daughter, she pretended to have a son.

Notes: Completely canon compliant except Javert is trans and the impact that has on the story really adds an extra layer to his character that I find really compelling. Warning, it is very depressing bc canon.

[cliozaur]

When you run out of your canon-era fanfics, you start looking for AUs and crossovers. And it’s such an enormous topic to discuss! I would like to start with some recs (we're talking Valvert fanfics, of course). Some authors are just so good and creative when it comes to AUs.

A Change of a Bizarre Kind by M_Moonshade (set in MsM) – I will never shut up about it! It’s a crossover of Les Mis and Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It’s written amazingly well and has a non-linear narrative. Javert fighting for control and losing it is breathtaking. One of my favourite fanfic Javerts! Caring and overprotective Valjean is what most of us love. Fantine survives and is the only reasonable person around those two. And they have adventures! Dr. Jekyll is, of course, a perfect villain! One of my favourite Valvert fanfics.

What Sort of Devil also by M_Moonshade (set in Paris). This time Valjean is a vampire, self-sacrificing and caring. Javert is exercising and excelling in self-deception. They have even more adventures, and this time Thénardier is the villain. The author’s style is, as always, excellent, and the author’s comments are hilarious.

The next three fics took me time to dare to read. AUs and descriptions can make you dumbstruck, but they turned out to be excellent pieces: well-written, thoroughly thought out. The AUs are well-designed, logical, and well-explained. Javert and Valjean both have recognizable characters, excellent at teasing each other. Their dialogues are highly entertaining and amusing. These fics are good from the point of view of historical details – if the author decides to be anachronistic, it’s for a reason, and it’s explained.

Guard’s Law, Con’s Heart by Xythia (set in Toulon, but it’s 1823). To be honest, I only risked reading it because of Toulon. It’s described as a BDSM universe, which initially did not inspire me. But I gave it a chance and never regretted it. This universe has its rules, and they are not what you expect. They influence social structure and traditions, and it’s all explained and well-used for the plot. Something bad starts happening at the beginning, but Javert arrives on time to stop and prevent it. He takes responsibilities he himself did not expect. Then Javert and Valjean interact and communicate with each other, and it’s such a pleasure and entertainment to follow their exchanges! And I usually do not appreciate OCs, but here I enjoyed them.

Winter Wolf also by Xythia (set in MsM). I already knew what to expect from the author, so even the obscure AU of Sentinels and Guides did not stop me. I had never heard of this AU, but it was not difficult to figure out what it is. A bit slow at the beginning, but then it gets excellent. Signature dialogues, development of relationships, adventures. And one of the best young Cosettes ever written. She is really an amazing little creature.

Eggy series also by Xythia (set in Toulon, and it’s again 1823). This time, one of them (Valjean) is a dragon-shapeshifter. But even as a dragon, he is unmistakably recognizable as Valjean. The world of people and dragons has its history and rules, and they are very well explained. Signature dialogues, good OCs. It really may sound strange as an AU, but it’s worth reading.

[mrhyde-mrseek]

CLASSIC LIT MEN RANKED FROM LEAST TO MOST DATABLE (As Decided By A Lesbian)

•DRACULA - crusty old creep, absolutely horrid, ruined the lives of at least eight people, turned one of said people into a vampire and nearly turned another, Hollywood likes to ship him with Mina for reasons that I don’t understand because he ALMOST TURNED HER INTO A VAMPIRE THAT HER FRIENDS AND HUSBAND WOULD HAVE HAD TO KILL.

•DR. MOREAU - it’s been a hot minute since I last read the book, but the fact that he performs vivisections on wild animals to turn them into humans is fucked up on SO many levels.

•ERIK - murderer, stalker, would probably combust if shown any semblance of actual affection.

•CREATURE - made to be pretty but Victor fucked that up somehow, killed 3 people out of revenge, would also combust if shown any sort of real love.

•GRIFFIN - canonically buff & smart, but he’s also an egomaniac & self-admitted ass (there is textual evidence for that latter point) with a god complex who plotted a reign of terror so . . . maybe not the best choice.

•THE TELL-TALE HEART NARRATOR - yeah, he doesn’t need romance. He needs psychological help. Desperately. If murdering an old man because his glass eye creeped you out, hiding his body in the floor, then hallucinating his heart beating during a police interrogation isn’t a red flag, then I don’t know what is.

•JEKYLL/HYDE - on one hand, he’s a middle-aged chemist who represses every desire he has; on the other hand, he’s an Uncanny Valley-flavored criminal who beat a man to death with a cane, so you can’t really win with this one.

•ICHABOD CRANE - he’s not a bad person, and he is well-educated, he’s just less interested in an actual, committed romantic relationship and more interested in the money he’ll inherit from it.

•SHERLOCK HOLMES - he’s in the middle because I actually don’t think he’d make a bad boyfriend—he’d just be oblivious to the efforts of anyone who tried to make a move on him.

•VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN - like Griffin, he also has a god complex, but this twink somehow managed to make Robert Walton fall head-over-heels in love with him two seconds of seeing him freezing to death in the Arctic, so there has to be SOMETHING there.

•THE TIME TRAVELLER - he seems like a really sweet, passionate guy. He’d definitely ramble to you about his time machine. My only qualm is that we hardly see him interact with people (at least, people in this stage of evolution).

•JOHN WATSON - he’s kind, he’s supportive, he’s a badass, he’s canonically good-looking and charming (a feature that Holmes uses to their advantage multiple times in the stories), and he’s a doctor. He’s perfect.

[thefrenchbrick24601]

Hey y’all um. Can I please rant about my favorite Les Mis fanfic pretty pls

the What Streak of Madness series (beginning with A Change of a Bizarre Kind) by M_Moonshade was the first Les Mis fanfic I ever read and to this day it is my absolute favorite. Ive reread it a thousand times and it never gets old 

basically, it’s a retelling/crossover between Les Mis and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (dw you don’t need to know a lot about that story, what you need to know is in the description/notes) where basically Javert takes a potion that releases his darkest impulses, including his extreme attraction to the mayor

it’s extremely well written, author has fantastic writing style

we get tender moments, we get angsty moments, we get smutty moments

very fun smut, bottom javert 

mystery and intrigue!! ooo!

multiple “books” in the series that expand on the story/the boys relationship 

Fantine is alive! And a Girlboss!!

the characters are very well done, author had a really good understanding of the characters 

and it has a happy ending!!

yeah anyways I love it so much go read it if your interested <3