#what if we took All the gothic out of this gothic story

[gloriousmonsters]

me @ myself: I don't care that you're on a Turn of the Screw kick right now for some reason, do NOT look up the wiki for H/aunting of Bl.y Manor. you KNOW you have a massive grudge against '''haunting of hill house'''. you KNOW that whatever it is you're not going to like it

me:

me: i'm going to look up tHoBM

me one episode list read later:

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Allure

Part One:Sunshine

❥MATZ x fem reader

Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa. The most known and feared alphas of the new generation. It took two dozen elder alphas to subdue them and stick them in the world's most secluded prison- hidden away in the mountains. The prison that sweet little omega (Y/n)'s works at.

Knuckle Velvet (Part Two)

Smoke (Part Three)

➯a/n: i've always wanted to write a story i would like to see as a movie or show, and i very much enjoy supernatural and dark romance, so i made this ! it does get very dark so please read the warnings and take care of yourself first and foremost. i am very proud of this, i hope you enjoy 💕

✃ "Because you're... alluring."

✫彡wordcount: 9.3k

♫"Hey, you should leave that young thing alone, ain't no sunshine when she's gone, only darkness everyday." - Flower Face (original by Bill Withers) ♫ Allure Sountrack

(>ᴗ•)♡´･ᴗ･`♡genre: smut, YANDERE, a/b/o au

ಠ_ಠWARNING/content: DEAD DOVE I MURDERED THAT BIH

chapter specific: literally what have i done, not beta read(ironically), criminal MATZ, alpha MATZ/omega reader, forget everything you know about werewolves, so much world building, extremely yandere behavior, talk of attempted child murder, class division of werewolves, panic attacks, vulgar language, mind control, lots of scent stuff, unhealthy relationships, ptsd, flashbacks and nightmares, physical violence, manipulation of others dreams, supporting character death, forced soul bonding, forced marking, reader implied to have mental health issues, murder, gore, violence- all that good stuff. THIS IS NOT A NON CON FIC ALL EVENTUAL SMUT WILL BE CONSENSUAL.

⁂perm taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

⁂fic taglist: @potatomountain @spooo00oky

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

˚➶ ｡˚ PART ONE ˚➶ ｡˚

You hate weekdays. That much is true for a lot of people. You like to think your reasoning is especially valid.

Every Monday through Friday like clockwork, 6:30AM you walk into the prison. That on its own wasn't so bad. You lived only ten minutes away; the gothic building looked over your village in tandem with the mountains. You could see it when the weather was clear, even from your bedroom on the edge of town. You were no longer afraid of it like when you were a child.

You are, however, afraid of the newest prisoners.

New arrivals didn't usually rock you. This is the only prison in the country fit to hold lycans, after all. They all got transferred here eventually. From beta's who were just stealing to eat, to alphas who used their powers on humans, to those who believed in the old ways and fed on humans.

You had to interact with them all face to face.

You weren't excited for that particular aspect of your job this week.

You made your way through the double doors and greeted the security guard, your friend Hyolyn, as you went through the metal detector. It went off on account of the scent blocker that was embedded in your neck. She chuckled and switched it off so it stopped its incessant beeping.

"Don't laugh at me!" You threw a smile her way as you got your small purse from the plastic bucket she slid towards you. She doesn't bother to check your bag. She knows you well enough to know you wouldn't bring in any "fuck shit", as she would say. "You alpha's don't have to worry about accidentally spewing scent everywhere."

"Thank goodness for that, this place would stink to high heaven." Her unintentional reference to the new arrivals makes the air turn stiff. She could tell you were on edge immediately. "They aren't all that scary," she lays a comforting hand to your shoulder as you fiddle with the long strap on your crossbody bag.

"I heard one of them killed Alpha Greene... you think that's true? That guy was huge, I saw him at The Thing last year, I almost peed myself cause he looked at me-" You stop your own rambling, taking a deep breath and letting it out as a shaking sigh. "I don't want to go in there. Honestly, why can't we install a laundry chute or something, fuck."

"I'll follow you up, I c-"

"No, no, it's visiting day. You need to be down here. You know Chungha? Her daughter is visiting today. Don't want you to miss her." You offer a sad, tight lipped smile, but that doesn't trick her instincts to protect her weaker pack member. She knows you too well to be tricked.

"You just scream and I'll be there. Either of those cocky fucks lift a pinky in your direction and I'll gut them. They don't deserve to see a trial anyway."

A small exhale in the form of a chuckle lightens her protective instincts, she can tell you feel more at ease with her promise to be right there at the slightest hint of trouble.

"See you, Hyolyn."

"Later, babes."

You wave your fingers with a smile as the elevator doors slides shut. As soon as they clunk together, you let it fall and crouch with your head in your hands, taking in deep and slow breaths as you try and force all of the rumors you've heard about the two newest inmates away from your head.

The older alpha of the duo was the first born in this generation. They're always powerful. But he was born to two bloodthirsty rouges. Born in sin and blood lust.

The younger alpha was born just some months after, to an arranged marriage that was purposefully formed to make powerful children. They surely regret that now. Some say the man has the strongest, sharpest claws since the first lycan in Talbot Castle.

When the elevator dings, you're already upright and have that strong facade on that you put on when you're clocked in.

˚➶ ｡˚

You start with the familiar. "Hey, Chungha," you tap on the silver bars of her cell, "hand 'em over." She smiles as she stands, stripping the sheets from her cot and holding them through the bars for you. "Thank you," you draw on with a tug on your lips that matches hers.

"Yunnie in town?"

"Mhm," you hum as you fold the blanket before dropping it in the large basket on wheels, "she came over for stew, I made sure to feed her good and well, don't worry."

You know it was probably problematic, but you couldn't help it. Chungha came here three years ago on a charge for battery, and over those three years you became sort of friends with her.

The battered in her case was her grandfather. When her five year old daughter, Jiyun, started to show signs of being an omega- he left her in the snow to wither away. She managed to survive until her mother came home, and said mother was furious.

She was lucky she didn't charged with attempted manslaughter.

"She said she'll be here first thing."

"Thank you," she had a heavy pull on her voice. You don't have the emotional connection to other wolves like an alpha or beta did. But it was clear to anyone she was being sincere. "You're a good woman."

"Don't mention it, Yunnie is good company. Oh," you start to wheel the basket away when you remember something. You reach into the purse that you had set on the handles. "She made this at art class, asked me to give it to you so it didn't have to wait in processing."

It was a small, cruelly made ceramic bowl in the vague shape of a heart. It was clearly made by an eight year old, but made with love.

"I owe you."

"Just keep working on that parol work." You said lightly and blew a kiss as you moved to the next cell.

    The rest of your work nearly cleared your mind as you went from cell to cell, floor to floor. Omega's were on the second floor. Beta's on the third. Alphas on the fourth. High security on the fifth.

     It's on the fourth level that you begin to feel those nerves that you had just worked away. The scent was becoming stronger. They didn't put them on blockers? Maybe they didn't think it would be worth it. Everyone knew that they were the worst of the worst, they didn't even try to hide it. They would undoubtedly be put to death. Why waste two perfectly good, expensive, blockers?

     The basket of used sheets is nearly full, accumulating into a weight that makes you put your back into it as you push it into the elevator.

    Your index finger reaches out, and before you can stop yourself you've pressed the button to the fifth floor.

       You blank out until the door opens again. Your teeth are eternally grateful for the gum between them so they don't grind themselves into dust. The mint flavor does little to calm your nerves.

     The only thing that makes you come back to your own head is Changbin. He's a big, buff beta with a gun full of silver bullets on his work belt. He won't let them hurt you. His smile washes away a lot of the nerves.

    But the growl that rumbles against the walls makes them return ten, one hundred, one thousand fold. You don't dare say a word. A deer in headlights until Changbin places his hand on the small of your back. "Go on, don't give them the satisfaction of scaring you. They aren't going nowhere no time soon. Take a look."

     He motions you deeper into the hall, florescent lights buzzing above you, matching the jittering feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach. It smells too strong. Too much. You're about to fall to your knees from the weight and you haven't even come face to face with the near feral criminals.

    Changbin opens the doors at the end of the hall.

     They've definitely gone all out to keep them in place. Two large cages placed next to each other in the middle of the enormous room. Made of pure silver and wrapped in wolfsbane. The unpleasant smell of the plant makes your nose twitch. A ring of blood ash surrounds it. Only omegas can pass through blood ash, and now you start to realize why they sent you.

    You want to curse the warden, but the second you open your mouth, a loud cackle sounds out from one of the cages.

     Changbin's hand twitches at the gun attached to his side.

    "Oh wow," the smaller alpha chuckles, eyes closed, head tilted back, as he sniffs the air. "I didn't expect that." More manic giggles slip past his lips.

    You haven't even looked up to see them and you want to cave in on yourself.

    "What are you rambling about, huh?" The guard next to you shouts, making you flinch instinctively.

     "That sweet... sweet, smell," he moans. You can hear him shuffling. "From a peppy little spit fuck omega."

   You gasp abashedly, and now two laughs ring out. You want to wonder how they can smell you. Your insurance provides the best scent blocker in the country. But you're too scared to breathe, let alone think.

      "Shut up," Changbin groans, he can feel you tense next to him, "don't piss me off, Kim."

    "Awe," a new, rumbling voice makes you cower the second it reaches your ears, "this your mate? Hm, no... you wouldn't bring your mate here. You're not an idiot. Then, say... omega." You don't make a move to look when he addresses you, you stay looking at Changbins grip on his gun, silently.

     "Omega, come!" Your feet move for you, and that manic laugh almost makes you wet yourself as you realize that your wolf is making you move toward them without your consent. You stop just outside of the blood ash, where you know you're safe.

     "Changb-"

     "No. I'm the one you're speaking to."

   Changbin seems to be weighing his options, eyeing the men as they eye you.

    "Why are you here? You a shrink?"

    You shake your head.

   "You a lawyer?"

    Again.

   "She works here, dumbass, look at her scrubs," the younger speaks, and you nod subconsciously, to which he giggles, "what can we do for a pretty little thing like you?"

    When you refuse to speak, the guard does it for you. "She's here for your sheets today. Get used to her."

     You hated that this was your job, but it was easy and accessible, and available for omegas. Werewolves are clean freaks. Every day you had a different cleaning task, but you didn't complain. Not until right now- you wanted to rip out the throat of whoever's idea it was to not shoot these criminals on sight.

     "Ah," he hums, and you can feel his eyes raking your body. You can feel both of their eyes. "Not too bad of a sight to get used to. Huh, Hwa?"

     "Mh, that's right... can't wait to get my hands on her."

Your head snaps back to Changbin.

"Awn, she thinks he's gonna help her!" The high pitched giggles bounce around in your head. "Oh, little omega~"

The saccharine coo finally pulls your eyes to the men in the cages.

If you thought you knew what fear was before this moment, you were wrong.

The two strongest criminals in the country, staring you down like a piece of meat. It doesn't matter that they are the ones in cages of silver and wolfsbane. You are the one who feels cornered.

You can immediately feel out their dynamics. The taller one is the older one, quiet and still in his cage as he sits in the center. Shaggy, shining hair framing his face and neck like an elegant piece of lace over a brides face. He has a sleeve of tattoos on one forearm, a thick tattoo on his neck. Eyes glowing a deep, blood red, as he tries to read your entire story with only a look in your direction.

The giggling one is less intimidating, only by a hair. Chemically lightened locks pushed back messily, letting his entrancing features shine in the light from the narrow windows high on the walls. He has tattoos as well, but they seem few and far between. His eyes are human for a moment before they meet yours. Instantaneously, they flick black.

The knot drops from your throat and you let out a small, pathetic, squeak.

Changbin breaks your staring contest with the alpha, shouting orders at them. "Take the sheets off your cot and set them outside of your cage. Do not attempt to touch her, I will shoot you."

    Neither criminal makes a move to follow his orders, both simply staring at you.

A low growl is emitted when the older alpha finally snaps up, tearing the sheet off the sorry excuse for a bed in one fell swoop. The younger follows his lead, shoving their sheets through the bars that are wrapped in the poisonous flower.

You look to the guard, and he nods, "go." With his finger twitching at the gun ready to pull it, you jump over the dark red ashes and into the wolves den, snatching the sheets up as quick as possible and dashing away, out the door before they even get a chance to lock in your scent up close.

The giggles follow you all the way to the elevator and ring in your head even as the thick metal thunks shut.

As you take a deep breath, you notice the sheets are gripped to your chest, your claws drawn subconsciously in your panic and ripping them up. "Shit!" You let out a curse and shove them into the bottom of the basket so you don't have to smell it as closely on the long ride to the basement.

˚➶ ｡˚

The lingering wafts of your fresh scent are long gone, nothing to distract the alpha's from their caged boredom and bubbling rage over being caught. "I'll have that runts heart in my hands by the end of the month." Hongjoong groaned, to no one in particular- he knew Seonghwa was too deep in thought from their recent revelations. "Fucking back stabbers. They're more pathetic than a bitch in heat trying to get off with a dildo."

The thought hit his mind as soon as the words left his lips.

The thought of you, legs spread with your hand dipped low, trying to satisfy your primal urges and-

"Stop that." Seonghwa growls, kicking the bars of their shared 'wall'.

"Settle down!"

"Oh, like you weren't thinking it!" Hongjoong rolls his eyes, a scowl on his face as he crosses his arms. "Your ruts coming and you don't want your-"

"I said stop," he nearly roars, grabbing Hongjoong's state issued orange top and ripping it with his claws as he pulls him forward.

"I know you want her because I want her too." He whispers, smirking at the telltale signs of desire and bloodlust in his mates eyes. Red swirling around the brown of his human eyes. "Imagine how good she'll smell when we take out that stupid blocker. We'll be drowning in her scent." He moans, grabbing his wrist, "I get the honors, my claws are sharper, anyways," he draws them quickly, digging them into his skin as if to prove a point.

"I can use my teeth, mark h-"

"Oh, will you two stop? Love of God..." The guard in the large room slaps his book down on the rickety table. "What is there possibly for you to be fighting about? You're about to be executed, you know that right? No jury in the world will let you walk, especially the human half."

Their frustrations turn to the man, letting each other go. "Ah, you think so?" The older croons, dragging his index over his bleeding wrist and bringing it to his lips, sucking it clean before he continues. "We won't be around these parts long enough to meet the jury."

"What do you mean by that?"

Hongjoong covers his mouth when a laugh slips past. Seonghwa simply smirks as he sits cross legged, eyes locked with the guard as he licks his wound.

"What do you mean by that?!"

The blonde man breaks out in a fit of laughter. The brunette simply flashes his bloody canines in a twisted smile.

˚➶ ｡˚

You spent the whole time doing your daily tasks trying to hype yourself up to go back up to the fifth floor.

You usually went top down, four to one. Nobody has ever been on five before.

You go bottom up today, starting at Chungha with a full basket of freshly washed sheets. She prattles on about her visit with Jiyun, and how she's so thankful for you.

You choose that as your focus point for the rest of the work day, even as you press the button to the fifth floor.

You think back to the first time you spoke to Chungha, she was a crying mess, unable to sense that you were an omega like herself. She cried and cried and cried as you held her hand through the bars of temporary holding. She cried for her daughter, for cursing her with the shame of being the weakest link of any pack. When she looked up and saw your eyes, barely glowing, she cried more.

She apologized profusely, but you reassured her that her words were true, and you hadn't been offended. You told her that, in fact, she was the first to ever share your feelings of what being an omega really meant. It meant loneliness beside anyone but other omegas. Fake relationships born with people who only stuck around because of their primal instincts to either prey on you or protect you. It meant facing the fact that you were outcasts from both of the world's dominant societies. Outcasted from humans for being a werewolf. Outcasted from werewolves for being weak. So weak, in fact, that blood ash didn't even think of you as a wolf.

That night, you drove four hours to the next village over and looked after her daughter until her aunt had room. You remember the first thing the girl said to you. She didn't speak that whole day, surely in shock from the past few days events. But when you tucked her into the motel bed, she spoke as soft as a ghost, "sing me a song?"

You hum it to yourself now, the soft sound reverberating through the metal around you until the door opened.

You wheel the basket with you this time, like it will protect you as you approach the open doors, already feeling the unwavering gaze of the criminals.

"Hey, dolly~" Hongjoong, you had learned when you took a peek into their files, purred your way.

You didn't give him the satisfaction of responding verbally, but he saw the goosebumps on your arm as you reached into the basket, stretching on your tip toes to get the last two sheets.

"You never shut up do you, Kim?" The guard sighed with an exhausted tone, making you smile as you slowly made your way to the ring of red dust.

The throaty rumble from Seonghwa, the older, taller wolf, makes that smile drop to the depths of Hell.

The new guard seems to notice your anxiety, eyeing you up- in a much less predatory manner than the caged men. "Go on, 'mega. I'm watching them."

A bang on the metal bars makes you glue your foot right back where it came from. It's the blonde one, "you shut the fuck up!"

"No, you shut the fuck up! I'm the one with the silver bullets!"

All of the yelling is making you tremble, Hongjoong and the guard going back and forth. "She isn't your omega!"

"She ain't yours!"

Seonghwa watches with a sinister smile as you back away from the ash and the guard, calling to you quietly, "hey."

The soft tone of his voice makes you raise your eyes, but not your head. His eyes don't hold that threatening and dominating red from before. They're a soft brown color that reminds you of a beautiful dark oak in the morning sunshine. "What's your name?"

"(Y/n)..." your tongue moves without your consent, fresh blankets held to your work scrubs.

You desperately want the guard to notice this trance you're in, and grab you out of it. You want to do it yourself, but you can't do anything but admire the beauty of the criminal who has you hypnotized.

"You're a pretty omega, y'know? What color is your wolf?"

"Black..." It's a slur off your lips, barely registering in his sharply tuned ears over the yelling that continues to fill the room.

"Mine too. What's her name? His is Akma."

"Solis."

"Very pretty. Is she fast?"

"Yes."

"Does she want an alpha? A mate?"

"Yes."

The guard finally notices your raised gaze, affixed to the infamous, unlawful, man. He puts his gun back in the holster quickly before gripping your shoulder and forcing you to turn around. "You idiot, didn't anyone ever tell you not to look a first born in the eyes?"

"Sorry. I'm sorry." No one had ever told you that, actually.

Both of the criminals share a smirk as the man from your pack attempts to calm you. It wasn't hard for them to figure out you were an alpha-less village. They could smell every single wolf in five miles, and not a single stench from a wolf even nearly as strong as them.

There was, however, you. A honeyed smell that filled their guts with the primal need to rip out the eyes of anyone who dared look at you.

The guard couldn't be more wrong. You are their omega. You just don't know yet.

"Go and give these fucks their sheets, then get the hell out of here." The man shoved you, making you jump clumsily over the ash so you didn't break the seal.

He yells at them to back up, and they do so without a fight.

You shove them both in at the same time before running back out quickly, grabbing the empty basket and dragging it with you, the sound of the wheels scraping with the force of your panic echoing in the near empty room.

"You guys get off on scaring defenseless girls?" The guard scoffs, not expecting an answer as he drags the chair out of the room and slams the doors behind him.

Seonghwa lets his facade fall the second the door shuts, falling to his knees and grappling at the sheet like he's a starving man with the last piece of food on Earth. Hongjoong watches for a moment in confusion until the scent catches up with his weaker nose. Then he's quickly falling in the same position.

"It worked, the guard was so easy to distract," Hongjoong chuckles, face buried into the sheet that smells vaguely like you from your time spent holding it. "What did you learn?"

"(Y/n), a black wolf named Solis," he pauses, eyes rolled back as he takes a deep breath. They're red when they re-open. "No mate. It's really her."

"You think we should have told her?" Hongjoong inquires, looking through the bars.

He's never seen Seonghwa on his knees for anyone but him or the moon.

"No," he shakes his head, turning to lock eyes with him. "She'll figure it out when I mark her."

"When I mark her."

He rolls his eyes at his defiant nature, knowing full well he won't disobey his orders no matter how badly he wants to do something.

In a dog eat dog world, the strongest was the most powerful. Unlike their human neighbors, werewolves don't decide political or social standing by money or family name. They decide based on who comes out on top in a battle of the body and of the wits.

It had been determined years ago, when they were just young rebellious pups, that Seonghwa was the alpha. A fight in the woods under the moon had set it in stone between the two.

He could have ripped Hongjoongs throat out right then and there, but now, 13 years later in the present; they're bonded for life.

Sometimes he still sees Hongjoong as that 12 year old boy under his teeth, still snapping and growling even as he bled out with tears in his dark eyes, fighting to survive purely out of spite.

"You can mark her first," Seonghwa speaks quickly, turning his back as he puts the sweet smelling sheet on his cot.

He smiles at the man, a quiet thanks spoken through their bonded souls.

˚➶ ｡˚

Tuesday, they don't see you until much later in the day, but they bask in the sight of you opening the door with a broom and tray in hand, smiling at Changbin. You'll be here for a while, it's a big room.

"Hey, Binnie," you whisper to the beta, and Seonghwa has to bite his tongue.

Binnie? Ugh.

Hongjoong isn't so polite, "hey, Dolly! We don't get a hello?" You barely peek at him, eyes flicked from him right back to the floor in a millisecond. He knows you noticed his pout when he hears the smallest 'hello' tremble by your lips.

You start in the corner, headphones attached to your walkman with your favorite song on repeat to try and soothe yourself. Bill Withers calming voice blocks out every word of the teasing alphas, but you can still feel them mocking you and picking at you.

You don't dare sweep anywhere near the blood ash on the floor. One less precaution in place was one more thing to worry about.

"Bye, Binnie."

He does growl that time, eyes narrowed on your back until the door shuts.

˚➶ ｡˚

Wednesday, you have a frown on your face. "Three days in a row?" The guard Hongjoong got in a yelling match with, Merle, greets you as you come into the cavernous room, "bad schedule huh?"

"No kidding," you sigh, feet slightly hesitant to pass the dust border, "I'm here to fix your shirt. It's state property." You don't look at them, but they know who you're referring to.

They act like they don't, though. Just to hear more of your voice. To make you wriggle under their attention. "Sorry? What do you mean?"

You look and point to Hongjoong, his collar ripped from Seonghwas grasp. "State property."

"Ah, of course." He grins like a jackal, pulling it over his head and sticking his hand out of the bars just in the slightest. "On one condition."

You pout, eyes on the shirt which is just far enough away that you'd have to step closer. And it's the cutest fucking thing they've ever seen.

You look back up at him, silently asking. "Sit and talk with us. The guards here are no fun!" His laugh makes you jump back further, he sounds like a mad pirate.

You look over to Merle, who just shrugs, "just get it over with so these guys will shut up. They're only talkative around you, they need an audience for their antics."

"We won't bite," Seonghwa chuckles with his teeth exposed, making you shiver.

"Fine, give it here." You take a single step forward, palm out infront of the blonde.

When you grab it and go to race away like always, his claws wrapping all the way around your wrist stops you, sharp edges threatening to slice your skin down to the bone. You scream your head off, silenced when Seonghwa coos softly, "sit with us, and talk."

"Let me go..." you plead, eyes frantically flicking to Merle, whose gun is drawn to Hongjoongs head from the border of the ash, waiting for him to take one more wrong move so he can rid the world of one of its greatest criminals.

"Sit, omega." You do so, slowly lowering to the floor with your wrist and life still in Hongjoongs hand. "You have your sewing kit with you, I can hear the buttons hitting the needle. So sit, stay, and talk while you fix it."

Once again, they're the ones caged in. But you're the one who's stuck.

     One look to Merle tells you he probably wouldn't help you even if he could get to you. He lowers his gun as your tailbone hits the concrete floor.

     Your thin work scrubs do little to fight the cold of the old flooring, one reason of many that you shake as you reach into your purse and get the small tin box.

     Hongjoong releases your wrist and sits mirrored to you, hands perched on the bars in the gaps of the purple vine flower wrapped on them. Seonghwa comes to the corner of his side of the split cage and breathes in deeply through his nose, eyes locked in on your every movement. "So you're essentially the errand lady? Maid?"

      "Yes..." You murmur under your breath as your fingers work to thread the needle, slowly backing away until you're out of reach, but still stuck in the blood ash with no one to rescue should the men infront of you decide to rip their cages open. You only stop backing away when you hear a warning growl.

     You don't care to see which it came from, you just want to do this as quickly as possible and get far, far, away. They could have chose anyone to focus their annoying efforts on. Changbin, Merle, the warden. But no, just your luck.

      "You live in the village, right? Were you born here?" Seonghwa continues to do the talking as you carefully fix the shirt.

      "Yes. And no."

     A small hum from the one in front of you is a sign they want you to continue. "I was born to an overpopulated pack. They kicked me out when I turned eighteen. Our old alpha took me in." The hitch in your voice is a clear sign that it's a sore topic. And Hongjoong continues to poke the wound.

      "How did they find you?"

       "Woods."

       "Woods?"

     You can't help the small growl of frustration, lip curling as you look up. "Woods."

     The reaction is one you wouldn't have expected from a normal person, but then- they aren't normal.

     They laugh, cooing over your gesture of anger. Compared to them, you seem like a teacup puppy. "My, my," the brunette chuckles breathily, "is that Solis coming to play?"

     "At least she can," you snap, sent to the back of your own head as your wolf tries to defend you, "she isn't a caged mutt."

    Hongjoong breaks out into a manic fit of laughter, while his paramour is the opposite: his eyes flick red before your own, sharp teeth on display in a show of dominance over your smaller ones that are subconsciously bared at him. "Watch it, omega." He spits his words with venom, "I won't be so nice when I get out of here."

     You rip the extra thread with your claw, kicking the shirt across the floor so it sits at the bottom bar of Hongjoongs cage. His chest still wracks with laughter, watching as you sit up in a low squat so you're still level with the alpha.

      It's clear that you aren't currently you. Your wolf has control of your mouth and body, crouched in a position akin to that of a dog ready to pounce as you hiss your words, "I'm going to laugh in your face as you hang."

     "Aw, is that how dear old alpha died?"

     "Cut it out!" Merle screams disinterested, eyes glued to his flimsy magazine.

      "I heard he got gutted~" Hongjoong giggles, watching the color flicking in your eyes.

     "I'll gut you!" Your threat only makes him laugh more.

      "(Y/n)!" The voice of Hylyon breaks your wolf away from you immediately, falling to your bottom and crawling to the sound unwittingly. "You fucking idiot, Merle!" 

     She reaches over the blood ash and pulls you over the ring, letting you collapse into her as she drags you away, still throwing profanities at the incompetent guard. Hongjoong is laughing loudly. Seonghwa yelling at you to come back. The elevator cuts of his roar, the last thing you see through your blurry vision is his fist making a dent in the silver cage.

You fall onto the floor of the metal box. Thoughts flood your head too quickly for you to swim though them, making you drown and try to escape by releasing the pain with tears. You don't even notice when your friend turns her key in the elevator to make it stop in its tracks, you only see her when she sits right infront of you.

"Babes, calm down, I've got you," she reaches out slowly and places a hand on your leg, slowly rubbing her thumb over your knee.

"I can't go back up there... they're too strong, they make me feel like I'm suffocating," you splutter through gasps, "I'm too weak!"

"Hey, hey, you're spiraling!" She opens her arms and pulls you into her, letting you sob into her uniform. "In and out, girl," she holds the back of your neck securely, almost instantaneously making you calm. "I got you... I got you..."

You sit there for a good while, crying into her shoulder as you sort through your wracked brains.

Your alpha was gutted. Right in front of you. Because of you.

Unbeknownst to you, their tuned ears are still listening in, the elevator stuck within their ear shot as you begin mumbling your favorite song to yourself through tears.

˚➶ ｡˚

The sound of claws slicing through the skin on your back rings in your ears. Though, you can't feel it. Your eyes are locked in on your own claws, dug into the hardwood floor of your humble home to keep yourself from being dragged.

     You've been here a million times before.

     Blood pooling off of your body and onto the frigid surface below you. Teeth sharp and bared to the moon though the open window, begging that she might let you survive. Eyes aglow with your instincts as your wolf tries with every fiber of her being to turn, but she knows it's no use.

     The distorted voice above you drips with mocking venom, a chuckle as its owner realizes you can't even fight back like other wolves might: by letting your wolf fully transform.

     The wind blows through your curtains, washes your body in the artic breeze. The snowflakes on your windowsill are so delicate, all of their features fade into a blurry mush as they make contact. They melt, dripping down your wall.

     This time it's different.

      You're turned over, gaping wounds slammed into the floor as always, but when you look up to your aggressor it's different.

      His eyes aren't the yellow of a rouge, but the red of an alpha. His hair isn't that unruly blonde curl that you pulled at frantically, that you can still feel on your finger tips when your hands are unoccupied. It's long, shining, soft looking dark locks.

       You fall through the floor into another time, another place.

     Face first into the snow: your hands, shaking with adrenaline, do little to catch you.

       You don't remember this.

       This isn't right.

       This isn't your nightmare.

       You find yourself in a clearing in a forrest, the densely packed trees creating a bubble of nature around you. "(Y/n)?"

      You whip around, coming face to face with an unfamiliar man. Almost face to face. If he weren't floating a few feet in the air.

     His legs are crossed under him, hands facing palms up on his knees.

      "Don't worry. You're only dreaming." He speaks calmly as he floats around you in a circle, like a shark examining its potential prey.

     You follow him with your feral gaze, that familiar feeling of an adrenaline crash quickly approaching.

You know you're only dreaming. You've had that last dream more times than you can count in the past three years. It always plays the same. But not this time. You're only slightly thankful that you don't have to witness your alphas death again, but the gratefulness is overshadowed by confusion.

"Are you an angel?" You whisper, watching the man's soft and rounded features as he comes to a stop in the air in front of you and gracefully lowers to his feet.

"I can be, if that's what you want me to be. I'm only here to watch your dreams, fight off the nightmares."

"Why?" You feel distant from your body, watching powerlessly as your hand takes his, letting him lead you out of the clearing and into the darkness of the woods.

It disappears around you, warping into a spring day on a familiar path.

"A favor for a friend."

With the snow gone, you're in your spot, your old towel on the dewy grass with a book laid atop of it and the soil beneath your feet as you approach.

"Enjoy."

The hand vanishes from your own, leaving you alone on the side of the path. You look for him. But he's just an eidolon, watching you from the sky where you can't see him.

You warily take a seat and pick up the book.

˚➶ ｡˚

They don't see you again through the week. And when the next Monday comes by, their sheets are removed while they're in the showers.

Hongjoong sighs from his place on the floor, for the tenth time in the past half hour.

"Hong-"

"I miss our omega!" He whines, cutting him off.

Seonghwa stands from his cot, slowly lowering to the floor next to their shared bars. He lays flat on his back, mirroring Hongjoong as he tilts his head to look at him. "Soon." Is the only word he utters.

He reaches through the silver bars, ignoring the sting as the fresh wolfsbane brushes his wrist, and takes his hand.

The both of them look up at the ceiling through the bars of their enclosure.

Your scent is long gone from the room, and their noses can barely pick up on it through the rest of the village and prison.

"I want out of here," Hongjoong whispers, so lowly that the guard can't hear him from outside of the door, "when are they coming? Your bond with them is stronger, I can barely feel them..."

"Soon." He repeats, "very soon, Joong."

˚➶ ｡˚

Tuesday you manage to talk your coworker into sweeping the top floor, and you rejoice in the freedom of not being under the alpha's gazes. You've worked out a good schedule to completely avoid seeing them, and it's made your job feel like it's back to normal.

You can still smell their power wafting through the AC, but it's bearable. You distract yourself in your free time by making excuses to be on the second floor with Chungha and the other omegas.

Today, that excuse is 'omegas need physical outlets too', and the warden let you bring up buckets and brushes so you could all scrub the base boards.

"Oh, I've got one!" The omega to your left speaks, lifting his brush in the air in a eureka moment, "Texas Chainsaw Massacre or... Halloween?"

Chungha scoffs with a smile as she scrubs away to your right, "are we including sequels? There's like a billion!"

"No, stand alone original," Beomhan goes back to scrubbing as he continues, "both of them are classics but which one is a better classic?"

"Halloween is the classic slasher, Texas Chainsaw is like psychological horror," you chime in as you dip your brush into the bucket, sitting on your calves as you take a breather. "I think it's not fair to compare them... but Texas Chainsaw, definitely."

They laugh along with you, and Chungha shakes her head, "Halloween has more rewatchablity. You don't want to see Sally go through that more than once, but Laurie Strode fights harder and it's more like, yeah I'll watch her kick ass again."

"Cinematography in both is so beaut-"

The lights above you flicker before they shut down completely. People start muttering their concerns, quite a few of them looking your way. "Don't worry!" You hop up and get your keys from your pocket as you make your way to the locked stairwell. "I'll go and see what's going on, keep scrub-"

A loud siren echoes in the brick walls, shocking you all to cover your ears.

Everyone looks to you for answers, and you don't have any as your brain starts throwing theory after theory at you.

"It's okay, go back to your cells! Shut them behind you!"

They listened, however grumpy about it. The cell doors locked automatically when they were closed.

"Hey, what's going on?" Chungha asked over the clanging of the cell doors. The two of you, along with Beomhan, were the only ones left after a moment.

"Go back to your cell, Beomhan, hurry."

"No, what's happening?"

     The sirens cut off and leave you in a pregnant pause for a moment as you simply try to calm yourself.

A deafening scream ricochets through the air vent next to you, scaring you into their arms as you all stare at it.

Usually, the air flow covered the echoes throughout the floors. But with no power, you could hear everything- albeit muffled.

Yells and shouts. Gunshots. Growls. Unidentifiable chaos. And above all, your ears tuned in on a rumbling, calm voice through it all.

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone... It's not warm when she's away..."

Your eyes widen as theres a bang at the stairwell door. "Go, go!" You grab each of their wrists, dragging them into Chungha's cell. You slam it behind you and let down the sheet she has over it, backing away and staring at it as you hear the door hit the wall behind it with the force it's slammed open.

"(Y/n), what the hells happening?!"

     You slap your hand over his mouth and bring a finger to your lips. The other omegas on the floor are all making a ruckus, and you can only hope that it will confuse that unfortunately familiar voice so he can't find you.

˚➶ ｡˚

The beta in the large room ignores Hongjoong as he continuously asks after 'the pretty omega'.

He just sweeps and sweeps, finally understanding why you hate coming up here. He has his back turned to the cage, and consequently, to the windows.

High on the tall walls, the narrow glass is opened from the outside. Seonghwa smirks, and gestures his head to it. Hongjoongs gaze follows, and he has to slap a hand over his mouth so he doesn't laugh.

A skinny figure is sliding its way in through the window sideways.

He drops to the floor as silent as a mouse, landing on his knees and grinning wildly up at his alphas.

Hongjoong throws his head back in preemptive relief, while Seonghwa is watching with a similarly wide smile as the man walks straight through the blood ash, breaking the circle with the tip of his shoe.

The worker still has his back turned as the lock on Seonghwas cage is picked with a long claw. He doesn't even know what's happening as the next thing he knows, he's thrown across the floor.

      Blood ash knocks up around him, coughs wracking his body as he looks up to his assailant.

      Park Seonghwa, newly freed from his cage, looks down at the worker with his eyes glowing red.

     "Now usually..." He begins, crouching to be face to face with him, "I'd go through this whole place just for the fuck of it and cause some beautiful chaos. But I'm looking for someone."

     "(Y/n)?" He stutters out, backing away only to knock into Hongjoongs legs. Stuck between the two criminals, he chooses his own head over yours. "The second floor! Sh-she's on the second floor!"

     "Let's go get our omega, Joong."

      Nonchalantly, Hongjoong draws his claws and slices the neck of the worker. He hops over the gurgling body and follows his mate with an ecstatic giggle.

      He wraps his arm around the skinny man's shoulder, "Wooyoung! Our savior~" He ruffles his hair and laughs as he groans.

     "You guys know I've got your back. Seonghwa told me about your new omega, you seem excited," he mimics the alphas smile as the eldest of the trio opens the doors.

     The guard on duty, who happens to be Merle, looks back with wide eyes.

"Yes, oh yes!" His eyes roll to the back of his head, touching the stitches you made on his shirt. "Oh, you'll love her, she's a feisty omega just like you."

He makes a run for the fire alarm at the end of the hall, but Seonghwa is faster. The beta is tackled to the floor.

"I'm glad you both will have a buffer, tired of you always at each other's throats during ruts," Wooyoung laughs, looking down at the guard as they pass.

Seonghwa had simply torn out his throat with his bare hand and made his way to the elevator, holding it open with an impatient glare.

The door closes behind them and the only sound is Seonghwa's heavy breathing.

"You're real eager, huh?" The omega breaks the silence, "San should be coming in any second to block the main door. No one will get past him. The rest are in the village, just as we planned."

"Good, she'll need somewhere to rest before we take off....Fucking idiots, thinking they can cage us." He groans, eyes flicking to the number above the doors as it dings.

       3? "Fuck."

     The door opens and the woman on the other side takes a moment, nearly walking in before she notices the crimson liquid dripping from Segonhwa's hand.

      She makes it halfway through the hall before Hongjoong pounces on her, fighting her effortlessly as if she's a rag doll. The guards run to try and save her, but it's too late for the unfortunate woman, and they just signed their own death certificate as well.

       Seonghwa and Wooyoung make quick work of them, but their plan is already foiled as the lights flicker to a halt and leave them bathed in dim light of the setting sun in the few windows.

      The alphas fall to their knees as their sensitive ears are bombarded with a loud, incessant siren.

      "Wooyoung!" Hongjoong screams over it, "go turn that shit off!"

      He nods, taking the keys off a mauled guard and dashing to the stair well, leaving it unlocked behind him.

     Hongjoong crawls to Seonghwa, collapsing into his chest with his teeth clenched and palms over his ears. His ears were always more sensitive.

     His partner places his hands over his, thumb running over his own. He looks down with his eyes glowing red, meeting pure black.

He leans and kisses him deeply, all teeth and bloodlust, trying to merge their souls until the sirens cuts off.

Their foreheads rest together, ignoring the chaos of the beta's around them yelling to be released.

"Are you ready?" Seonghwa whispers, gathering another set of keys from the fallen workers. He throws it to one of the locked in prisoners, a smirk on his face. So much for not creating chaos.

"Let's go," Hongjoong holds the door to the staircase open and lets him go first with a dramatic bow.

It takes one scream to start the havoc. The entire prison is filled with the sickly sweet sounds of caged animals with a taste of freedom. Gunfire and howls bring a smile to Seonghwa's lips as he sings out,

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone... it's not warm when she's away..."

He hums the song with a wide grin as Hongjoong kicks the door. It takes only one more kick before it slams open and bangs against the cement wall.

The omegas in their cells are all yelling at them, at one another, in general.

Hongjoong kicks one of the many buckets on the floor over and groans, "here I was thinking she'd make it easy. I guess we'll have to go cell to cell!" A small spike of a heartbeat in his ears makes him smirk, following the sound that he memorized the first time he'd heard it.

Seonghwa follows him, immediately zeroing in on the same cell. He comes to stand infront of it, his breath making the blanket behind the bars sway slightly.

You see both pairs of orange slip on shoes and you feel your heart stop in your chest.

You cower further into the corner with Beomhan as Chungha stands in front of you. The sheet is grabbed from the outside and ripped away, making you all shriek.

"Were you playing hide and seek?" Hongjoong giggles, throwing the blanket to the side with his eyes never leaving you, a scowl growing on his features as he notices the way you're curling into another wolf. "You should know better than to hide from your alphas. Come on out."

You shake your head, gaze lowered as you hold onto the back of Chungha's uniform.

"(Y/n)," the saturnine man speaks, "come here."

"No, leave us alone! Leave me alone," your voice cracks despite how strong you want to appear.

"If I have to drag you out of here I will be very angry. Just come on, do us all a solid."

"No-"

"Open the fucking door!"

"No!"

The cells were built to hold lycans, which means lycans shouldn't be able to get in... right?

"Fucking-" Seonghwa hits the bars, leaving a dent and making the three of you jump.

Hongjoong leans on his tiptoes and whispers into his ear, and whatever he says makes his eyes begin glowing a murderous red.

He slowly wraps his clawed fingers around the bars, and the way Hongjoong backs up makes your stomach churn in anxiety of what's about to come.

And it was warranted anxiety.

With a loud growl and a single tug, he rips the silver bars from their cemented place in the wall, causing a large crack to form.

"Holy shit!" Beomhan screams, arms wrapping around you tightly.

Chungha is ripped from the small room and tossed all the way across the room, back colliding with the wall and leaving her unconscious.

You yelp as Beomhan meets a similar fate, torn from your grasp and out into the rec room like he's a mere bag of trash. You see Hongjoong approaching him with his long black claws out and proud, but your vision is blocked by the large alpha infront of you.

     Your hips back into Chungha's small desk, and your hands clamber around, landing on something small and solid.

     You swing it at his head and he ducks, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the small cell. You manage to swing again, making contact with his head. The small ceramic bowl shatters into pieces and leaves him only temporarily stunned, glaring down at you.

      "Fucking stop," he growls quietly, shoving you to the floor.

       He lets you shuffle away, only because Hongjoong is right behind you.

     The blonde chuckles, pulling you back up by your collar and crashing you face first into one of the round steel tables bolted into the floor. "Ow!" You yell out as your head makes contact, fighting against him with all your might, but it's fruitless.

     He kicks your feet apart and stands between them, leaning his chest over your back. You can feel his nose against your neck, over the healed skin above your scent blocker. You snap your eyes shut and do the only thing you can thing of.

     You can't fight. Begging to these men would be useless. You can't disappear into the floor like you wish you could.

     "Please, Selene," you pray to the moon, tears slipping past your shut eyes as you feel the claws of the mad man on your neck.

       You cry out as the other worldly sharp nails slice into your neck, slowly and almost surgically. His other hand is cupped on the back of your head, keeping your head pushed into the cold metal. "Shhhh," he gushes above you, "it's okay."

      Seonghwa sits at one of the bolted stools and rests his head to mimic yours, cheek on the table. "We'd've been more gentle if you listened, omega."

       Between the tips of his claws, Hongjoong holds your small alloy scent blocker. Almost instantaneously, your natural scent floods their senses.

     Their deep rumbles of pleasure make you snap your eyes back shut, missing the way Hongjoong stomps on the device.

     "Fuck," the wolf behind you curses, body pressed close to yours like he wants to fuse together, he places his hands in yours and tells you, "you might want to squeeze."

    "Wh- ah!" Your scream echoes over all of the other chaos as his teeth sink into your left shoulder, and you do just that. Your clawed hands squeeze around his, sharp nails knocking together as you hold on like his hands are the only thing keeping you from slipping to the underworld.

       It feels like a million pins and needles washing over you, leaving you paralyzed in place as he purrs into the wound, making your bones vibrate.

     A warm, comforting hand on your cheek makes you force your eyes open. Seonghwa smiles sweetly, like he isn't witnessing one of the biggest crimes in the lycan community.

      Forcing someone to be your mate for the rest of your mortal lives.

     "Breathe, omega," his words make you realize you're holding your breath, and you let it out as a sob. "That's it," he hums, rubbing his hand down your head with all the gentleness he's capable of.

        Hongjoong pulls away with a moan, resting his head between your shoulder blades as he catches his breath.

     Your wolf is already calling for her mate, howling in the back of your mind as you cry.

       "Don't worry, we'll take good care of you." Seonghwas words have little time to register in your adrenaline filled head as he turns your head the other way and climbs up on the table.

     It hits you when he moves your ruffled shirt away from your right shoulder. "No! No!" You find yourself with two million pins and needles in your body now, squeezing Hongjoongs hands all over again as Seonghwa sinks his teeth into you at an excruciatingly slow pace.

They're bigger, or maybe they only feel that way because your body is on fire. You sob freely, feet stomping pathetically to cope with the pain.

What little comfort you find in Hongjoong squeezing your hands back is washed away by the simple fact that it's him. That blood from his claws drips onto your skin.

It feels like a century later that the older alpha finally pulls away, a bellow of pleasure as he runs his thumb over the wound: making you jump.

"Your turn, omega."

The weight of their bodies is gone, but you can't bring yourself to move. Out of fear, maybe. Pain, perhaps.

"You know what happens to wolves who don't finish the bond." Hongjoong purrs teasingly, knowing full well that you will have to mark them back least you want to suffer at the hands of the moon herself.

A life with them was better than being turned inside out and left to the elements. Just barely.

You lift yourself on shaking arms and nearly fall as you turn. You would have if not for Hongjoong catching you. He lifts you back to the table much gentler, letting your legs dangle as you sit on the table top.

"Why... why me?"

"... Have you heard of Harry Talbot?"

"Harry Talbots a myth... what's he got to do with your fuck shit?"

"Harry Talbot was the first wolf that could smell his mate. He could tell just by her smell, they were meant to be." Hongjoong slots his way between your legs, smiling down at you with his bloody teeth, "her smell called to him. It wasn't just good. It wasn't a normal scent. It was...alluring."

You were growing dizzy, head spinning.

"Strong alphas can sniff out their true mate. And, baby, we're the strongest that there is."

You have to force yourself to swallow. Have to remember to breathe.

"Why? Because you're... alluring."

That's the last thing you can register before your world turns dark.

˚➶ ｡˚ PART ONE END ˚➶ ｡˚

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters: What's Your Favorite Romance Book to Read/Listen To?

As requested by @cosmereplay :)

To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm quite doing what cosmereplay was envisioning, but this is what I got! :) This is in honor of Ardent Ellista, whom we see reading An Accountability of Virtue, which seems to be a courtly love-triangle epic romance tale. So what type of romance books do other Cosmere characters enjoy?

1. Vivenna

Vivenna: My favorite romance growing up was All the Colors of the Heart, about a princess betrothed from birth to this prince. And although she was scared, she was determined to make the best of it. Vivenna: Then it turned out he was very evil so she killed him and took over his kingdom and married his super hot, non-evil sister. Vivenna: As a young girl, I read that book over and over and over again... Susebron: H-Ha, it's so nice to meet your family, Siri...

2. Siri

Siri: Well, I always liked Dusk, about a girl who had to choose between the love of a frightening but alluring Returned who had to steal breath to live and a wolf man. Vivenna: Ugh, so unrealistic though. Why would a Returned who was thousands of years old want to hang out with a teenage girl anyway? Vasher: Sometimes she just insists on tagging along and won't stop. Vivenna: HEY

3. Adolin

Adolin: Look, An Accountability of Virtue is popular for a reason. Adolin: It has everything! Balls! Fancy clothing! Pining! Adolin: And of course, a happy ending. Adolin: Personally, I think I'm quite the Sterling. Shallan: You are. Adolin: Yessssss.

5. Moash

Moash: I like pretty much anything that's lovers to enemies. Leshwi: ... Leshwi: You mean enemies to lovers? Moash: Don't be ridiculous.

6. Painter

Painter: I like a good gothic romance. Painter: Two twisted people, scorned by society, finding a dark and bitter love in each other... Painter: Always ends tragically... Painter: That's the good stuff for a dark soul like mine. Yumi: Really? Because the book on your nightstand is... Painter: I'M HOLDING MAID CAFE LOVE FOR A FRIEND

7. Raboniel

Raboniel: The Fused have a tale about two of our kind who were soulmates. Raboniel: But they could never find a way to be together. Raboniel: One would be reborn while the other still remained on Braize. Raboniel: The one would escape only for the other to be killed within their very sight. Navani: .... Navani: And that's your, uh, favorite romance? Raboniel: All of our stories are like that.

8. Dieno

Dieno: Silly and poorly written it may be, but it's Fifty Lengths of Chain for me. Jasnah: ...Is that really a romance, though? The cover art is just...shackles. Dieno: Romance comes in many forms.

9. Steris

Steris: Well, as embarrassing as this may be to admit... I have always been a big fan of bodice-rippers. Wax: ... Wax: So, uh, we never negotiated about role-play, but... Steris: I'LL GET MY SPECIALLY DESIGNED RIPPABLE BODICE

10. Dalinar

Dalinar: My favorite romance is of course the story of me and Navani. Navani: Awww! Dalinar: But my second favorite romance is the explicit self-insert fanfiction I wrote about myself and Nohadon. Navani: ... Navani: You just learned to write. Dalinar: The world needed to know.

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Nevermore is a gothic tragedy. Part I: Classical and Shakespearean Tragedy

This essay assumes that you've read the first season of Nevermore. If you haven't, you'll be eating spoilers.

First of all, a disclaimer: you won't find the term "Gothic tragedy" in theory books, because I just pulled it out of my sleeve. But it seemed appropriate to put it in those terms because, hey, beyond theoretical structuring, genres are also used as a guide to content, and that's kind of what I want to express with this.

Partly because I've noticed that I've called this comic a tragedy on more than one occasion, and talked at length about Lenore and Annabel as gothic characters, but never bothered to delve into these matters, and with the hiatus until (possibly) October, I think it's time to rectify that situation.

But also because I think there are a lot of things in this story that fall into place if you read it under the logic of those genres.

Originally, this was going to be a single essay, but it turns out it took over 2000 fucking words just to explain why it's a fucking tragedy, so I'm going to split this shit in two because I don't want to burn anyone's eyes out.

Tragedy and Types of Tragedy

This is the ridiculously abridged version because this is a really long story, if you want more information on the subject I highly recommend reading Aristotle's Poetics, Nietzsche's The Birth of Tragedy or watching this OSP video for a more proper introduction. If you're interested in Shakespearean tragedy, The Cambridge Shakespeare is a amazing compilation, and here's the essay that talks specifically about what the hell Shakespearean tragedy is.

Tragedy has been linked to the origins of theater as such, found in the festivals dedicated to Dionysus (if you want to know more about the cult of Dionysus, you can watch this video to start), where poetry contests were held, specifically of dithyrambs: lyric compositions dedicated specifically to Dionysus. This later led to the inclusion of an increasingly sophisticated chorus using masks. This was no longer poetry, but the first expressions of theater as we understand it in modern times, at least for Europe and the countries colonized by Europeans.

Nietzsche also points out that tragedy condenses within itself two opposing impulses represented in the gods Apollo and Dionysus, expressed in the terms "Apollonian" and "Dionysian": order, mathematics and music (understood by the Greeks as science) vs. party, debauchery and chaos. The clash between the beautiful and the grotesque (understanding that the "beautiful" can be disturbing and the "grotesque" can be strangely beautiful). This description is not entirely literal, of course, but it must be kept in mind that in order to have the fundamentals of a tragedy, one must have these two elements: order and chaos. A synchronized waltz between the rigid structures and the rupturing.

Yes, those two are enough.

Step by step, I think it is important to point out what are the transversal elements to tragedy - classical or Shakespearean - that are present in the comic.

The first important concept that appears on this page is Amarthia. The tragic mistake, the first domino that topples the whole stack, is the specific event that sets tragedy in motion, and we spectators of tragedy can only stare in horror at the situation, knowing that everything that follows will go terribly wrong.

At least as far as its protagonists are concerned, Annabel and Lenore's Amarthia has been said but not seen: the dinner party where Annabel will wear pearls, indicating to Lenore that she is in on the charade. From then on, every step they take will bring them closer to the fate we know: the arrival of both of them in Nevermore. This story ends with them both dead.

And if I had to point out the Amarthia of the comic's topicality, I would dare to say that this is it:

And this:

Annabel refuses to explain to Lenore why the plan has to be the way it is, while Lenore agrees to be part of it (the fact that she disagrees with the whole situation is a plus).

The interesting thing about this is that the roles are reversed: before, Annabel sealed the tragic fate of both of them by accepting Lenore's proposal, while in Nevermore, Lenore sealed the tragic fate of both of them by accepting Annabel's plan.

Another important term that comes up here is hybris. While it is true that hybris represents ego, this does not necessarily mean that the hero is self-centered in a personality sense; hybris is the tragic hero's (misguided, of course) belief that they can turn their terrible situation around. And, well…

That ends badly in tragedies. Very, very badly.

At this point, it is necessary to start pointing out the elements of each type of tragedy, because something interesting is happening: within the ancient walls of the purgatory that is Nevermore, a classical tragedy is taking place, while in the past, Annabel and Lenore were the protagonists of a Shakespearean tragedy.

Classical Tragedy

One thing to understand about classical tragedy is that these are stories of humanity versus divinity. The predestined fate that comes upon mortals at the hands of beings superior to them, even if those beings do not appear directly. The external forces superior to the characters do not intervene directly (at least not in most cases), but they put all the pieces in place for the tragic hero to fall headlong into his terrible fate "by their own hand". Yeah, that shit is so unfair.

In Nevermore, fate is represented by these two bastards: The Deans act as the ominous shadow of divinity that sets the rules of this battle royale. For all intents and purposes, this pair of bastards represents the tragic fate of the characters: only one will survive to have a second life. And there is (theoretically) no way to escape.

This is where we start to get into thorny issues. If I had to point out the classical tragedy that Nevermore most resembles, I think I'd get a smile out of Hadestown fans: Orpheo and Eurydice.

Okay, let's review: Orpheo is a highly talented musician who, after losing his beloved, goes to the underworld to find her. Hades and Persephone give him a chance to get her back if he doesn't turn around to see her until they leave the place, he does so at the last second, she returns to the underworld, and Orpheus spends the rest of his life in misery mourning her.

That's the thing, the story of Orpheo and Euridice is a tragedy for the most depressing reason of all: love. What seems like a generous gift from Hades and Persephone is actually a condemnation, because they ask Orpheus to do the one thing he could never do: stop looking at his beloved. In some versions of the story, he can't even hear her as they walk; will she really be her, or has he been tricked? Will she be frightened on this journey and he will not be there to comfort her? What if she has trouble on the road or an accident and Orpheus has left her behind? Orpheus loves Eurydice so much that he cannot save her under these circumstances because he cannot stop watching over her long enough to get her out of here.

Now let's go to Annabel and Lenore, the same thing is happening here, these two idiots love each other. It's probably the only thing they know for sure in this bullshit game. And for Annabel and Lenore, to love is to protect, it's to be the shield that will be there to defend their beloved in the face of adversity, she's been hurt in a terrible way and they will do anything to stop anyone from hurting her again.

But tragic fate, represented by the Deans, has set things in motion for this to quickly go to hell:

For Lenore to understand Annabel's actions, she would have to tell her that's why she's so afraid, why they shouldn't get attached to anyone, why she thinks it's necessary to pretend they don't remember each other. But Lenore can't be okay with Annabel carrying everything alone, because she sees how it hurts her, because Annabel is clearly hurting. She goes to great lengths to confide in Annabel, but she can't come up with a plausible explanation for all this crap either.

For Annabel, becoming a villain and enduring all this pain is slightly less horrible than dragging Lenore into the Deans' psychotic game. But Lenore just loves her too much to let her do that. Lenore could protect her if Annabel were by her side, so why does she keep leaving? She was hurt the first time, why do it to her a second time?

The feeling of not being heard, the frustration that the other just won't listen to her pleas and won't stop what she's doing to allow her to be cared for, runs through both of them because it's the exact same situation, "Why won't you let me do this for you?"

The answer is that Annabel and Lenore are asking the other to do the one thing she could never stop doing: stop trying to protect her. That's why they fight.

This relationship has become a power game that neither can win because they are both exactly the same. A tug-of-war that will only be resolved when something breaks. Hopefully not irreparably.

And speaking of the P-word, let's talk Shakespeare, people.

Shakespearean Tragedy

The good Bard took classical tragedy and brought it back, but changed enough elements of it that it had to be renamed because some of its fundamentals were rewritten. The most notorious of these is that while Shakespeare does not ignore the presence of higher forces or supernatural entities, the fundamental basis of Shakespearean tragedy is not the conflict between humanity and the Fates/Gods.

It is power.

Those who wield power, those who are corrupted by it, and those who crave it. These tragedies speak of moral corruption, the victims of power, and those who sink under the responsibility that power brings.

This is the reason why Shakespeare's tragic heroes belong to the nobility, come from opulent families, or hold important positions. In this case, we have as protagonists two women who were born in a cradle of gold: Lenore apparently comes from a family of old money, and while we do not know if Annabel also comes from a family of old money, we do know that there is no shortage of coins around here.

But status cannot protect Shakespeare's protagonists from the society in which they live, whose agency is sometimes literally represented by people with power. This puts them in a situation from which they cannot escape and which screws them from the start (in other cases the Shakespearean protagonist is the figure of power and seals his own fate). Here, the odds are stacked against them from the start because they are women and, as if that were not enough, lesbians.

I think it's no surprise to anyone that the Shakespearean tragedy most similar to Nevermore is Romeo and Juliet.

Let's review: Romeo and Juliet are two young people who meet at a party and fall madly in love. Their families hate each other, so they cannot be together. The two secretly marry, but after an argument Romeo kills a man and is banished, despite a plan hatched by a priest friend so they can run away together, things go terribly wrong and they both end up committing suicide.

This follows a similar logic to Orpheus and Eurydice: the tragedy here is that these two are in love. But where classical tragedy says, "They love each other so much they can't save themselves," Romeo and Juliet, like Annabel and Lenore, works with two layers of conflict.

The first is the social and political. These young people's families hate each other, so they can't be together. In the same way, Annabel and Lenore can't be together because they're both women.

This is also a reference to one of the central themes of Romeo and Juliet: the clash between tradition and modernity. I think if you squint hard enough, you can see the relationship between these two as Victorian conservatism and homophobia screwing up their lives in the same way that tradition screws up Romeo and Juliet's.

The other layer of the problem is the one that has to do with love: Romeo and Juliet love each other so much that they cannot live without each other. This is what drives them both to suicide, even when they are given the opportunity to continue their lives separately. They love each other so much that they cannot live without each other. Just as Annabel and Lenore desperately want to be together, this is what starts the engine of tragedy when circumstances prevent them from doing so.

Another thing it takes from Romeo and Juliet is the role of the parents as a representation of the power that oppresses the characters. In Romeo and Juliet, the Montague and Capulet lords pull the strings of their children's lives, and it is their resentment that creates the barrier between the lovers. In the case of Nevermore, Ira and Thaddeus are the personal jailers of their respective daughters: Ira wants to get Annabel into an arranged marriage by hook or by crook, and Thaddeus first gets Lenore a fiancé and then keeps her locked up in the fucking attic.

Finally, a tragedy that can be read as a reference to Nevermore, though more subtly, is Macbeth.

The plot is simple: a trio of witches tell Duke Macbeth that he and his descendants will one day be kings. This leads him to murder his cousin, King Duncan, and everything goes downhill from there, because Duncan's murder didn't even amuse the prince.

Yes, at first glance it doesn't seem to make much sense, but that's because it's referring to a specific moment. Specifically, the most discussed and controversial scene in the play: the dialog where Lady Macbeth and Macbeth discuss killing Duncan.

This scene has kept the Bard's fans arguing for centuries: is she manipulating her husband so that she can be queen, or is she just verbalizing Macbeth's wishes that he be allowed to commit the crime, and saying that she will support him in it? Impossible to know unless someone gets a working Ouija board.

This is the same logic that follows the flashback scene where Lenore talks to Annabel about the plan. The important thing here is that the comic decides that the answer is: it depends on who you ask.

Given Annabel's attitude toward Lenore, we can interpret that she does not think she was manipulated or anything. Lenore is not a devious woman who put things in her head, it was her knight in shining armor who came to save her from a marriage she didn't want. Yes, she may have had her doubts, but she definitely liked her chances, enough to accept them.

On the other hand, what this tells me is that Lenore thinks the opposite: that she convinced Annabel to be part of this hoax that ended with both of them dead. A crazy woman who dragged the only person she cared about into a dangerous game that cost them their lives, she considers herself as guilty as the perpetrating hand of the crime.

Conclusion

I think the first time I decided to do a review under this particular lens was when I started to notice where Annabel and Lenore's arcs seemed to be going.

On the one hand, given how things are going, it seems that Lenore has to start taking off the blindfold to realize that things aren't as simple as she thinks, and stop letting others make the hard decisions for her because it hurts everyone.

On Annabel's side, you have a character arc that seems to be aimed at being honest with other people, not letting her fears stop her from making risky decisions, and not dealing with all the bullshit herself.

If what I just said leaves a bad taste in your mouth, that's normal. Because it's fucking unfair.

That Lenore should be the one to stand firm - not out of guilt, but out of responsibility - for her actions feels like shit after everything the poor girl has been through. The same thing happens on Annabel's side, that she has to give in to a situation where it makes so much sense for her to shut down, where it makes sense, even without her background, for her to behave that way.

But that sense of injustice is one of the foundations of tragedies. The feeling that, in her situation, it is practically impossible to think that anything different could be done is the basis of catharsis: the pity felt for the character, the fear generated by identifying with their terrible situation.

The expiation of these emotions, which are produced in the spectator by the fall of the tragic hero.

Now, it is interesting to ask how the fall of Annabel and Lenore will be. The simple answer from a tragic point of view is death, a thing we know has already happened once, why not a second time? After all, that's what awaits tragic heroes. Unless you're Medea.

It's impossible to know how the comic will develop, but it seems to me that this is as far as the tragedy goes. For the next part, I want to talk about gothic novels, female vampires, the female writers of the period, and the last gothic. Believe me, buddies, there is no more obsessive romantic bond than that between a Poe protagonist and their dead bride.

[maleyanderecafe]

Hi! I love your blog and reading your game recommendations (really grateful to find some hidden treasure!!!) so I want to send you a recommendation as well! Recently the demo for the game "Snow White Ashes" by endysis has been updated, and though yandere elements are so far, quite subtle, the hints are there (esp in bonus scenes). Not to mention the stunning artworks, the original soundtracks, and the lovely writing weaving one gothic horror fairytale-like story. I'd love for you to enjoy it and share with us your analysis of the game! Have a good day and once again thank you for all of your recommendations!

This game really does embody a tragic fairy tale (which, originally a lot of fairy tales were like this) inside of a visual novel. The artwork is beautiful, the story is sad and the soundtrack is very nice to listen to. The yandere actions in this game aren't as prominent on Gabriel's side (and in fact are a bit more so on the female lead's side). There are about three routes that can go about that also unlock three different extra scenes. If you are interested, you can find more at @endys.

The story starts out with a woman walking in the cold forest. She seems to be out luring someone to her to kill them, as evidenced by the knife in her pocket. She decides to either draw blood or sing to lure them out, both of which brings out a man dressed in white to come to her aid. Seeing that the woman is cold, he offers to let her stay at his place as the nearest town is too far away. She graciously accepts his help and she brings her into a cabin in the woods. As they walk, they ask for each others names. The MC's name is Michelle and the man introduces himself as Gabriel. She seems to want to expose Gabriel for the monster he is, though so far he doesn't seem to be at all. The two converse, talking about the Mist Queen, a mystic person who seems to be someone inhumane terrorizing the town. While talking she mentions a family that she was accepted into, though now it no longer is something that exists. We learn that while he is a hunter now, he used to be a doctor and was married happily for a long while until the plague happened or we learn about how he and his wife met, with him tending to her wounds after she fell. Michelle then talks about either her fondness of singing or her fondness of sewing. They end up getting to the cottage after they hear some wolves.

Upon going to the cottage, the two are about to make out when Gabriel ends up pulling out the weapon from Michelle's clothes. He seems to know that she's lying to him about her name and identity. She cannot lie to him and reveals that she is indeed the Mist Queen, aka, Gabriel's former wife. She bites back at him, asking why he was bringing back girls to his cottage, where he retorts that he knew who she was the entire time. Gabriel retorts that she has taken a new body accusing her of murdering a young girl, when Michelle reveals that she only took the body of a girl who was already dead. She continues stating that the girl (and many others) have been found dead, likely because of one of their kind, accusing him of killing them. Gabriel tells her, (Selene is her true name) that he wouldn't do that and that he's been loyal to her for centuries, also revealing that she was the one who made him immortal like her. Gabriel leaves to see if what Selene said is true, which leaves her alone in the cabin. She can either decide to stay or leave, and if she stays, she has the chance to destroy his lyre, which if she does, will cause her to feel immense regret afterwards. Even if she leaves, she will end up being saved by Gabriel after she is almost attacked by wolves. After looking around, she ends up finally resting, which leads to a dream about her past.

She first has nightmare about the two girl's skin that she stole, Myia, and the one where she first met Gabriel and the one she is wearing now, Calliope. We see a flashback of when she first met Gabriel. Having gotten a new body by chance, instead of eating it, she decides to pretend to be her and live in the village. She later attempts to hunt for food, but ends up getting hurt, causing the person she was hunting, Gabriel to help her. Although she is pretty annoyed at his help, she ends up accepting it nevertheless, with Gabriel even carrying her back to the village. As time goes on, the two of them grow fonder of each other, until Gabriel ends up proposing to her. Initially she refuses, afraid that he will eventually find out who she is and will eventually outlive him. However, despite all of this, knowing that she is not actually the girl whos skin she wears, she ends up accepting and living with him as his wife in the village. Later on, Gabriel ends up losing one of his patients during childbirth and the two end up adopting her surviving son. Selene ends up making a doll for her new adopted son, with Gabriel impressed by her needlework. As time goes by and Gabriel ages, Selene's body does not, causing rumors to spread across her village. This leads to a fight with her and Gabriel as she feels incredible guilt that he will eventually die leaving her behind while she lives as essentially a zombie. As they resolve the fight, Gabriel promises to never leave her side until his death. A few years later, a plague starts to form in town. Gabriel tries to make Selene and their son leave so they won't get infected, while he wants to stay behind and do his job as a doctor. However, as she wants to be by his side, she sends her son off to safety while she stays behind with her husband. As time goes by, Gabriel gets sicker and sicker, even losing his arm, having Selene chop it off for him. Slowly he begins to die, and Selene's body also starts to deteriorate, and to keep him alive, Selene finds dead bodies and sews parts of them back onto Gabriel as his body decays. After this, she ends up giving some of her blood to him, causing him to live again. Gabriel initially doesn't recognize her as she's had to change bodies, but also is equally as frightened by his new body. Then afterwards the two live together for a bit before separating for thirty years. After the two of them wander in isolation, Gabriel returns to Selene, devoting himself to her as he cannot bear the isolation any longer, only asking for her to kill him if he goes mad for blood.

Upon waking up, she seems worried that she might have to kill him to keep the promise she made to him. She finds that Gabriel had returned, even making her food in return. Gabriel tells her that he indeed saw the things that she spoke of, and we see that he even kept one of the pieces of clothes she made him. After being fed (or not) the soup that he made. The two argue for a bit about the entire seducing thing in the beginning, with Gabriel being hesitant because she's not in the original body where they first met. They hear a knock at the door and upon opening it, see the body of Myia talking to Gabriel about how he missed her and how she missed him.

There are three extra scenes. I'll go from the first one Lullaby to the last one, Monsters. These are all from Gabriel's point of view, likely something that happens while she sleeps.

In Lullaby, we see that he is surprised to see her wear another skin. He seems to have a bit of body dysmorphia, not even recognizing his new hand despite everything, thus wearing the gloves he always does. He seems to have a lot of self loathing and ends up humming a lullaby to her at the end.

In Suffering, Gabriel wonders about how his wife is feeling, desperately wanting to touch her face but not allowing himself to. He doesn't want leave her side or have anyone take his place. It seems he believes he has to stay by her side no matter what, and that he needs her more than anything. This is probably the extra that encapsulates his more yandere nature in a more clingy manner.

In Monster, Gabriel seems to find it weird that his wife was able to live like this for so long. He is especially angry in this one, wondering if she knows how easy it would be for him to kill her as she sleeps. This extra is the one that is the most possessive.

The story itself is rather melancholy in tone, much like the original Grimms Fairy Tales, with a lot of inspiration seemingly being taken from things like Snow White and the Ice Queen, which you can kind of tell from the title. The artwork is extremely beautiful with moving parts of the backgrounds like leaves and snow, and there is a feeling of bitterness between Selene and Gabriel despite the love they clearly have for each other. The work is written in a more fanciful tone, and has a lot of mourning on Selene's part as she is essentially an immortal zombie/vampire- never really truly quite human and never really comfortable in the skin she's in (quite literally). The music is lovely too, very quiet but impactful which really gives the whole vibe of the game being a more sad retelling of a story.

Both Gabriel and Selene have a sort of attachment with each other and both of them are obsessed/possessive with each other. On Selene's part, while she did try to break away from Gabriel when they first met, she wasn't able to, and when she did get the happy life as a human, she very desperately didn't want to let go of it, claiming Gabriel and their adopted son as hers. In the backstory especially we do see that she internally is very possessive over Gabriel, considering this is the first time she's properly fallen in love with someone and is fully aware that she can't live this life forever. We also see this in the current time with Selene accusing Gabriel of luring other women into his cottage, even though he knew it was her in the first place. Despite this though, we can see where this idea comes from, as Selene is always pretending to be someone else as she's always in someone else's skin, and immortal, meaning that she can never fully enjoy a human life as herself. She knows that Gabriel will likely die one day and she fears being alone again, and losing the person she loves. On both sides there is a strong attachment with each other. Gabriel, even before turned in the creature that Selene was already devoting his life to be with her, loyal to the very end of his life. And even after when Selene turns him, he returns after many years to devote himself once again, wanting to stay by her side forever, much like the knight like family he was raised in. We see this more in the extra stories where we see Gabriel's point of view, seeing that he's obsessed with being with her because he has nothing else and that she is his, though we also see that it is part of a mix of other emotions such as his fear of being lonely and his feelings of dysmorphia due to the body parts stitched onto him. He still maintains his strong loyalty to Selene, but it is also filled with anger as she turned him against his will, even if it was in an attempt to save his life from disease.

I'm not really sure who this new person that comes in at the end is. She very clearly is using the body of when Selene and Gabriel first met and knows about their relationship. It is very likely another one of their species, though why she seems to specifically be targeting these two is still a mystery. We're also not sure who or what is causing the death of the many maidens, so it could actually be her depending on how long this story is. It's a good mystery and cliffhanger that invests you in wanting more.

But overall, a pretty beautiful game. The yandere moments are definitely much more muted and I'd even argue that currently Selene has more yandere moments than Gabriel mostly due to her feelings in the past, but it is nice to see a couple that is loyal to each other, even if they have bitter feelings towards each other. A complicated thing. If you are interested, please try it out.

[writing-for-life]

The Self-Love, Sex and Pursuit of the Helm Novels

Part 2: Bully for You—An Unhinged Interlude

Okay, I’ve spent the whole @sandman-rarepair-fest with tragic relationships, poetry and being serious.

And while this relationship is also… tragic, it’s neither poetic nor to be taken seriously, although a small group of us are fully committed to the cause: Behold, the crack ship! Morpheus x The Helm! For the Monsterfucker prompt.

(It’s highly advisable to read part one first, but they can sort of exist independently. Just not as well 🤣)

Bully For You: An Unhinged Interlude (2321 words) by Writing-for-Life Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, Desire of the Endless, The Helm (The Sandman) Additional Tags: I Blame Tumblr, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Or Is It?, Muhulhu, Drat! A HelmLord Story, Murphy and his Cool Hat, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Swearing, Masturbation, Anal Something, Because I have no clue what they are doing honestly, helm fucking, Monsterfucking of sorts, It's a Dream of a Thousand Cats Situation, At least a thousand fanfic writers were thinking of the same thing, but he actually enjoyed it, although he would never admit to it, Dream and the Helm finally get it on, About Time, tags what tags they make no sense, don't get your hopes up, this is not really smut, it has all the marks of being explicit, but somehow it's really not Series: Part 2 of The Self-Love, Sex and Pursuit of the Helm Novels: A Tragicomedy in Three Movements Summary:

Where we witness how the Lord of Dreams loses his bearings (no, not those ones), and even Desire needs a stiff drink…

If you always wanted to know what's so special about Dream's relationship with his Helm (capital H on occasion), this might provide some answers. Or raise more questions than you ever dared to ask...

Excerpt:

Desire had felt… things for a short while but shrugged the sensations off. Until they became impossible to ignore. Because he wanted something without their doing (although what comes first, or who, was sometimes hard to tell, but not to get lost in details at this point, dear reader). In lieu of ridiculous desires like “something beyond my function, blah blah”, it would usually be shaped like a woman. Since Desire had given him Killalla (and maybe, just maybe, taken her away again, which still made them chuckle), he had developed a bit of a kink for female-shaped mortals. Well, they hadn’t all been mortal, but the “female-shaped” still stood. And because of the mere fact that their brother was so painfully strait-laced (we suggest the spelling “straight-laced” here, dear reader), it came as a bit of a surprise to feel those decidedly different vibes. Dream wanted something. But it wasn’t a woman, or anything remotely female-shaped. It was…

What the heck was it?

Desire concentrated really hard.

It seemed to be something forged in the fever dream of a blacksmith who took his inspiration from a lobster and a nightmare. Something otherworldly, something with a spine like the tail of a crustacean. Truly, if a lobster decided to pursue a career in gothic architecture and at the same time became some sort of… headgear, it would probably look like this.

Desire first rolled their eyes but then felt their breath catching. “It’s his fucking helm,” they muttered. “Please give me a break. He wants to fuck his helm…”

Brother Dream, master of the subconscious, running his hand tenderly, with a slight shake, over the spine of that ludicrous thing. Desire laughed out loud, but the laugh was short-lived, because things began to unravel. Rapidly…

Read the rest here (otherwise I have to add a content label 🤣)

[emeritusemeritus]

Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley twins x reader]

Part 3

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {established relationship}

Timeline: DH1- set during the battle of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Outside sex. Semi public sex. None sexual nudity. Crying. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we die like Madeye.

With a loud clack you were gone and appeared only moments later in a small, deserted park, surrounded by metal railings and vacant benches, knowing you had to be safe and not go straight to your destination. You set off on your little walk and in no time at all you were facing Grimmauld Place. With a flourish of you wand and a wordless charm, the building began to rumble and pull back, sliding out between the next door residences that were totally black in the dead of night until number 12 was clearly visible.

"Homenum revelio," you cast as you walked through the door, looking down at the slightly illuminated hallway, the dark walls and grotesquely gothic architecture making you feel a little more than uneasy but you couldn't allow yourself to be frightened now. Nothing happened from your spell and you realised you were entirely alone in the property, an sigh of relief falling from your lips at the revelation.

"Lumos," you said quietly as you walked deeper into the safe house, illuminated wand guiding your way, walking directly up the creaking staircase towards the third room on the right, the bedroom you'd been sharing with Fred and George only a year ago. You prayed it was still here.

You didn't divert from your path and immediately crouched down towards the small round rug in the centre of the room as you entered your old bedroom and peeled back the rug to check the floorboards beneath it. Knocking three times, then two, and saying a muffled 'revelio', you watched as the floorboard popped up out of its socket just as it had been enchanted to do. You pulled the floorboard away and smirked to yourself as you saw the very thing you'd hidden all that time ago, still in perfect condition. The marauders map.

During your last year at Hogwarts, Harry had spent an agonising amount of time following Draco on the map, so much so that it was becoming detrimental to his school work, his sleep and his life. You and Hermione had both decided to remove the map from his possession, knowing the risks that the map held if it were to get into the wrong hands and so you'd each vowed to hide the map with only the pair of you knowing it's hiding place.

Pulling the map from its confines, you uttered the words you'd heard Fred and George say so many times before and right in front of your eyes the words appeared, brown ink bleeding onto the page.

I solemnly swear I am up to no good.

It took mere seconds for you to locate exactly what you were looking for, spotting the singular name on the map exactly where you'd predicted it to be. The climax of your plan could now take place.

You realised that this whole step of the plan could have been avoided but you wanted to make sure that the figure you followed on the map was exactly where you'd planned them to be, no doubt slipping into your determination.

"Mischief managed," you uttered, tapping it once with your wand and the writing began to fade away, leaving the parchment bare once again. You quickly stuffed it into the hole and replaced the floorboard, uttering the enchantment you'd placed upon it and exited the house completely. As you left, the creaking of the metal and rumble of the bricks faded into the background as the house fought to conceal itself once again.

You walked quickly back to the park and with a quick glance around to determine no one was around, you disapparated straight to your next destination.

Hogsmeade was notoriously cold early in the morning, in fact you'd called it the coldest place in the U.K. numerous times over the years and as your feet landed on the dewy ground, you had to hold back a shiver. Your stomach lurched as you landed, the multiple apparitions and disapparitions taking their toll on your body but you pressed on, wanting to get this over with.

You'd apparated just outside the border of the anti-disapparation jinx that was placed upon Hogwarts and the surrounding grounds, knowing the range of the jinx from a side along apparition you'd undertaken with Snape two years ago to collect ingredients for his personal store.

You trudged around a deserted Hogsmeade in the darkness using only your memory to guide you and appeared around the back of the only illuminated shop in the entire village; Honeydukes.

They were notorious for baking their homemade treats overnight, prepared fresh for the morning trade the next day. Fred had told you a while back that all their deliveries were made in the early morning as to have everything on hand for the busy morning rush; something he'd seen firsthand when him and George had been to visit a vacant unit in Hogsmeade after store close back when they considered expanding before putting that plan on hold. All it would take was a carefully timed entry through the small cellar door and you'd be on your way to your last destination. As you crouched in the darkness, concealed by the shadows of the nearby shops, you mentally wished that you'd managed to acquire Harry's invisibility cloak for your mission but there was no going back now.

As one worker excited the back door, leaving it swung right open, you ran in and rounded the corner, running straight down the back stairs that lead to the cellar, a route you'd taken many times with your boyfriends in your school years. With a quick look around, you lifted the slab and slipped into the passageway, carefully replacing the stone slab behind you. You breathed out a large breath and cast a light spell so that you could see, quickly making your way through the hidden passage that led to Hogwarts.

It was freezing and damp in the passageway and you briefly pined for the company of your boyfriends as you walked the long distance towards the castle. You took the time to consider how you were going to do this but quickly put it out of your mind, realising that your anger was your greatest weapon in this instance.

You finally appeared at the alcove behind the one eyed witch statue and expertly made your way around it like you had many times before, finding yourself in the deserted great staircase. Only once you'd breached the castle did the overwhelming sense of danger register with you. If Snape had turned in his allegiance, you could be in serious danger, coming face to face with a death eater, the same one that you knew had cursed your boyfriend so severely. The very thought of George lay there covered in his own blood and looking so gravely ill made the adrenaline inside you surge and suddenly you didn't feel fear anymore.

You marched directly over to the headmaster's tower, reaching the concealed gargoyle staircase that led to Dumbledore's office, or rather Snape's office now.

"Sherbet lemon," you said, expecting the staircase to appear but the Gargoyle you had seemed to disrupt from slumber suddenly cursed you out for getting it wrong. You hadn't considered that Snape would change the password, though of course it made sense.

"But, Dumbledore," you began to argue until falling silent only a moment later as the staircase opened up and slowly unfurled, making you momentarily frown in confusion.

Taking a deep breath, you ascended the moving stone staircase until you were met with the closed door to the office. You considered knocking, but thought better of it and burst through the doors, directly facing the man who had betrayed your trust.

He was sat at his desk, eyes wide open as he looks upon the indignant intrusion, first with a glare of complete outrage before it transformed into confusion and from what you could see, guilt, as he realised it was you that had stormed into his office.

It was the first time you'd seen him since the news that he had killed Dumbledore that night on the astronomy tower had spread around members of the order, though it was not known to the general public. Years of bonding and working closely together, of building something that could be described as friendship now felt fragmented and broken as you stepped into the office, your anger consuming you at his attack on George.

"Y/n," he says, rising from his seat, casting aside the book he'd been reading on the desk without thought.

"Save it," you spat out, your fury building within you as you slammed the door behind you closed with a resounding bang. You looked at him in pure disgust, with such hatred in your eyes that you could almost see his shoulders sagging under the force of your gaze. Clearly he had not expected you, nor had he expected to be on the receiving end of your fury.

"How could you?" You said, already raising your voice as the emotion overwhelms you, the memories from the formative years of you working hard under his initial harsh scrutiny, the slightly odd but important bond you'd formed, your important role working as his assistant and the time you'd shared together. "I trusted you!"

"Then you are a fool," he says quickly with a cold, dismissive tone, averting his gaze from you.

"Don't play that with me, you should know it doesn't work headmaster," you retort warningly, the last word dripping from your mouth with loaded sarcastic aggression.

You'd been used to his cold and harsh exterior, had seen it weaponised and utilised for his benefit many times before but you knew the real Snape, the intelligent and warm man underneath.

He turns and casts a few spells with a flourish of his wand that leads you to believe they are strong silencing charms as a translucent barrier forms around the room, as if keeping your conversation isolated.

"I had to watch the man I love be carried in, completely limp and haemorrhaging blood knowing there it was you that cursed him. He could have died Severus!"

"You have no proof it was me-" he begins to say, still keeping his hardened resolve, deflecting your accusations but it only infuriates you more, tears beginning to well in your eyes as the emotions overcome you completely as you interrupt his pathetic denial.

"No? I was there that night with you and Draco, remember?" You say hatefully, "I saw how that curse slashed Draco apart, the very same curse Harry found in your own copy of advanced potion making,

Sectumsempra."

For the first time since entering his office, Snape turned to look at you in shock, realising now that you knew all along. "You really believe the person that has worked with you closely and tirelessly over the years would fail to recognise your handwriting?"

He falls silent as he takes in your words, which prompts you to continue your verbal assassination.

"I saw the very same slash marks on George's head, I knew that curse could only have come from you. Funny how you knew exactly what incantation to use to heal the marks when it was an entirely unheard of curse! Do I mean that little to you that you'd go so far as to curse the ear off the man I love?! I thought we were... friends." A singular tear fell from your eye as the anguish inside you disappeared, leaving only sadness and betrayal.

He remains silent for a moment and you prepare yourself to walk out, realising this was a pointless and fruitless endeavour. Just as you turn to walk away, his quiet voice cuts through the silent, tension filled room, pausing your movement. It appears that your words and willingness to leave had broken his resolve, the truth finally coming out.

"It was never meant for George," he says quietly, not meeting your eyes. "There's so much of this you do not and cannot know but you must understand it was never my intention to hurt him, it was a miscalculation in logistics. I saw a masked one aim at Lupin and Weasley and I retaliated in kind, but it all moved so fast, the curse bounded towards him and I was powerless to stop it."

He turns to you then, looking directly into your eyes with a sadness that seemed to reach his soul.

"And to answer your question, your friendship means everything to me, you mean very much to me."

"Severus," you breath out, listening to his explanation and finding yourself believing him, though you tried to resist.

"You've always overlooked my predisposition for life's negativity, shown me kindness that no one else has in a very long time, like a beacon of goodness in what seems a lifetime of darkness and solitude. I value our friendship a great deal."

He looks up at you once again, focusing his complete attention on you.

"I'm sorry that George was hurt, it was very much never my intention. How is he?"

"Alive," you say, feeling suddenly exhausted by the journey and your emotions as you perch yourself on the edge of the chair. He nods solemnly just once, eyes lingering over you as an awkward silence falls between you both. There's so much that isn't said between you, of friendship and war and questions of loyalty, but all of those go unsaid.

"You're no longer on our side are you?" You said quietly after a moment, slowly looking up into his emotion filled eyes as you keep your tone neutral and unaccusing. You'd surmised as much, though you were loathe to actually believe it even after the events of the previous day which you assumed could only have been down to him. He had leaked the information to Voldemort, you were now sure if it. Mundungus might have had questionable morals but he wasn't brave enough to supply the death eaters with information, he'd have been too cowardly, which only left the one order member that wasn't present or assisting with the removal of Harry.

He blinks slowly and you can almost physically see him deflate as he looks into your eyes with a piercing intensity, not wanting to answer your question.

"I should go," you say, looking at the patterns in the stone floor. You don't hear a reply but you can envision him nodding in reply and so you move to stand, straightening out your jacket.

"Use the floo, Hogsmeade is no longer safe if not accompanied," he says, gesturing vaguely towards the fireplace in the corner. With a wave of his hand, the fireplace immediately ignites into green tinted flames, ready for your exit.

"Y/n," Severus says, stepping closer to you with uncharacteristic hesitation before you can step into the fire. He looks plagued, like he wants to say so much but can't for whatever reason.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way, I hope one day you will understand and find it in yourself to forgive me."

You're briefly taken aback by his words, finally realising that from this point onwards you would no longer have the relationship you had always had, you'd be natural enemies on either side of a budding war. His words felt like a final goodbye and you bit the inside of your cheek to prevent tears from forming in your eyes once again.

"I hope you can forgive yourself, and I don't just mean for George. I hope one day you realise that you're a good man and finally see yourself the same way I have always seen you. Goodbye Severus."

Your eyes remain locked on each other for a few moments, sad eyes meeting as you part ways, both physically and emotionally. You take a handful of floo powder and with one last look at your now ex-friend, you speak loudly and clearly into the fire, 'Diagonal Alley' before the fire consumed you and you're transported to the Leaky Cauldron, just as you had envisioned in your mind, knowing their fireplace would be one of the few open for all use even at this time of night, or rather early morning. You exit the deserted Inn and exited onto the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, walking absently until you were directly outside your boyfriends' shop.

You wheezed and caught your breath as you stood looking up at the shop, guilt niggling at you as you thought of how you couldn't go straight to the Burrow, sensing that it would give Snape the advantage of knowledge that you could no longer entrust him with, if he hadn't known already.

You walked to the door of the shop and cast the charm to unlock the door, the specific spell that Fred had created that was specific to this lock and acted as an anti-unlocking charm that couldn't be penetrated by alohamora or even the more creative unlocking spells. Once inside, you pointed your wand at the lock and cast the charm to lock the door before closing your eyes and with tired determination, you climbed the stairs until you reached the flat you lived in upstairs with Fred and George.

Fred had cast a anti-apparition jinx in the shop and the surrounding areas that they owned as a precaution and right at this moment you were mentally cursing his efforts, feeling exhausted, though apparating your current state would be incredibly dangerous anyway, the tiredness in your body and mind would most likely have gotten you splinched.

You entered your flat and immediately grabbed a glass of water, taking a seat at the kitchen table, feeling suddenly very alone without the usual company of one or both of your loves, the flat seeming empty and without life. You needed to get back before sunrise and you maybe only had an hour before the sun would begin to peak over the lowest points on the horizon so you quickly went into the bathroom to relieve yourself and wash your face, changing your clothes on the way back through.

In your note to the twins, you'd lied and stated that you needed something from home and would be nipping back to get it so you moved a couple of things around on the coffee table and kitchen, as if you'd been searching for something before walking to the bedroom you all shared and pulled out your jewellery box, reaching for the locket they had bought you on your 17th birthday. Inside was a picture of each of them, Fred on the left and George on the right you'd taken at the Yule ball all those years ago.

You'd realised during the wait for the order to return that you'd forgotten to pack it and you knew the twins wouldn't question you going back for it, knowing how sentimental you were about this particular piece, making it the perfect rouse.

Stepping towards the fire, you yawned and cast one last spell to connect the floo, seeing green flames once again rising. You thought about Severus and felt a pang of sadness hit you but you carried on regardless, feeling more than ready to crawl into bed with your boyfriends again.

Hagrid, still sleeping soundly on the floor, no doubt knocked out by his firewhiskey intake, didn't even flinch as the flames surged in the fireplace as you returned to the Burrow, feeling exhausted. Your confrontation with Snape had been tiresome but cathartic and though there was so much that went unsaid, you were pleased overall with how things had gone. You were exhausted in both body and mind but somehow you didn't feel tired, at least not tired enough to sleep. You considered making a cup of tea but with another look at a snoring Hagrid, you decided it was best not to.

You trudged up the staircase, mindfully stepping in a perfected sequence that avoided all the creaking steps and noisy floorboards until you reached the door to your boyfriends' room. You gently twisted the door handle and crept inside the mostly dark room, the essence of first light creeping in over the hills.

Immediately, you felt yourself engulfed into a large figure and had to hold back a scream at the sudden movement, realising only when the voice whisper yelled at you that it was Fred.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" He asks in a harsh whisper and you freeze, realising with one single glance at his face that you'd never seen him look so worried before.

"Had to get my necklace," you said, your gut dropping as you lied to the man you loved, feeling more than uneasy about it. To solidify your lie, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your locket to show him. He visibly took a deep breath and pulled you deep into his chest.

"Next time let me go with you, I was so worried," he says, holding you tightly in his arms. You simply nodded and allowed yourself to melt into his embrace. "He woke up, asked for you."

Suddenly your guilt felt immeasurable, not being here for your other love. "Said you'd nipped to help mum, didn't want him worrying too."

"I'm sorry Freddie," you said with full honesty, feeling ashamed.

"You're back now," he says, stroking your back, keeping you pressed into him. "You must be tired."

"Not really," you admitted. Exhausted and weary yes but you could sleep if you were paid to.

"Want to go to our spot? He'll be knocked out for a few hours now, mum topped him up with some sleeping potion," he says, gesturing towards George who is evidentially deep asleep, mouth hanging wide open and breathing deeply and steadily from what you can see over Fred's wide shoulders.

"Lead the way Weasley," you say with a smile and he steps out of the room towards the top of the staircase and with two perfectly synchronised cracks, you apparate to the spot in the forest behind the burrow you'd claimed as your own years ago.

He took your hand as soon as you'd landed and lead you further into the clearing, stopping only briefly to help you over the little wooden stump and logs that created a barrier around your spot. You each sit around the fire that Fred starts with a flourish of his wand, sitting on the larger logs around it.

"I want to feel normal again," he says quietly a little later on as you sit in silence, Fred's wand enchanting some of flames to idly play with them as you watched the sun very slowly begin to creep higher in the sky, though it was hidden by the vast number of trees around you, keeping you mostly in the dark. You turn to him with concern, seeing his eyes blankly staring at the fire, his face expressionless.

"Seeing George like that, then waking up without you there, I've never felt so lost in my life," he says.

"Freddie," you begin to apologise, feeling overwhelmed by guilt again until he shakes his head.

"I'm just so used to always having one of you there, if not both. It's never been just me, always been 'the twins' or Gred and Forge and then you came along and we became a three. For the first time tonight I had a glimpse of being alone, completely alone without you both and it was unbearable."

"You're not alone, me and George will always be there," you say, shuffling closer to him to take his hand.

"We don't know what will happen, if something happens in the war and I lose you both," he begins to say.

"Then we'll still always be with you," you say firmly, squeezing his hand to force him to look up at you which he does.

He gazes at you for what seems like forever, as if he's searching your face for something before he leans in and kisses you with surprising intensity. You kiss him back just as feverishly, your body igniting under his touch as his hand creeps up into your hair to hold you to him. His tongue licks into your mouth and massages your own tongue as his other hand begin to wander.

"I need to feel you," he says breathlessly and desperately against your lips, never quite pulling away from you, "please sweetheart, let me feel you here with me."

"Freddie, yes," you say in reply, just as breathless as he. You sense a primal need in his desperate plea and can't deny him, nor did you want to. Much to how open you had both been during your shower earlier, you couldn't help but feel the pure connection between the two of you, the desperate need for comfort in the way only you could provide.

He blindly reached for his wand, still fixed to your lips and cast a spell against your lips that made a large blanket appear, a spell you recognised him creating a few years back when you'd pulled him right here to this spot for some alone time.

The past 24 hours had been a whirlwind of emotion, loss and pain. When George had been cursed, he became your primary focus and after he was healed, you'd been hell bent on getting answers if not revenge from your ex-friend and mentor, overlooking Fred and the torment you'd endured having to wait for his return, knowing he was in danger too.

You wrapped yourself around eachother, a tangle of passionate, sloppy kisses and wandering hands as you desperately clawed at each others clothes, needing to feel each other's warm skin and beating heart against your own.

Fred ripped off your shirt and wasted no time in lifting your bra up above your breasts so that he could bend down and suck on them, both of you finding comfort in the sensation of his lips sucking at your nipples as he briefly fiddled with the clasp before throwing the garment to one side, never once pausing his assault of your sensitive nipples. You had already tore away his sleep shirt and then pulled at his pyjama bottoms to feel him naked beside you. Your jeans were shimmied off somewhere along the way and your panties were physically ripped from your body at the waistband and thrown into the distance, leaving the both of you completely bare.

"Freddie, need you, don't make me wait," you said breathlessly, pulling away from his ravishing lips, feeling them connect to your neck almost as soon as you'd began talking.

"But," he begins to protest, his hand creeping down between your thighs to test how ready you were for him, not wanting to hurt you.

"I'm ready, fuck please I need you," you begged, opening your legs further as if to beckon him to you. You heard him groan as your words, capturing your nipple between his lips once more as he shifts to move between your legs, his muscular arms bulging either side of your head as he shifts into position, needing to see your face. He kisses you again and you feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into the crease of your groin before he pulls back to adjust himself and take hold of his cock with one hand and slides into you slowly and carefully. You both erupt in moans as you feel him sink into you, not stopping until you were taking nearly every inch of his thickness.

"Fuck, y/n," he groans, slowly pulling out of you before crashing his hips back into yours, making you throw your head back in pure pleasure, feeling his cock stretching you out and filling you in all the right ways. His eyes are clenched tightly shut as his mouth opens on its own accord as he begins to rock back and forth into you, building up to a slow but forceful rhythm.

Your legs wrap around his hips as your hand begin to grab at his wide shoulders, pulling him further into you as he reaches down to kiss you passionately once again. His hips speed up and he finally gives you what you want, both of you moaning once again at the change of angle, feeling him hit the deepest parts of you which makes you gasp and moan out his name.

It's primal and desperate as your bodies meld together, never really pulling apart even as his hips rock in and out of you with pure need. Neither of you can hold back your cries of pleasure, moaning each other's name and verbal curses echoing through the woods as he pounds into you. Suddenly needing something new, you place your hands on his chest and as he pauses his rhythm, you force him into his back and begin to ride him with all the strength you have left over. His big hands immediately lock onto your hips, guiding you and helping with your movements as he looks up at you with adoration in his eyes and mouth agape. His eyes are fixed onto your bouncing breasts and you make no move to conceal yourself as you bounce on his cock, hips bucking wildly and your hair falling over your shoulders. You steady yourself on his thighs as you lean back, giving him the perfect view of your bodies meeting and his cock disappearing in and out of you and he roars with arousal at the sight, hips thrusting upwards to fuck up into you as you both near your end.

Suddenly, his right hand reaches up to cup the back of your neck and he forcefully pulls you down onto him to kiss you again, sloppy kisses and teasing tongues as you lay chest to chest, his hips pounding into now. His other hand grins your hip and he lets out a loud groan against your lips as you feel him cumming. You're powerless to move as he holds you in place, fucking up into you with abandon and the sensation of him overpowering you hurtles you towards your own finish, your walls squeezing his twitching cock as you cum together, feeling his warm seed flood you from the inside.

As your orgasm ebbs away, the tingling sensation fading slowly, the world around you seemed to fade back into your conscious again. You looked down at Fred and saw him lay with his eyes closed, a peaceful look on his face with just the hint of a smirk tugging at the left side of his lips as his hands caressed your skin where he'd been holding you. His eyes slowly fluttered open a moment later and he looked up at you with love in his eyes, a look that you were certain was mirrored in your own.

You lifted your hips gently and his softening cock slipped out of you, both of you groaning in sensitivity at the sensation as you felt some of his load slipping out of you with the movement.

"I needed that," you half chuckled as you bent down and rested your head on his shoulder, legs extending either side of him so that you were essentially lay on top of him, which he was only happy to accommodate.

"Me too princess," he smirks, running his hand over your naked back. "We should get dressed, don't want you getting cold."

You dressed quickly with whatever clothes had survived your mass, frantic scrummage earlier. Fred ended up having to give you his sleep shirt as he'd literally ripped your T-shirt apart and your jeans chafed your bum uncomfortably as your panties were also beyond repair, leaving you without.

The sun had risen almost completely now, noticing as soon as you walked out of the tree line and you had no doubt that Molly would be up soon, delegating chores to every unsuspecting resident and guest. You wanted to be back with George, hopefully before he woke and so you both walked back and crept into the house, walking tiredly towards the twins bedroom where George was still sound asleep.

You took a moment to look at him, smiling and grimacing briefly as you saw the little puddle of drool that had formed on his pillow and the little snores he was omitting.

"I'll tell mum you've been brewing some healing potion all night," Fred says as you slip off your jeans, leaving you in just Freddie's T-shirt as you both slip into the small bed beside George's as Fred tucks the duvet around you both and pulls you into him so that you can cuddle into his chest. "At least you'll get some more sleep."

"Thank you Freddie, love you," you say sleepily, true tiredness hitting you immediately as you snuggled down into the soft covers.

"I love you too princess, so much," he says with a kiss to your head before your eyes close and you cuddle down into him, feeling sleep already taking over you.

Next

[nalyra-dreaming]

man, that's crazy (about ppl wanting the show to be Blade lol) tho i guess i can sympathize w/ folks who wanted loumand to be more romantic. even i thought at least they'd get a honeymoon phase where they'd be all blissful & in love. what we ended up getting was way meatier imho & more in line w/ the gothic vibe of the show, but i'm a loustater so it's easy for me to say that! i get why some fans felt let down. but all the hand-wringing abt a season that's hardly in production yet feels forced. they can't just admit they misread the story or were bummed by the direction it took, the show has to be "problematic" now to make them feel justified. like i totally set myself up for disappointment re: devil's minion. i fully expected them to get more attention in s2, but i don't blame the writers bc i created those expectations in my own head lol. i guess it's harder for the fans who were wrong about everything to walk that back tho, they gotta make it someone else's fault!

Yeah, well, as I said, I get the frustration (to an extent).

It's just that there was a lot of hate and accusations leveled beforehand at anyone pointing out that Loumand might not be the big wholesome romance that people imagined it to be. And people were soooooo (are still to an extent) convinced the show is not doing the books because Louis is black now.

But they are. The show none too subtly addressed that in 2x08, too, the "suit", the new setup... changes nothing.

They will still go to all the big emotional points, the big story points. As they have, too.

And some have just gone at this show with totally wrong expectations I think. Like, they expected something cute, or something that gives them the absolute truth about the story, or even stays the way it started.

And that is - will be - decidedly not the case.

[aimbutmiss]

Buggy gently held the face in front of him, fingers wrapping around the jaw to keep it still. He was supposed to go in for the eyeliner next, but the man in front of him flinched as soon as Buggy's fingers brushed his face, the reaction barely visible to the untrained eye. But Buggy knew Mihawk, or he thought he did, at least to a certain extent. He liked to think he improved a lot when it came to reading the hawk eyed man, especially compared to when they first formed Cross Guild. And what all that improvement entailed now, was the fact that the swordsman was uncomfortable. He let go of his face just as gently as he had held it.

"What's wrong?"

"..."

Buggy frowned and slumped his shoulders at the lack of response. "I let you do that horrifying gothic clown makeup on me, remember? Because I trusted you. But I'm not planning on turning you into a clown or anything, it's just your usual black eyeliner. So, trust me?"

"I do trust you." Mihawk sighed heavily, uncrossing his arms. "It's not about that. It's just... I'm not really used to- to this." He motioned between the two of them, trying his best to convey his feelings. He clearly needed more practice in that department, but Buggy took it in stride. They could work on it later, and frankly even this was an improvement.

Buggy retreated a bit, putting some more distance between them. "We don't have to do... this." He motioned between them just as the other had. "I just thought it would be fun, like last time. Even though I ended up looking straight out of a horror story, at least the process was enjoyable. Relaxing even."

Mihawk gave a small smile at that. "I thought you looked rather dashing in black."

Buggy rolled his eyes. "Of course you did. But I think I'll leave that to you. Wouldn't want to steal your schtick."

Mihawk's eyes squinted in amusement. "You couldn't if you tried."

"Nice try, but you can't provoke me like that. I'm not even going near black face paint for the unforeseeable future."

It was Mihawk's turn to roll his eyes, but he didn't say anything. They had fallen into a comfortable silence when Mihawk slowly reached for Buggy's hand, delicately caressing it with his thumb as Buggy held his breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm being difficult. This was supposed to be fun... But I'm okay now, you can continue."

Buggy shook his head, squeezing the hand holding his. "It should be fun for us both, I can't enjoy it if you're not enjoying it as well. You don't have to force yourself."

"I'm not." Mihawk looked Buggy in his big, round eyes that looked like they were portals leading straight to the ocean, his stare as unwavering as his voice as he spoke. "I'm not usually comfortable with people at this proximity... but I've come to find that I really don't mind it with you. I like it, in fact."

Buggy gulped, unable to break the intense eye contact. He didn't really know what he did to get into the swordsman's good graces, but he wasn't gonna mess it up no matter what. He gently reached for his face once again, getting in position to finally draw on the eyeliner.

"Don't move or I'll smudge it." He said, almost in a whisper.

Mihawk simply hummed in understanding, staying still as the waters of the Calm Belt. Buggy's breath was tickling his cheeks, and his hands were warm. He did his best to watch him do his work without moving, carving every inch of his focused face into memory.

"You're beautiful."

The words came out of his mouth without thinking, flowing as naturally as his haki through Yoru, and they made the clown still in his movements.

"What?"

Mihawk gave a breathy chuckle as Buggy's face grew redder by the second. "You heard me, beautiful."

Buggy moved back a bit, staring at the man as if he grew a second head. "What's gotten into you?"

Of course, Mihawk completely ignored him. "You look cute when you blush."

"Oh my God, can you stop?!" Buggy's face was now matching his nose, and Mihawk could swear he could see some steam coming out of his ears.

"You're not very good at taking compliments, are you?"

"I take them all the time! From my crew and my fans... It's just, unexpected from you."

That made something inside Mihawk twinge, but it didn't show on his face. "Then I'll have to compliment you more until you get used to it."

Buggy seemed to be struggling to put his thoughts into words, confused out of his mind at the other man's words. Did he eat something off? Was it a devil fruit user? Because something had to be wrong. But in the mess going inside his head, only one word was able to make its way to his tongue:

"Why?"

"Because I love to have your attention, your eyes on me, your hands on me... and your kindness. But I need to be kind to you as well to deserve it. This, right now... I don't deserve this, as things stand."

Buggy stared at the man in front of him for a moment, before slowly reaching out to cradle his face. "You are kind to me."

"Not kind enough to make up for the things I did before."

So, that's what this was about. Buggy sighed in understanding. "You apologised. I accepted your apology, and Crocodile's. Neither of you have any need to feel bad for your past mistakes."

Mihawk opened his mouth to speak but Buggy shushed him, pressing a finger on his lips. "I forgive you. Just take my word for it, idiot."

"... Alright."

Buggy smiled wide. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Later that evening, Crocodile walked into the tent to find a sleeping Buggy, drooling on a sleeping Mihawk. The swordsman's face was smudged with eyeliner, and the evening breeze was washing over them from the open window flap.

But neither of them were cold when they woke up, covered by a blanket they didn't remember getting.

[aprocessionofthoughts]

To listen

ectoberhaunt24 day 15- science fiction fandom- dp x dc tw - none summary- Danny hopes they will listen

masterlist ao3 part 12 of DLM

Danny followed Jason down the winding manor corridors, trying not to gape at all the lavish decor and the gothic architecture. He heard voices up ahead and he steeled himself. Jason paused before opening the door and looked back at him. He smiled gently.

“It’s going to be ok, Danny. I… I trust them. You can too. I promise.” he opened the door and stepped inside, waiting for Danny to follow.

“Hey, Jason what’s… Oh. who’s this?” said a black haired boy.

“Danny, this is Tim.” Jason said. “The blonde over there is Steph, she’s not actually adopted but she might as well be with how often she’s here.”

“Hey!”

“Over there,” Jason pointed toward one of the couches, “is Duke and Cass.”

They both waved.

“And the last one with the cat is Damian.” 

The boy scowled at Danny.

“Everyone, this is Danny. He’s the kid I told you about.”

They all paused, and Danny looked toward Jason.

“I asked Tim and Dick to help me look for you when you disappeared on me.”

“Ah.” Danny said, shuffling awkwardly in place. “Do they know about…” Danny trailed off, biting his lip and glancing at Jason again.

“I said you had powers.” Jason said simply, and Danny nodded.

“Ok. Now what?” he asked, shuffling closer to Jason. The rest of the siblings had gone back to what they were doing before, but Danny could tell they were paying attention.

“Let’s wait till Dick and Bruce get here, and then we can try and explain. Ok?” Jason said quietly, and Danny could feel that he was honest and only wanted to help.

Danny had to try and trust him. He nodded.

He sat with Jason on a couch and tried to ignore the siblings sending him subtle glances. They had been watching a movie which they had paused when he’d come in, but now they pressed play. Danny tried to concentrate on it, but his thoughts kept swirling.

Finally, after what felt like forever Dick and Bruce both came up. Dick grinned at him before flopping down over Steph’s lap. Bruce stared for a moment, gaze moving between Danny and Jason before he sat down in an armchair. 

Alfred followed them in, handing out mugs of hot chocolate and plates of cookies.

“Thanks, Alfred.” Danny whispered when the old butler passed him a mug and plate.

He had smiled gently at him before taking a seat on another armchair.

“So,” Jason started, clapping his hands together. “I’m still kind of dead. Surprise!”

Spluttering and noises of protest filled the room. Dick rolled his eyes, and Alfred raised an eyebrow.

“Explain.” Bruce’s stern voice, cut through the others, and everyone fell silent.

Jason glanced at Danny before turning once again toward the others. “I’m still connected with death. Sure, I came back, but it looks like a bit of death energy still stayed with me.” Jason said, and Danny could tell he was trying to be strong for him. Jason might not be afraid his family would turn on him, but he still wasn’t sure exactly how they would react. 

Danny could do this. For Jason.

“It’s called being liminal.” Danny said. “Or death touched. It’s not harmful.” Danny fought the urge to glare at them all. “It just makes… us… a bit different. It also,” he glanced at Jason agin, “leaves us vulnerable to the Ghost Investigation Ward who has permission to hunt down, capture, and kill any creature that registers as even slightly ectoplasmically contaminated.”

“Ghosts?” he heard Steph say.

“Yes.” he glared.

“Woah,” she raised her hands. “Not doubting you, little man, just asking for clarification.” 

Danny took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “Sorry, I’m just used to people dismissing this as a load of sci-fi junk or ghost stories.”

Steph snorted, and Danny grinned.

He took another deep breath, looked at Jason one more time, and then explained what he had told Jason and Dick.

Ghosts were real. Liminals were a thing. The GIW were a threat. He was more than just a little liminal. He didn’t show them his other form, but he told them about it. 

And they listened. They didn’t judge or doubt. 

They listened.

[lannistertwinz]

"You loved me then what right had you to leave me?" - the parallels between Jaime/Cersei and Wuthering Heights

"There's a dialogue that goes on through the years and over the centuries where you read someone else's work and you're inspired by it, sometimes infuriated by it, and you say 'No, that's not quite right, here's the way it would be' and then you write your own twist on it, your own answer to it! There is this conscious playing with tropes, replying to other authors and making a reference or an homage in some cases… but there's also unconsciousness. Those are are rife, sometimes you read a book and you haven't looked at it for twenty years, but it's still there buried inside and suddenly someone points out 'this seems just like this' and you go 'Oh my god! It's right, I forgot about that!'. So it works both ways." - George R.R. Martin, Trinity College Dublin

“The first books I read besides comic books were cheap paperbacks which cost 35 cents back then. There were no bookstores in Bayonne so I got my paperbacks from a spinner rack and all the books in that were mixed up. There were science fiction books and fantasy books, which I liked, but there were also mystery novels, romance novels, nurse novels, gothics, spy novels and, of course, there were classics of literature mixed in with that: Shakespeare, Dostoiévski, the Brontë sisters, Jane Austen, etc.” – George R.R. Martin, Gamer’s Haven Podcast

As pointed out above, George has (whether conscious or unconsciously) taken inspiration from other works to create his own characters, and with this post I’d like to explain as to why I believe A Song Of Ice And Fire specifically plays with Heathcliff and Catherine’s relationship from Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights through Jaime and Cersei’s dynamic.

To briefly explain it to those who have not read it, Wuthering Heights is essentially the story of Heathcliff’s revenge on the Earnshaws and the Lintons for the discrimination suffered at their hands and their involvement in his estrangement from his friend and lover Catherine Earnshaw (aka Cathy) and, at it’s core, it is a novel about intergenerational abuse and family dysfunction.

Shaped by these circumstances, we have at the forefront of the book the toxic romance between the foster siblings Heathcliff and Catherine who, like Jaime and Cersei, develop a very intimate bond early on in their childhood:

She was much too fond of Heathcliff. The greatest punishment we could invent for her was to keep her separate from him. – Nelly, Chapter V He could never bear to be long apart from his twin. – Jaime, ASOS

‘I was a child; my father was just buried, and my misery arose from the separation that Hindley had ordered between me and Heathcliff. I was laid alone, for the first time; and, rousing from a dismal doze after a night of weeping, I lifted my hand to push the panels aside: it struck the tabletop!’ – Catherine, Chapter XII Though Cersei often slept alone, she had never liked it. Her oldest memories were of sharing a bed with Jaime, when they had still been so young that no one could tell the two of them apart. Later, after they were separated, she'd had a string of bedmaids and companions, most of them girls of an age with her, the daughters of her father's household knights and bannermen. – Cersei, AFFC

We made ourselves as snug as our means allowed in the arch of the dresser. I had just fastened our pinafores together, and hung them up for a curtain, when in comes Joseph, on an errand from the stables. He tears down my handiwork, boxes my ears, and croaks. – Catherine, Chapter III "Sometimes as a lark we would dress in each other's clothes and spend a whole day each as the other." – Cersei, ACOK

I took my dingy volume by the scroop, and hurled it into the dogkennel, vowing I hated a good book. Heathcliff kicked his to the same place. – Catherine, Chapter III The dank and dismal fortnight Cersei spent at Greenstone, the seat of House Estermont, was the longest of her young life. Jaime dubbed the castle "Greenshit" at first sight, and soon had Cersei doing it too. – Cersei, AFFC

Miss Cathy had been sick, and that made her still; she leant against her father’s knee, and Heathcliff was lying on the floor with his head in her lap. – Nelly, Chapter V "Care for a bath, Brienne?" He laughed. "You're a maiden and there's the pool. I'll wash your back." He used to scrub Cersei's back, when they were children together at Casterly Rock. – Jaime, ASOS

Additionally, in both cases, the female characters have, from early on, a clear influence over their male counterparts:

His peevish reproofs wakened in her a naughty delight to provoke him: she was never so happy as when we were all scolding her at once, and she defying us with her bold, saucy look, and her ready words; turning Joseph’s religious curses into ridicule, baiting me, and doing just what her father hated most showing how her pretended insolence, which he thought real, had more power over Heathcliff than his kindness: how the boy would do her bidding in anything, and his only when it suited his own inclination. – Nelly, Chapter V “Father will never consent,” Jaime objected. […] “Is it a rock you want? Or me?” He remembered that night as if it were yesterday. […] By morning Casterly Rock seemed a small price to pay to be near her always. He gave his consent, and Cersei promised to do the rest. – Jaime, ASOS

‘He’s considering he’d rather I’d come to him! Find a way, then! not through that kirkyard. You are slow! Be content, you always followed me!’ – Catherine, Chapter XII She rose, her eyes brimming with tears. “Is it truly you?” She did not come to him, however. She has never come to me, he thought. She has always waited, letting me come to her. – Jaime, ASOS

And there’s an element of adoration as well. In Wuthering Heights, at the end of Heathcliff’s life, Nelly refers to Catherine as his “departed idol” and Heathcliff describes Cathy as “so immeasurably superior to everybody on earth”. On the other hand, in A Song Of Ice And Fire, Jaime puts Cersei on a pedestal as the figure of “The Maiden” and describes Cersei’s flame in his weirwood dream as “the only light in the world”. Furthermore, the two claim to have suffered through hardships solely for the sake of these women and that their love is the ultimate factor that drives them:

‘I’ve fought through a bitter life since I last heard your voice; and you must forgive me, for I struggled only for you!’ – Heathcliff, Chapter X When morning came, he made himself eat. They fed him a mush of oats, horse food, but he forced down every spoon. He ate again at evenfall, and the next day. Live, he told himself harshly, live for Cersei. – Jaime, ASOS

‘Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!’ – Heathcliff, Chapter XVI Beside Lord Tywin stood his sister, pale and beautiful, a torch burning in her hand. Her torch was the only light in the cavern. She turned to go. “Stay with me,” Jaime pleaded. “Don't leave me here alone. Don't leave me in the dark!” – Jaime, ASOS

However, the most striking similarities arise from the way that Catherine and Cersei perceive their relationships with Heathcliff and Jaime respectively. Catherine, though far from being the worst person out of the cast of characters present in the novel (certainly Hindley and Joseph and even Heathcliff himself are more morally reprehensible), is the one that possesses the most traits stereotypically ascribed to narcissism: she’s very duplicitous and self-absorbed, she has a completely delusional opinion of herself and consistently projects her own flaws onto others, she’s often contemptuous of the weaknesses of those around her, she has a very explosive temper and reacts with aggression when crossed, she flips situations on their head to make herself look like the victim and she certainly sees her relationships as transactional, including her relationship with Heathcliff:

‘And should I always be sitting with you? What good do I get? What do you talk about? You might be dumb, or a baby, for anything you say to amuse me, or for anything you do, either!’ – Catherine, Chapter VIII

It is also frequently mentioned that Catherine enjoys being in control and does not take well to being contradicted:

It was nothing less than murder in her eyes for anyone to presume to stand up and contradict her. – Nelly, Chapter IX Cersei is as gentle as King Maegor, as selfless as Aegon the Unworthy, as wise as Mad Aerys. She never forgets a slight, real or imagined. She takes caution for cowardice and dissent for defiance. – Tyrion, ADWD

I observed that Mr. Edgar had a deep-rooted fear of ruffling her humour. He concealed it from her; but if ever he heard me answer sharply, or saw any other servant grow cloudy at some imperious order of hers, he would show his trouble by a frown of displeasure that never darkened on his own account. He many a time spoke sternly to me about my pertness; and averred that the stab of a knife could not inflict a worse pang than he suffered at seeing his lady vexed. Not to grieve a kind master, I learned to be less touchy; and, for the space of half a year, the gunpowder lay as harmless as sand, because no fire came near to explode it. – Nelly, Chapter X His sister liked to think of herself as Lord Tywin with teats, but she was wrong. Their father had been as relentless and implacable as a glacier, where Cersei was all wildfire, especially when thwarted. – Jaime, AFFC

And this leads to a point of contention when Heathcliff returns a changed man from his time away:

‘Don’t vex me. Why have you disregarded my request?’ – Catherine, Chapter XI Why does he insist on vexing me? – Cersei, AFFC

‘Oh, you see, Nelly, he would not relent a moment to keep me out of the grave. That is how I’m loved!’ – Catherine, Chapter XV “You swore that you would always love me. It is not loving to make me beg.” – Cersei, AFFC

All of this, combined with the particular way in which Catherine describes her feelings for Heathcliff, led critics of the book to accuse Catherine of perceiving and thus loving Heathcliff as an extension of herself. And, surely, most of these things she privately confesses to Nelly could have easily come out of Cersei’s mouth, who has been confirmed by the author to being written as highly narcissistic.

In chapter IX, Catherine says that her love for Heathcliff is a necessity and throughout the series Cersei’s sentiments for Jaime are frequently displayed through that same lens:

The wench had the right of it. He could not die. Cersei was waiting for him. She would have need of him. – Jaime, ASOS They rode hard the next day, at Jaime's insistence. His son was dead, and his sister needed him. – Jaime, ASOS “Jaime, you're my shining knight. You cannot abandon me when I need you most!” – Cersei, ASOS “I need you with me. In me. Please, Jaime. Please.” – Cersei, AFFC “Why would Cersei need the Warrior? She has me.” – Jaime, AFFC She licked her lips, shivering. “Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.” – Cersei, AFFC Jaime, I need Jaime. – Cersei, ADWD

Of course, in Cersei’s case, she “needs” Jaime because he is, in her mind, the brawn to her brain (“He was meant to be my sword and shield, my strong right arm.”), her protector, her agency in a patriarchal society… but she also needs him because she does not feel like a self-realized autonomous human being without him as she believes her own personhood has been split into two entities. And the same goes for Catherine:

‘I cannot express it; but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is or should be an existence of yours beyond you. What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here?’ – Catherine, Chapter IX “Jaime and I are more than brother and sister. We are one person in two bodies.” – Cersei, AGOT

‘Supposing at twelve years old I had been wrenched from the Heights, and every early association, and my all in all, as Heathcliff was at that time, and been converted at a stroke into Mrs. Linton, the lady of Thrushcross Grange, and the wife of a stranger: an exile, and outcast, thenceforth, from what had been my world. You may fancy a glimpse of the abyss where I grovelled!’ – Catherine, Chapter XII “I was lost without you, Jaime. I was afraid the Starks would send me your head. I could not have borne that. I am not whole without you.” – Cersei, ASOS

In fact, both women go as far as claiming their partners’ identities as their own:

‘Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He’s always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.’ – Catherine, Chapter IX “You are me, I am you.” – Cersei, AFFC ‘It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he shall never know how I love him: and that, not because he’s handsome, Nelly, but because he’s more myself than I am.’ – Catherine, Chapter IX

And from this idea of a shared existence and a lack of purpose when apart comes the desire for union in death and the mythologizing of these relationships:

‘If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it.’ – Catherine, Chapter IX “If he were dead, I would know it. We came into this world together, Uncle. He would not go without me.” – Cersei, ADWD ‘She’s dead! I’ve not waited for you to learn that’. – Heathcliff, Chapter XVI

‘We’ve braved its ghosts often together, and dared each other to stand among the graves and ask them to come. But, Heathcliff, if I dare you now, will you venture? If you do, I’ll keep you. I’ll not lie there by myself: they may bury me twelve feet deep, and throw the church down over me, but I won’t rest till you are with me. I never will!’ – Catherine, Chapter XII I cannot die while Cersei lives, he told himself. We will die together as we were born together. – Jaime, ASOS ‘I wish they may shovel in the earth over us both!’ – Heathcliff, Chapter XXIX

What’s interesting about Wuthering Heights, though, is that, other than codependency, there is an inherent selfishness and possessiveness to this. In chapter XV, when Catherine is effectively dying, it is clear that she does not want Heathcliff to outlive her and she’s terrified by the idea of him moving on and finding happiness elsewhere:

‘How strong you are! How many years do you mean to live after I am gone?’ – Catherine, Chapter XV “Will you forget me? Will you be happy when I am in the earth? Will you say twenty years hence, ‘That’s the grave of Catherine Earnshaw? I loved her long ago, and was wretched to lose her; but it is past. I’ve loved many others since: my children are dearer to me than she was; and, at death, I shall not rejoice that I are going to her: I shall be sorry that I must leave them!’ Will you say so, Heathcliff?” – Catherine, Chapter XV

Indeed, Catherine goes as far as telling Heathcliff that she wishes he would just die (and suffer) alongside her:

‘I wish I could hold you till we were both dead! I shouldn’t care what you suffered. I care nothing for your sufferings. Why shouldn’t you suffer? I do!’ – Catherine, Chapter XV ‘I’m not wishing you greater torment than I have, Heathcliff. I only wish us never to be parted.’ – Catherine, Chapter XV

And Cersei does something comparable when she (in her delusion) asks Jaime to be her champion in a mortal combat knowing he is likely to lose for his handicap:

“My queen,” said Qyburn, “have you . . . forgotten? Ser Jaime has no sword hand. If he should champion you and lose . . .” We will leave this world together, as we once came into it. “He will not lose. Not Jaime. Not with my life at stake.” – Cersei, AFFC

Heathcliff and Catherine don’t die together, however, and, despite what happened in Game Of Thrones, I’m still highly sceptical that Jaime and Cersei will die together in the books either. Yet the impression that Wuthering Heights leaves is that the unhealthy nature of Heathcliff and Catherine’s bond is at the root of their own self-destruction and tragic end:

Ere long, I heard the click of the latch, and Catherine flew up-stairs, breathless and wild; too excited to show gladness: indeed, by her face, you would rather have surmised an awful calamity. – Nelly, Chapter X ‘Mrs. Linton is now just recovering,’ I said; ‘she’ll never be like she was, but her life is spared; and if you really have a regard for her, you’ll shun crossing her way again. […] Another encounter between you and the master would kill her altogether.’ – Nelly, Chapter XIV ‘You have killed me and thriven on it, I think.’ -  Catherine, Chapter XV “’Nay, it’s enough that he has murdered one of you,’ I observed aloud. ‘At the Grange, everyone knows your sister would have been living now had it not been for Mr. Heathcliff. After all, it is preferable to be hated than loved by him. When I recollect how happy we were, how happy Catherine was before he came, I’m fit to curse the day.’ Most likely, Heathcliff noticed more the truth of what was said, than the spirit of the person who said it. His attention was roused, I saw, for his eyes rained down tears among the ashes, and he drew his breath in suffocating sighs.” – Isabella, Chapter XVII ‘She might have been living yet, if it had not been for him!’ was his constant bitter reflection; and, in his eyes, Heathcliff seemed a murderer. – Nelly, Chapter XXI

‘I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer but yours! How can I?’ – Heathcliff, Chapter XV ‘It was a strange way of killing: not by inches, but by fractions of hairbreadths, to beguile me with the spectre of a hope through eighteen years!’ – Heathcliff, Chapter XXIX

The intense horror of nightmare came over me: I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and a most melancholy voice sobbed, ‘Let me in let me in!’ ‘Who are you?’ I asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage myself. ‘Catherine Linton,’ it replied, shiveringly (why did I think of Linton? I had read Earnshaw twenty times for Linton) ‘I’m come home: I’d lost my way on the moor!’ As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a child’s face looking through the window. - Mr. Lockwood, Chapter III The following evening was very wet: indeed, it poured down till day-dawn; and, as I took my morning walk round the house, I observed the master’s window swinging open, and the rain driving straight in. […] I peeped in. Mr. Heathcliff was there laid on his back. His eyes met mine so keen and fierce, I started; and then he seemed to smile. I could not think him dead: but his face and throat were washed with rain; the bed-clothes dripped, and he was perfectly still. The lattice, flapping to and fro, had grazed one hand that rested on the sill; no blood trickled from the broken skin, and when I put my fingers to it, I could doubt no more: he was dead and stark! – Nelly, Chapter XXXVI

And I wouldn’t be surprised if A Song Of Ice And Fire were to go in the same direction:

It is raining again, he thought when he saw how wet she was. The water was trickling down her cloak to puddle round her feet. How did she get here? I never heard her enter. She was dressed like a tavern wench in a heavy roughspun cloak, badly dyed in mottled browns and fraying at the hem. A hood concealed her face, but he could see the candles dancing in the green pools of her eyes, and when she moved he knew her. – Jaime, AFFC I thought that I was the Warrior and Cersei was the Maid, but all the time she was the Stranger, hiding her true face from my gaze. – Jaime, AFFC The Stranger represents death and the unknown, and leads the dead to the other world. Whilst referred to as male, he is neither male nor female. The Stranger's face has been described as half-human, concealed beneath a hooded mantle. – A Wiki Of Ice And Fire

“Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds. And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you.” – Maggy The Frog, AFFC “Tyrion is the valonqar. Do you use that word in Myr? It's High Valyrian, it means little brother.”  - Cersei, AFFC “He came into this world holding my foot, our old maester said”. – Cersei, AGOT “The Imp is no longer my brother, if he ever was.” – Cersei, AFFC A man stepped into the lantern light, and she saw his cloak was white. “Jaime?” I dreamt of one brother, but the other has come to wake me. – Cersei, AFFC

So, in conclusion, I find it plausible that George might have simply taken the narcissism, the violence and the “twin soul”/“other half” connection present in Wuthering Heights to it’s even more extreme by creating the chaotic mess that is the incestuous relationship between twins who are mirror images of each other... And there's a decent number of parallels to at least make a case for it!

Tag: @faintingheroine

[spookykoolkat]

the red j.m. | chapter four

CHAPTER FOUR: NO GOOD

series masterlist | main masterlist |

previous chapter | next chapter

pairings: older!joel miller x plus sized!younger!reader

chapter summary: you've been in jackson for a month now and things are still a little rough. you haven't found the right crowd to fit into yet, and thought maybe you might have to settle for the family of four you already know, until you meet your patrol partner, tyler. unfortunately, joel doesn't seem to like the idea of you with any other man but him.

warnings: 18+ age gap (joel is 57, reader is turning 26), inappropriate thoughts, sexual language, teasing, touching, slight jealous!joel, x-rated descriptions, crude language, perv!joel, creepy!joel, mean joel not too mean tho, MDNI!!!

wc: 6.2k

na: HI! thank you for alllll of the love oh my god my little gothic heart is so full i love you guys!!! i hope this series is everything and more to you guys bc i love this so much! hopefully as chapters go by, i get better in my writing and hope everyone enjoys it! i appreciate all of your kind words and interactions with me and making me feel welcome since i am new to writing on tumblr and kind of took a six year break from writing oneshots/fanfictions LOL. anyways please enjoy this chapter things are g3tting a little hot and heavy :P I CANT WAITT i hope that my writing is cathartic for my big girls we do not get enough representation for us in stories and writings!please enjoy! smut coming soon fr fr LMFAOO

i appreciate all reblogs, likes and comments feel free to do any one of those things or ALL! if u think its deserved :P

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

DECEMBER 21ST, 2024

YOU

you’ve been in jackson for a month now. you couldn’t believe it, you truly had every doubt about staying even a week. but, it’s probably the calmest life you’ve lived in a very long time. you enjoyed it and you truly felt you’d made the right decision, it didn’t take much convincing either. but, you still haven’t unpacked the items maria gave you and continues to give you. just in case. 

the neighbors are learning your name, as you are with them, and they actually care. as much as you let them. you felt quite bad because you found yourself still not clicking with anyone around you. and you’ve tried. the people your age find you boring, almost a dark cloud over them, bursting their bubbles. younger kids only approach you because of ellie, asking for advice on stance and grip. the older group, around tommy and joel’s age, finds you a bit much. 

your language, your lack of social awareness–sometimes it gets embarrassing. saying something old heads wouldn’t necessarily like, being too blunt and a little explicit. joel figured you should hang around your age group, yet you didn’t really click in with the rest. he was far from embarrassed being around you, you just said the things he was thinking out loud.

you only found yourself clicking with joel. in many ways, as much as he let you. he was standoffish most of the time, barely cracking a smile at your weird habits and the noises you make when you’re passed out on the couch. he refused to let you break him, this wall that he had up to survive. do not get attached. he thought, maybe the less he knew you the less it’d hurt to have anything happen to you. but it seems even as little as he does know you, he’s still feeling that tug at his heart laying his eyes on you. 

it was too late. whoops.

joel doesn’t want to address that feeling, and he doesn’t want to call it as it is. he actually cares about you. he had no choice but to call it that, because why else would he lie to you about finding cassettes in the house?— so that you didn’t know what he really did to get you whatever he could get his hands on. 

he didn’t want you to know that he actually smuggled in goods that he and his family needed, and while bribing, stealing, trading and selling for necessities, he made it a mission to find at least one cassette tape for you. he didn’t know you actually saw him red handed, and you still didn’t know where those boxes were coming from. he figured if you knew, you’d bring it up. 

he made it his mission for two whole weeks, after your first week of staying with him, and finally got his hands on some actual music for you. joel hadn’t made efforts like this in a long time, and he knew that denying the fact that he at least cared for you would mean he was being delusional. 

but he was always worried about you. you were his object of affection and he craved to find a way to get you out of his mind. he actually felt guilty for thinking about you in ways you’ve probably never been before, he felt guilty for wanting nothing but to make you feel good—however that was. 

you doubted it strongly of course, shaking the feeling off as your own delusion and insanity, but you always hoped. hoped that maybe his generosity and southern hospitality was actually him caring about you in a different way, but he was a grown man. you tried to off yourself in front of him–you were insane to think he’d even look at you as anything but a liability, he hardly looked your way as it was. 

at least you thought so.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

joel paid attention to every single thing he sees and hears. he doesn’t show it, he doesn’t acknowledge it—all he does is observe. some more than others. 

you didn’t talk to him unless he talked to you, you kept your distance like he wanted, but somehow he knew everything that was going on. he didn’t have to talk to you to know you, and that’s what he was ashamed of. he watched you. 

he was a creep, he felt like someone who was abnormal and making things weirder than they had to be. he was studying you and you didn’t even know. he picked up on what made you smile, which cassettes you listened to the most, which just so happened to be the ones he was ‘holding on to.’ and in the midst of observing you, he checked you out any time he got. 

when you weren’t looking mostly, but even sometimes when you were talking to him about something not so important. he realized that if you did see that his eyes wandered over you, you were probably gaslighting yourself into thinking he wasn’t doing exactly what you thought he was doing. he loved your body. and he loved the way you dressed your body, the way the shirts you wore always clung to your heavy breasts, how even when you dressed in baggy clothes he still wanted to ruin you like that. 

sick. you’re a sick old pervert, ya kno’ that? he knew. what joel didn’t know is why you made him feel this way, why you drove him to do the things that he does for you. why he acted feral every time you bent over, why he would storm out of the room when you got on your hands and knees to pick something you dropped up off the floor. 

but he also studied you because he wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling how you felt the night you woke up in jackson, to make sure you weren’t feeling depressed or like you didn’t want to be here anymore. just talk to her fucker. he couldn’t. he would never admit it, but he’s eavesdropped near ellie’s garage to hear conversations between the two girls. 

“ellie, i mean it, you cannot tell joel.” you hushed as you glanced towards the door, back to ellie. 

she scoffed. “like i’d tell him, lay it on me.” you noticed the irritation in her eyes when you brought up joel, asking yourself if maybe there was something that wasn’t being said. you just put a pin in it. 

“okay. one, i’m finally allowed a gun and i got my patrol route.” you cheered in a hush and joel almost pressed his ear into the door. 

ellie rolled her eyes, grabbing the piece of paper. “no fucking fair. good looks, telling me bad news first. what’s two?” she joked. 

“i met my patrol partner. his name’s uh, tyler? i think. yeah,” you looked down and nodded, assuring yourself. joel made it a note to tell ellie how thin her walls were, not right now though. 

“tyler… tyler m?” joel thought of every man in this town named tyler with the letter M as his last name. instantly made a mental list of five tylers. 

“i don’t know. but he asked me for a drink. tonight, he was gonna meet me here but i told him i’d meet him there. lesson number 5, always have a way to leave anywhere you are if you need to.” you said. you figured it’d be best to teach her as much as you could, telling her things she needed to hear to survive. 

that’s how joel knew immediately what was happening when he heard your soft singing from your cracked door. you were getting ready for him. he actually hated it. he couldn’t remember the last time he felt that heat in his chest, biting the tongue—it wasn’t until his face turned down into the old familiar feeling, what he recognized as jealousy. 

who was he to be jealous? for what? it was a saturday night, most people were off of work, and everyone was settling in the town’s circle to drink and watch movies. everyone but joel. he was now classified as a bitter old man, with a dark whiskey in his glass. maybe now a bitter, creepy old man as he knocks slightly on the cracked door and you invite him in. 

you were fixing the laces on your shoes, simple black converse, and his eyes made his way up from there to your face. a deep v neck shirt that looked like a second skin from how tight it was, and faded black jeans with tiny holes from being lived in that hugged the fat of your thighs. he never noticed the gold dainty necklace that sat in the middle of your chest, but it sits right between the curves of your breasts. were they always that big? he felt like a kid, ogling and asking stupid questions.  

“hellooo? joel?” you called to him as you rested your palms on the width of your thighs. he saw your lips, coated in a sheen and your hair split down the middle instead of being in a pony tail or bun. creepy old man. you’re being creepy joel!!! he shook his head. 

“headin’ to the circle?” he asked. if he were close enough you could smell the whiskey on his breath. 

“yeah i-,” you thought for a minute. joel didn’t trust the next person as much as you did. you saw his protectiveness through ellie, you felt maybe he’d feel the same for you. even if you were a bit delusional. 

“-was gonna catch a movie with ellie, most likely be back around 12.” you said as you glanced at the clock, 9:32. 

“‘s that right?” he said suggestively, like he knew something you didn’t. he did. 

“yeah. that’s right,” you stood firm, even shot him a dirty look. “why don’t you enjoy the night, joel. you got the house to yourself, ain’t that what you’ve been mopin’ around for?” you stood up and grabbed your gun to put in your waistband behind your shirt, sticking a knife in your high top converse and one in your jean pocket. 

maybe you got too defensive, but you were right in a way. he looked miserable around the house, storming in just to grab a beer and lock himself in the library or room. 

“that’s right,” he was just smug. so smug you couldn’t stand it, you wanted to slap him. 

“whatever joel,” you wanted to be right so bad. you wanted to prove to even yourself that you were right. but neither of you were buying into this act you played, and you knew it. he was making you nervous with his stare, the hard shell you had was practically ripped off of you when he grabbed your wrist before you left the room. he held you, shoulder to shoulder and looked at your face, down your neck and to your chest. 

“if you need anythin’, you let me know darlin’.” darlin’? it was so foreign to you, so alien that you didn’t even have time to process it before your mouth moved to say a small alright and taking your arm from his grip. when you did, it was cold and you could feel the print of his hand around your wrist down the stairs. 

it was so different, something that leaked off of his words when he spoke to you. and you wanted to hear more of it, explore that with him. 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

before you could psych yourself out of going through the bar’s doors, you heard someone call for your name and turned your head to the left to see tyler, walking towards you with a big grin on his face. tyler was just two years older than you, someone you met while you were in combat and patrol classes, and didn’t acknowledge until he approached you, re-introducing himself as your partner for the first two weeks. you couldn’t be cold and shoo him away, you just smiled and introduced yourself, really looking at him. 

he was not joel miller. tyler’s skin wasn’t as tan as joel’s but he wasn’t pale, and he was actually a bit lanky even under the thick coats he layered. you noticed that his chest wasn’t as broad and strong as joel’s, hell his arms were smaller than yours. he was a skinny tall thing, while you were a bit short and thick everywhere. and when he embraced you lightly at the entrance of the bar, you just felt cold. no warmth, no comfort, you felt like you’d break him. 

“hey, i was hoping you’d actually come.” he breathed in as he pulled away, still, it wasn’t feeling right. 

“why wouldn’t i?” 

“cause you’re out of my league,” he said with a seductive smile and you wanted to believe him. wanted to enjoy the night as it comes and maybe have a few drinks, talk. but your mind was on a bitter man who sat in a house all by his lonesome. 

the thing about ‘dates’ now is that small talk doesn’t happen anymore. what’s your mom like? she’s dead actually. really? mine too! it was pointless. if you ended up here, you knew that you were alone. 

it wasn’t long before you and tyler were sitting on two stools, side by side. your knees were in between his as the two of you talked, flirted, gave simple touches. you were having fun. doing what would seem normal at a bar, just enjoying the company of someone who actually liked you. 

“how come you’ve never hung out with anyone else? i never see you with anyone.” he said, his fingers tapping on your knee. 

“mmm, i’m just not for everyone.” you flirted, covering his fingers with yours. you knew this wasn’t going anywhere, but you’d like to live in it just a little longer. the touch of a man, someone who desired you even if it wasn’t how you wanted. something you started to crave from joel. 

“maybe you’re just for me then?” he suggested, and you decided to just play into it. it was kind of hard not to when you were thinking of joel, you needed to act out on it. 

“i doubt that, honey,” you said, tugging at the collar of his shirt. he smelled like tequila and grass, something not that appealing but you ignore it. you wanted something out of him tonight, because for some reason the words joel spoke to you kept ringing in your ears. if you need anything, you let me know darlin’. the words rumbled through your body and straight to your core, because if there’s anything you need he could definitely be of help. 

you didn’t know how long you stayed at this bar, teasing and touching each other until you felt the ache in your core, aching for a touch that you’ve had once before. but you didn’t give a shit about purity or virginity, you wanted the ache gone and you knew tyler was the best bet. 

“tyler,” you whispered in his ear as the bar started to empty. 

“yes, beautiful?” he answered and slid his hand up your thigh. 

“show me how good you are with your fingers, yeah?” 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

he followed you back to joel’s, hand in hand as you turned the key to the house and softly opened the door to prevent the creaking. granted, you didn’t think this through, like everything else. maybe you should’ve gone to his. you cringed a bit, walking inside. 

it was dark inside, nothing but the sizzle of a freshly put out fire. you put your fingers to your lips to shush him, taking him slowly upstairs and to your room. you couldn’t help but find yourself glancing at joel’s door, which is cracked open. 

you finally made it to your room with the lanky man groping your body and trying to slither you out of your jeans, letting him. 

“only want your fingers, okay? if not you can leave.” you established as you stood in your panties and tight shirt. 

“fuck, yeah that’s okay,” tyler himself was craving a woman’s touch, he didn’t even care if he got off. he just wanted to see you, a woman’s body, to feel you. 

“can i touch you? like anywhere?” he asked as he sat on the edge of your bed, his cock already hardened against his pants. it didn’t sound right coming from him. you wondered what it’d sound like with the texas twang you craved to hear from a certain man. 

it still made your core twinge a bit, remembering the last time you were this vulnerable. you couldn’t lie, even if it wasn’t what you wanted, you fell in to the odd touch of the man desperately trying to touch you. 

“anywhere. keep your dick in your pants, i’ll touch as i go if you want me to.” you moved over to him and crawled into your bed, and he slipped in next to you as he propped himself on his elbow to look at you. 

“you’re so pretty, really.” he said, genuinely and you smiled. your stomach even fluttered a bit. it’s been a long time hearing that, hearing desire. 

“touch me, please.” 

tyler took his time, a little more than you’d liked but he was busy distracted with the way your tits pushed up to your chin, like you were suffocating. touching and teasing, his touch felt good but it still didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel heartstopping. maybe you’re expecting too much. 

but he didn’t talk to you when he dipped his hand in your panties, you just heard his whimpers and panting as he rutted his hard on into the side of your fat thigh, barely focused on you. you weren’t feeling it anymore, your wetness wasn’t even directed towards him really. everything you did with him was what you wanted to do with joel. you weren’t interested anymore and it started to feel wrong, it never felt good because tyler wasn’t worried about you. just his nut, and you didn’t like that. you didn’t like to feel used. 

“okay, wait, wait—i said wait!” you said and grabbed his wrist, pulling it from your panties and moving off of the bed. 

“wait, fuck i’m sorry, i was just so, fuck i’m so sorry.” he said a bit loudly, and you swore you heard a creak in the hallway as you moved to the door. 

“it’s okay, i just, i’m not–i’m tired. i think you should go.” you said, hugging your arm as he adjusted himself in his pants and got up. 

“i’m sorry, i,-” he tried again and you waved him off. 

“it’s done and forgotten, you didn’t do anything you were just really into it. i wasn’t.” you were careful with your words, not as tough as you would be because you’re vulnerable. but he wouldn’t get far if he hurt you, you knew that. 

“i’m sorry, goodnight. can we kind of like, forget this?” he asked rubbing the back of his neck and you softly laughed. 

“forget what?” you smiled and he returned it, giving a small kiss on the cheek before he left. he was a nice man, a good kid, and he meant no harm. he didn’t need a ruthless beating or yelling, just needed to tell him it wasn’t meant to be. you couldn’t shake the feeling of how wrong it was, how wrong it felt being tyler touching you. 

you knew who you wanted to touch you. as sweet and kind and charming tyler was, he wasn’t what you wanted. the man you wanted was across the hall from you, on the other side of the stairs. sleeping, maybe. 

you knew ellie was at a friends house doing only god knows what, so with the hope in mind that joel was asleep in his room, you trotted downstairs braless, and bottomless. you were still in the same tight shirt you left in, but now just in the pink panties that were apart of the gifts maria got you. just new/traded clothing you needed. the shirt hugged you and cut off at the dip of your curve, the fat of your tummy slightly protruding between the shirt and your panties. 

you didn’t look towards the fireplace where the sofas were, instead you grab a small cup and let faucet water pour into it, taking a drink. 

“work up a sweat?” a deep southern voice said behind you, from a distance. you jumped at the sudden break of silence and turned quickly to the sofas. 

“joel? what the fuck,” you breathed and stepped out to walk to the sofas. somehow, you completely disregarded the fact that all you had on was a shirt and panties, standing in joel miller’s living room. 

“what made you think it was a bright idea to invite a bastard in my home like that? not only that,” he said. you finally saw the light from outside shining on his face as he stood up, something glimmering in his hand. a gun. “but letting him touch all over you? that prick?” 

you had a lot to say, a lot to yell out. but the only thing to say was a snarky comment. “you know he called you the same thing.” 

which, he did. but you were too drunk on the flirting and drinks to care or to know why, even though you already knew. joel wasn’t nice to anyone but ellie. tommy and maria even think he’s an asshole, but that’s tommy’s brother and maria’s brother in law. he’s family. but there were things that you didn’t know about joel miller. things he didn’t want you to know either. 

“why do you even care? who’s touching me, i mean.” you scoff, feeling less embarrassed about your state of clothing. but being a lot more aware as he steps closer and closer to your curvy figure, putting his gun in the waistband of his sweatpants. 

he was intimidating like this. towering over you with his fists clenched, searching your face for something. you felt your heartbeat pick up as his eyes raked over you and fell on your lips. he was drunk off of you, the sight of your fat cunt only being clothed by a single piece of fabric drove him to dig his nails in his palms. the nakedness of your thighs, and the midriff showing—it was going to kill him.

“if you’re gonna fuck these town folk, make sure it ain’t in my house.” he spit, and you just rolled your eyes. you felt like you were in trouble for sneaking out, like a teenager. 

“i didn’t fuck anyone. we didn’t do anything. he wanted to, i didn’t.” you defended, feeling small now but still holding yourself tall.

joel just looked at you, not wondering if you were lying or not. he knew you weren’t, he heard it himself the minute he heard something bang against your wall. it was just you shuffling to get up, and he heard you consoling him. you weren’t satisfied. 

“why’d you lie to me? bout’ seein’ him tonight?” he asked, your head tilted up to his as he steps one step closer. your chest is almost touch his, and your breathing was getting heavier. 

“figured you wouldn’t trust him,” you said, sounding like you wanted to say something else but keeping it to yourself. 

he was watching you like you were his prey. like you were something he wanted to take and devour for himself, like you were something for his eyes only. 

“smart girl,” 

“he touch you wrong?” he couldn’t help but ask, the curiosity killing him slowly as time passes with you standing in front of him with your tight pink panties on. he looked down between the two of you and saw the hardened pebbles that were your nipples showing up through your black tight shirt, down to your tummy that was pressed against his. he liked the softness of your belly, he was practically dying to grip it himself. he wanted to grip every part of you, to palm your pussy and feel how warm you were in his grip. he even found himself hating his own mind as thought of what your pussy would look like sucking him in. 

“i, he,” you were stuttering, embarrassing yourself as his hand trailed up your arm, thinking of all the ways he could watch you take his cock for him. 

you watched him watch you. how his eyes went dark again, how there was a slight touch of possessiveness in his voice. you didn’t assume though.

“can’t find the words, hm? he wasn’t makin’ you feel good?” he asked softly, watching as you closed your eyes and breathed through your mouth, opening again to see a small grin playing on his lips, his head tilted to the side. his fingers barely left your wrist, and made their way to your fleshy hip, tapping against the bare skin. he was enjoying this. making you squirm. making you nervous. 

“fuck off, joel,” you meant it to come out a lot stronger than it did, even you thought you sounded needy. “s’ none of your damn business,” you spit, stronger this time.

and before you could even wallow in your retorts, a smile tugged very faintly at his lips. you weren’t so convincing when you were practically trying to pull him to your body with your fists buried in his sweater. he appreciated the effort though, he's never met someone with as much bite in their bark as you.

he just liked to watch you writhe for him. you wanted to whine with how eager you were for him, how mean he was being to you for no reason. you needed him.

“it’s like you’re not even tryin’, what’s the matter? do i make you nervous sweetheart?” he gleamed in his power over you, the way your eyes searched for him and your mouth parted, just for him. he wanted to ruin you in every way. ruin every man for you, show you how to truly be taken care of.

"go fuck yourself," you retorted and he actually laughed. and he laughed at you. a sudden heat rushed to your cheeks, embarrassment filling you.

“i didn’t tell you but,” he paused as he leaned into your ear, grazing his cheek against yours and smiling to himself, “you looked real pretty today, ya know that? you look even prettier like this, all flustered for me.” 

you had to be dreaming. had to have gone to sleep after tyler left, and this was your wet dream making up for it. there was no way you were this exposed to joel and he was practically pressed up against your body as he told you how pretty you looked. you couldn’t speak, your tongue was tied and joel smiled to himself as he realized he got you to shut up.

“would ya let me touch you, sweet girl? maybe you'd be nicer if someone knew how to touch you,” he asked, his fingers playing on your hip. 

you still couldn’t answer. it felt like a trap, like if you let yourself give in to his words, every guard you put up was pointless. you were frozen, and suddenly felt insanely vulnerable but his voice was so inviting, so impossible to not fall into.

“touch me where?” you asked, treading lightly. you wanted to hear it, you wanted him to tell you he wanted you as bad as you wanted him. you wanted to prove to yourself that you hadn't lost your mind yet. but you also wanted to stretch whatever this was as long as possible before you find yourself on your knees for him without even asking.

joel felt like he was out of his body. like he was watching you squirm and move under his presence from above. he was so distracted by how hard your nipples were rubbing against him that he didn’t even notice your fists balled into his shirt, trying to take him in closer. maybe it was the alcohol he drank to ignore the jealousy he felt, or maybe it was the fact that tommy came to tell joel about the boy you were seeing. how the two of you were practically on top of each other before he left, how he was touching you in public–he was angry. 

nothing was done, nothing more than joel grabbing your almost bare hip and you tugging on his shirt, but it still felt like something that was crossing a line. a line you wanted to cross.

until he got the courage to grab the hand that was buried in his sweater, taking it in his own and touching you with your hand. he was answering your question. his hand ghosted on top of yours as his eyes watched your eyes train on the sight between the two of the bodies, enjoying how soft and pink you look. you were hot and bothered, and he could get used to seeing you like this. 

“first place i’d touch you, baby,” he breathes, his lips practically against your cheek now. he was breathing you in, drinking you in, “is right here,” 

his hand guided you to cup your mound, angry that it wasn’t his hand touching you. your breath was shaky while you watched him, your eyes flickering from his moving hand to his eyes, and every time he made sure your eyes latched onto his. he wanted you to know how much he was enjoying teasing you like this, he wanted you to remember the way he looked at you while you panted against him. 

“but like this, lemme show you ‘xactly how i’d touch you sweetheart,” he was lost, drunken only on you, ignoring the world around him. “don’t think that boy would be enough for a woman like you, ain’t that right?"

he took his own hand as you were still pressed against his front, his lips now teasing the skin of the crook of your neck and starting to pull your panties away from your skin to dip his hand inside. your breathing was uneven and your soft whimpers were getting louder the more he trailed down into your underwear, and he was loving them.

the second he felt the scruff of your unshaved mound, he heard you release a shaky, sexy breath, and he grew harder against your bare abdomen. even feeling the heat of your skin on his clothed cock made him want to get on his knees and worship you.

"needy little fuckin' thing, that desperate for me huh? you gonna let me feel this pretty pussy how i want?"

he was so fucking filthy. so filthy for someone who hasn't even seen you naked, so filthy for someone who didn't even talk to you before this. it was agonizing, you were melting into his harsh words and wanted to listen to him make you feel small like this all night.

"joel, i swear," you warned as his breath hit your lips with his eyes on yours.

you had a bush, he thought to himself. he really didn’t think that would turn him on of course,  but now he pictured you standing in front of him, bottomless. how your belly would look with your curves, the way your breasts would rest at their natural position, your thighs fat and wide all for him, and the pretty fat mound waiting for him to feel and taste. worst time to think all of that of course, because it sent a flood of blood and excitement to his groin, giving him another thing to be nervous about. but god did he want to see it, see all of you laid in his bed, and tugging on the thatch of hair on your mound. he was fucked.

and god forbid you figured out that he’s been picturing you bent and folded in every way just so he could reach to the back of your cervix, if you figured out that his anger towards you is pent up sexual frustration because every time you’re in the shower, he’s thinking of the way you looked lathered in soap, waiting for him to join you. he was a sick man to think of you like this, but all of his desires and fantasies were threatening to barge in, to unleash all of his wants and needs to you. 

he was fighting himself to be a respectable man, a man who doesn’t think of women who were young enough to be his own kid in ways that were sinful. he shouldn’t be wanting to fill your throat with his cock when you smart mouth him. he was losing whoever he thought was himself, and letting heart and cock do his thinking. 

you couldn't think right, nothing was processing as you felt the heat of his hand on your cunt. you felt another wave of pleasure hit you and suddenly, you could feel your wetness pooling for him in your panties. you had a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that joel actually wanted you too, even if he wanted to put you in your place for once and shut you up.

you didn't care how he wanted you. you were a bitch, but you were desperate for him.

"mmm, you're real scary, baby, threats ain't gettin' you anywhere. you have t' beg me for my fingers," he teased, rubbing the hair on your mound.

"oh fuck off, i'm not begging you for shit," you're putting up a fight with yourself, and you were winning. at leadt you thought so. even if you were letting him touch you this way, you weren't goping to beg him or give him the pleasure of watching you submit to him.

"yeah? maybe i'll jus' make ya," he grinned, his sinister smile forming while he rested his forehead on yours, his hand inside your panties as the two of you watched him tease your lips.

the second joel’s finger moves from your hairy mound to the fat lips of your cunt to spread and feel just how much you ached for him, to tease your hole so you'd be sent into a fit of desperation, the two of you heard the doorknob jiggle and a loud laugh from the outside, meaning it was ellie. joel pulled his hand and body away quickly and nodded upstairs with a hard look, giving you the hint to go before ellie saw you in your panties. 

your face expressed everything to him, you needed him. and you didn’t want to let go. he watched as you walked up the stairs, your ass practically eating up the fabric of your panties. it left nothing to the imagination and he groaned, something you swore you heard, before he fixed himself in his pants. 

ellie walked in, and you stayed at the top of the stairs out of sight to hear the lecturing. 

“are you outta your damn mind, ellie? it’s three in the mornin’,” his paternal instincts were coming out, and you smiled. 

“i was down the street. relax, i just didn’t want to stay there.” ellie defended as she slipped her shoes off. 

“did somethin’ happen? are you hurt?” he asked quickly, examining ellie to see if he saw blood or cuts anywhere. 

“jeez, no joel lay off. why are you up anyways isn’t it like six hours past your bedtime?” she scoffed, annoyed at the father figure lecturing her right now. what was he gonna tell her? 

“was waitin for your friend to come home, so i can lock up before bed,” he lied. he was lying and you knew it. you came home an hour ago, and he was still up. 

“you’re in love aren’t ya? old man,” ellie teased. her demeanor was a little more playful than she’d been this last month and he shook his head annoyed, but to you it was silent. your lips pinched into a thin line as you heard joel grunt.

“go to be ellie. now.” he ordered and she rolled her eyes, saying her good nights and going to the garage to sleep in her space. 

a part of you wanted joel to come upstairs, into your room and to do everything he wanted to do. you didn’t know exactly what he wanted to do, but with the touching and flirting he was doing, it seemed like he wanted you. maybe he was drunk, you could smell it on his breath! he seemed pretty sober talking to ellie. you cursed yourself as you moved quietly to your room, leaving the door cracked open just in case. 

but nothing. you heard him trudge up the stairs, and walk directly the opposite direction into his own room. you were frustrated at this point. sexually frustrated if you must say, and the ache in your core was not leaving any time soon. 

you felt embarrassed, and you felt like joel was toying with you. all of the sudden this comes up and he's trying to finger fuck you in the living room when you genuinely thought he didn't even acknowledge your mere existence. it was so confusing for you, but the only thing you knew for sure now after a few weeks of deciding is that you craved joel miller.

it was a weird feeling. only because growing up in an apocalyptic world as a teenager and a young adult meant your chances of love and relationships were slim to none, at least for you. but you met joel in times where you had given up already.

as you lied in bed, wondering if joel was asleep or thinking about you too, you felt silly. you were setting yourself up for disaster by having hope that whatever this was with joel was more than that, and not just that. you worried you were getting ahead of yourself, maybe you were taking joel's advances too seriously. what if he just wants an easy fuck? nothing serious, something for pleasure in this dark world where everyone seeks a way to alleviate their pain

you felt like maybe you were geting into your head like you always do. maybe this could be good. maybe this could be your chance to let go, be vulnreable again, let someone make you feel like a teenager again. you had your fair share of crushes when you were in the QZ, you remembered that innocent feeling of liking someone, the shyness that came with it, how nervous you got around them. and with joel, you felt that times one hundred.

the flutters in your stomach, the goosebumps on your skin when he stands too close to you. he made you feel good even without trying.

but nothing good comes from joel miller.

[rockandroar]

maybe a strange question but in your post introducing steel stampede you said that heavy metal originates from and belongs to animals with horns. does that mean punk is that way but for cats? all the punks we meet in the comic (so far) are cats after all

I love this question, thank you for asking!

The short answer is yes, what we now know as punk was originated by cats, and it developed in largely two places - New York City and London in the mid 70s. "Proto-punk" artists that preceded this movement and inspired what would later become punk, were animals of a few different species; but it was street cats, with their independent streak, who turned out to be the fierce non-conformists that rock music needed at that time, and who took those earlier ideas and created a whole new movement in music and culture.

By nature, alley cats tend to gather in large groups. It was then easy in this environment for musicians to share music and political ideas amongst each other and a whole new genre and subculture grew out of that. These cats were also very territorial, so in many pockets within the punk scene, outsiders weren't warmly welcomed. This is what has happened in the music scene that Miles is a part of, and why it's made up exclusively of cats who've claimed those alleys as theirs.

But as punk rock grew in popularity and spread across the globe, it began to draw crowds of all kinds of animals. By the time punk grew into the Hardcore movement, canines were just as numerous as felines in the scene. Punk gave way to many other genres - such as Gothic Rock and New Wave - and each had different kinds of animals within the bands that represented each of those genres. We'll be meeting some of them throughout the story.

All of this will be elaborated on in the Rock & Roar Wiki, which is currently in progress!

[louloulemons-posts]

weirdly specific I know but what about fem!goth!reader who's been best friends with eddie for years. he thinks he knows everything about her until one day he climbs through her window to hang (bc of course he does, he can't use a door like a normal person, even if her parents aren't home, where's the fun in that?) and finds her rocking out to taylor swift and it turns out shes a massive closet swiftie.

Weird But F-ing Beautiful

Modern!Eddie X Fem!Gothic!Reader

Summary : You were a metal head with a secret, you love Taylor Swift.

Word Count : 1k

(How I imagine Reader would defend Taylor)

Warnings : not proofread, 3am writing (again-pls someone save my sleep schedule), so many taylor references!, swears, petnames, cuteness, eddie and reader are just adorable honestly

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

You and Eddie had known each other for years now, you’d say he was your best friend in the whole world.

The pair of you had a lot in common, you were both unusual and unique people. You bonded over that, along with your love of bands like Metallica and Black Sabbath.

You’d always liked darker things, loving halloween whilst most liked christmas. Horror movies and true crime documentaries brought you comfort.

Complaining about summer as your dark wardrobe made the heat cling to you, it was just the person you were. But you had a secret, one that even Eddie didn’t know of.

You absolutely loved Taylor Swift. You’d found yourself bopping along to one of her songs that was on the radio and were hooked, owing all of her albums and having them on regularly.

Enter Sandman to All of the Girls you Loved Before was quite the contrast, but you loved it.Walking down the halls to your locker, Lover was playing in your ears.

People who passed you wouldn’t think that, ripped tights, a skirt that went just above your knees, dark top with long flowing sleeves - bat wings Eddie liked to call them.

Fingers and neck decorated in mismatching jewels, huge boots, a corset around your waist and eye liner that took longer than you’d care to admit. Love Story didn’t really look like a song that’d be your favourite.

Arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you softly. Pulling out an earbud you spoke, “Edward.”

“Hello Sweetheart.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Milkshakes?”

“You paying?”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Sipping on your strawberry shake you chuckled at Eddie, leaning over the table you wiped whipped cream off his nose. “Thank you,” he blushed.

“Don’t mention it Rockstar.”

“Sooo,” he said.

“Hm?”

“I may or may not have gotten two tickets to see one of the best bands of all time, and I was wondering if you’d like to come with?”

“Oh my god One Direction have reunited?” You laughed, “Shut up. Will you come with me?”

“I mean I guess I could free up some time for you,” you smirked, taking another sip of your shake.

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Thank you for the milkshake.”

“Anytime Sweetheart, I’ll text you the details of the concert and stuff.”

“Please do. I’ll see you later,” Leaning over and kissing his cheek, cherry red stain being left on his skin.

Heading up to your room, neither of your parents were home yet. Throwing your bag down you put a record on, Taylor.

Humming to yourself as you undid your boots, you decided to start on some homework. Turning up the music and tuning everything out for a while.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Stood in front of your mirror, you began wiping your makeup from your face, eventually singing along. “I remember when we broke up,” you sang softly, humming mainly.

Sliding off your rings and necklaces, your hair being pulled out of your face, comfortable for the night. God how did this woman make these songs so catchy? What was in them?

You couldn’t help yourself, “I used to think we were forever ever …” You put your books away, cleaning your desk, “We are never ever ever getting back together!”

Dancing around your room, you laughed as you spun around your room. These songs just made you so happy, “We are never ever ever ever getting back together!”

“Okay I get the message,” a voice laughed.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” you screamed.

“Wow chill it’s me.” Eddie.

Storming over to your record player you turned it down, Stay Stay Stay playing quietly in the background. “What the fuck are you doing here? How’d you get in?” you shouted.

“Window. Came to bring this back, wasn’t expecting a concert.”

“Oh fuck off Edward,” you huffed, taking a ring out of his hand. Turning away from him and putting it with your others.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I um didn’t know you liked this music.”

“Well I do, got an issue?”

“No. Just … do you actually like metal or was that just umm …”

“I like both okay? Sometimes I just want to feel like a happy, silly teenage girl. Her music helps me do that, or if I need to cry, or fall in love or anything really. I love metal, I didn’t lie!”

“Okay. I believe you. She’s cool.”

“You think?”

“Well you like her, so she must be.”

“Shut up,” you smiled.

“I’m serious. Teach me the way of Taylor Swift,” he grinned, dropping on your bed.

“Well thats 10 albums, and then there’s Taylor’s versions.”

“God you’re a proper little nerd.”

“Says the one who loves D&D,” you smacked him lightly.

“I’m not saying she’s bad! I like that one umm … Enchanted?”

“Yes! It’s her newest re-release, god I love that album and 1989s out soon as well.”

“Slow down babe, you’re losing me.”

“Sorry, so um Enchanted?” you asked, standing up, pulling the vinyl out of its case, replacing it on the record player. The song played softly. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” you smiled, turning back to Eddie. “Thank you for bringing my ring back, where was it?”

“My van, must have fallen off.”

“Or you stole it.”

“Me?” You nodded.

“Don’t think it’d fit Sweetheart.” The chorus played, and Eddie began to hum along, standing to be in front of you. “I like this other side of you.”

“Thought you’d make fun of me.”

“I’d never. I like all parts of you, this might be my new favourite, maybe we can see her concert.”

You snorted, “You willing to sell a couple organs?”

“For you, I do anything.” You smiled up at him softly, he nudged your nose with his.

“As Taylor said, I was Enchanted to meet you,” he smiled, leaning down to press his lips to yours.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A/N : This was so fun to do! I just jammed out to Taylor the whole time and it was great. Thank you so much for this request I hope you enjoyed it 🤍

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

[mistresslrigtar]

Word Search Tag Game!

Rules: In a new post use the words below (or choose your own) to find where they appear in your WIP/s and share those parts.

My words are: Eye, Glow, Door

Thank you @uwudonoodle for the tag! I have three short scenes to share from the three long fics I'm working on. (Believe me, I ask myself everyday, 'Why would you do this to yourself?')

Eye (a scene from Chapter One of We Kiss in Shadows - a gothic romance - coming soonish...)

“Is everything all right, Zelda?” Shad pulled back to study her, his brow once again furrowed.

“Yes. I enjoyed that immensely.” Shaking the feeling off, she took his hand with a smile that felt more genuine. “I’m parched. Let’s have some lemonade.”

They reached a round table that contained a large crystal punch bowl and delicate glasses. As Shad ladled lemonade into two glasses, a group of gaily chattering girls caught her eye.  Their brightly colored frocks stood in stark contrast to the large weeping willow behind them. Zelda’s breath caught in her throat when she saw a shrouded figure standing at the edge of a pond beneath the tree. 

She was certain it wasn’t her imagination this time. Her heart began racing as she angled her head toward Shad and whispered, “Do you see that over there?”

Shad followed her gaze, his expression unconcerned behind his glasses. “I see nothing but shadows, my darling.”

Door an upcoming scene from my current pirate au, Captain Link Araki and the Harbinger of Destiny - Chapters One - Eleven are available to read HERE

“This place reeks!” Darunia’s booming voice echoes off the walls, startling the birds. They take flight, heading for the large cracks in the walls and swooping toward the open door, causing the search party to duck and cover their heads with their hands.

“Sorry!” Darunia’s chagrined attempt at an apologetic whisper ricochets around the room, but there’s no wildlife left to stir up. 

Unperturbed by the ruckus, Zelda forges ahead, navigating the piles of detritus to reach the low platform. “The sword must lie beyond that door. We just need to find where to place the goddess pearls.” She glances behind her and blows out an aggravated breath. “Well, don’t just stand there! Start looking for the mechanism!” 

Gustaf hurries to join her, as she disappears behind the altar without waiting for the rest of them to respond. 

“Well, you heard her Royal Highness. Fan out!” Link orders, exchanging a look with Groose. Groose shakes his head and turns away to examine the left side of the narthex partially blocked by a fallen statue of Hylia.

Glow an upcoming scene from my current rock star au, Love is Forever - Chapters One - Sixteen are available to read HERE this story is rated E for adult content.

(this is a spoiler sneak peek for those of you reading this story. So if you don't want to know, skip this scene)

Zelda catches herself on the nearest suncap planter. Her hands burrow into the soft dirt and the edge digs into her hip. Jarring pain runs down her leg. Ignoring it she scrambles back toward the door Ghirahim has already forcefully shoved closed. The orange glow from the suncaps gives his face a hellish look as he looks through the window with a malevolent leer on his face.

“Frances! No!” Her hands slam against the laminated glass window. Fruitlessly pounding, horror grips her heart in its tight fist when he presses a few buttons on the climate control panel. The hiss of circulated air stops and the room falls into a deathly silence. 

Still wearing a sadistic smile, Ghirahim gives her a patronizing wave, waggling his fingers before turning away. Panic slowly consumes her as she watches him pick up her phone and type what she can only assume is a message to Link. Perhaps to throw him off the scent of her last call. Ghirahim carelessly drops it along with her keycard onto the lab table when he’s done and exits the lab without a backward glance.

This was fun! I tag @zeldaelmo, @bahbahhh, and @abbyz-elda

Your words are: smoke, hopeless, groan (hopefully those aren't too difficult!)

[aquickstart]

pls may i have some saltburn takes. i saw u liked my post abt oliver never having read the reading list and it made me giggle.

OH YES DUDE oh i Loved that post because it brings up actually something that for some reason i haven't seen discussed much. oliver's unreliable narration.

i have a brilliant, i think, genius four-question plan for making people understand saltburn, and it has worked before and i will maybe elaborate on it, but not right now. right now i'll talk about one of the questions.

who is oliver telling this story to, and why?

we've established that he's an unreliable narrator at least because it's the logical conclusion for a movie shot in a way that opens and closes with his narrative. but what does oliver being untruthful actually mean for what we know about anything and everything that happened. have you ever obsessed over this particular question. well. i have.

my hot take, first of all, is that oliver is not that smart. he's clever, but the point of the movie is that he's caught up in and driven by desire; desire, pointedly, in the moment, merging desire, adapting to circumstance and leading him on. his want is not concrete from the beginning. his want is insatiable hunger that grows.

so, okay, from the top. the whole meet-cute with felix? because of a punctured tire? eh. idk if that's true. the money thing at the bar, pretending to not have any while he actually did? eh, perhaps. chronologically he then lies to felix about his dad, and this is big, this is deliberate, this is what ties felix to him for good.

what if the first two instances were coincidences? like, felix genuinely in trouble then, oliver genuinely out of cash. makes sense to become attached and actually do something, something impulsive, drastic, when felix seems to be drifting away, and lie about his dad.

interjection: you might be saying, nadia, he lied about his family from the get-go. well of course. i didn't say he's not smart enough to clock what image of a damsel in distress felix would gobble up. i'm saying he didn't do it for the long game, because there was no long game to speak of, as narrator-oliver would have you believe. i think he wanted felix so badly in that moment of several months in oxford, i think he was so blinded that he would've said anything. and he did.

now, i've briefly talked about oliver's feelings about the invitation to saltburn, and i think this is very important here. in the moment, he couldn't possibly know what exactly this invitation could mean, in the long run, only that it is definitely the next step in progression of desire for felix. present-day oliver interjection, and i believed him, after felix said he could leave anytime, i read as a slip up, an admission that oliver didn't plan shit, or at least from the beginning he didn't. it lured him in as soon as he got there, gothic house driving mad-style. he held on to a dream of something elusive (felix as a friend? lover? forever-partner in whatever capacity? i want him so bad i don't care what he is as long as he's there? please? please?).

the other obvious hole to poke at is in the end. venetia very conveniently takes the razors he places for her, and while sure, it could be read as him just hinting at how he conveniently read her fragile state and took advantage of it, i don't buy it. (i'm honestly even tempted to suggest he met elspeth on accident, to then spin a pretty story for his own sake, but him keeping tabs on the surviving cattons all those years tracks with what we know about obsessive oliver; he's definitely known about her flat for a while.)

but those are all minor stuff. i get completely if you think i'm reading too much into it and this is all just a headcanon after all, to be fair. BUT. but.

my second big take is that oliver was/is madly in love with felix. i know, shocking. but you have probably seen people say he wasn't. i will elaborate.

i wasn't in love with him. i loved him. i hated him. what does this sound like. have you ever had a friend come to you after a breakup fuming and telling you how they'll never end up with this asshole for sure and then get back together with him and then break up and say the same thing again.

i loved him, but i wasn't in love with him. i know everyone thought i was, but i wasn't. have you never told anyone something of the sort, specifically the last part, to emphasize just how it's everyone around you that's kinda hung up on whatever it is, and you've moved way past it, actually. have you never told yourself that.

i have. i know many other people who have, too. so, who is oliver telling this story to, and why? there's no one but dead elspeth in front of him. there's no one but himself. fun fact: each time you recall an event, it distorts under the influence of the mix of past and present emotions. each time you recall, you mold memory (source, e.g., x). the way i personally see it, oliver, for whatever reason, retells the story in order to solidify his own memory of it in the way that he wants to remember it. whatever he says, this is his final word, and this is his final truth.

this is also why details slip through, like my beloved i believed him, like the emotional i hated him growing into self-convincing, misleadingly dismissive, definitely unsure i hated him by the end. those are the true emotions that he recalls, those are the times that are hard to rewrite, for whatever reason.

of course, he hated them all. but before that, he loved felix to the point of blindly following where felix's desire led oliver, at least the way oliver perceived felix's desire. it failed, crucially, when felix's desire brought them to the center of the labyrinth, where oliver could not be the desired anymore.

my third hot take in connection to this is that oliver did not know he would kill felix until the very night he did it. he didn't know it, i think, until the last hour, until felix refused to reconcile completely, until he made his blood run cold. i also briefly mention it here, specifically how farleigh is tragically connected to felix's death, in my opinion. this tracks with, again, my strong belief that oliver lies, lies and lies throughout this whole story about wanting to take everything from felix from the beginning; no, he fucking didn't. he wanted felix. he wanted felix to be his. that was number one priority. he wanted felix and whatever else came with it, undoubtedly, but not the other way around.

paradoxically, he also wanted to be felix; he wanted to be him and be with him just as us tumblr people can often relate and the tragedy is that you always have to choose. felix pushed him away, so there was no other choice but to take what was left of felix that oliver could take. hence the clothes wearing, the table scene talk, the refusal to leave.

felix chose not to choose oliver, so oliver became felix. it's his fault. felix promised oliver could leave. felix left instead. what was oliver to do.

but to your point about the books, i think it could be either way, actually. i think he could have lied about it because technically that's also in character for him, he was performing for an audience of his tutor. but i also think that he was, genuinely, a nerd before he came to oxford, and he didn't, and still doesn't, have any friends, and he hates his sisters and his mother and is miserable. he's the perfect profile of someone who'd read king james' bible over the summer, and then some, imma be honest.

so, yes. i think oliver lies about most things in saltburn and i think he's pathetic, lost, confused, grieving, angry, horny, down bad and in denial. and i fucking love him. i so fuckin do.