#the expressions he has in some scenes seem to hint but i must see the dialogue to confirm it

[t-u-i-t-c]

Genba Bureki in Bakuage Sentai BoonBoomger Bakuage Sentai BoonBoomger GekijoBoon! Promise the Circuit

+ bonus

[sxcret-garden]

Jongho ღ Break You Down [M]

ღ Ateez Jongho x fem-bodied!reader  ღ words: ~6.9k ღ genre & warnings: tiny bits of fluff if you squint but mostly pure filth, smut (sub!Jongho (who needs and wants to be coaxed into submission), dom!reader, dry humping, praise, some punishment & teasing, shibari, choking, handcuffs, edging/orgasm denial, handjobs, oral, overstimulation (all idol receiving), hair pulling (reader receiving), masturbation (both, guided for him), unprotected sex, use of traffic light system (he yellows reader once), he goes into subspace, reader puts on a strap midway, he performs oral on said strap, pegging (idol receiving), a hint of dacryphilia, a single spank (idol receiving), multiple orgasms (both), some aftercare) ღ reader: has a vagina, no other descriptions of reader’s anatomy, no pronouns used

Desc.: It’s the second time Choi Jongho seeks you out to help him take his mind off everything else going on in his life, and it’s also the second time you happily assist him with that.

Author’s note: Some time ago I realized I’ve never written sub!Jongho. Well now I have. Don’t ask how any of this happened because I have no idea either. Enjoy aksjdflköas

Edit: check out the sequel here 👀

“I knew you’d come back.”

He watches from his spot on the dark red sofa in your room as you slowly walk over to him, his eyes narrowed and fixated on your face. You made him wait for you here while you got changed into your preferred outfit for a scene like this - some simple black lingerie that comfortably wraps itself around your body, elegant and practical, giving you full freedom of movement. He doesn’t answer, and so, when you come to a halt right in front of him, standing between his spread legs, you lift up his chin with your index and middle finger placed underneath it.

“Choi Jongho…” you say his name, letting it roll off your tongue as if testing whether saying it out loud would fit the way you speak or not, and he raises his eyebrows at you ever so slightly. Your fingertips dance down his throat, and you notice the first button on his black dress shirt is undone. “What brings you here?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” he replies, and you can’t wait to wipe that expression off his face that tells you he feels superiour. It’s interesting to you that he still sounds so bold, when it completely contradicts what he’s come here for.

“Is it?” you ask, purely to engage him in a bit of a push-and-pull game to keep the both of you entertained, and because it seems to you that’s what helps ease him into the situation. You sit down in his lap, straddling him, your hands now rested on his shoulders, and you cock your head to the side.

“I would think so, yes,” Jongho replies, his voice deep and quiet, the sound wrapping itself around your ears like honey. Now you can see his gaze wandering to your lips, but he doesn’t dare take in your whole figure.

“Like what you see?” you tease him further, leaning back a little to give him a better view of your body. And now he can’t but accept the invite to take a good, long look at you, and though he doesn’t say anything, you can tell the answer must be yes. You chuckle at his reservedness when his eyes are back on yours, and you lean in closer, stopping with merely a hair’s width between your lips and his. His eyelids flutter shut at the proximity “In your message you said you needed someone to take your mind off things,” you repeat what he had written to you a few hours prior. “Is that what you want me to do?”

He gulps, looking back up at you, and it seems his features have softened as he mouths, “Yes please.” 

“See? It’s not that hard,” you mutter softly, before pressing your lips against his. You kiss him slowly, sensually, letting him fall into your rhythm, and you enjoy the way he kisses you back, his hands finding purchase on your hips. He pulls you just a little closer and you part his lips with your tongue to deepen the kiss. “You feeling okay?” you ask upon parting. “You seem tired.”

“I am…” he sighs, without opening his eyes, and he leans his head back, offering his neck to you - voluntarily or not, you’re not sure, but you can’t resist the urge to press a few kisses to the delicate skin there. 

“Had a rough week?”

“Month,” he corrects you, a bitter laugh escaping him.

“I see…” You come back up to look him in the face, and you can unmistakably see the bags under his eyes and the tension in his features. Cupping his cheeks with your hands and brushing your thumbs against his skin, you lure another sigh out of him, before he opens his eyes to give you a tired look. “I’ll take care of you,” you say, and as he nods, you go in for another kiss. You roll your hips on top of him, and for now you allow him to guide you to keep up a steady pace as you feel his bulge grow in his pants. You make out with him like this for a while, and when you pull away you have him letting out a breathy moan at the friction against his core. 

“I think,” you say, tugging at the hem of his shirt, “this needs to go off.” And so he watches you intently as you open up one button after the other, his well trained chest and soft stomach coming into vision, and you end up gasping at the sight.

“What?” he challenges you, a cocky grin showing on his lips.

“You’re handsome.” You say it matter-of-factly, so as not to flatter him too much, but you really do mean it. Running your palms up his torso once, you add, “Such a pretty boy.” He doesn’t react - for now, you assume, because you still remember quite well how much he relished in the compliment the first time you were with him. Back then he had come to you, not really knowing how to go about meeting a dom he’d only talked to a couple of times on the internet, but he played it off surprisingly well. You also recall it took him quite a while to actually do the thing he came to you for - submitting. And now that he’s here a second time, it makes you think that despite the difficulties of letting go, he must’ve really ended up enjoying himself.

You discard his shirt, tossing it onto the ground, and you marvel at the shapes of his body. Next, you hook two fingers into the waistband of his dress pants, a neat black color as well, and when he doesn’t object or stop you, you rid him of those too. 

“Let’s take all of this off you, hm?” you say as you make him stand, and once there’s no item of clothing left on his body, you guide him over to your bed, making him sit at the edge of it. You bring some rope with you, dark blue, and about one centimeter thick, unwinding it in front of him. “You liked this last time, didn’t you?” Jongho nods, and you continue, “Well, I also liked how you looked in this. So how about I do a few knots on you, and in the meanwhile you can tell me about all that’s stressing you out?”

“Alright,” he agrees, and you get to work. You’ve been wondering how to make the rope fit his body this time even before he arrived here, and you decided to do a simple chest harness on him, not primarily meant to restrict him, but simply because you think the shape would suit him - and the navy blue color does too. You get to work, and as soon as you begin, you can feel him relaxing under your touch.

“So? What’s bothering you?” you ask. 

“Don’t make me think…” he mutters, eyebrows knitted from the stress, and you reach out to cup his face, running your thumb across his bottom lip.

“Oh, I’ll wipe your head clear of all thoughts soon enough, don’t you worry,” you chuckle, and as he looks up at you, you can see his pupils shaking. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He lets out a noise that you interpret as agreement while he looks away, leaning into the touch of your palm. He’s already told you this before, when you received his text message, so you leave it at that for now.

“I just thought it might help you to get stuff off your chest. You can tell me anything,” you remind him.

“I know…” he mutters an answer, and he ponders on where to start as he sits there with his hands in his lap, only moving when you need him to. “I just don’t think this job is for me, you know?”

“How come? I would think you’re good at it.”

“It’s not that… I know I can do it… I think that’s why my father chose me as his successor. And I like the prestige that comes with being almost CEO…” He pauses, and you give him time to think. “It’s just… not what I want to do.”

“What do you want to do?” you ask, as you’re finishing another knot, and before he can answer, you throw in a question, “Too tight?” Jongho shakes his head.

“It’s just right,” he says. 

“Tell me if something feels off.”

“Mhm.” You continue working, laying the rope around his shoulders and his sides to tie him a simple but elegant harness. You think it’s what fits him best.

“Music,” he breaks the silence after a while. “I wanted to do music.” You acknowledge his words with silence. You’re sure there’s nothing you could say to him that would solve his problem, so you decide that simply listening would be the next best option. You move behind his back and continue to work on the harness quietly, listening to the way his breathing seems calmer now than when he came here, and he lets you, merely enjoying the feeling of the rope around his body.

“You’re too pretty for them to stick you in an office all day and force you into the footsteps of your father…” You eventually say, as you finish up your work.

“Hmm? Where do you reckon they should put me instead?” he slurs his words a bit as he visibly enjoys the way your fingertips trace his golden brown skin as you bring them back down his shoulders, yet he says it with amusement in his voice.

“I don’t know,” you reply, and when you run your hand through his hair he leans into your touch and it lures a deep breathy moan out of him. “My bedroom maybe. Like permanently. So I can do this with you all day.” And now he laughs, his eyes still closed as you have him lean his head back fully, so you feel his silky hair against your chest, and when you cup his chin with your hand he finally looks at you. 

“I’m affecting you, huh.” Something about the cocky smile he sends you, and the boost of confidence your words gave him that radiates off of him makes you like him just a bit more. You hum at his assumption, letting go of his chin and letting your hand travel down his upper body, tracing the navy blue knots prettily lined up along his sternum, and then touching the soft skin on his stomach. He keeps staring up at your face, waiting, but the more time you take, the more you can see his jaw tensing up, teeth clenching. 

“I thought that wasn’t a secret,” you answer, finally. “And it’s not like that feeling is one-sided.” As much as he’s trying to hide it, you don’t have trouble reading him, even when the signs are as subtle as they can get. 

“Then hurry…” he mutters, and you can’t but smirk at him, as your other hand snakes around his throat.

“That wasn’t very polite of you just now,” you scold him, though you speak softly, and to punish him your fingertips move right past where he so obviously wants you, running your palm up and down his thigh instead. You can feel him gulp against the hand around his throat, and he probably knows anything else he could say will be used against him, so he keeps quiet for now. “Hmm? No more cheeky remarks for me?” You relish in the glare he sends you - but you’re the one who has him in a chokehold, and he’s the one who wants his dick touched, so he stays silent for his own good. “What a good boy.” You retrieve the hand laying around his throat and use it to run it up his scalp instead, grabbing onto the roots of his hair and pushing him forward, forcing him to look away from you. A groan escapes him as you deprive him of your touch only a second later, but he’s quickly comforted when instead, you move around him on top of the blanket in order to sit in his lap and straddle him. You give his shoulders a gentle push, having him leaning back a little and supporting himself on his hands placed behind him, guiding him into the position you want him in. You take in the sight in front of you, eyes following the lines down his toned body - his chest, the hint of his abs hiding underneath his stomach, down to his navel and his half-hard cock. You feel the burning need to touch him, and yet the urge to play with him some more is bigger.

“What are you thinking right now?” you ask, reaching out to cup his face in your hand, and the way he melts into your touch makes your heart skip a beat. But you don’t show it - or maybe he can read you just as well as you can read him, and any attempt to hide your true feelings is futile. Either way, you press on, “Tell me.” From his current position, it looks like Jongho is looking down on you, and as much as you must admit that the air of dominance suits him, your intentions are entirely different. 

“What do you think?” he asks, mockingly, and as soon as the words have left his lips, your hand returns to his throat, applying just a bit of pressure this time. He gasps in response, shoulders and abs tensing up, but the look in his eyes remains calm.

“I asked you a question, pretty boy,” you say, sitting up on your knees to make yourself taller, now towering above him as you lean in dangerously. Your face is mere inches away from his as you speak, “Answer,” and your fingertips press against his pulse to put an emphasis behind your words. He hesitates, but you can unmistakably sense the cracks opening up on his facade - you wonder what it will take you this time around, to break it completely. 

To break him completely.

“You…” he finally says, as if it had taken him all of his willpower to utter that single word. “I’m thinking about you… getting me off…” You gift him a smile, finding it entirely too amusing how much it’s taking out of him to form even just such a vague request.

“You’re not used to this, huh?” you ask, removing your hand from his throat and placing it onto his chest instead, while you sit back down on top of his thighs. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you clarify, “Having to ask for the things you really want.” You know you hit the bullseye when it seems like his face is suddenly a few shades paler than it was before, and you let your palm wander from his shoulder down his arm and to his hand. You notice his fingers are cold when you wrap yours around them, giving him an encouraging squeeze.

“You’ll learn how to do it,” you attempt to comfort him, and you can see his mask sliding right back on. “I’ll teach you.” Then you move your hand away from his, and towards his core, and he inhales sharply as you make contact with his cock. Slowly, you begin jerking him off, his eyes glued to your hand and teeth clenched harder, the longer you test his patience. “Want more?” you ask, accompanied by a challenging raise of your eyebrow, and you capture his chin with the thumb and index finger of your free hand, so you could lift it up and force him to look at you. “Then ask for it.” You get nothing but a glare in return, but when your fist reaches his tip, he lets out a shaky breath and looks away from you nonetheless. “You won’t?” you ask, moving your hand down his shaft once more, and back up again, having him fully hard in your hand by now. “Too bad.” And then, as you’re removing your hand from where he wants you most, he quickly reaches out to catch you by your wrist.

“That’s not what we’re doing here, and you know it,” you warn him, commencing a battle of glares. And his fatigue alone is giving you a big advantage here, and with the end goal in mind, you’re not averse to making use of it. 

Besides - you know that if he seriously wanted to overpower you and win, using his sheer strength he could. But he won’t, and so you let him have this fight, his tired eyes glaring into yours, as you wait for the right moment to attack. To give him the chance to at least go down with dignity.

“You didn’t come here to fight,” you mutter eventually, and his grip around your wrist weakens. You seize your chance and slip out of his hold, wrapping your fingers around his wrist instead, and when you bring it above his head as you push his back into the mattress using your weight, you know he let you win. “Seems like I’ll have to fall back on more extreme measures to keep you in your place, huh? So you won’t get any… ideas again.” You reach for his other hand as well, and with a pair of handcuffs conveniently attached to the headrest of your bed, you force his hands into a fixed position.

“You like that better?” you ask, crawling off him, and without giving him the chance to answer, your hand is back on his cock, continuing your painfully slow ministrations on him. His gaze is filled with distrust as he looks at you, and rightfully so, but as you begin playing with his hair, you lull him into a false sense of safety. 

Of course you’re not going to let him cum just yet. But even you can’t resist the faces of pleasure he shows you as you adjust your speed a little.

“Does that feel good?”

“...yeah…” Jongho sighs under your touch, bucking his hips into your fist, his breathing growing shakier the longer you go on.

“Then I’m glad…” you whisper, your fingertips dancing from his hair down to his cheek and you lean in to press your lips against his for the fraction of a second. “I’m sure you don’t mind if I stop though…” You know he expected you to take your hand away too soon when he merely throws his head back in frustration. However, you don’t let it eat at him for too long. Instead, you crawl on top of him, and you connect your lips to his again, in a rather sweet kiss. You haven’t fully figured out yet what it is about him that makes you want to comfort him so badly, but you end up moving your lips against his more gently than you usually would. And even when you were planning for but a teasing kiss, you hesitate to tear yourself away from his mouth, both warmth and excitement rushing through your veins and making you feel dizzy at the way he kisses you back with that same unexpected softness. You say nothing as you finally do move away from him, bringing mere inches between the two of you, and when you notice the blush that has creeped onto his cheeks, your chest swells with pride. You lower your hips onto his thigh, letting out contented sighs as you begin grinding against him through the fabric of your underwear. Lips nipping at his throat, your hands naturally wander up his arms, scanning the movement of his muscles underneath the skin, until they’re securely wrapped around his wrists, just underneath where the metal of the handcuffs keeps him in place. Tiny moans escape you as you scatter kisses down his throat and the friction keeps building up against your core.

“You know what?” you whisper as you sit up, moving around a bit so you end up comfortably sat on his stomach.

“What?” Jongho asks, half-lidded eyes giving away that his resistance is fading ever so slowly. Taking him in as you scan his face and torso once again, your hand finds its way to your middle. 

“I really wanna get myself off on you.” He gulps - you didn’t expect him to, but it’s making you need that release that much more. Fingertips swiftly pushing aside the fabric of your panties, you moan at the feeling of your dripping cunt, all while never taking your eyes off him. “Watch,” you order, and while you start rubbing precise circles onto your clit, his gaze slowly drops to where you’re pleasuring yourself. “Wish it was you, huh?” He doesn’t answer, but when you easily push two fingers inside, he lets out a shaky breath.

“Shit…” You don’t miss the curse he hisses, and along with the image of his arms flexing against the restraints and your fingertips skillfully hitting that sweet spot inside of you over and over again, it’s making you lose your mind at least a little. You moan at the pleasure coursing through your body, making sure to angle yourself so he could get a perfect vision of your fingers pumping in and out of you, and you find yourself captivated by the way it’s showing on his face how he too has his sanity slowly slipping away from him. 

“Wanna be inside me, right?”

“...yes.” You tear your hand away from your pussy, panting for air. 

“That’s a good boy…” you praise him, and you think for the first time that night you can see a hint of the effect it has on him in his eyes. Bringing your hand up to his face, you coat his lips with your juices, and you watch intently as the tip of his tongue darts across to lick it all up. “Now open up…” you mutter, but he was ready to take your fingers into his mouth anyway, tongue running along them as he cleans you up. “That’s right,” you praise him, and his eyelids flutter shut for but a moment. And then, when he’s all done, you position yourself, watching his drunk gaze flick from your hand to your hips, and as you begin sinking down on him, taking in his size inch by inch, he lets out a moan that probably comes out more desperate than he had intended. The blush on his ears follows suit, and you praise him as you roll your hips on top of him,

“Sound so pretty…” You mutter the words and end with a moan of your own as he stretches you out, fitting inside you so perfectly, and once you’ve taken him in fully, you wrap your hand around his throat once more. “Don’t you dare cum without my permission.” Your words sound sharp, and the look on his face tells you he isn’t planning on obeying. However, you’ve never been one to say no to a little challenge, and so you begin riding him, fingers on your free hand tending to your clit, while you watch his face contort in pleasure. But he does his damndest to regain his composture at least externally, to give you as little hints as possible as to how close he is or isn’t, and you smirk at him, already feeling the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Don’t think you can win this one, pretty boy…” you spit the words at him, tightening the grip on his throat as a warning.

“Fuck…” he cusses, pressing his eyelids shut tightly now, with his teeth and fists clenched. He’s probably fighting the pending high, and with that thought in mind and a few more movements on top of him, your orgasm hits you, your walls contracting around his hard cock. 

You find pearls of sweat on top of his chest and his forehead as you crawl off him, and you lower yourself to kiss them off his skin.

“You don’t really wanna disobey me, do you?” you wonder out loud. “Or… were you hoping you’d get a little reward if you listened to me?” With your palm drawing circles on his stomach, you allow him to catch his breath. He doesn’t answer, and once he looks at your face, you begin touching him once again. 

“Are you gonna tell me when you’re close?” you ask, and he nods, his dark brown eyes scanning your face, and his lips parting to give way to a gasp as you start getting him off once more. “Feels good?”

“Yeah…” His breathing grows heavy, and with each time he exhales, he lets you hear a moan, each one sounding prettier than the previous one the closer you stroke him to his high. 

“Wanna cum, pretty boy?” you ask alluringly, finding him nodding at your question eagerly. With his eyes closed, he misses the smirk forming on your lips, and you almost feel bad for what you’re about to do.

“‘m getting close…” he lets you know, and when he bucks his hips into your hand, you deprive him of your touch, and you watch as he slowly begins to realize that this time as well, he’s been denied. Jongho holds his breath for a few seconds, and when he exhales he hisses a curse filled with anger and frustration, tearing at the handcuffs so strongly it must be painful for him. You watch, thinking to yourself how pretty he is, struggling like that, and then slowly calming down again.

“And that,” you then speak, “is what you get for trying to disobey me.” He’s visibly fighting the frustration in his mind, and that’s when you know you’ve hit the point where you have to give him something in return soon. You’ve learned this the hard way the first time he came to you, and you won’t make the same mistake again. “What’s your color, baby?” you ask, reaching out to undo the handcuffs one by one.

“...yellow,” he hesitates, but says it eventually.

“I’ll make it better… is that okay?” You gently run the back of your hand down his cheek and caress the skin on his chest when he nods. “Do you trust me?” He nods again.

“Yeah.” 

You kiss him, gently, bringing your lips to the corner of his mouth before you lead him into an open mouthed kiss. He lets you take the lead, and despite that, you can eventually feel his now warm palms being placed onto your waist. And though his touch is light, it feels as if he was desperately holding onto you, as you run your tongue along his. 

“I’ll make you feel good. Don’t you worry,” you assure him, and you feel his hands grazing your sides as you move south. You position yourself between his legs, and with his fingers up in your hair, tugging at the strands softly, you flatten your tongue and lick up a stripe along the underside of his painfully hard cock. Even this much is enough to make him whine, and you know that now you have him almost where you want him. You hum in approval, and then you wrap your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks as you take him into your mouth, with one hand wrapped around his base for some extra stimulation. Judging from the rather desperate noises he makes, it won’t take much time nor effort to have him coming undone underneath you, and yet you monitor him closely for his reactions, eager to make him feel as good as you possibly can. You hum at the way he moans at your touches, and you bob your head up and down along his shaft, until he hits the back of your throat, and you feel him pulling on your hair as he’s overwhelmed with pleasure. You want to praise him, but you decide to focus on getting him off, and so instead you moan at the way little whines keep falling from his lips. He doesn’t tell you when he’s about to cum, but you’ve seen it coming anyway, with his flushed dick twitching in your mouth, followed by the salty taste of his seed spilling all over your tongue mere seconds later. You swallow all of it, and as he lets go of your hair, ready to catch his breath, you continue sucking him off. His fingers find the bedsheets instead, gripping at them until his knuckles turn white and a string of curses escapes him. 

“Shit… ah… f-fuck…” You enjoy the sounds of him losing control while you overstimulate him, feeling his cock hardening again in your mouth, and gradually even the curses he utters get replaced by nothing but desperate moans. 

“Doing so good for me…” you praise him, a little out of breath yourself, as you let your hand take over to get a better look at his face distorting from the pain and the pleasure. “So, so good…” you mutter, and you feel like you could cum again from the state you’ve just put him in alone. It’s like his body isn’t sure whether to get closer to you or escape, and so one moment he’s arching his back, bucking his hips into your hand, and the other he’s throwing his head back, eyebrows knitted as he whines at your touch. Either way, you don’t stop tending to his cock, stroking him at just the right pace as he writhes underneath you, and then finally, with a broken moan, he cums for a second time, spilling all over his stomach.

You watch as the tension slowly leaves his body while he fights for air, and you reach over to the tissues on your bedside table to clean him up a bit. Then you position yourself so he can comfortably lay his head into your lap, and you find yourself chuckling at the image unfolding right in front of you when he rolls onto his side to wrap an arm around you with a pout on his lips.

“You did well,” you say, and he lets out a content sigh as you play with his hair. “You feeling okay?” He nods, moving his hand from your hips down your thigh, thumb drawing circles on your skin. Eventually he looks up at you with half-lidded eyes, and he reaches up to cup your face with his big hand. You smile at him in return, taking a hold of his palm and moving it aside. “I’m really taking a liking to you, you know?”

“Me too…” he mutters, his soft hair tickling your stomach, and his hazy eyes glued to your face.

“Do you want more?” His lips part at your question, and slowly, he nods. “Then sit up for me.” And he does, without hesitation. You run your nails up his back until you reach the navy blue string tied around his chest. “Is this getting uncomfortable?” He thinks for a little while, before he shakes his head. “Good. Good boy.” His gaze softens when you praise him, and the pout on his lips appears again when you get up off the bed. 

“I wanna try something,” you announce, opening the drawer of your dresser where you store your toys. “How do you feel about this?” You hold out a harness to him, made of matte black leather and with a sturdy ring in the middle to hold a strap on. He gulps at the sight, but there’s a spark of interest in his eyes, so you slip into the harness and you choose a black medium sized dildo to go with it. Then you walk back over to the bed.

“Come here,” you order once you’re standing in front of it, and he gets up, approaching you. For some reason he seems taller now, compared to when he arrived here, yet his eyes reflect a kind of devotion you haven’t seen in him even when you played with him for the first time. His hands find your hips naturally, but you take a step back to break contact.

“Down.” He drops to his knees immediately upon hearing your command, the blush creeping back to his cheeks, and you lift up his chin to make him look up. “That’s a good boy.” Gulping, lips parted, he waits for your next move. “Open up,” you say, and he does, albeit a bit hesitantly. You make sure to encourage him with praises as he sticks out his tongue, but his blush only deepens when he makes contact with the toy attached to your core, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“You’re not used to being the submissive one, huh?” you assume, and he shakes his head, muttering a small “no”. Massaging his scalp with your fingertips, you help him relax a bit. “You’re doing really good for me though…” Driven by your praise, he opens his mouth and takes in the tip, immediately checking in with you to see if he’s doing alright, so you encourage him further. “That’s right… all the way, baby…” you whisper, and you watch as more and more of the strap on disappears in his mouth. And then eventually he starts moving his head up and down, like you had done on him not too long ago, and the sight of him sucking you off only serves to make you horny all over again.

“I want you to get yourself off too,” you order, and there’s a bit of drool dripping down the side of his mouth when he reaches for his dick. And now it’s you cursing at the image unfolding in front of you - he’s so pliant, so obedient, and you can’t wait to wreck him a second time tonight. 

“So needy, huh?” you tease him as he’s hard again in no time, and he furrows his brows at you in response. With a ruffle of his hair, you quickly apologize. “Alright, alright, I won’t tease you too much.” You smile, and then you guide his movements by his hair, making him increase the pace at which he moves his head up and down your toy, and at the same time his hand that’s wrapped around his length speeds up too and his eyelids flutter shut. “Doing so well…” you praise him again, and as the toy hits the back of his throat he gags a little, but continues his ministrations nonetheless. “And you look so hot with my cock in your mouth.” He blushes some more, and his movements are getting messier as he bucks his hips into his fist. The sight knocks the breath out of your chest, and you can’t but marvel at the way he’s losing control more and more, and so willingly at your hands, even when you’re not doing anything but giving him directions. 

“You gonna cum just like that?” you ask, and you receive a desperate whine in return. You can tell that he’s focusing hard on keeping up the movements along your strap, but as it’s getting harder and harder for him to concentrate, you somewhat ungently tear him away from the toy, and you earn yourself a beautiful moan just as he makes himself cum all over the floor by your feet. Spit is dripping down his chin, and you wipe it away with your thumb, muttering, “Look what a mess you’ve made of yourself…” You take a step back, and you grant him some time to regain his composure, and when you realize that that’s not going to happen anytime soon, the burning need to ruin him completely finally takes over you.

“Get up,” you say, and with his thighs shaking ever so slightly, he does as told. “To the bed.” You follow suit, grabbing a bottle of lube from your toy drawer on the way, and as you tell him to lay down for you, settling between his legs, you continue, “Look at me. What’s your color?”

“Green…”

“Good.” You run your hands up and down his thighs, nails grazing his skin ever so slightly. Then you spread a generous amount of the lube on your hand, and you check in with him again just in case. “And how do you feel about what I’m about to do?” He hesitates, pupils shaking. “Not sure?” you assume, and he nods. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll go slow,” you assure him, and you watch his reaction closely as you bring your hand to his ass. A shaky moan escapes him as your fingers prod at his hole, and his face is beet red as he’s overcome with conflicting feelings. “You like it?” A whine is all you get as an answer, so you say, “Color.”

“G-green…” he responds through gritted teeth, grimacing at the sensation of your fingers stretching him out slowly, working their way in and out of him. 

“So you do like it…” you mutter under your breath, and this time he can’t complain about your teasing remark, so you add. “A little too much, huh? Has anyone ever done this to you?”

“N-no…” he answers, chest rising and sinking as he breathes heavily in between moans. 

“You think you can take my cock if it’s your first time then?” He glances at the toy he’s had in his mouth mere minutes ago, and drunk on all the new sensations coursing through his body, he nods, rather eagerly at that. You smirk at his reaction, and as you add another finger he throws his head back cursing.

“Fuck…”

“So cute…” you comment, and when he whines you give him a slap to his thigh, making him moan some more. “You’re gonna look even cuter once I fill you up.” With your free hand you give his dick a few strokes, and you didn’t expect him to react so strongly to your touch, but you guess he must already be overstimulated from the orgasms he’s had before, because now he’s desperately gripping and tearing at the bedsheets, back arching and hips bucking up as if they were moving by themselves. “Shit, I love seeing so desperate…” you mutter. “Wonder how much worse you’re gonna get in a sec.” You pull out of him, squirting some more lube out of the bottle to spread it on your strap, and you align yourself with him. You don’t give him any warnings as you slowly push up into him, merely monitoring his reactions, and the expression of pure bliss he shows you as you fill him up is enough to make you continue. You reach for his hands, intertwining your fingers as you pin him to the bed, and the second you begin thrusting you can see the last ounce of control that was left in his body slipping away. A blushing, panting, sweating mess, he moans at each of your strokes, the tip of his cock grazing your stomach with everytime you move. You start gently at first, but when it becomes clear he can take you, your thrusts become more powerful, and it sends him right off the edge of sanity. Unintelligible sounds drop from his slightly parted lips one by one, moans so pretty they could make you cum from the sound alone, and with the toy also hitting your clit just right with each time you push up into him, you know that neither of you will last long at this rate. And so you do the one thing every single cell in your body is aching to do, as your senses are drowned in his whines and you’re overwhelmed by the way his nails dig into the back of your hands and how fucking powerful you feel having him pinned down like this, completely ruined - you fuck him hard, chasing both your and his high at the same time. 

He’s the first one to cum, whining uncontrollably as his orgasm hits him, and as he’s beginning to writhe from the overstimulation, tears filling his eyes, you too are pushed over the edge.

Gathering all strength you have left in you, you pull out of him as carefully as you can, and you collapse next to him on the bed, one hand still holding his. The sounds of the both of you panting heavily fill the room, and when you turn your head to see how Jongho is doing, you find nothing but blissful exhaustion on his face.

“You did well…” you whisper eventually, rolling onto your side to comb your fingers through his hair, thumb grazing his lips and cheek. “Shit, now I really wanna keep you here forever…” He lets you hear a weak laugh, and when you have him lay his head on your chest, he immediately goes to hide his face there, wrapping his arms around you tightly. Even now, after all this exertion, you can clearly feel the strength he has, and it makes you even prouder of him for letting go and letting you handle him like this.

“Say…” you speak after pausing for a while, as you unhurriedly play with his locks.

“Mhm?” he replies sleepily.

“I don’t usually do this, but… do you wanna stay the night?” You await his answer anxiously, but as soon as he opens his eyes to look up at you, he nods. Brushing some hair out of his face, you smile. “Then let’s get ourselves a shower and then we can curl up in bed with some snacks if you want?” Furrowing his eyebrows, he groans, going back to burying his face in your chest and you giggle at his reaction. “I know you’re tired…” you whisper. “We can skip the snacks, but a shower and some cuddles is a must!”

“Alright…” he finally responds, and you run your fingertips along his shoulder, tugging at the knots of the harness to begin untying them.

“Alright…” you repeat, and as you lose yourself a little in the sight in front of you once again, you find yourself leaning in to press a feathery light kiss to his forehead.

[sunbl3achedfly]

Do the dead comfort you? Pt.1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: On your night shift at the mortuary you discover a fresh mutilated corpse that isn’t supposed to be there, prompting the FBI’s arrival.

Content: Dead bodies, like lots of dead bodies (you're a mortician), stalking, murder, dark humour, reader is a little gothic and macabre, first time reader and Spencer meet, Spencer thinks she’s weird at first but his curiosity leads to him finding her endearing, reader is not used to socializing and has questionable coping mechanisms

Author's note: I’ve literally had this idea for months and needed to get it out of my system.

3,038 words

part two

masterlist

The hum of the mortuary’s refrigeration units was usually a comfort, but today, it felt unnervingly loud. The body wasn’t where it was supposed to be, and the one in its place looked like something out of a horror film—freshly dead, blood-soaked, and carved like a grotesque work of art.

You leaned back against the counter as the FBI agents filed in, their presence slicing through the eerie silence. The group was sharp, purposeful, and clearly used to handling chaos. Among them, one man immediately stood out.

He was tall, maybe six-foot-one, with tousled brown hair that looked like it had lost a battle with a comb. His dark blazer was slightly too big for his lean frame, and the way he adjusted his satchel strap every few seconds hinted at his slight nervous energy. But it was his eyes that caught your attention—warm and endlessly curious, darting around the room like they were cataloging every detail. He looked like he’d stepped out of a library and into a crime scene.

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” he said, his voice soft but deliberate as he approached you. His eyes lingered for a moment on your dark hair, the chipped edges of your blood-red nail polish, and the subtle skull pendant hanging around your neck. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he formed some unspoken observation.

“I’m the one who found the body,” you said, crossing your arms. His gaze flicked to your black long-sleeve shirt, noticing the faint wrinkles near the cuffs from where you’d been tugging at them earlier.

Spencer tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were just as much a puzzle as the case itself. “You work here?” he asked, though the answer was obvious.

You raised an eyebrow. “No, I just hang out in mortuaries for fun. Great ambiance.”

His lips twitched, the hint of a smile betraying his otherwise serious demeanor. “Right.” He glanced at the body, his tone growing more professional. “You said you found the body when you came in for your night shift?”

“Yes,” you replied. “This drawer was supposed to have a heart attack victim I was preparing for burial. Middle-aged woman, very boring. When I opened it today, this was waiting for me.” You gestured toward the bloodied body on the table, your voice calm despite the grim subject matter.

Spencer’s eyes followed your gesture, narrowing slightly as he examined the victim. “You’re certain this wasn’t here yesterday?”

“Dead certain,” you said without thinking, then winced. “Sorry. That wasn’t—I cope with dark humor. Occupational hazard, I guess.”

Spencer glanced at you, his expression softening. “I understand. It’s… not uncommon in this line of work.”

You studied him for a moment, noticing how his slight awkwardness seemed at odds with his sharp intelligence. He had an air of vulnerability about him, but there was also something strikingly self-assured in the way he analyzed everything around him. You wondered how someone like him—bright-eyed and endearingly earnest—handled the kind of darkness he must face every day.

“Do you recognize him?” Spencer asked, gesturing to the body.

You shook your head. “No. Never seen him before. And no one else has access to this section of the mortuary after hours. I locked everything up before I left last night. Whoever put him here must’ve known what they were doing to sneak it in.”

Spencer nodded, his gaze flicking between the cuts on the victim’s body. “The precision of these wounds… they were made deliberately. Whoever did this wasn’t in a hurry. They wanted us to notice the details.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” you said dryly, folding your arms. “They’ve got everyone’s attention now.”

Spencer glanced at you again, his expression unreadable but thoughtful. “You seem very calm for someone who just found… this.”

You gave a small shrug, brushing a strand of black hair out of your face. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen something gruesome. Probably won’t be the last.” You hesitated, then added with a wry smile, “Though I’ll admit, finding a surprise corpse is a new one, even for me.”

Spencer studied you for another moment, his head tilting slightly as if he were piecing together something about you. “You said you locked everything last night. Did you notice anything unusual before you left?”

You thought for a moment, absently tapping your nails against the counter. “Nothing out of the ordinary. But then again, ordinary isn’t exactly a guarantee in this job.” You paused, your eyes flicking back to the body. “If someone’s messing with me, they’ve got a pretty sick sense of humor. And that’s saying something, coming from me.”

Spencer didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary before he turned back to the body. “This wasn’t a joke. Whoever did this wanted to send a message.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and you found yourself wondering just how deep this case would go. You had always been fascinated by death, but now, for the first time, it felt like death was staring back at you.

After the FBI had concluded their search and cameras were packed away and evidence collected, the usual silence you were used to began seeping back into the cold, sterile atmosphere of the mortuary. The body had been carefully documented and removed, leaving behind the faint antiseptic smell of bleach and cold steel. You stood by the counter, gathering your tools and preparing to get back to work once the team left.

You could feel the day's weight pressing down on you, but you refused to let it show and tried your best to keep your movements steady. You snapped on a fresh pair of gloves and reached for your notebook beside your workstation. The slight tremor in your hands betrayed your calm exterior.

Across the room, Spencer watched you. He stood near the doorway with his satchel slung over one shoulder, fidgeting with the strap as he lingered. He didn’t know why he hesitated to leave—there was something about you that held his attention. Maybe it was the way you handled the situation earlier, calm and composed despite the horrifying scene. In a way it may have seemed suspicious to someone else. Or maybe it was the way your dark humor revealed cracks in your otherwise detached demeanor. Whatever it was, he found himself walking toward you before he could think better of it.

You didn’t notice him at first, focused on arranging your tools in neat rows. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat softly that you looked up, startled.

“Oh,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “Still here?”

Spencer hesitated, not knowing how to handle your straightforward behaviour, his hands awkwardly stuffed into his pockets. “Yeah, um… I just wanted to check in with how you’re coping... After everything earlier?”

Your first instinct usually would have been to shrug the concern off, but the question had caught you off guard. You blinked at him for a second, unsure how to answer. “I—” You paused, tilting your head slightly as you studied him. “Oh I’m great,” you replied, your voice laced with sarcasm. “Finding a bloodied corpse someone snuck into my mortuary? Best day I’ve had in weeks, really.”

You winced at your own words, immediately looking down after saying them. “Sorry. That was—I shouldn’t have said that.” You fumbled for an excuse, your voice tight. “I just… I don’t talk to people much. I guess I don’t know how to… be normal in situations like this.”

Spencer’s expression softened, his voice gentle. “It’s okay. People cope in different ways. And after today, sarcasm seems pretty appropriate.”

You studied him for a moment, your eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. “You’re weirdly nice for someone who spends his days chasing psychopaths.”

The comment seemed to amuse him, though he didn’t quite smile but instead pursed his lips slightly. “And you’re surprisingly calm for someone whose workspace just turned into a crime scene,” he countered lightly.

You almost laughed, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. “Guess we’re both a little weird.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the hum of the refrigeration units filling the space between you. Then Spencer reached into his pocket and pulled out a small card.

“If you find anything else,” he said, his voice deliberate but kind, “or if you think of something that might help the case, call us. Here’s my number, just in case.” He held the card out to you, his fingers brushing yours as you took it.

You stared at the card for a moment, surprised by the gesture. It was small, routine, even, but it felt like more than that. You looked up at him, your usual stoicism softening into something almost vulnerable. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice warmer than before.

Spencer smiled, the kind of smile that was barely there but sincere. “Take care,” he said, adjusting his satchel as he turned to leave.

As he walked off, you couldn’t help the slight giddiness bubbling up inside you. It was a new sensation, as you tended to dislike most people, however, there was something about this handsome stranger that had you way more interested than you would've liked to admit.

It had been approximately 2 weeks since your ‘corpse surprise’, and work at the mortuary carried on as usual. There had been no leads or updates from the FBI regarding the mysterious body. No one had come forward to claim it, and any investigative efforts seemed to have hit a dead end. The unsettling memory lingered in the back of your mind, no matter how hard you tried to focus on work. The thought of someone managing to sneak a corpse into the mortuary without being caught still made your skin crawl.

You had just finished up with the cremation retort, the faint heat from the machine still lingering in the room, and had begun sweeping and cleaning up the crematory floor. The rhythmic swish of the broom against the tiles filled the quiet, accompanied only by the faint hum of the ventilation system.

As you moved toward the far corner, you noticed something out of place—a faint scuff mark on the otherwise spotless floor near the entrance. You frowned, leaning closer. It looked fresh, like someone had dragged something heavy through the room. A casket, maybe? No, you’d been the only one in here all morning, and the retort was prepped before your shift.

Brushing it off as nothing, you returned to sweeping, but a prickling sensation ran up the back of your neck. The kind of feeling you got when someone was watching you. You stopped mid-sweep and glanced over your shoulder, scanning the empty room. Nothing but sterile counters and a row of sealed urns waiting for pickup.

The ventilation hum seemed louder now, almost deafening in the otherwise silent space. Shaking your head, you muttered, “Get a grip,” and went back to cleaning.

Then came the noise.

A faint shuffle, just beyond the doorway that led to the preparation room. Your hand tightened on the broom handle, your heart thudding against your ribs. It wasn’t uncommon for sounds to echo strangely in the building—pipes groaning or metal trays shifting on counters—but this sounded different. Like a footstep.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice echoing back to you. No response.

Setting the broom aside, you stepped cautiously toward the preparation room, your shoes squeaking faintly against the tiles. As you approached, the air seemed colder, though you couldn’t tell if it was the room or just your nerves.

The door to the preparation room was slightly ajar, just enough for a sliver of shadow to spill into the hallway. You could’ve sworn you’d closed it earlier. Pushing the door open slowly, you peered inside. Everything seemed normal—the stainless steel countertops, the neatly arranged tools, the faint smell of disinfectant in the air.

And yet, the feeling of being watched persisted.

You turned to leave, but your eyes caught on something—a small object sitting on one of the prep tables. It hadn’t been there before. Approaching cautiously, you realized it was a photograph.

A photo of you.

It was grainy, taken from a distance, but unmistakable. You were outside the mortuary, standing by your car, looking down at your phone. Your throat tightened as you stared at it, your pulse roaring in your ears.

A faint creak sounded behind you, and you spun around, your breath catching. The door you’d left ajar was now fully closed.

Your hands trembled as you stared at the now-closed door. Despite every instinct in you screaming to leave, to run, you couldn't move. It was as if your entire body had been drenched in ice water and no longer wanted to respond.

When you had finally regained control of your movements you reached for your phone and fumbled through your bag without thinking. Your fingers brushed against the business card Spencer Reid had given you after your first meeting, his handwriting neat and precise on the back: Call if anything comes up.

You hesitated. Would he think you were overreacting? Maybe. But the photograph on the prep table stared back at you, a tangible reminder that this wasn’t just paranoia. You tapped the number on your phone and pressed it to your ear, your breath shallow as it rang.

After what felt like years, you finally heard Spencer's familiar voice on the other end, calm and professional, "Dr. Reid."

“Hi, uh, it’s… it’s me,” you said, trying to sound casual as you leaned against the prep table for support but still refusing to take your eyes off of the door. “From the mortuary? The weird body situation a couple weeks ago?”

“I remember,” Spencer replied, his tone softening. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not exactly,” you replied, but your voice cracked slightly on the last word, betraying your attempt to keep your composure. “I mean, nothing urgent, I don't think. I just… thought I should mention something odd that happened. Probably nothing.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. “You don’t sound fine,” Spencer said, his voice quieter now, almost gentle. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the table to ground yourself. “It’s just… someone left a photo of me in the preparation room. Like, an actual printed photograph. I’m not sure how it got there.”

Spencer’s end of the line went silent for a beat, then: “A photograph of you? Where was it taken?”

“Outside the mortuary. By my car, I think. It’s grainy, but it’s definitely me.” You tried to laugh, but it came out weak. “I know it’s probably just someone messing around. But um..." You paused for a moment, wondering whether you should tell him about the odd noises from before and risk sounding paranoid.

“The photo wasn’t the only thing. I thought I heard footsteps earlier, and there was a mark on the floor like something was dragged through the crematory. I… I don’t know, I was sure it was clean this morning when I came in for work, but maybe I’m just spooking myself.”

“You’re not spooking yourself,” Spencer interrupted, his tone more insistent now. “This is serious. Are you still in the mortuary?”

“Yes,” you admitted, glancing toward the door as if expecting it to move again.

“Okay, listen to me,” Spencer said, his voice steadying you. “I need you to leave the building. Lock it up if you can, but get somewhere safe. I’ll notify the team and come to check things out.”

Your chest tightened, a mix of relief and apprehension at his words. “You really think it’s that serious?”

“I don’t take chances with things like this,” Spencer replied. “Neither should you.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, and pushed yourself off the table. “Okay... Okay, I’ll leave now.”

As you ended the call and pocketed your phone, your eyes darted around the room one last time. The photograph still lay on the table, a grim reminder that whoever had taken it might still be nearby.

You moved quickly now, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Grabbing your bag and coat, you threw them over your shoulder and cast one last glance around the dim room. The photograph still lay on the prep table, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pick it up. Your fingers trembled too much anyway. You just needed to get out.

Sliding your phone into your pocket, you tightened your grip on your keys and made your way to the door. Your footsteps echoed in the stillness, each sound magnified in the empty mortuary. Every shadow in the room seemed alive, every creak of the floorboards sending a shiver down your spine.

“Just get out, just get out,” you muttered under your breath, your voice barely above a whisper.

You reached the door, exhaling shakily as you reached for the lock. But just as your hand brushed the handle, a cold, sharp sensation pressed against your throat, freezing you in place.

“Don’t move,” a low, raspy voice growled behind you, the words sending a bolt of terror down your spine.

Your breath hitched, your mind racing as you registered the unmistakable feel of a blade pressing against your skin. You didn’t dare turn your head, every muscle in your body locked in place once more.

“You scream, and you’re dead,” the voice continued, so close you could feel the warmth of their breath against your ear.

Your keys slipped from your hand, clattering loudly to the floor. The sound echoed in the silence, a cruel reminder of just how alone you were.

“Good,” the voice murmured, the knife pressing ever so slightly harder against your neck. “Now be a good girl and do exactly as I say.”

Your pulse roared in your ears as panic clawed its way up your throat. You had no choice but to comply.

And that was when the lights in the mortuary flickered and went out, plunging you both into darkness.

[crazerk]

Im thinking that when my mc gets shown to our husband along with the other new concubines he sees a thin rope around her ankle and asks why is she tied and the servants try carefully telling him I already tried to run away two times as I was a slave

Lol. This scene probably won’t appear in the books but it was fun to think about so I made a little drabble.

You stand in a line like a prized horse at auction, head bowed in proper deference as the shah makes his way down the row of girls, preening for his attention. You can feel the weight of his presence even before he reaches you, like the heaviness in the air before a storm. The silk rope around your ankle feels impossibly conspicuous, despite Orgion's attempts to arrange your skirts to hide it.

The soft whisper of expensive robes against marble grows closer. Then silence. You can see the edge of his shadow falling across the floor before your feet, can sense his stillness as he pauses.

"Why is this one bound?"

His voice is quieter than you'd expected, touched with something that might be curiosity or might be disapproval. You keep your eyes fixed on the floor, though every instinct screams at you to look up, to see the face of the man who now owns your fate.

You hear Orgion clear his throat delicately. "Ah, your majesty... there have been some... difficulties with compliance." The chief eunuch's usual unctuous tone has taken on a nervous edge. "Two attempts at... unauthorized departure, thus far."

"Two?" There is definitely curiosity now, and something else – a hint of amusement? "In less than a week?"

"The first was during her initial examination, your majesty. She... ah... managed to evade the guards and make it as far as the outer courtyard before she was intercepted."

"And the second?"

"Yesterday morning. She had somehow acquired a set of servant's robes and very nearly made it to the kitchens. If one of the cooks hadn't recognized her..."

You fight to keep your face neutral, though your cheeks burn at having your failures laid bare. You hadn't even made it to the actual palace gates. Some great escape artist you're turning out to be.

"Look at me."

The command is soft but unmistakable. You hesitate for a heartbeat, then slowly raise your head.

The shah is younger than you'd expected, though his eyes hold a weight that goes beyond his years. They're an unusual color – not quite brown, not quite gold, but something in between that seems to shift in the light filtering through the high windows. His face is all elegant angles, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw that speaks of his foreign blood. But it's his expression that catches you off guard – not anger or offense at your defiance, but something that looks almost like recognition.

"Interesting," he says softly, more to himself than to you. Then, to Orgion: "Remove the rope."

"Your majesty?" The chief eunuch's voice rises slightly in alarm. He gaze bounces from you to the shah. "I must advise against—"

"Remove it." There is steel beneath the quiet now. "We are not savages, to keep our women in bonds."

"As you wish, your majesty." Orgion gestures sharply to one of the attending servants, who hurries forward to untie the silk cord.

You feel the rope fall away from your ankle, but you don't dare move. He is still watching you with that strange, measuring look.

"Tell me," he says, "what would you have done if you'd made it to the gates?"

The question catches you by surprise. You should lie, you know – make up some story about missing your family, play the part of the frightened girl who just wants to go home. But something in those unusual eyes compels honesty.

"I would have run," you say simply. "As far and as fast as I could."

A spark of something that might be approval flickers across his face. "And now?"

"Now?" You meet his gaze squarely. "I suppose I'll have to find other ways to escape."

Orgion makes a strangled sound of outrage. "Your majesty, you see how intractable she is! Perhaps if we were to—"

"Enough." Kaz's voice cut through the eunuch's protests like a blade. He turns to face Orgion fully, and though his tone remains quiet, there is no mistaking the anger beneath it. "Let me be very clear. These women are not animals to be leashed and caged. They are members of my household, and they will be treated with the dignity their position demands." His eyes flick to the discarded rope. "If I ever see another concubine bound like a common criminal, you will answer to me personally. Do I make myself understood?"

Orgion's face has gone pale. He bows so low his forehead nearly touched the floor. "Yes, your majesty. Of course, your majesty. I only thought—"

"You thought wrong." Kaz's gaze sweeps the room, taking in the other officials and attendants. "The same goes for all of you. These women are under my protection. Remember that."

He studies you for a moment longer, then the corner of his mouth curves up slightly. "You might want to avoid the kitchens in the future. The head cook has an unusually good memory for faces."

You stare after him, unsure whether you've just made a terrible mistake or somehow passed a test you hadn't known you were taking. But as you watch him move on to inspect the other girls, you could have sworn you saw a flash in his eye, of barely concealed mirth.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

Wooin Yoo's analysis

After seeing tons of people misunderstanding his character and making him out to be worst person alive, I decided to take the matters in my hands and post an analysis. I'd be more than delighted if this will help to understand his character better because I'm also using this analysis to debunk some claims against Wooin Yoo.

Wooin Yoo appears to be playful and friendly person, at least that's how he portrays himself to strangers. He tends to hide his true intentions behind the mask he puts on. At first glance, he seems sincere but his words often carry the hint of mischief and mockery. He's skilled in provoking people - of course intentionally - he seems to kind of enjoy the reactions caused by his words and he's written to be shameless character, regularly acting a bit too casual. Whenever he, himself, is being provoked, he manages to remain calm, rational and controls his frustration very well, that is unless people pushes his buttons. We've seen him being quite aggressive and violent, he also gets frustrated when things don't go along with his plans. He also gets annoyed when he's being ignored -

For example, when he greeted Monster but got ignored, Wooin clearly got frustrated but let it go afterwards. He couldn't hide his dislike though.

Despite these questionable traits, Wooin seems pretty friendly and comfortable with his friends - Joker and Hyuk specifically. I mentioned how Wooin gets annoyed when things don't go along with his plans and sometimes even gets violent, but that's never the case when it comes to his friends. In the webtoon series, Joker and Hyuk don't listen to him quite often or follow his plans but he doesn't get violent with them. Frustrated? Yes. Violent or lashes out like he does with others? Definitely not. In fact, I'd say that Hyuk and Joker get free pass to frustrate him and be perfectly fine whatsoever. Same goes to ignoring. I think in 522(?) chapter, he talks about finals yet gets interrupted by Hyuk, who asks if anyone wants a drink, then Joker joins in - they basically ignored what Wooin was saying but guess what Wooin did? That's right, nothing. He just scratched his head and posed a question. Nothing else. I'm emphasizing this so much because I'm using this analysis as a way to prove some people wrong that have very bad view of Wooin to the point of misunderstanding him. Like I saw someone straight up saying that he'd be cold to his own friends too, which is wrong. Wooin hates being lonely or alone, hence why we see him hanging out with his friends often, it usually being Joker or/and Hyuk. He sure as hell is not going to treat his friends like piece of shits while constantly hanging out with them and deeply despising solitude.

How do I know that Wooin dislikes solitude? Well, lemme focus on specific interaction between Joker and Wooin, where Joker mentions how lonely the puppy must have felt and how lonely it'd be if Joker just left it. Wooin, for once, has different type of expression that we don't see of him often. Those words just stirred something in Wooin and he remembered how lonely he used to be in almost dark room with nothing but small, single window.

His backstory yet have to be revealed but I can analyse the entire picture right here. The room Wooin is in seems very simple, has nothing else other than chair, desk, shelves and books, one picture and one window, which is the only source of light in the room. Wooin is sitting in the middle, facing the window while open book is posed in front of him. But no, he's not looking at the book, he's not reading anymore. He's looking at the only source of light in his room that comes from outside, as if he's dreaming about something, going outside, having fun with his friends, being free. But no, rather he's feeling incredibly lonely and solitude is gnawing at his bones. This scene was supposed to show just how much he hates loneliness. Ironic, isn't it? He's always with someone and has lot of connections that you'd think he's never alone but who would have thought that a person like that has suffered from solitude before? And that he's trying to cope and kill that solitude by almost always being with his friends. It makes sense because most of the time we saw Wooin hanging out with his friends, they weren't really doing anything but keeping each other company. For example, in part 4 episode 86, Wooin is just on his phone while Joker eats an apple and they're not interacting until Sangho sends Wooin a message. There's more scenes like that, for example, Joker just sleeping in Wooin's car and nothing else. But still, the presence of someone is enough for Wooin.

"He doesn't really care about his friends tho" right, a man who gave up on being professional cyclist receiving professional training and his bright future for his friend, Hyuk, just to create the crew where Hyuk could freely ride just how he wanted without being judged, just so the two of them could ride together again, this man doesn't care about his friends, right? This man who apologized to Sangho after Joker messed up when he didn't have to be the one apologizing at all or when Joker angered Juhwan and Wooin tried to fix the issue Joker caused - again, he didn't have to - is a man who doesn't care about his friends. Right, a man who accepted Vinny as a friend and treats him so well in Sabbath, right? A man who covered for his friends when they messed up what Sangho requested them, right? Right. How uncaring of him.

Now let's talk about the recent glance at his backstory, where Wooin talks about how he gave up being acknowledged by anyone. Because he has tried many, many, many times but only kept getting labelled as "useless"

The unknown man speaks lowly of Wooin, this man is someone he wanted acknowledgement from but he never got it. The man seems rich, maybe the ceo of some company but he surely has lots of authority. So far, we can assume him to be Wooin's father, also to note the fact that this is happening in the house, Wooin's room. It seems Wooin wanted to be acknowledged so badly by this man but ended up being disappointment probably for quite lot times. The signs of Wooin being victim are visible in the chapter:

The room is messy, there's golf's stick, cigarettes on the ground - they're messy too, broken what seems to be a cup, broken phone and books scattered around in the corner. On top of it, Wooin is tied up and beaten up to the point of bleeding. Obviously he's victim when he ends up like this + locked up when he only ever wanted to make the man proud, for him to be acknowledged. Then Wooin proceeds to say how he gave up on being acknowledged by anyone ages ago.

There's a lot we don't know about him but we'll probably learn more soon enough.

[mikanotes]

HEART TO HEART

seo yul x gn!reader | 4.3k words

genre: mutual pining, soulmates au

warnings: mentions of death, injuries, and hypothermia. made up stuff for the sake of my little soulmate au and a lot of confusing explanations sorry! might be ooc i haven’t watched aos in a while. not fully proofread

synopsis: A careless mishap with a dangerous artifact leads Yul to unknowingly lose half of his soul, and unknowingly attempt to get it back.

author’s note: in my seo yul era again

There is so many sounds around Daeho. People talking, the sound of each syllable that leaves their lips, the sound of each breath they exhale, the sound of laughter echoing around walls and steps all around the city. There is nature, the wind passing through the leaves of each tree, the sound of water droplets falling along a waterfall, birds’ wings moving and stray cats jumping on roofs.

There is so many sounds around Daeho, yet you feel as if you cannot really hear any of them.

There’s a tornado around you— A storm. It is made of every sound and feeling and it swirls around but you cannot feel. It is like watching the world breaking apart but seeing it from another place.

Where are you really?

Your name echoes around you.

The sound of a voice, warm and familiar. Home. Yes, this must be home. The voice that holds you gently, brings you to peace and helps you stay alive.

“Come back.”

Seo Yul.

“You’re finally here!” Choyeon nearly cries, hurrying over to join her friends. Jang Uk, Seo Yul, and Park Danggu. She sighs and frantically looks around, as if checking if anyone could be watching, before leading them inside with a pull to Danggu’s hand.

“What happened? The maid said it was urgent.” Uk says calmly, clearly confused. Choyeon seems restless. Yul doesn’t want to think of the worst, because it could really be something that isn’t at all urgent. But there’s this slight hint of genuine fear in the girl’s eyes that makes him do it, think of the worst, even if for just a second.

“There’s… Something happened, they’re unconscious, and…” her words are clear but too fast to make sense and all that he catches is your name and the word unconscious. “It’s because I’m clumsy and all, but I really didn’t mean for this to happen—”

“Slow down.” Uk laughs in slight shock, “Unconscious?”

“What exactly happened?” Danggu steps in. The girl looks at him with arched eyebrows and upset painted all over her expression before she finally sighs and turns away.

“It’ll be easier if you see.” she says, then walks towards a more secluded part of the gardens near Songrim. It’s near a small lake and close to a large, abandoned study room. There’s bushes and flowers all around and it’s enough to make for a beautiful spot to get alone time. Or hide something.

Choyeon pushes the large doors open. The room really is abandoned. There’s old desks and chairs stacked at the sides and some of the windows have been left ajar. Yul coughs because of the dust the second he steps inside, before waving his hand around in the air and squinting. But then everyone stops in their tracks, so he looks at the center of the room and his eyes widen.

This might really be urgent.

“… What happened?” Yul finally speaks up for the first time since his arrival. He was fine with his friends asking questions because they were the same he had in mind— But the scene in front of him urges him to talk.

You’re standing up straight in the middle of the room, the fabric of your clothing flowing in every direction despite the clear lack of wind inside the room, your eyes are closed and you don’t look anywhere close to awake. The place is at a fairly normal temperature, but it’s like a storm has formed specifically around you, much colder than the rest. A striking red ribbon is held tightly between your fingers.

You seem so… Calm. Yul feels a discomforting chill running down his spine.

Choyeon sighs quietly, biting on her bottom lip while thinking. The silence that follows Yul’s question stretches out for a long while, everyone clearly trying to make sense of the sight in front of them. It seems clear the girl who knows anything about it is hesitant to speak. Yul moves a bit closer to her. “Choyeon. It’s okay.” he says softly. He tries to sound reassuring. She looks up at him and shakes her head. He frowns a little. “Jin Choyeon.”

“We can’t help if we don’t know how they ended up like this. Please get on with it.” Uk complains, though everyone present knows his tone is a bit more worried than it is irritated.

“They held the Soulmates’ Fabric.”

Yul tilts his head a little, puzzled. “Soulmates’…?”

“Fabric.” she repeats, then sighs. “It’s… To summarize it, it’s an artifact from the Jinyowon— The fallen lovers’ spirits possess it. People used this to check if their lover was their soulmate or not before a wedding. Two parties hold it, it’s… It’s a ribbon, and if they’re soulmates it will show the fabric of fate linking their pinkies.”

Yul glances at your hand and figures that’s the red ribbon in your hand. Such a small thing— It looks as if he could wrap it around his wrist maybe twice, like a bracelet. Cursed artifacts really are just anything.

Uk chimes in. “And if they’re not?”

“Nothing. The spirits just laugh in their faces.”

“And if only one person holds it?” Yul asks. Choyeon looks at him and gulps, before glancing away.

“Their soul is trapped in there.”

“And why… Did you even have this? Simple curiosity.” Danggu asks. Choyeon shrugs a bit dramatically and turns away. The man blinks a few times before his eyes widen in realization. He points his finger towards his own chest, “Us?!”

“Well, yes.”

Yul feels his patience wearing thin and closes his eyes to calm it. He looks at Choyeon, “How did they end up holding it?”

“It flew away from my grasp, they just tried grabbing it for me..” she says, holding up her hands— Covered by silk gloves, protecting her in a way you visibly weren’t blessed with. “The doors to this place were wide open so we ended up here.”

Yul glances at you and sighs. Something tells him solving this won’t be easy.

“How do we get their soul back in here?” Uk asks, pointing towards your body with his thumb.

Choyeon sighs, again. It’s clear she’d hoped to avoid this since her friends arrived, despite knowing she would have to say it if this was to be solved.

“Their soulmate needs to hold the other end of the fabric.”

“You’re kidding…”

“This could take ages.”

“I know!”

Yul can practically see how cold the storm around you is. He can practically feel the threat of death attached to your body, missing its soul. A vessel without a soul is bad news. Without its soul, the body does not take long to… Heavens, no. He takes a step closer to you and lets his friends’ arguing become background noise for a moment. You’re eerily still.

“Is it safe to move them?” he asks.

“I think, but the problem is more so actually managing to do it.” Choyeon replies, “The storm is stronger than you might think.”

Yul tries, anyway. He takes a step forward and moves his hands to hold you. His skin feels like it’s freezing the moment they enter the storm surrounding your figure, and it gets about ten times worse when he manages to grab ahold of your arms. The very fact that you’re enduring this makes him feel like he might lose his mind if they don’t find a way to stop it. He grinds his teeth and tries to pull, ignoring his friends telling him to quit it as well as the burning that the cold cuts him with, and keeps at it for at least thirty more seconds before he’s forced to stumble back.

This is bad, he thinks. He’d hoped your body wouldn’t be too affected by the cold because of its unnatural nature, but upon closer look, a lot of signs indicate you’re more than affected. Freezing much faster than a person ever should have been. Truly just a body with no soul.

Uk looks at him, hand firmly holding his shoulder after shoving him away from you. “You won’t have a hand to hold the fabric with, if you keep this up.” he says sternly. Yul glares a little and moves away from his hand.

“That would be a futile effort. I figure I’d only be trapping my soul, too.”

“I mean, would you?” Danggu asks, brows furrowing. The question is directed at Choyeon, now, who should clearly have more extensive knowledge on the whole thing, “Did the people who use this have to hold it at the exact same time or else one of them got trapped? That seems… Inconvenient.”

Choyeon shakes her head lightly and walks over to a table in the room. There, a large and old book about artifacts and customs sits on the surface. “There’s something they would recite. Like a… A spell. Or a poem, I think? I was too panicked to read all this, but… I think that’s what protected their souls from being taken if they weren’t linked to each other.” she explains, frantically going through the book. “But Yul is right. Since their soul is already trapped, him holding the fabric would only work if they’re sure to be soulmates.”

“Well, might as well try.” Uk scoffs, “Besides, who could it be if not Yul?”

The latter looks down and scoffs. His friends’ teasing on his very obvious fondness for you would usually not have much effect on him besides giving him mild embarrassment, but today it feels a bit different. The words sound sour to him in these circumstances.

“This might be life or death.” he says quietly, and repeats it louder when Danggu asks what he said. He looks up, “At this rate, their temperature will only continue to drop. They’ll be dead and frozen in less than a few hours.”

Choyeon makes a sound of discontentment and concern before speaking, “Isn’t that too precise?”

“Master Heo taught me enough to know this much. We all know this.”

An overbearing silence follows that statement. It’s hard to claim the teachings of Daeho’s best physician are wrong, and Yul is right, and it makes it all the more difficult to process. You are hanging in the air in the middle of a freezing storm and their chances of saving you are incredibly slim. Their hope is quick to slip away.

There has to be a way. Your soulmate could be worlds away, for all they know. Yul would be willing to set out on a quest to find whoever it could be and drag them back here if it came down to it, however he doesn’t have the privilege of having so much time. So, “Is there another solution?” he asks, gaze focused on Choyeon. 

He must look somewhat different because the girl’s eyes widen for a moment and she looks towards Uk. “Well,” she looks back at him, “Breaking almost any artifact would render it incapable of executing their usual magic, which means this one too… Probably.”

“We can’t base ourselves off a ‘probably’.”

“I— Just look in the stupid grimoire, then!”

So he does. He walks over to the book and lets Choyeon move aside before pressing his hands down over the edges of the pages. Soulmates’ Fabric, cursed souls, history, spell recital, remedies… There are only two pages on this artifact, which means all their solutions had to be hidden somewhere there. 

Or that there is not a solution.

“Why did our elders have to be so damn dramatic?” Uk sighs in annoyance, and conversation ensues behind Yul. He doesn’t bother keeping up with anything that’s said.

“Trust was especially important at the time.”

“Yeah? For their image and reputation?”

“Can’t be all too different from right now, then.”

The story of the Soulmates’ Fabric claims two souls reside in that ribbon, lovers who were doomed to never be together yet perished at each other’s side. Impossible to get this ribbon off their wrists, even in death— They cursed it, whether they meant to or not, and the piece of fabric could only be taken once their bodies had entirely vanished.

It then became a custom to see if the spirits approved, or rather, if they could confirm if lovers were meant to be before they could marry. One of the spirits known to be kind, and gentle with their approach— The other much angrier, still understandably bitter over their fate. It’s said if two are soulmates, the kinder one will tie the ribbon around their fingers. If not, the cruel one will mock them. However, the method growing to be seen as too much of a risk, the ribbon was sealed in the Jinyowon for years to follow.

Yul’s gaze moves around the page, looking over words about the way the custom used to go, the way people saved themselves, but he struggles to even find a single sentence about a situation similar to yours. He focuses on a specific part, which sounds a lot like a poem, though it isn’t the one he saw earlier to recite before the ritual.

If one foolish enough to be trapped all on their own,

Mind numbed by the illusions of the Eye of the Storm,

Only their lover may find a way to wake their heart,

Or curse themselves with our wrath dare they injure us a cut.

To the abyss and away from their love they will depart,

With us shall never part.

“Curse themself if they dare injure them with a cut?…” he mumbles to himself, eyebrows creasing in confusion. He takes a deep breath and rereads it ten times, then looks back at the story of the souls. It is said they couldn’t remove the ribbon from the lovers’ tied wrists even after their death. Lovers fated to be apart, tying themselves to die together if they can’t live together. Then…? His eyes widen in realization.

“I’ll hold it.” he says suddenly, turning around. The group startles and looks at him. “I’ll hold the fabric right now, but I need you to do something in case it goes awry.”

Danggu nods hurriedly. “Good, anything, because they’re freezing over here.” the blonde says, moving his hand away from your arm and clutching it with his other. It’s red from the cold.

Yul swallows thickly then takes a short breath. “If it goes wrong, I need one of you guys to cut the fabric with my swords.”

“What?”

He continues, “I think if someone cuts the fabric they’ll be cursed by the spirits, but it will free the one that’s trapped.” he explains calmly, and sees Uk scoffing in disbelief as he listens. “So if it comes down to it, cut it. With my swords. Make it known I’m the one willing to be cursed.”

“What happened to ‘we can’t go off a probably’?” Uk mimics, air-quoting him, “You only said you think. Not that you’re sure. And what if it curses us anyways?”

“You’re right. Making the situation worse isn’t something I’m willing to risk.” Yul says dismissively, unsheathing the swords at his sides. “I can cut it myself right now.”

A hurried chorus of ‘no!’s follows that statement and Danggu jogs up to his side.

“Okay, let’s just… talk first.” he says, and glances at you for a second before adding, “Fast.”

“What is there to talk about?” Yul asks.

“Well, what— What’s the deal with the curse? What does it entail? Why would it happen?” Choyeon questions, “I mean, it makes sense a spirit would want to curse the one who breaks their artifact, but what’s their reasoning?”

“It’s the only thing that kept them together. In death, when they couldn’t be together in life.” Yul says, “It’s nothing short of cruel to cut it. But it… is a way to solve this.”

“And what if you’re soulmates?” Uk asks, crossing his arms, “What if it could be solved much more easily?”

“And if we’re not?” Yul counters, expression hardening, “I don’t want to risk it.”

“We would be risking much, much more if we lose both of you to a ribbon.” Danggu argues.

“I’m sorry,” Yul starts, fingers tightening around one of his swords, “But you are not changing my mind on this. Try as you might.”

“Yul…”

The second sword drops to the floor as he lets it go and he uses the distraction of the sound to take the few steps needed to get to you again. Otherwise he knows Uk will stop him.

He steels himself for the incoming pain and grabs the fabric in your hand before he can overthink it more. He holds it tightly and hisses at the cold, but tries to pull to bring your arm higher. You’re like a statue. It’s almost impossible to get you to move at all. Frozen. The storm is beginning to surround him, a slow but sure sign of his soul being pulled somewhere away from his body— Though he has no way to know if it’s to the abyss of the fabric’s realm or simply to meet yours. He cannot afford to wait and see.

The cold rushes through his own blood the longer he remains there, and he’s sure that the cursed souls are too close to him to risk staying still any longer. 

He had planned to immediately strike his sword against the artifact the moment he would get a tight enough hold of it, but now that he’s there, it proves to be much more difficult than he’d anticipated. His body feels heavy and his heartbeat is so loud in his ears that he cannot hear his friends’ yelling.

No, this isn’t my heartbeat, he realizes, mine is hurting my chest from how fast it’s going.

It’s yours. You’re still alive.

He feels as if his fingers may be turning numb, and worse, his mind as well. If this keeps up, his stupid plan will have been for nothing and Danggu will be right. Losing both you and him. He doesn’t care about anyone losing him, but it cannot be for nothing. So he focuses, and he finds any bit of strength left in him. With a yell, he swings down his sword just as the words “I’m sorry” attempt to leave his lips. Pointless apologies to souls long gone.

It cuts right through the red piece of silk.

Clang. His hand goes limp and his sword falls.

He sees you fall to the ground before he feels his own body do the same. His head hits the wooden floor, hard, and he feels like he’s lost his breath for a few long seconds. He’s spent— He swears he doesn’t have any strength left in him at all, otherwise, he would have crawled to you to make sure you’re not frozen and dead. His arm is extended on the floor, his end of the ribbon in his hand, and the other in yours still. His sword is somewhere else in the room but he doesn’t know where.

He blinks slowly, trying his very best to stay awake, but it becomes incredibly difficult. The pain and exhaustion are begging him to succumb to sleep but he cannot allow it yet. He can vaguely make out words of worries from his friends, but everything sounds far away. He tries to move, but all he can do is tighten his fingers around the small piece of ribbon. A thought crosses his mind as he looks at it, something that makes him feel even more confused than the fall already did.

Other than the cold in his veins, that is slowly fading away, Yul cannot feel anything close to a curse on him.

Is it not immediate? Why has he not heard the resentful screams of anger of separated lovers? Why is he merely battling his way to staying awake and not out of a fate worse than death? Was the curse a mere myth, or the true struggle a test of strength and will?

Through a half-open and hazy gaze, Yul swears he sees something odd happening. The red silk ribbon, cut cleanly in the middle, beginning to reconstruct all on its own. Fabric made out of air, slowly growing longer from both ends of the torn bits until they inevitably meet again in the middle.

And a translucent red ribbon, like a vision of sorts, tying around both yours and his pinky fingers.

The individuals will, if truly soulmates, see the ribbon tying around their pinkies. The book must’ve been right, but severely missing information. It really is doing just that, but there was nothing written about it fixing itself after getting cut. Then again, there wasn’t a tale of anyone ever trying before.

Yul breathes out something close to a laugh just before he loses grip of his consciousness and passes out, unsure of where he will be when he wakes up— If he ever does. Whatever happens, as long as you’re alive, it will have been worth it.

When he opens his eyes, at first, he’s in a dark space and laying down. He hears whispers and feels energies threatening enough to make him reach for his swords— But he finds he cannot move.

“Was there ever a curse to begin with? Tales this old are riddled with truths and details lost to time.” a voice says, and it seems to echo— Like two people are speaking, “What do you believe?”

— I don’t know.

“You were merely getting the missing half of your soul back. Who would curse you for such a thing?” the voice (voices?) laugh, “It seems clear they would’ve done the same, too.”

When he opens his eyes, the second time, it’s for real and he’s gasping for air. I was spared, he thinks. He sits up hurriedly and looks around, his head spinning so much at the sudden movement that he threatens to fall from the table he’s on. 

Table?

“Please do not move so quickly!”

He breathes heavily and looks around through half-lidded eyes. He’s at Sejukwon. He looks to the side and sees you on the second table in the room. You’re sitting already as a nurse fixes up an incense of sorts, and your eyes are trained on him— Wide and surprised. “Yul!” you exclaim, “What in the world?”

He just stares at you for a bit, lips parted without a single word coming out. “Are you okay?” he asks. There’s clear signs all around him that he really woke up, this time around, and that this is reality. But part of him wants to hear you to be sure. 

“You…” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment. Then you give him a look of disbelief that makes it clear the others have told you about what he did to get you back— and that this really is for real. He feels his mouth tugging into a smile and his body relaxes again. 

“One could argue you’re worse than I am, you fool.” you scoff, “I’m… Well, I almost died of hypothermia, alright. That’s a feat. But I survived.” you deadpan, eyebrows furrowed, “However you have a concussion.”

He wouldn’t have it any other way. “Good.” he says.

“Not good, are you insane?”

He finds himself laughing at that and slowly lays back down, because he seriously thinks he might fall over if he doesn’t. He doesn’t mind the worried look the nurse gives him as she leaves when he continues to laugh, either. He’ll say it’s because of the concussion. He’s just relieved.

“Oh, so you really are insane.” you scoff.

A silence follows. He looks at you. You’re staring at him with a look of relief, which makes him wonder how much you worried while he was out. It’s past sunset already, so the room is slowly losing its light. Things are quiet around Sejukwon— They always are so the patients aren’t disturbed, but even more so when it’s later in the day. There’s no more worries.

Only thoughts about what happened means for you.

He calls your name and you hum. “Did they tell you?” he asks quietly, almost whispering, “The others.”

“About your heroic tales of saving?“ you half-joke, “Yes. They did, before leaving because it got late. Thank you.” this time, your voice loses its sarcasm halfway. Your expression is much too genuine for those thanks to sound anything but, anyways. He laughs.

“I meant the ribbon. What it meant.”

“We’re soulmates.”

Yul has to make an effort to breathe. You say it so easily, like it’s such a natural thing. And it… is. You are literally meant to be, it could not be anything more natural. In a way, it could make sense you would be so casual about it. But he also feels like he might be close to fainting all over again from how much these words make his head spin, so he can’t entirely agree that it does.

“Yes.” he pauses, to breathe, “That.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

“Please don’t tease me.”

You laugh slightly and get up from where you were sitting. You walk over to him and stand at his side. He stares up at you and smiles. “I’m happy.” he says, “I’m happier than I probably should be considering the circumstances.”

“Good. Me too.” you say, then your expression grows more serious. “I’m sorry you had to suffer this much to bring me back.”

“It’s okay.”

“I know it is. That’s your problem, Yul.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he chuckles, “Unfortunate that our souls are linked. I’ll try not to inconvenience you more than necessary, but I can’t do much about that.”

“Your nature of putting your life on the line for someone you care about, you mean?” you scoff, “I’ve been used to it, anyways. But the way you say this makes it all sound very official.”

Here comes his worst fear. An exaggeration? Maybe. Not entirely. He’s spent years at your side, and well over half of them pining after you. And though it was apparently evident to anyone that saw you two that the feelings were reciprocated, saying anything about them was terrifying. But now you’re soulmates. Or rather, you’ve always been. It doesn’t actually change anything. 

But it does give him the guts to actually ask. This is as much courage as he’ll ever get, anyways. So he sits up and stays quiet for a moment, then turns to look at you.

“Would you like to be with me?”

[polargemini]

So I have a plot for a fic where Wade believes Peter Parker is experimenting on people (like on the comic) and this is like part of the scene when Wade attempts to kill him.

————

Wade doesn’t go right away after he shoots Parker. He stays there, right in front of him, seeing how his face morphs into a new expression. One full of affliction.

“W—“ Parker tries to say something. But his chest moves erratically, hindering any attempt to speak, and the bloods flows out of the injury, staining his lab coat.

He doesn’t have a lot of time left. That much is evident. He’s minutes away from dying, painfully, feeling each second the excruciating agony of the bullet near his heart — until it stops beating.

The fact that Wade isn’t taking the time to prolong this, to make Parker feel the same torment of the people who suffered at his hands, it’s a small courtesy to Spidey. Even if he never discovers that Parker was taking advantage of him, using him to cover his wicked purposes, Wade hopes that making it fast will make it better.

Because he isn’t supposed to be killing anyone. Less Spidey’s boss, the guy Spidey idolizes.

Wade had promised himself he wouldn’t kill again. Not after he changed. He was finally able to be someone different, someone worthy of being near Spidey. But after he found out Parker was behind the experiments, it was impossible to stand still and believe that Parker deserved a second chance. He’s probably throwing out the window all the progress of these few months.

But he has to do this.

Parker’s death will be fast — as fast as the bleed out takes — but he’s not leaving earth without suffering first. That’s why Wade aimed purposely to a spot near Parker’s heart and not directly at it.

He looks how Parker puts his hands around his chest, like he could somehow stop the bleeding just with that. What an idiot. For someone who is famous for being a scientist, he must be aware anything he does will be useless. There’s no going back.

And yet.

“W—“ Parker tries again.

He should be on the floor by now, but for some reason he keeps wanting to talk. It really is bothering Wade.

"Why? Are asking why? Gonna keep pretending til’ the end? You aren't fooling me, Parker. You know exactly what you did,” Wade snaps and Parker flinches at his words. Like they hurt more than the wound on his body.

"Wa—" Peter insists.

Wade grunts. “Is it wait now? C’mon, Parker. Not gonna spent my time trying to guess your last words. And if you’re really asking me to wait, think again. I bet they asked the same, and you—“

Wade groans, and then he aims the gun at Parker’s head, to his forehead. There’s no reason not to pull the trigger. Even if Wade spares him the pain ending things now, there’s no way for Parker to survive. He will accomplish what he came to do.

Wade analyzes the face behind the muzzle, and to his surprise, Parker doesn’t have the face of a murderer. There’s no guilt, not even a hint of anger for being discovered. Or that shame and sobbing that Wade has presence sometimes, when the people he had killed realized it was time to face the consequences of their actions.

If something, there's an indescribable pain in Parker’s eyes. He looks hurt, and it’s a different hurting, not the one he must be feeling from the bullet. It’s like he can’t understand why Wade did that to him. And not for the whole experimenting-on-people-matter. Nor the bullet matter. Its seems deeper, which doesn’t make sense.

Spidey talks a lot about Parker’s job, but Wade never got to meet him. Not until now. This is the first time they’re looking face to face. How should he take that expression? It’s feels personal, but there’s no way for it to be.

“Whatever,” Wade says as he holsters the gun. He isn’t wasting more bullets on this asshole. He turns his back, and walks away. He isn’t giving Parker the satisfaction of having someone to hear his last words — if he even manages to talk at some point.

All the time on his way out of the building, he tries to shake out of his head the look on those brown eyes.

[halfetirosie]

💫 Important info from the [Shine ☆ Gemstone Heart] PV! 💫 (Reaction post)

1) Awwwww!!! The fluff balls have their own lil' bows, too!

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) ♡♡♡♡♡

🧐 Are those little fellas holding their own magic wands? Or are those just extra-fancy potion vials??

2) Looks like Kuya's character has a sprinkling of Snow White's Evil Queen? 🤔 🍎

But I must say; it's a little strange seeing Kuya, instead of Rei, with a laboratory setting! Especially one centered around potion-making. 😊

(Add this to the list of Reasons Why Rei and Kuya are Hella Similar---a list that Kuya is definitely going to track me down and set me on fire for creating.....or Rei will sneak into my room at night, forge my signature and steal my fingerprints, and then I'll wake up on a dissecting table missing several organs. 😇)

It just seems like, if anything, Kuya would only ever willingly research spells, the arts, etc. You know; things less boring than chemistry. 😈 Shoutout to ALL Science Classes I've Ever Taken, my detested. 🖤

3) Hmmmm..... Is this cool knotted tree going to act like a poral? Like the rabbit hole in Alice in Wonderland? 🕳️

Like, the daylight-pic is of the tree in Reality (Klein), Eiden & Co. go through the gap on the bottom, and they come out the other side through the night-time pic tree in Magical Girl AU World.

4) 🎉🎉🎉 KUYORB FINALLY GETS SOME PROPER ANIMATION!!!! 🎉🎉🎉

LOOK AT THE LITTLE GUY WAVE!!!! (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )づ♡

5) Goddamn, this might be the MILF'iest Kuya we've ever seen...

(⸝⸝ ♡﹃ ♡ ⸝⸝)

He's even MILF'IER than Flaming Trial---and that's saying something!

Kitsune ✅ Bedroom Eyes ✅ Beautiful Long Locks ✅ Cool-ass hat ✅ Cool-ass boots ✅ Boob-window ✅

But I won't lie--- I, like many others, am very disappointed that Kuya didn't get a skirt. It would've looked so good!!!!! He's never gotten a proper skirt before, and that's a damn crime!!!! 😔😔😔

(It's been pointed out to me that Forest Night technically does have a skirt, which I guess is correct, but I don't think it really counts. Kimonos are their own separate thing!)

Or, at the very least, they could've given him booty shorts!!!

🔥🔥🔥 Let Kuya flaunt his legs, dammit!!!!! They're always all covered up!!!! 🔥🔥🔥

(╯◺□◿)╯︵ ┻━┻

6) ❗ Looks like the Monster-Fuckers, who have been praying for another tentacle scene for forever, are finally getting their prayers answered!

I'mma be honest; I am absolutely NOT one of those people. A solid 90% of the time, tentacle scenes actually really gross me out. I really hope this scene isn't one of those ones.....

Another thing working against it [for me personally]; that tentacle around Eiden's neck is giving me PTSD from Billowing Widlfire R5.💧💧💧💧💧

(I'm sorry to those who loved it, but I HATEDDDD that room. So much so, it made me like Kuya less as a character... I don't think Eiden will be strangled in this room, but I still feel shooketh.)

(ᵕ⊙ᴗ⊙)

Although, Kuya looking down and touching Eiden's cheek makes me feel a little better. ❤️

7) FUCK.....

The little details bring the look together so damn well!

The fluff ball matching Blade's expression: HELLA CUTE.

BUT LOOK AT THAT LITTLE HINT OF BOOTY!!!! 😭🙏

---AND THAT MEANS THAT BLADE'S PROBABLY GONNA GET SOME CUTE PANTIES THIS TIME, TOO!!!!! Good for him, he so deserves it!!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

8) This is my new #1 Favorite Blade Design!!! ✨✨✨

And you know why I can say that with confidence? Because I've never wanted to pull on a Blade Banner so badly!!!

Not to say that Blade designs are bad or anything. Just, they usually don't "speak to me" as much. They haven't had as much magnetic attraction. Idol Apprentice and Starlight Snapshot are strong contenders, but this one tho.....

Visible pretty eye ✅ Fairy wings (I've always loved fairies!) ✅ Soft bright color scheme ✅ Choker necklace ✅ Cold-shoulder top ✅ Ruffles ✅

AND JUST LOOK AT THIS LEGS!!!!

THIS IS THE BEST HIS LEGS HAVE EVER LOOKED!!!! FUCKKKKK!!!!!!

🦋 _(´ཀ`」 ∠)

9) Oh shit, Eiden has long hair again!!! ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

I feel like it's been a long time since we've gotten a new proper Long-Hair Eiden design. This time, I hope it's longer than just shoulder-length!

10) Garu looks so precious!!! 💖💖💖

The blushies with that little smile..... 😊

Also, they seem to have gone just as hard on this SR card as they did on the SSRs, which is a delightful surprise! (As in, this design has just as many details; while other special SRs have been comparatively less ornate than the SSRs.)

💫 End of report! 💫

[koolkitty9]

LET ME FINALLY GIVE MY THOUGHTS ON THIS SCENE RIGHT HERE. Hi I am obsessed with this scene for absolutely no reason. I have MANY THOUGHTS on it and I want to share my analysis on this entire minute scene. It has been almost EIGHT YEARS NOW since it aired (Sorry some of this got formatted weird by Tumblr hhhhh)

Right here, you can see the moment where Yumoto's heart just drops into his stomach and he realizes he MAY actually lose for the first time ever as a Battle Lover (Which would be A VERY INTERESTING THING to see!)

Now why do they show him in the past? It shows that this is a REAL fear of his, losing Gora is such a big deal to him. This MAY have happened before at home but as a child, this scene takes place during the events we saw with the tiny Beppu bros in ep 10. Where he was left alone

Starting off with this, WHERE is this coming from? Well, Sailor Moon S1Ep1, we see Usagi having an attack JUST like this, and it is a defensive attack, which I believe Yumoto's own attack was based on. Wombat MUST have known about this, I believe he NEVER thought it would occur

The others are confused at this new power (Power #5 for Yumoto in s2) meanwhile, the twins are horrified/even MORE angry at him. Aki tells Haru to not falter and Haru tries to shoot Yumoto in the chest to stop/fatally injure him at this point

Atsushi mentions Yumoto has stronger emotions compared to the VEPPer (He shames them btw), we learn in the OVA, Yumoto's powers are loved based, we DO get hints of in ep9 when Yumoto performs his Love Sprinkle attack. En notes that the twins underestimated how strong Yumoto is

To me, this is just a VERY extreme panic attack but since his powers are with love, it is amplified due to his love for Gora. Kinshiro notes that both past and current Yumoto are merging. I HC that Yumoto was always destined to become Scarlet, so this moment has taken him back to the time when he was a child and this has somehow made itself known in the universe. This could be a result from the alien technology (or could just be nothing and Im looking too deep into a single line)

Everyone isn't sure WHAT is going on, Ryuu tells him to get a grip after he learns Yumoto is "Losing himself to fear" and tries to touch him. As we see when Haru tried to hit Yumoto, this power is actively protecting Yumoto while doing damage to anyone who tries to hurt him. I actually find this to be SUPER interesting

It's more interesting when he calms down after the twins realize how strong he is, I believe this is his true anger over the entire situation. By this point Yumoto is sick of it, he has been fighting these two for so long over his own brother. He has almost been killed and now He's ready to do the same to them. When the boys all come running to stop Yumoto, they all have different expressions (Can't see Io's :(( ) The twins though, are horrified as they know if they get hit, THEY ARE DONE FOR! (It's finEEEE)

En's first thought is to grab Yumoto to try to calm him down somewhat by grounding him back to reality

Atsushi (just like a mom as Yumoto says about him) gently grabs Yumoto's face and tries to get him to look at him, while also shielding him from either himself or another attack from the twins. You can actually see him and Io pulling Yumoto closer to them

Ryuu and Wombat don't add much, BUT Ryuu does actually support Yumoto's head when they all fall onto the ground. Which Yumoto's head SHOULD be in Ryuu's lap (In theory).

As for the dark place? Yumoto probably experienced a severe form of tunnel vision along with the influence of his powers. IMO, He was so overwhelmed with the thought of losing his only family forever that he forgot about his found family as well.

adding to how Yumoto is being held, Ryuu seems to have Yumoto's forearms pinned, Io has his arms around Yumoto's chest, and En and Atsushi I CAN'T really see where they're grabbing at but it but it does show you even with their strength it takes all four of them to subdue Yumoto

And uhhh I think that's it really for this scene...for now... Once Yumoto remembers how he's loved by his friends and he's not alone, he transforms into his highest form to date :)))) also these frames of him are pretty lol this scene had a lot of gorgeous frames OKAY BYE!

I WANTED TO ADD MORE PICS BUT RAN OUTTA SPACE

I didnt fit ALL I wanted to talk about but ANOTHER TIME! OKAY BYE FOR REALSIES

[drconstellation]

The Altar of Eccles Cakes

(updated 21 Oct 2023, for Grain Offerings example) (updated 21 Nov 2023, for link to First Temptation)

The mysterious plate of Eccles cakes. Are they really to "calm people down?' And why do they just ...disappear? They must be there for a reason?

Yes, they certainly are. They are just the first course of a fascinating meal on offer in S2.

So far, most of the meta around the Eccles cakes has focused on the meaning of their name. Eccles is an old name for church. We could view it as Aziraphale trying to calm Crowley down. They are also known as "squashed fly cakes." The white outside and the black inside could be seen as a metaphor relating to Gabriel. Or it hints at the Roger the Stunt Fly, that contain Gabriel's memories, flying around the book shop, who's purpose we don't find out about until the end. There is even a link to the 1650 Sorry Dance that Aziraphale mentioned, in that were banned by Oliver Cromwell for being pagan! (Did I get that right? I've not kept the post link.)

[Edit: They also represent the First Temptation as Jesus fasts in the wilderness for 40 days before the Entry into Jerusalem at the start of the Passion narratives, where bread was made from stones.]

Take another look at the blocking in this shot. The dark horse statue, representing Crowley - even wearing his sunglasses! - has the placating plate of Eccles cakes placed before it, in supplication. Yeah, it didn't work this time, but it's the thought that counts. What we have here is Aziraphale making an Sin offering to the altar of Crowley, to ask for atonement in advance for what he has done (taking Gabriel in.)

Once you frame it in that reference, you realize its not the only altar offering made during S2. It also adds a bit more depth to some of the other scenes, where they have all been mentioned already in some way, but it certainly helps to explain the Eccles cakes!

Firstly, we need to mention the main types of altar offering that are made:

Burnt offerings - for general atonement of sins and for expression of devotion to God. It could be a bull, a ram, goat, or a bird in the form of a dove or pigeon. Such as this magnificent example in the Job minisode.

Aziraphale certainly devoted himself to the sin of gluttony on that occasion. (hang on, that didn't come out the right way, did it...?) But he was still devoted to God, despite his nocturnal conversation with Crowley while they waited out the storm in the cellar.

Grain offerings - a voluntary expression of devotion to God. This was grain prepared in different way, but always seasoned, unsweetened and unleavened. Recall at Gomorrah Lot offered to prepare the visiting angels unleavened bread as part of a meal.

Originally when I wrote this post I didn't think I had any Grain offering examples, but a few days later as I was writing my post on The Ineffable Ducks I realized where the missing S2 Grain offering was - in S2E1, when Crowley yells at the Azerbaijani spies in St James Park. The ducks are usually offered bread, which is leavened with yeast, so technically not quite correct, but when you review all the instances of feeding the ducks crumbs or bread crumbs it certainly fits. Unless you are Crowley, and you'd rather have the current state of quiet "frozen peas" between Heaven and Hell. See my Ineffable Ducks post for an elaboration.

Peace offering - This could be cattle, sheep or goat without defect, but the main purpose to was consecrate a meal between two or more parties before God and share that meal in a fellowship of peace and commitment to each other's future prosperity.

You know where we see one of these? At the eldritch ball!

I did see a nice meta about the vol-au-vents recently, mainly about their name, but I don't seem to have saved it, and can't find it again. They are usually filled with chicken (a bird) and the eldritch ball is ostensibly the shopkeepers monthly meeting, after all, where they are there to talk about their mutual prosperity in the future. Just so happens its also an opportunity for Aziraphale to talk to Crowley about their future...oh, and Nina and Maggie's, as well, of course!

Sin offering - atonement or unintentional sin. It would have the elements of a Burnt offering, as well as a Peace offering, but not be shared. These are what the plate of Eccles cakes are, so they were never meant to be eaten. They were an olive branch to Crowley regarding Gabriel, but he turned it down. So they softly and suddenly vanish away, never to be met with again.*

There is one more altar offering that needs to mentioned, another Sin offering. The one Crowley consumed in Elspeth's place in The Resurrectionists minisode in 1832 Edinburgh - the laudanum.

It pretty clear to most observers that Crowley did a good and "kind deed" for Elspeth here, which angered Hell in the process and then he was dragged forcibly downstairs to be duly punished for it. There is a post here from atlas-hope that suggests this is a parallel of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, drinking the cup of God's wrath to absolve Christians of their sins. They point out the laudanum is even poured into a goblet. Crumbs, that's a hefty bit of spiritual lifting, dear demon. What were you thinking, Anthony J. Crowley? It might cast that conversation you had with the carpenter back on the mountain in a new light, or least make us look back twice at it. (Plenty of time for contemplation before S3 arrives...)

Remember, a Sin offering has elements of both a Burnt offering and a Peace offering: a giant Crowley gets Elspeth to promise to devote the rest of her life to being "properly good, not just pretendy good" and the money Aziraphale is forced to donate to her ensures her future prosperity. Sounds like a win-win situation there, Elspeth!

[*OK, if you don't get the ref, its from the Hunting of the Snark. The Snark represents happiness, a most elusive thing to find, and more often than not its a fruitless search, and you find the terrible Boojum instead. During the third verse the Baker recounts the lecture his uncle gives him about how to hunt the Snark, and to be aware of his fate if he is unlucky enough to encounter a Boojum. It kind of fits in with S2, I feel.]

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hi Nalyra!

Wanted your opinion on something! And @cbrownjc as well if they’d like to weight in :D. As it seems likely that Raglan James is in fact Raglan James, and given Daniel’s last interaction with him where RJ asked for reciprocation (in exchange for the script) where do you think this plot is going? Surely this must foreshadow a s3 plot for Daniel going forward? So are they going to do TOTBT? What could that look like do you think? I haven’t read the book but I’ve been told what happens. Will Raglan steal (“borrow”) Daniel’s body??? He “jokingly” seemed to want to in s2? Maybe he wants to gain access to Lestat if Lestat is filled with powerful blood (which was also stated in S02E08 right)?

Rolin also said that Daniel and Armand will have scenes ‘going forward’, which I think must mean season 3 - so will they have a subplot possibly?

I know people have speculated about a romance between Daniel and Raglan, which sure could be a thing but as an old EB fan I don’t think that’s what Eric meant in that interview. He often uses romantic language to heighten (like I think he meant that Daniel, the adrenaline driven journalist, found the encounter/Raglan fascinating rather than actually romantic), I like how EB expresses himself but I’m pretty sure he shouldn’t be taken literally here. So what do you think?

Maybe. This is the statement in Collider:

BOGOSIAN: The first thing that goes through his head is, “This is not what it seems to be. This is some sort of CIA, or some kind of operation that’s going on, and they’re tracking me and following me around.” I guess Daniel is thinking, “That’ll be the next book.” I fell in love with the guy as soon as he sat down next to me in the sushi bar. He was pretty cool.

So yeah... you could maybe be right. Then again...^^ (We'll see.)

I do think that IF Raglan James IS indeed is Raglan James (I still find that "got a real name" highly suspicious, sorry^^), then they are preparing the "body thief" plot, yes. Might have already given us hints about it, too. As Daniel seems to be the stand-in for David in the show it is then highly likely his body will end up stolen. Maybe already has been stolen. I don't know. It's still too early to pin anything down, imho, but the set up is no coincidence of course, as is the harping on Lestat having the blood of Akasha they did. Raglan did want Lestat's body for the power it holds, so... we'll see what they choose to do with that aspect of it all.

And of course there will be scenes with Daniel and Armand? I mean, if we go rockstar Lestat then I DO expect them at the concert, reuniting for Akasha, at Night Island... all that has to be "prepared", has to fit, no matter how they do it.

The show is built on Loustat and Devil's Minion. And while there will be more within the narrative I do think that those four main characters are the literal corner stones of the show.

So yes, I do expect a lot more of them (all) :)))

[dr-futbol-blog]

Conversion, Pt. 2

We rejoin Beckett and Sheppard in the infirmary, and the fact that we got a widescreen view of the city suggests that some time has passed since the end of the previous scene. While McKay is no longer with them, this seems to still be the same visit to the infirmary as Sheppard's tac vest is laying on the gurney next to him, and it is probable that he has removed it while Beckett continued his examination. We are not told why McKay is no longer there or where he has gone. McKay may have left because he felt like his pretext for staying there with Sheppard was becoming flimsy and suspicious, and hence he needed to not be seen hanging around there for an excessive amount of time. But there is also the possibility that had been told to leave by Beckett or one of the nurses who are also no longer around, which gets some confirmation at the end of the episode with McKay making a comment that makes it sound like Beckett was the one that had driven him out of the infirmary previously and has kept him from seeing Sheppard.

What is interesting is that after the shot of McKay looking frightened and struck speechless as he watched Sheppard, we do not see him again for a very long time. He is entirely absent for the better part of the episode, and because we see several scenes in which Sheppard's transformation becomes apparent in how different he is behaving with people, it is curious that we do not get to see how he would have behaved with the person that seems to know him the best. This is a variation of the same as when we did not get to see Sheppard's reaction to Cadman possessing McKay up until the very end of Duet (S02E04), where it was apparent to everyone involved that McKay was not acting of his own accord. It is a glaring absence, and there must be a reason for it. Once more, they simply could not show the audience private moments, or in this case even moments in public, between Sheppard and McKay without giving the game away. But we are given some heavy hints in this episode.

Regardless, we now find Sheppard alone with Beckett who is taking a blood sample from his other arm, engaged in a mixture of denial and wishful thinking. Sheppard and Beckett speak in soft, friendly tones and be it that Beckett is a doctor or that he simply is not a woman, Sheppard seems perfectly physically at ease in his presence.

Sheppard: Maybe the wound wasn't that bad. Beckett: Then where'd all the blood come from? Sheppard: I don't know, maybe it just looked a lot worse than it was.

In some ways, this seems like baseline Sheppard. He does not appear to be putting on any kind of an act or pretense, his tone is conversational, and he is neither avoiding looking Beckett in the eyes or particularly searching his gaze, looking at him the normal amount. Sheppard is on neutral, and it does not seem like his transformation has begun taking effect yet.

Beckett: I don't see evidence of any cut at all. Sheppard: That's weird, because it hurt like hell. Beckett: You're sure the skin was broken? Sheppard: I'm pretty sure. There was a lot of blood! Maybe it was hers?

With regards to the ATA gene and whether it gives the carriers some latent version of the Ancients' partial telepathy, while Sheppard and Beckett do not get each other on the level and Sheppard and McKay seem to, they do have an easy rapport. They have gotten along fine ever since Sheppard was drawn to the command chair platform on the Antarctic base in Rising (S01E01), following the sound of Beckett's voice there. They both seem to be able to read each other's expressions, at the very least, communicating on more levels than just a mere exchange of words here.

Of course where Beckett does have the authentic gene, unlike McKay, Beckett and Sheppard have not been as intimately involved, and where they may have more channels open between them than most people do, there are many more channels still that facilitate communication between Sheppard and McKay. But it is interesting that Sheppard feels that he can trust Beckett enough to confess to him that he felt pain, and that it had been a lot of pain. There is also some meta commentary here: while we may not see evidence of something does not mean that it could not have had profound effects, that it could not have hurt like hell. This is pretty much everything that has happened between Sheppard and McKay.

Beckett: It was definitely human. Sheppard: I don't know. Maybe it was a nosebleed. Beckett: Is that supposed to be a joke, Colonel? Sheppard: Believe me, this isn't funny.

A few things to note here. First, Sheppard once more attempts to make light of something because it is too heavy to deal with. He is freaked out by this, and hence tries to wisecrack his way out of it. Now, there are times when people misinterpret Sheppard just because his tone of voice makes everything sound sarcastic even when it is not his intention. But that is not the case here. His intention was to put his own mind at ease by making it sound like it isn't such a big deal, to trick his mind into thinking that there isn't anything to worry about. But he is not making a joke, and it is testament to how honest he is being with Beckett that he actually admits as much. Beckett does not know him well enough, intimately enough, to understand why Sheppard often resorts to using humour and flippancy to countervail emotionally heavy moments when he does not know how to deal with them. This is a psychological defense mechanism, and an obvious one at that.

Second, Beckett calls him Colonel even now that they are alone together. In the previous episode, we saw McKay call him Sheppard where Beckett called him both Colonel Sheppard and Colonel. This is relevant for this episode, as what Sheppard is called becomes significant with regards to his scenes with Teyla. And there is a lampshade here for what happened in Trinity (S02E06), when we heard McKay call Sheppard Colonel for the first time. They were alone together, as Sheppard and Beckett are now, and Sheppard's response to McKay calling him Colonel had been "That was a joke, right?" Sheppard had not found that very amusing, either. In fact, he seemed pretty damn hurt by McKay calling him by his title. With anyone else, he seems proud and happy to be called that, as it is an acknowledgement of his promotion, of the trust that has been placed in him with his new office. So it is interesting that with McKay and only with McKay he seems uncomfortable being reminded of his station and his position in the military.

Beckett: Give me half a day to run your bloodwork and analyze it with the data we already have. We'll figure it out. Sheppard: And until then? Beckett: You're welcome to look over my shoulder.

Now, the thing is, Sheppard has spent a lot of time watching McKay work. We explicitly see him do this e.g., in Home (S01E09) and Condemned (S02E05), where he literally has nothing else to do but to watch McKay work. And given the hints that he has been bringing McKay coffee and things to eat in his lab, it would seem like Sheppard has done this more than a little. Has been seen doing it. Beckett is McKay's best friend and he certainly might have noticed something going on. He also might just have made the comment because he was frustrated by McKay watching over his shoulder as he worked in the previous episode and quipped himself, knowing that what he had to do here required concentration.

But however Beckett may have meant it, Sheppard one hundred percent heard it as a more or less subtle dig at his habitual need to watch McKay work. Given how cautious Sheppard seems to be about anyone getting any suspicions about the two of them, especially now that Caldwell is again (or still) on base, this does make him freak out a little bit. Had he been too obvious? Did this mean that he could not go directly to McKay's lab from here and watch him work? Whether or not this was an intentional attempt at teasing Sheppard, that is the spirit in which Sheppard understood it.

Sheppard: Yeah, that's tempting, but... Beckett: Just go about your day.

Sheppard's reaction here is mighty weird if we just look at the main-text. What, he thought that Beckett made a genuine offer to let him watch him work and that made him uncomfortable? He thought that Beckett was fucking with him, and he didn't enjoy it? He looks defensive here. Like he thought Beckett had just made a really tasteless comment, had said something that he found offensive and he was having to feign like it hadn't hurt his feelings.

Watching McKay work is tempting to him, for him. It presents him with a temptation, something that he has to resist. And while he does not think that Beckett is out to get them, feels like he can trust Beckett and they were clearly having an easy rapport until this moment, for some reason the concept of watching over someone's shoulder as they work is something that he has no sense of humour about. Sheppard casts his eyes down as he leaves, almost as though he is feeling shame. And the way Beckett looks at him as he leaves is curious, too. Yes, Beckett is clearly concerned. But why the deep sigh? Why does he seem sad?

But if Sheppard was still acting normal while he was with Beckett, in the next scene we find him running with Ronon and this scene is the first one in which we are meant to understand that something about Sheppard is changing. He is not being himself. Sheppard comes to a halt as he reaches the top of what ever walk-way they are running on, seeming barely to have made an effort.

Sheppard: I thought you said you were a Runner!

Where Ronon is exhausted and out of breath, Sheppard seems unaffected. He has not even put up a sweat. He also seems freaked out about why Ronon is suddenly unable to keep up with him, and he is more worried that there is something wrong with Ronon than thinking there is anything different about himself. However, we can tell that he is beginning to change by the fact that the comment he makes is rather callous. He is making a joke this time, but given Ronon's traumatic past of having spent seven years being hunted by the wraith that had earned him the title of Runner, Sheppard's joke here is more than a little cruel. While Ronon is not precisely Mister Sensitive and known to getting his feelings hurt, he does clearly think that it was a dick thing to say.

Dex: That's funny. Sheppard: I can usually barely keep up, what's with you? Dex: What's with you?

Sheppard's scenes with Ronon and Teyla are both meant to show us that Sheppard is changing both physically and mentally. For one, he has increased stamina. He can keep going for longer than he could before, he has no need for a refractory period because he feels no exhaustion. The thing is, we do not know that this was the first thing Sheppard chose to do with his time after leaving Beckett's office. It is probable that even if he had been intending to go visit McKay in the lab, he would not have done it following Beckett's comment, at least not right away. But it is doubtful that he would have had both a run with Ronon and a sparring session with Teyla scheduled for the same day (that they also came back from a mission) originally. That is too much action for one day. With Teyla, he has regular sparring sessions. He tells us here that he has regular runs with Ronon. But he may still have sought out Ronon for something to do that had not been pre-planned. He may have needed something to take the edge off because what he had been doing was not been working.

The "rule of three" suggests that we should have seen Sheppard have a similar scene with Ronon, Teyla and McKay. Observing his behaviour as being different with each three of them would have given us a pattern. All three of them are Sheppard's team members, he does things with all of them. He spends time alone with all three of them. But with one of them, we do not get to see it. And the fact that we get these two scenes of Sheppard with Ronon and Teyla right after Beckett implied that he knew where Sheppard was headed from the infirmary is suspicious. There is something missing.

Sheppard runs with Ronon, he spars with Teyla, and he seems to be able to go on longer than previously and with less effort than before with both of them. There is also a physical activity he occasionally engages in with McKay. And through the negative space here, we are invited to ask whether McKay had a similar experience to the other two that we obviously could not get to see. There is some obvious missing time in the episode that would facilitate something having happened. But it is just as likely that McKay's absence and the lack of scenes with him and Sheppard is done on purpose, that there is a reason why Sheppard keeps himself from McKay--or keeps McKay away from himself, as this is going down.

Sheppard: Water? Hey! Sore loser. I don't act like a jerk when you beat me! Dex: Yes, you do.

So, let's put aside the fact that the loser is "sore" and that "jerk" and "beat" are all mentioned in the same breath, as well as Ronon's suggestive pose as he rests his arms on the railing with his ass up. Sheppard's reaction here is interesting. He offers Ronon water from his water bottle, and as Ronon pours water down his throat Sheppard for some reason seems to think that Ronon is doing this to spite him. What about taking a drink that was offered while you are thirsty is "acting like a jerk"? And make no mistake, it is the way Ronon takes the water from him that Sheppard seems to think is Ronon acting like a jerk because he yelps "Hey!" just Ronon puts the bottle to his mouth. The implication might be that Sheppard does not like him putting his mouth directly on his things and that he should have taken a drink without touching the nozzle, but it is left ambiguous what his problem is.

Something similar may have happened between Sheppard and McKay before this scene (with the difference that Sheppard does not mind McKay putting his mouth on his things). The dialogue certainly is befitting of playing a game or a contest of some kind. It is not impossible for a situation similar to this having been the reason that Sheppard had ended up feeling the need to go running with Ronon in the first place. He clearly had excess energy to burn. They all seem to have trouble keeping up with him as he is now.

Sheppard: OK, then we'll go around again. Dex: You go ahead. Sheppard: OK, grumpy. I will.

Ronon is done, both with running and with Sheppard's attitude, feeling that Sheppard's probably genuine offer of going again and giving Ronon the opportunity to perform like he usually does and kick his ass is condescending. Sheppard likely thinks that Ronon is coming down with something where Ronon has no idea what is going on. Sheppard calls Ronon grumpy, and the name might also befit another member of his team--Ronon might not be the first person he has called grumpy that day. At the same time, Grumpy is the second one of the Seven Dwarfs name-checked episode since he had just called Beckett Doc. We might further cast Teyla as Bashful and Weir, who confesses to needing sleep at the end of the episode as Sleepy. McKay, of course, is Happy given that his name literally means rejoicing, gay. Sheppard himself could be Dopey given that he is taking a drug for most of the episode and confesses to his history with Codeine later, but he also takes on aspects of the Evil Queen in both of her forms, and furthermore, twice in the episode we find him comatose sleeping the "sleep of death," and by the end of the episode, he is seen in bed, perhaps waiting for that love's first kiss. There might be some references to Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs here, albeit they have very little bearing on the plot.

For some reason, Sheppard also speaks the words "I will" in almost a whisper as he takes off, seeming unaffected by Ronon's upset. He bare seems to even notice it. Sheppard is feeling good. He has not felt this good in a long time. He manages to hurt Ronon's feelings and he freaks Teyla out, and we never get to see what might have happened with McKay. Should it have been a combination of the things that happened with Ronon and Teyla, it might explain why we do not see McKay for such a long time. Because the context in which it would have happened was more intimate, he would also have been far more affected by it. What ever the explanation, there was a clear need to keep McKay on the back-burner in this episode.

Continued in Pt. 3

[badgalsasuke]

Currently debating against a Sasusaku shipper, what I've learned about them so far :

1. Their favourite light novel is Sasuke Retsuden, it's 100% canon BECAUSE Kishimoto DREW the art in the cover and that's enough

2. The Last movie and novel are NOT canon because it all came from studio Perriot's imagination and have nothing to do with Kishimoto and his brilliance in writing. Thus Naruto's character and a lot of other stuff seem to contradict canon, but Sasuke Retsuden is definitely 100% flawless and true shut up

3. Sakura is a great mother because she dosen't let her kid talk back to her, Sarada is asking TOO MUCH questions, Sakura was just parenting, Sakura was so right for destroying their entire house over their heads. Know your limits Sarada how dare you ask questions about someone as unimportant as your biological father

4. Kishimoto planned for Sasuke and Sakura to end up together since the begining, the proof? Idk go look it up (no they literaly asked me to go look it up from WHERE? God only knows)

5. Sasuke loved Sakura since they were kids, proof? Yeah what do you think? Obviously go look it up on your own, it MUST BE THERE SOMEWHERE if everyone is saying it

6. Sasuke blushed a thousand times at Sakura when they were kids and blushing is ALWAYS a hint for romance since we all know that us human beings aren't capable of blushing for any other reason

7. When Sasuke calls her annoying he actually means thank you, because her words get to him and make him consider not doing something bad but he's too tsundere to admit it so he's like : "y..you're..too annoying! Sakura no baka!💢" Also Sasuke obviously dosen't know how to express his feelings.

8. He obviously put her in genjutsu to protect her and if you believe otherwise you're a fool

9. Sakura is literally the 🌺🌟Spring💫🌿 and Light💡 in Sasuke's life. It was said in the novel, so it's true. She brought him out of his darkness when no one else could. Naruto who?

10. Sasusaku have some Edward Cullen mind reading Twilight shit going on because they can understand each other without words. Sasuke can be gone for a lifetime without sending a letter but she can still understand everything that has been going on with with him the moment she looks into his eyes. She perfectly understands that if Sasuke spends even a second away from his mission Konoha and the rest of the shinobi world will cease to exist why can't you understand!!!??

Girllllll this is insane! LMFAO I've seen them make this same arguments over and over again. Where did you find this specific Sasusaku shipper? Tiktok? Twitter? or is she here on tumblr?

What's funny is that Kishimoto didn't even design the cover, he just drew the design someone else comissioned [LINK] So if he didn't write the story and the cover wasn't even his idea well how is it canon at all right? The coping

This beef Sasusaku shippers and Naruhina shippers have is so bizarre like shut up! both of you ship mid! mid supported by nothing but filler! What's funny though is that Kishimoto ended up being a bit involved in The Last, he didn't write the whole script but he did make some corrections here and there unlike Retsuden where he had absolutely no input. Nothing! Nada!

Mind you Sarada was scared af and crying after Sakura reacted so violently but yeah she's the mother of the year ig

They take this from the same interview in which Kishimoto talks about how he killed Neji to bring Naruto and Hinata together (FujiTv in 2014). In this intervie he also talks about how hated Sakura is. Somewhere there they got the idea that he planned for SS to be endgame from the very beginning.

I suppose they mean all the "blushing" and scenes of Sasuke "protecting" Sakura in the Chuunin exams for example.

Their infamous blushing collages they make of Sasuke blushing when Sakura is around so they believe he's blushing because he loves her LOL

Just coping. That man is insulting her and they know that because they see how Sakura reacts to the insult.

Yeah, you don't psychologically torture your loved ones, plus he put her in a genjutsu right after insulting her but since they believe Sasuke is being a tsundere well they just don't get it.

This isn't true. They stole that quote from a Gege Akutame interview (writer of JJK) [LINK]

Pretty sure they got this from Sasuke Shinden/Retsuden where Jun Esaka wrote Sakura being able to tell how Sasuke is feeling or what he's thinking but yeah, just more filler non-sense

[play-me-a-durge]

Head Like a Hole Ep 22

Out of the Frying Pan

You sit apart the next morning with a cup of tea to refresh you after another night of being tossed about with nightmares. It gives you time to contemplate your companions. They are not what you had first thought. At least, not only that.

The constant image of their corpses dancing behind your eyes disturbs you, not for the scene but for fear it may yet come to pass. You would be… unhappy to lose them.

You brush your thumb thoughtfully across your lip, watching Gale shake out his robe for the day, Lae'zel sharpen her blades, Karlach hopping from foot to foot, her enthusiasm perpetually contagious.

When your gaze lands on Wyll you frown. That devil of his is a variable you can't account for and you hate having wild cards. What might her next task for him be, what his next sacrifice? Most concerning, how might it affect the rest of you? Notably, she has not offered any aid in ridding him of his infection and so you consider her a liability in her entirety.

But as you watch him your frown deepens, not out of displeasure but concern. His horns keep interfering with otherwise simple tasks as he learns how to account for their presence. You know he'll work it out but you dislike seeing the struggle.

Karlach approaches him - she saw the same thing you did - and gives him some tips. You can't hear their conversation from where you sit, but you see her demonstrate how to oil her horn and it doesn't take long before Wyll is laughing at something.

You would kill anyone and anything for her. You would lay on her altar and dig out your own entrails if she asked it, partly because you know she never would.

A shadow passes across you and you look up to see Astarion.

"There you are," he says, doing his best to appear aloof. "There's something I wanted to ask you."

You scoot over in case you wishes to join you. He does not.

"Do you think a hag's lair counts as her home?" he asks, rolls his hand and gives a little laugh. "I suppose it's all quite relative, but philosophically speaking-"

"I did notice that," you say, getting to the point he's skirting. You roll your cup between your fingers thoughtfully. "So, you can just walk into people's homes now."

"Apparently." He smiles, relishing in the memory of it. "I crossed the threshold like moonlight through leaves. This worm is a powerful little beast, isn't it?"

"Maybe too powerful." By your will or no, the parasite remains and you can't forget the strange visitor of your dreams. You are still wary of the powers it offers. Your one goal remains to get it out. And yet...

"It sounds like you're enjoying it?"

"What's not to enjoy? I can walk in sunlight, trespass upon any home, manipulate minds - I'm the most powerful vampire in the Realms!"

You hate to say it, but it does no good to pretend. "And you've got a hunter after you."

His delighted expression sours. "So it would seem."

Maybe you should have killed the man on the spot - it's difficult to know when killing is practical vs your overriding desire to kill everyone you encounter. You're trying to find balance but the world itself is tipping you in unpredictable ways.

"Hopefully he bumps into some gnolls while stumbling around at night and that's the last we hear from him." Astarion revels in the thought. You can't hide your smile, but you try to mask it with your cup. "But now we have a bigger problem on our hands. Cazador wants me back, he's sending a message."

He mulls the problem over, musing over what to do about it, but you watch Astarion's expressions. Beyond the worry of being caught, the fear of being returned to his master, you see something else in his eyes, how he keeps glancing at your neck then forcing his gaze elsewhere. He must be starving.

"There's always the devil's deal," you say. You hate it, you hate everything about it, but it is there. Except, it isn't. It's a hint of a possibility that in the future there might be a deal.

"I won't lie, it's tempting," he agrees. "On the one hand, I risk transforming into a grotesque monster, on the other, Cazador regains control of me, body and soul. It's grim either way, so why not sell what's left of my soul to a devil?"

"I understand the appeal." You set your cup down and stand. "Devil's deals always cost more than you think."

"At least we have options for now, and I'm keeping mine open."

You lean in, lower your voice, not making eye contact. "When did you last eat?"

Your question is almost off-handed, but he catches the intent. He matches your tone, looks away to not draw attention to your clandestine deal.

"Why, is there something on offer?"

You don't answer but your eyes flick towards the more secluded area of the camp. You follow as he leads to the small ruined building. Neither prying eyes nor accidental glimpses will catch you within. You tip your head aside and he moves like a panther, sleek and focused.

One hand slides into your hair, pulling it aside, the other wraps around you. His body is warm against your own, but his bite is like ice. You cannot help but gasp, a moan slipping out.

He does not take much this time. As he pulls his teeth out, he sucks the residual blood from your neck - no need for unnecessary questions - then pulls back. Gods you want to taste yourself on him, it burns in your chest like dragon fire.

His eyes close and he smiles, satisfied, then wipes his mouth.

"We'd better get back," you say.

"I'll follow in a moment. Better to not arouse suspicion."

You don't know why you are hiding it - it is no one's concern what you and he do together, but you don't feel like finding out what the reaction of the others might be.

Perhaps later Shadowheart can restore you if you can work up a good excuse for asking.

next > (mature)

< previous

< the beginning >

[AO3]

[creatorofarcadia]

The Bull and the Old Duke

Disclaimer: I'm on my first re-read of dune and haven't read any of the sequels yet so if anything is wrong or inaccurate sorry about that.

On my first read of Dune, I didn't really understand why the reader kept being told about the Old Duke and how he died in a matador fight. I could tell it was something we were supposed to think about, but was too busy grappling with the world building and plot to really give it much thought. However, on re-read, I have some thoughts as to why it might be referenced the way it is.

1. Foreshadowing the death of Leto

I think the first and most significant reason for learning about the Old Duke is to foreshadow how Leto is fated to die. The first time the death of the Old Duke is discussed is also the first scene in Arrakis, when the Atreides' fate is truly sealed. At this point, the tragedy awaiting Leto has been established and I think seeing the bull horns stained with ducal blood, is such a stark reminder that these people are only fragile humans despite their high status and in some cases, incredible powers.

I also think the foreshadowing runs deeper than just, oh look, the old Duke died in a grisly way, and soon so will you. I think the manner of the Old Duke's death could foreshadow how and why Leto dies. Through the killing of the bull and the assumption of power over Arrakis, both Father and son attempt to subdue a powerful force of nature and are swiftly punished. Taking this idea even further, they both attempt to manipulate and corral an innocent party (the fremen/the bull) for their own selfish ends and to a certain extent, put on a show. Leto had the option of going renegade and attempting to flee, but instead he wants to seize more power and demonstrate that power to the Landsraad.

Ultimately, both Father and son display incredible hubris in attempting to manipulate much greater forces into doing their bidding, and both are killed at the hands of beasts as a result.

2. Propaganda and the Atreides mythos

Herbert repeatedly informs us HOW the old Duke dies. However, I think more interesting information can be gleaned from the method he uses to tell us of the old Duke's death, namely the portrait and the bull's head.

I said previously the blooded horns remind us of the Atreides' fragility and I think this is true. However, I think the in-story reason for them having kept the head and the portrait is actually the opposite. They keep these things to memorialise and glorify the Old Duke, to give him some grand mythos of how only a great beast was able to bring him down. The Shadout Mapes even expresses when she sees the head "what a great beast it must have been to carry such a head". We know the Atreides utilise propaganda effectively in their pursuit of power and I think the bull's head acts an effective demonstration of this. Despite the negative implications the old Duke's death has for his character, the Atreides twist it into a glorious end for a glorious leader.

Interestingly, we receive several hints outside of his manner of dying that suggest the glorious Old Duke wasn't as good as his mythos suggests. Namely, Jessica seems to have an incredibly low opinion of him, suggesting that every negative trait of Leto's, (coldness, callousness, selfishness etc) is "the man shaped by the father". She even goes so far as to wish he had died when Leto was born.

Finally, similarly to the manner of death, the manner of remembrance of Leto and the Old Duke is the same. Both are used even after they're death to further the Atreides mythos of supremecy, the old Duke with his bull, and Leto with (excuse the rhyme) his skull.

[bethanydelleman]

Northanger Abbey Readthrough, Ch 15

We hear from Isabella's other sister that their ride was, "the most delightful scheme in the world" but it actually sounds rather dull. Do you think a family dinner with the Thorpes is just them insulting each other and trying to one-up everyone? Because that is what it seems like... Isabella has news:

“Yes, my dear Catherine, it is so indeed; your penetration has not deceived you. Oh, that arch eye of yours! It sees through everything.” Catherine replied only by a look of wondering ignorance.

Arch eye! Oh Isabella. You have to love how ridiculous she is all of the time.

Love Isabella as she might, Catherine is not prepared to love her above her own family:

“You will be so infinitely dearer to me, my Catherine, than either Anne or Maria: I feel that I shall be so much more attached to my dear Morland’s family than to my own.” This was a pitch of friendship beyond Catherine.

Which is good for her. Catherine will not pretend to love someone above those she loves dearly. Not even in jest.

Isabella, who really seems to believe that James is rich, goes on about her "modest" desires, “For my own part,” said Isabella, “my wishes are so moderate that the smallest income in nature would be enough for me. Where people are really attached, poverty itself is wealth; grandeur I detest: I would not settle in London for the universe. A cottage in some retired village would be ecstasy. There are some charming little villas about Richmond.” Now Richmond is mentioned in two other Austen novels, it is where Henry Crawford is staying during his affair with Maria in Mansfield Park and where the Churchills in Emma stay during the final weeks of Mrs. Churchill's illness.

Henry Crawford's Admiral uncle has a cottage in Twickenham, which is near Richmond, if you want to know the sort of people who stayed in that area. I'm not British, but this is how close modern Richmond and Twickenham are, just for added context:

Anyway, according to what I have read, Richmond was a rich person's playground in Regency England, so this is a hint at the real aspirations of Miss Thorpe. Richmond is certainly not a "village" and the cottages in it would likely be Robert Ferrars McMansions. Catherine doesn't really catch this clue, she only protests about distance.

This is so cute:

Catherine wished to congratulate him, but knew not what to say, and her eloquence was only in her eyes. From them, however, the eight parts of speech shone out most expressively, and James could combine them with ease.

Gives me some hope for our boy James, seems he does really know his sister, even if he's been giving her a hard time.

Mrs. Thorpe is so delighted by the engagement and parental consent that she must be convinced by John's assessment of the Morland family's wealth (or the Allens' wealth as promised to James). As far as she knows, Isabella has won the lottery, but of course we know disappointment is on the horizon...

Then the Thorpe family plays this weird game where they won't tell the two other sisters about the engagement, to which Catherine is basically like, "What the fuck? This is mean." Catherine’s simple feelings, this odd sort of reserve seemed neither kindly meant, nor consistently supported; and its unkindness she would hardly have forborne pointing out... This reminds me a lot of the scene in Emma where Emma and Mrs. Elton both visit the revealed-to-be-engaged Jane Fairfax and they both strongly hint that they know without outright saying so. Within a family, however, it does seem super weird to "conceal" it.

John's proposal is so vague and inarticulate that I can't even blame Catherine for not understanding it at all. And her answers! When she says, "But I never sing." that is basically a rejection, even if she doesn't know it! She also continues to be modest and honest in the face of flattery:

“Oh! dear, there are a great many people like me, I dare say, only a great deal better. Good morning to you.”... “Perhaps we may; but it is more than I ever thought of. And as to most matters, to say the truth, there are not many that I know my own mind about.”

Catherine returns to the Allens to learn that they have not been as oblivious as herself, but actually expected an engagement all along. Poor dear! The last to know everything.

She also gives the most general replies ever. I love when John asks if she'll be glad to see him and she's all, "Oh I'm glad to see anyone." How Thorpe could have thought she accepted him is beyond me, well except that he doesn't care what the truth is at all.

Mrs. Allen complaining that James did not carry her compliments to the Skinners and Morlands reminds me of Knightley's line in Emma:

"Have you any thing to send or say, besides the ‘love,’ which nobody carries?”

So happy this is the last we shall see of John Thorpe! Good riddance!