#blaze the unbreakable bonds series

[lendeah]

After the Weave 1.

series masterlist

Summary:

After defeating the Nether Brain, Gale makes a promise to Tav: he will move to Waterdeep and marry her. However, he breaks his pledge when he feels the pull of his former goddess, Mystra, and leaves to forge the Karsus Crown and become a god, which leaves Tav feeling betrayed and alone.

Astarion, now fully consumed by the shadows, offers Tav a new mission. Together, they try to rebuild themselves and move on from their past. As they rely on each other in unexpected ways, they find a new sense of purpose and meaning, and realize that fate will always lead you back to where you belong.

Pairing: Astarion x OFC!Tav, past Gale x OFC!Tav

Tags: Angst, Drinking to Cope, References to Depression, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Emotional Baggage, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Post-Break Up, Tav finds herself again with Astarion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, language.

Also on AO3

Being with him was like being enveloped in a warm, golden glow; his presence adding vibrancy and light to every moment. Even in the bleakest moments, when I felt lost in the chaos of battle, he remained a constant beacon of hope and love. His strong arms always provided support and comfort, our souls intertwining in ways I never thought possible. But every now and then, when the chaos around us subsided and we had a moment of peace, Gale would pull me away from the rest of our troop. We would find a quiet spot, away from prying eyes, and just be together. In those moments, it was like the rest of the world didn't exist. It was just him and me.

"With you, I forget my goddess. I love you" he had whispered in my ear, under a sea of stars. And in that moment, it felt like all of my doubts and fears disappeared. Gale's love for me was real and true; it was something worth holding onto amidst the chaos of war.

So as we stood victorious over the defeated Brain, I turned to the wizard with a triumphant smile and tears streaming down my cheeks. This was what we had risked our lives for, what we had fought and bled for.

"Beloved," Gale whispered, his voice brimming with emotion. "We have faced countless perils together, defying fate itself. Our love has withstood trials and tribulations that most would crumble under. I cannot fathom another day without you by my side."He took a step closer, our bodies gravitating towards each other as if pulled by an invisible force.

The crashing waves and salty sea air filled their lungs as they stood on the decks of the city, overlooking the ocean. The sun was setting in a blaze of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over our faces. "Let us leave this place," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "We should go back home to Waterdeep. We can build a life together, away from the battles and the constant threat of danger. We can find solace in each other's arms, and create a haven where love and peace reign supreme." he took a deep breath, mustering the courage to add, "Let's get married." His words resonated deep within my soul, stirring a longing I hadn't realized was there. Yes, Waterdeep, the city of wonders and dreams, seemed like the perfect place to start our new chapter.

"Yes," I whispered, the word escaping my lips like a fervent prayer. "I'd be honored to marry you, Gale Dekarios."

He took me that same night, slow and deliberate, as if we had all the time in the world. As we laid in each other's arms, the the warm body next to mine, our intertwined hands, and synchronized breaths felt like an unbreakable bond, our future stretching out before us like an endless summer day. And through the days following the battle, it did. Helping reconstruct buildings, tending the wounded, and giving food and shelter to those in need; everything was keeping us so busy that I didn't notice the faraway look in his eyes. He still held me close at night, his touch as loving as ever, but something seemed to be weighing heavily on his mind.

One morning, exactly one week after the last battle, when my hand reached out instinctively to the side of the bed where Gale used to lay, I felt coldness that wasn't there before. The familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the air, but the silence revealed a very different reality. A heavy feeling settled in my chest as I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat. My eyes scanned our small tent frantically, searching for any sign of him, but all that remained was a single letter addressed to me. Its edges were slightly crumpled, evidence of many folds and unfolding during long nights. With trembling hands, I opened it and read every word carefully, trying to hold onto every piece of him that I could.

To my love

The crown is somewhere in the Chionthar. If I salvage the stones I can reforge it. Only then can I attain the power to protect us from all harm, my love. We could rule together, you as my goddess by my side as I ascend to godhood. I know I pledged to forsake my past for you, but now I must break that vow. The weight of this curse is too heavy for me to bear alone, and I cannot bear the thought of living with it forever. I need to confront her, to stand as her equal this time. I will do everything in my power to surpass her, to make up for all the wrongs she has done, even if it means leaving you behind. But you must understand that if I am successful, I will return to you and make up for all the time we have lost. Please hold onto hope and know that my heart aches with every step I take away from you.

Farewell, my love, until we can be reunited once again.

My tears turned into a relentless stream, blurring the words on Gale's letter as I read it for what felt like the hundredth time. Each phrase cut deeper than the last, carving painful wounds that would never heal. How could he do this to me? Betrayal and rage consumed me as I struggled to understand how the person who had asked me to marry him barely days before could turn their back on it for the sake of power and vengeance.

After that, everything became a blur. I found myself falling into a rhythm of constant busyness. I would wake up at the crack of dawn and immediately begin tackling the tasks that awaited me. And while it brought me some sense of fulfillment to help those in need, it also served as a convenient distraction from Gale's absence and his quest for power. If I kept myself busy enough, I wouldn't have time to dwell on my shattered relationship with Gale, on the nightmares that plagued my mind with the blood and death I had been through in the last year.

I had become known as the go-to person for any problem, big or small. I made sure to accept every task that came my way, no matter how difficult or time-consuming it may have been. Whether it was helping someone mend their broken roof or comforting a grieving family, I threw myself into each task with determination and purpose. But it wasn't just physical tasks that occupied my time. Many villagers would come to me seeking advice or simply wanting someone to listen to their troubles. And so, in addition to being their physical savior, I became their emotional support as well. For that brief moment when they smiled or thanked me for my help, all the weight on my shoulders lifted and for just a moment, everything felt okay again. Yet, behind my forced smile and empathetic words lay the reality of my shattered existence, haunted each night by the memories of my past as the darkness enveloped me.

Each night, I awoke drenched in sweat, my mind haunted by visions of cruel emperors, slaughtered gnomes, and fallen tieflings. The stench of death clung to me, as if the blood was still fresh on my hands. And the nightmare continued, as I woke up alone in a dirty basement, with no one to turn to. So it became my mission not to sleep; if I was busy and distracted, I didn't have time to think about Gale or death. And if my actions were making other people happy in the process, then everyone won.

However, as the days passed, I could feel myself becoming more and more distant from my friends. With Halsin, Wyll and Karlach gone, Lae'zel busy settling her people in the city, Shadowheart tirelessly rebuilding Selûne's temple, and Astarion retreating into the shadows, I felt completely alone. I found myself longing for their company, for the familiar banter and laughter we used to share. But every time I even attempted to reach out to them, something held me back. Maybe it was fear of being a burden or just not wanting to face my own emotions by confronting theirs. And even on those few occasions I did meet with Lae'zel or Shadowheart, I couldn't bring myself to tell them about Gale's letter or how much it hurt me because I couldn't bear to see their pity or judgment.

"He's just traveling. You know him, always seeking knowledge!" I lied through gritted teeth.

But deep down, I knew that the lie was eating away at my soul. The truth was too painful to voice out loud, even to my closest companions.

So, I buried my agony in feeling helpful, as I always did. I worked tirelessly to provide aid to those who had lost their homes and loved ones. I took on more tasks, stayed up later, and pushed myself beyond my limits. But it seemed like the harder I tried to deny my emotions, the louder they screamed for attention. My exhaustion finally caught up to me, both physically and mentally. One day, as I was helping a family rebuild their home after a devastating fire, I collapsed from exhaustion. The family helped me, of course, but word quickly spread that I had fallen ill. People began to avoid me, their once-welcoming demeanor turning cold and distant. They no longer sought out my help or accepted any aid I offered. This only added to my mounting frustration and despair, until finally, I reached my breaking point.

With nothing but time on my hands, the memories of Gale flooded back with a force that knocked me off balance. All those moments we shared flashed before my eyes in vivid detail – our first meeting on the portal, our adventures in the underdark, where we had first kissed, him asking to marry me... It was like ripping open an old wound that never fully healed. But even worse were the memories of slashing, cutting, severing flesh, of fresh blood and dead bodies. I needed another distraction; and that distraction came in the form of wine and rum. But even as I drowned my sorrows in ale, I knew it was a temporary escape. The sweet burn of alcohol numbed the pain for a little while, but it always came back tenfold once the drinks wore off. Before long, I found myself frequenting taverns more and more often. It was my new coping mechanism, my escape from reality. With each passing day, I could feel myself spiraling deeper into despair and self-pity.

One night, as I stumbled out of yet another tavern, swaying on unsteady legs, the piercing sound of my name being called cut through the fog of alcohol-induced numbness.

"Elara, what-?" The voice was familiar and filled with concern. "Oh gosh... he has left for good, hasn't he?" the tone was gentle but firm.

My dizzy eyes can make up a silver updo and tan skin. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I glance over at Shadowheart. Her usually warm and welcoming expression was replaced by a mix of concern and disappointment.

I let out a bitter laugh before taking another swig of rum. "No shit," my words are slurred and barely coherent. "I can't believe you really bought into that whole traveling bullshit."

Shadowheart's expression shifts from concern to irritation as she leans closer to me. "Don't you dare mock me," she hisses. "You know as well as I do that something is wrong with you."

I smile grimly

"Oh, so now you care?" I say, trying to glare at Shadowheart through bleary eyes. "You have been away for months and it's only now you decide to play the savior card."

Shadowheart's expression darkened at my words, and I could see the hurt in her eyes. But I am too angry, too drunk, to care.

"Well, I'm doing just fine," I continue, taking another long sip of my drink. "So why don't you return to your temple or whatever shithole you came from and leave me alone."

She rolls her eyes.

"Yes. Of course, you're doing fine. You're so fine that I found you lying in a tavern, wallowing in self-pity, drunk off your ass. Clearly the picture of good health and sound mind."

I scoffed, staring at Shadowheart with glazed eyes. "What do you know about me? About what I've been through?" My words slurred together, fueled by the mixture of anger and alcohol coursing through my veins. "You think you can just waltz back into my life and judge me? Well, you can't. You have no idea what it feels like to be abandoned by the person you love."

Shadowheart's brows furrowed, her normally composed demeanor faltering for a moment. "I do know" she snapped "In fact, the person I love is all the way down in the freaking avernus!"

The word hung in the air between us, the weight of its significance crashing down on me like a heavy stone. I stare at Shadowheart, the alcohol dulling my senses but unable to numb the pang of guilt in my chest. She's right - I hadn't even considered what she must be going through, separated from Karlach.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, lowering my eyes in shame.

Shadowheart's expression softens slightly.

"It's alright. I know you're hurting." She pauses, choosing her next words carefully. "But drinking yourself to death won't make the pain go away. It will only make things worse."

I struggle to keep my mouth shut, but my stubbornness gets the best of me and I shake my head defiantly. "I don't care," I mutter through clenched teeth, taking another long sip of my drink. But deep down, I know that's a lie. All I want is to forget, but part of me knows that I can't just push these feelings away so easily.

Shadowheart sighs and reaches to grab my hand.

"Listen to me," she says firmly, looking me in the eyes with a determined gaze. "I know how hard this is for you. But you can't give up like this. We need you - your friends need you."

A surge of anger rises within me at her words, and I jerk my hand away from hers.

"Don't talk to me about friends," I snap bitterly. "Where were my friends when I needed them? Everyone left." I choke "Everyone always leaves."

Shadowheart's face creases "We were all dealing with grief in our own ways."

I scoff and take another gulp of my drink.

"Grief? Is that what you call it? How convenient."

Shadowheart's eyes narrow slightly at my accusation, but she keeps her composure. "I never abandoned you," she says firmly."None of us did. We were worried about you."

I let out a bitter laugh.

"Sure, you were all so worried."

After a long moment, she lets out an exhausted sigh, seemingly coming to terms with the fact that I will not budge on my decision. "You know what? Fine. Drink yourself into oblivion," she says with a resigned tone. "But just know that when you're ready to face reality, we'll be waiting." Slowly, she turns and leaves the dimly lit street.

----------------------------------------------

Several days later, I find myself in a similar situation, but at a different place. I wanted to ensure that none of the others will attempt to track me down. While Shadowheart's words still hangered in my mind, I couldn't help but feel shame at the person I have become. It was hard to admit that I needed their help. Accepting it would mean admitting defeat and acknowledging that I hit rock bottom. But the hardest part was accepting that Gale would never come back to me, enduring the nightmares without any ale to numb them.

I sit alone at a table in the corner, watching the other clients as they laugh and drink with their companions. I envy their untroubled attitude and wish I could join in on their happiness. But deep down, I know that my grief is consuming me.

A group of rowdy half-orcs stumble over to my table, clearly drunk and looking for trouble. I try to ignore them, hoping they will just pass by. But instead, they stop right beside me and leer down at me with malicious grins.

"Looks like we found ourselves a little present," one of them slurs, gesturing towards me with his mug.

Another one takes a step closer and smirks at my face, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Look at her, all alone and pathetic."

My hands grip the edge of the table tightly as I feel a surge of anger rising within me. If I had my magic... But I take a deep breath and try to keep my voice steady as I respond,"There is nothing here for you."

The orcs, however, don't seem to care about my words as they continue to make crude comments about my appearance.

"All those scars, what are you? A mercenary?" one of them snorts, taking another step closer.

I feel a lump form in my throat as I struggle to hold back tears. Normally, I would have stood up for myself or even fought back, but tonight I am too lost in my own misery to even react. Suddenly, one of them reaches out and grabs my arm forcefully, causing me to flinch in fear.

"Come on, babe," he slurs. "I'll make you forget all about your troubles."

I start to panic, my mind racing as I search for a way out of this situation.

But before things can escalate any further, a strong hand grabs one of the men's wrists and forcefully pulls him away from me.

I look up to see a familiar face - For a second, I think it's going to be Shadowheart again, a flash of ivory hair aprearing in the corner of my eye. But then I realize it's someone much, much worse.

"Leave her alone," he growls, his voice full of authority.

It seems like they want to replicate, but once they take a look at his bared fangs, the half-orcs hesitate for a moment before backing off and leaving the tavern with grumbles and curses. When he turns his head back to me, Astarion has his usual smirk plastered over his face.

"Hello, my dear" His sharp features and piercing eyes send a shiver down my spine. "I see you've fallen quite low since our last encounter."

"What do you want, Astarion?" I spit out through gritted teeth, still shaken. Yet another companion to make fun of my state. Great.

Astarion sits down across from me, still wearing his smirk. "Just curious to see how you were coping without your favorite vampire comrade," he taunts, taking a sip of his drink. "Not very well, by the looks of you." he comments, gesturing towards my disheveled appearance. I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I try to smooth out my hair and straighten my clothes. This is not how I wanted to be seen by any of my friends, let alone Astarion.

"Whatever" I reply nonchalantly, "Did Shadowheart tell you to come here?"

Astarion smirks, knowing exactly how to push my buttons. "No, no, she didn't. I just happened to be in the area and thought I'd check up on my dear friend." His words drip with sarcasm.

I scoff and take another swig of my drink, trying to ignore him.

"But really," Astarion leans in closer. "What happened? One minute we're all fighting side by side, and the next, you're drowning yourself in ale."

I glared back at him, feeling defensive. "None of your damn business."

He leaned back with a smug grin. "Ah, but I think it is."

I let out an exasperated sigh and take another swig of my drink, hoping he'll get the hint and leave me alone. But as usual, Astarion seems to enjoy getting under my skin. He reaches across the table and grabs my drink before I can protest.

"Hey!" I try to grab it back but he holds it out of reach.

"No more drinking for you," he says with a mock stern expression. "Now tell me what's going on."

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine." I say, trying to dismiss the conversation.

Astarion's eyes narrow as he studies me intently. "Fine? You look like you've been through hell." he states bluntly.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair again, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over me. Maybe it's because of everything that has happened in the past few days or maybe it's just the alcohol finally catching up to me.

I glare daggers at him and finally relent with a heavy sigh. "Fine. Gale...he's gone."

"Gone?" Astarion's eyebrows raise in surprise. "As in dead?"

I shake my head sadly. "No...just...gone." My voice cracks on the last word and I have to take a deep breath to compose myself.

A look of understanding crosses Astarion's face and he nods slowly. "Well, it looks like he really went all in on his illusions this time."

I sigh, in no mood for jesting.

Astarion, sensing my lack of humor, leans back in his chair and adopts a more serious expression. "I'm sorry for your loss," he says sincerely, sliding my drink back across the table towards me.

I reluctantly take the drink and give him a nod of acknowledgment, appreciating his rare display of empathy."Thank you," I reply, my voice softening slightly. "I appreciate that."

He nods, seemingly lost in thought for a moment before speaking again. "Although, you know, at the end of the day it's Gale we are talking about, so is it really that big of a loss?"

I roll my eyes at Astarion's insensitive comment. "He was still a good boyfriend, despite his flaws," I reply pointedly.

"Hmm..." Astarion seems to be pondering this before shrugging nonchalantly. "Well, if you say so."

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down before continuing. "Anyway, what do you want from me? You always have an ulterior motive for your visits"

Astarion smirks again, leaning back in his chair. "You know me so well," he drawls sarcastically. "I actually came here with an interesting proposition."

I raise an eyebrow skeptically. "What kind of proposition?"

He smirks, "You see, even though I excel at pretty much everything, it appears I'm struggling with the... spawn issue, if you know what I mean." He pauses dramatically, waiting for my reaction. "And being the hero that you are," he continues with a hint of condescension, "I was wondering if you could grace me with your whole knight in shining armor wisdom and help me out. Not that I actually need it, mind you. I just think even someone as skilled as myself needs guidance in this kind of situations." He leans back in his chair, with a relaxed smile.

"No"

His face falls dramatically. "What? What do you mean no?"

I roll my eyes.

"I mean exactly what I said," I reply firmly, not breaking eye contact with Astarion. "I have no interest in being your 'knight in shining armor' or helping you with any spawn issues. Find someone else to pester."

Astarion's face falls at my immediate rejection, but he quickly composes himself and leans forward with a suave smile. "Come on, darling," he purrs, reaching out to touch my hand. "Think of the thrill, the excitement of facing such a challenge together."He pauses and adds "just like the old times."

A wave of emotion washes over me at the mere thought. Memories of the past flood my mind, when Gale's presence provided a comforting weight on my side. When our group was at its strongest and most united, standing together against all odds. When everything seemed so easy, so at reach.

I reply with a bitter tone, "Those days are gone for good."

Astarion groans "Gosh, will you stop being so dramatic."

I raise an eyebrow at that. He is one to talk.

Astarion chuckles at my eyebrow raise, a playful glint in his eyes. "Touché, my dear." he admits. "But I'm serious about this, you know. We make a great team, you and I. And who knows, maybe hunting down vampire spawn will help distract you from your... sorrows."

I sigh, torn between the desire to wallow in my grief and the possibility of finding some kind of purpose again. I will admit, weeping and drinking myself to sleep every night does, while comforting, sounds sad. Plus, Astarion's proposition is tempting. At least that way I will have something other than ale to distract myself with.

"Fine," I finally relent, surprising both him and myself. "But Just because I'm agreeing to this doesn't mean I have forgotten you haven't reached out in months."

Astarion's smirk widens as he raises an eyebrow mockingly. "Oh, I would never dream of such a thing," he says with exaggerated sincerity."But let's just say, I did save your sorry behind from those hideous orcs. So I'd say we're even now."

I roll my eyes at his theatrics but can't help feeling a glimmer of anticipation deep within me. Perhaps there is still some fight left in me after all.

With a clap of his hands, he exclaims triumphantly,"It's decided then, dear Elara. You'll join me at the Crimson Palace tomorrow. I've already arranged for a room for you here," he says smoothly. "And trust me, it's much more luxurious than any tent or tavern room you've ever stayed in."

My brows furrow

"Absolutely not. I refuse to live in that sinister place." I say firmly. "Much less if it's with you"

Astarion lets out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, of course not. Because living alone in a moldy, cramped basement beneath the barracks is much more appealing."

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. It almost sounds like he's been planning this for a while now.

"Wait, what? How do you even..." And then, I know. "Shadowheart told you, didn't she? Is there anything she didn't tell you? That damned snitch."

Astarion chuckles at my outburst and shrugs nonchalantly. "She may have mentioned it," he admits with a sly grin."She has always been keen on gossip, after all."

I let out an exasperated sigh and shake my head.

Astarion grins, his red eyes sparkling with amusement "You can't expect me to trust you to do a good job while out of my sight. I mean, from what I see now, you could scape at any moment to get drunk and pass out in the street. And then, what good would that do to our poor spawn?" He says, pretending to be deeply worried.

I roll my eyes and cross my arms defensively. "Fine," I huff. "You win. I'll stay at the Crimson Palace, but only because it's the best option for the spawn."

Astarion raises an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Oh, so you do care about the spawn after all? I'm touched," he says sarcastically.

I shoot him a glare, and he relents with a smirk.

"Alright, alright. Enjoy your drinking session then. But don't forget, tomorrow we have important responsibilities."

"Ah yes, the joys of parenthood" I say sarcastically.

And to my surprise, I don't even finish my drink before returning to my basement, finally having something to look forward to.

[bloomingdayswithyou]

You’re safe, that’s all that matters

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 797

In the midst of a serene evening, Y/N and Gojo Satoru were taking a leisurely stroll in a secluded park, basking in the warmth of each other's presence. Little did they know that danger lurked in the shadows, waiting to strike. Unbeknownst to them, an enemy had been observing their every move. As they walked hand in hand, a sudden gust of wind carried an ominous chill, alerting Gojo to the unsettling aura surrounding them. He pulled Y/N closer protectively, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger.

Before they could react, a malicious curse user emerged from the darkness, intent on disrupting the tranquility of their night. The enemy's malevolent energy crackled in the air as they unleashed a powerful curse attack towards Y/N and Gojo. Reacting swiftly, Gojo used his innate Cursed Technique to erect a barrier, shielding both of them from the oncoming attack. The impact of the curse caused a violent explosion, but Gojo's impenetrable domain held strong, protecting them from harm. As the dust settled, Y/N clung tightly to Gojo, their heart racing with fear. They looked up at him, their eyes searching for reassurance amidst the chaos. Gojo smiled softly, his hand gently cradling their cheek.

"It’s okay" he said, his voice a soothing melody amidst the chaos. But the enemy was relentless, launching a series of ferocious attacks, determined to break through Gojo's defenses. Y/N's heart pounded in their chest, and they felt an overwhelming surge of fear for Gojo's safety. Gojo's eyes narrowed with determination as he faced their assailant. He couldn't allow any harm to befall Y/N, not while he still drew breath. His Curse Techniques blazed with an intensity fueled by love and protectiveness, countering each attack with precision.

The battle raged on, the air crackling with curses and raw energy. Gojo's tenacity and power were unmatched, but the enemy's relentless onslaught began to take its toll. Y/N couldn't bear the sight of Gojo fighting for their sake, putting himself in harm's way. Summoning every ounce of courage within them, Y/N stepped forward, their own Cursed Energy awakening. They refused to be a mere bystander in their own defense. Channeling their emotions into power, they unleashed a torrent of energy, aiding Gojo in repelling the enemy's attacks. Their combined strength became a formidable force, pushing back the malevolent curse user.

Y/N and Gojo moved in perfect harmony, their connection deeper than ever before. The enemy was overwhelmed, their malicious intent faltering in the face of such unity. As the last remnants of the enemy's curse dissipated into the night, Gojo and Y/N stood together, victorious. The tension in the air eased, replaced by a profound sense of relief. Gojo gently cupped Y/N's face in his hands, his eyes brimming with pride and adoration.

"You were incredible," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "I knew you were strong, but seeing you in action... I'm so proud to have you by my side." Y/N's heart swelled with love for Gojo, their bond forged even stronger through their shared battle. They smiled through their tears, grateful for his unwavering support. "You're safe, that's all that matters," Gojo said, pulling Y/N into a tender embrace. In that moment, it wasn't just about protecting each other physically; it was about the profound connection they shared, the love that could conquer any darkness.

As they held each other, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, bound together by love and an unbreakable bond. They knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as they had each other, they would face them with courage and determination.

.

.

.

[chokememaximoff]

Shattered Allegiance III

Natasha Romanoff x Reader series

Abstract:Natasha Romanoff finds herself on a mission to track down a former Avenger turned rogue after being kidnapped and brainwashed by Hydra. As she delves into the heart of Tokyo's criminal underworld, she uncovers the dark and twisted path that led her friend down this destructive road. Amidst intense action, psychological turmoil, and unexpected alliances, Natasha must confront her own past and the harsh realities of betrayal.

Tw:violence,abuse,trauma,panic atatcks,detailed descriptions on injuries all throughout the story

Tokyo's night shrouded the city in a cloak of mystery, a symphony of lights and darkness that masked its secrets. Natasha's journey had forged alliances from unlikely quarters – hackers, informants, and rebels, all united by the common cause of saving Y/N Y/L/N from Hydra's grasp. Within Tokyo's labyrinthine expanse, they had scripted their plan – a daring assault on Hydra's core, turning the city's shadows into their cloak of action.

Alone, Natasha entered the belly of the beast, her presence a whisper against the backdrop of Tokyo's vibrancy. As she moved through the main Hydra base, her steps were those of a phantom, her movements fluid and calculated. One by one, Hydra agents fell to her stealthy prowess, shadows vanishing into the darkness as her determination blazed.

The silence within the Hydra base was broken only by the soft exhales of unconscious bodies. Natasha's path of takedowns was a testament to her skill – each agent eliminated without a trace, her movements a symphony of controlled violence. The dance of shadows continued, a silent reminder that justice was inexorably drawing nearer.

At the heart of the Hydra base, Natasha confronted the main agent – a man whose allegiance to darkness was etched into his very demeanor. The confrontation was a silent prelude to a storm of words, a battle of wills amidst the tension that hung in the air.

As Natasha's gaze bore into the agent's eyes, a chilling silence enveloped them. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in as Natasha's resolve sharpened. She sought answers, the truth that had eluded her, the location of Y/N's safehouse.

In the dim light, the agent's resolve wavered. The gravity of Natasha's presence was palpable, a force that demanded compliance. Yet, his loyalty to Hydra held strong, a tangled web of devotion and fear.

Natasha's voice cut through the silence like a blade. The exchange that followed was a dance of words, a battle of determination, as she pressed him for the information that held the key to Y/N's location. Each word was a step forward, a calculated push against the resistance that fortified the agent's resolve.

The silence of the room was shattered by the agent's voice – a reluctant whisper that revealed the truth. The name of the safehouse echoed in the space between them, a thread of hope that wove through the darkness. Natasha's persistence had paid off; the answers she had sought were now within her grasp.

With the information extracted, Natasha retreated from the Hydra base, leaving behind the scene of her silent conquest. The path she had forged was littered with unconscious bodies, a testament to her prowess and the urgency of her quest. The city outside remained oblivious to the battles that had raged within the shadows.

Back in the embrace of the Tokyo night, Natasha's steps were sure, her resolve unwavering. As the city's lights painted intricate patterns upon her path, she carried the weight of her success – the knowledge that she was closer to rescuing Y/N from the clutches of Hydra's manipulation.

The memory of Y/N's smile, the echo of her laughter, and the unbreakable bond they had shared guided Natasha forward. The safehouse's location was now a beacon of hope in the darkness, a sanctuary where Y/N's true self might still reside.

With every step, Natasha moved towards the precipice of the unknown, her heart brimming with determination. The dance of shadows had brought her closer to her goal, the path illuminated by the memory of shared laughter and whispered confidences.

As dawn painted the horizon with streaks of light, Natasha's steps quickened. The journey to Y/N's safehouse lay ahead, a journey that held the promise of redemption, liberation, and the restoration of a hero's spirit. In the embrace of Tokyo's dawn, Natasha's purpose was unshakable, her resolve echoing through the city's streets – a silent promise that the shadows that had entrapped Y/N would soon be banished, and the light of a new day would rise.

..

The Tokyo night was a symphony of tension, the city's heartbeat echoing in the silence as Natasha faced the enigma that was Y/N Y/L/N. Gone was the person Natasha had known – replaced by a new identity, forged in the fires of Hydra's manipulation. As they stood across from each other, the weight of their shared history hung heavy in the air.

Natasha's voice was a quiet rasp in the stillness. "Y/N, I know you're in there. This isn't who you are."

Y/N's new persona bristled with defiance, her eyes cold and unyielding. "You think you know me, Natasha? You think you understand what I've become?"

Natasha's gaze remained steady. "I know who you were. And I know Hydra's taken that from you. But you can fight this – we can fight this together."

The battle that ignited between them was an explosion of emotion, a dance of fists and pain that resonated with the echoes of their past. Y/N's movements were a symphony of desperation, each strike laden with the anger and turmoil within. Natasha responded with calculated precision, her every move a testament to her skill and restraint.

"You don't understand, Natasha!" Y/N's voice was a bitter snarl as she evaded one of Natasha's blows. "Hydra gave me purpose. They showed me who I could be."

Natasha's voice cut through the tension. "They've twisted you. Your purpose was always greater than their control."

Blow after blow was exchanged, the room reverberating with the clash of their struggle. Natasha's voice remained a steady undertone, a refrain amidst the chaos. "Remember, Y/N. Remember who we were."

The room seemed to hold its breath as their eyes locked, a silent exchange that spoke of the bond they had shared. The words hung in the air, a bridge between the past and the present.

As the battle raged on, a glimmer of recognition flickered in Y/N's eyes – a spark of the person she had once been. Natasha's voice was a whisper amidst the fray. "We fought side by side. We laughed. We were friends."

Y/N faltered for a moment, a crack in her armor. "Stop!"

Natasha's movements shifted, her strikes no longer driven by mere combat, but by a desperate plea. "I won't let Hydra take you from me."

Y/N's voice wavered, and Natasha seized the opportunity, her words cutting through the chaos. "You're stronger than them. You're stronger than this."

With each strike, the walls around Y/N's heart seemed to crack. Natasha's voice was relentless, unwavering. "The memories we shared, the bond we forged – they're still here."

Their movements shifted, Y/N's aggression replaced by uncertainty. Natasha's voice was unwavering, a lifeline amidst the storm. "You don't have to fight alone."

As Natasha's voice echoed, the battle seemed to lose its fury. Y/N's gaze was haunted, her breath ragged. "I... I remember."

Natasha's voice was a whisper, her eyes locked with Y/N's. "Hold on to those memories, Y/N. They're your way out."

And then, in a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, the torrent of memories rushed forward – shared laughter, whispered confidences, the warmth of their friendship. Y/N's eyes widened as the flood of emotions surged, the darkness that had clouded her vision giving way to the light of recognition.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Y/N's movements faltered, her fists lowering. Tears mixed with sweat on her face, her voice a tremor. "Natasha?"

Natasha moved with a tenderness that belied the chaos that had surrounded them. She reached out, her hand brushing against Y/N's cheek. "I'm here, Y/N."

Y/N's resolve wavered, the mask of defiance crumbling as she trembled in Natasha's grip. "I... I don't know who I am anymore."

Natasha's voice was a whisper, her eyes a reflection of the compassion within. "You're Y/N Y/L/N. A hero, a friend. And I'm here to help you find yourself again."

Their embrace was a silent understanding, a reunion of souls that had weathered the storm. Amidst the wreckage of their battle, a path forward emerged – one where redemption and healing were possible. As the Tokyo night held its breath, two friends stood united, their journey towards the light just beginning.

[jobs-and-opportunities]

The best way to get a high salary job for free

Once upon a time in a realm beyond imagination, a celestial wonderland existed. It was a place where dreams intertwined with reality, and magic breathed through every crevice of the land. This captivating realm was known as Astoria, and it was far beyond the reach of our mundane world.

Astoria was a tapestry of breathtaking landscapes, each one more enchanting than the last. Towering crystalline mountains sparkled in the sunlight, casting mesmerizing rainbows across the sky. Lush emerald forests beckoned explorers with their whispering leaves and mysterious secrets. The meadows bloomed with flowers of every hue, their petals emanating a gentle glow in the moonlight. And the rivers, oh, the rivers! They flowed with liquid stardust, creating a symphony of melody as they meandered through the land. playboy

At the heart of Astoria stood the Celestial Citadel, a magnificent palace carved from starlight and moonbeams. It was the residence of the benevolent ruler, Queen Seraphina, whose wisdom and kindness were revered by all the creatures of Astoria. Her presence illuminated the entire realm, and her laughter echoed like celestial music across the land.

In Astoria, magic was not a distant fantasy but a tangible reality. Every being, from the tiniest pixie to the grandest dragon, wielded magic unique to them. The air crackled with energy, and it was said that even the butterflies left trails of iridescent sparks in their wake.

As with any world, Astoria had its share of heroes and villains. Among the most famed heroes was Orion, a valiant knight whose sword carried the essence of a thousand fallen stars. His steed, the majestic Pegasus named Stardust, had wings that shimmered like opals, carrying them through the skies on daring adventures. playboy meaning

However, even paradise isn't without its challenges. Astoria was not immune to dark forces seeking to exploit its boundless magic. The malevolent sorceress, Malvoria, was one such figure. Her heart was as cold as the void between galaxies, and her ambition knew no bounds. Malvoria yearned to usurp the Celestial Citadel and bend Astoria's magic to her own dark will.

Queen Seraphina, with her innate wisdom, sensed the impending threat that loomed over Astoria. She called upon Orion, the brave knight, and a select group of exceptional beings to embark on a quest to safeguard their world from Malvoria's nefarious plans. Thus, the Fellowship of the Celestial Guardians was formed, each member bringing their unique gifts to the table.

Among the fellowship were Aurora, a radiant fairy whose laughter could heal the deepest wounds, and Ember, a daring fire mage with a spirit as fierce as a blazing inferno. There was also Lyra, a master archer whose arrows never missed their mark, and Oceanus, a merman gifted with the power to control the tides. playboy magazine

Together, the fellowship ventured into the uncharted territories of Astoria. They braved treacherous terrains, encountered mythical creatures, and solved riddles woven into the very fabric of the land. Along the way, they forged unbreakable bonds of friendship and camaraderie, discovering the true power of unity.

In their journey, they encountered the Keepers of Wisdom, ancient beings who guarded the secrets of Astoria since time immemorial. The Keepers imparted them with ancient knowledge and revealed the source of Astoria's magic – a luminous crystal known as the Starheart. This mystical gem, the heart of the realm, possessed the power to create and destroy worlds.

The fellowship learned that Malvoria sought the Starheart to enhance her dark magic and unleash chaos upon Astoria. United by their purpose, they set forth to safeguard the Starheart and prevent it from falling into the hands of darkness. playboy company

Malvoria, sensing the growing power of the fellowship, launched a series of sinister schemes to halt their progress. She conjured wicked illusions, summoned monstrous entities, and laid numerous traps to ensnare them. Yet, the fellowship's courage and resourcefulness prevailed time and again.

In the midst of their quest, the fellowship encountered other inhabitants of Astoria. They met the Moonlit Minstrels, ethereal beings who weaved tales into spells, and the Whispering Willows, ancient trees with roots entwined with the memories of time. They formed alliances with the Guardian Gryphons, majestic creatures sworn to protect the skies, and the Luminescent Sylphs, ethereal beings who danced with the stars.

Each encounter brought new challenges and insights, revealing the multifaceted beauty of Astoria's tapestry. As they journeyed, they also uncovered forgotten legends and prophecies that hinted at a hidden destiny awaiting them. playboy logo

As the fellowship ventured deeper into the heart of Astoria, they confronted their inner demons and fears. The journey became not just a physical quest but a spiritual and emotional one as well. They learned that true strength lay not in the mightiest of swords or the most potent spells but in the resilience of the human spirit and the power of love and self-belief.

Ultimately, the fellowship reached the cataclysmic showdown with Malvoria at the Shadowed Nexus, a dark abyss where the boundary between light and darkness blurred. The battle was fierce, as both sides unleashed magic of unimaginable proportions. But the fellowship's unity and unyielding determination proved to be their greatest weapon.

At the pinnacle of the conflict, when all seemed lost, a surge of luminous energy enveloped the fellowship. It was the combined essence of Astoria itself, channeling through them in a radiant display of power. Their spirits intertwined, forming an unbreakable bond that resonated with the very essence of the realm they sought to protect.

With their newfound strength, they thwarted Malvoria's dark schemes and sealed her malevolence within the depths of the Shadowed Nexus. The world of Astoria breathed a collective sigh of relief, as its harmony was restored. playboy swing

The fellowship, now eternally connected by their shared journey, returned to the Celestial Citadel, where Queen Seraphina commended their valor and unwavering spirit. They were hailed as the saviors of Astoria, and their names were forever etched in the annals of the realm's history.

The Queen revealed that their union had fulfilled an ancient prophecy—their unity had awakened the true power of the Starheart, imbuing them with the magic of the cosmos. Henceforth, they would be known as the Cosmic Guardians, sworn to protect Astoria and its magic for all eternity.

In the years that followed, the Cosmic Guardians continued their adventures throughout Astoria, exploring its wonders and safeguarding its harmony. They became the stuff of legends, inspiring new generations of heroes and adventurers to seek the magic within themselves and embrace the beauty of unity.And so, Astoria remains a realm of boundless enchantment, where dreams intertwine with reality and magic breathes through every crevice of the land. It serves as a reminder that, in our own world, the power of unity and the belief in our inherent magic can create a celestial wonderland of our own. The tale of Astoria's Cosmic Guardians shall forever inspire us to embark on our own journeys, where the stars await our touch and the magic lies within our hearts. playboy plus

[wornoutspines]

February Reads |

This month I finished two book series, started one that was in my reading list for year. #Bookreading #bookworms

[konlyfans]

Get You Alone

pairing: au!Yuto x female reader ft. au!Ten and au!Felix

genre: smut & fluff

summary: you and your besties go out for drinks and the cute new bartender catches your eye. contains drinking, m/f sex, some swearing. this is the first installment in an au series I’m starting called Eden.

Eden Towers. Where you live and work, twin buildings that unlock a heaven (or hell, if that’s how you like it) on earth. The towers, named Yin and Yang, are set up sort of like a hotel or resort, and are connected by a skywalk. Inside you’ll find anything and everything your heart desires. Be it clubs, bars, spas or rooms for more intimate experiences... Eden has it all. You and your two roommates are dates for hire, offering whatever you feel comfortable with ranging from dinner and drinks to entire weekends of play. It’s the cherry on top that you three are best friends too.

“None of us have commitments tonight, right?” Felix steps into the living room wearing nothing but pajama pants after having slept for most of the day. You and your third roomie, Ten, look up from the movie you’re watching and shake your heads.

“I’m free all weekend,” Ten adds.

“Let’s get a drink tonight. It’s been forever since we went out,” Felix suggests. Ten nods and you excitedly agree, thrilled by the thought of a night out with your two favorite people.

“We can get all cute and head over to that club in Yin! I heard they have a hot new bartender,” you add with a little clap of your hands.

“Are you talking about Yuto,” Ten guesses, and you nod accordingly. “He’s, very very cute. The quiet and tall type.”

“So it’s set then,” Felix jumps in before you two can get caught up gossiping about the newbie, “drinks tonight? Let’s say... 10?”

And it’s as easy as that. Before you know it night rolls around and you’re all dolled up to go out. Your dress is flirty, a little revealing, and shows off all the right curves. When you meet Felix in the doorway a little after 10, you have him do a look over your outfit, and pride swells in your chest as he bites his lip and spins you.

You’ve all been intimate together before, you and ten, you and Felix, he and ten... And on one special occasion all three of you together. You had a unique, unbreakable bond that not many others could rival. The three of you cherish each other.

“If he doesn’t hurry up, I’m just gonna to take you out by myself,” Felix grins, pulling you in by the waist. “You look too good to have to wait.”

“I’m ready,” Ten snaps, rounding the corner in tight leather pants and a loose button up. He almost matches Felix, accept Felix’s pants are denim and his shirt is tucked in. “It takes time to look this good.”

“You both look amazing, now let’s go,” you giggle. With a hand in each of theirs, you drag them out the door.

It’s a quick journey to the other building, and the club is buzzing with life and energy. You make a beeline for the bar with your two dates in tow, and the new bartender you’d heard so much about instantly comes into view. He’s just as tall and handsome as he’d been described.

“You must be the new hire,” you grin as you reach the bar, resting your elbows on the hardwood and plopping your chin in your hands. Even in a black button up and slacks to match, all tied together with an apron, he’s stunning.

“My name’s Yuto, and you must be Y/n,” he lowly replies. If he wasn’t sexy enough already, the bass in his voice was a definite panty dropper.

“So you’ve heard about me. Only good things I hope?” Felix rests a hand at the small of your back as you flirt shamelessly, and Ten watches you with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“The best things,” your bartender assures. “So how may I serve you this evening?”

“Serve me?” You bat your lashes, pressing your tongue to the inside of you cheek until Ten intervenes.

“Damn, woman! Can we get our drinks first!?” He causes the four of you to erupt in laughter for a moment, breaking the growing sexual tension. “We’ll do three shots of anything strong and sweet.”

“Coming right up.” Yuto doesn’t miss the chance to smirk at you before he gets to work on your drinks, and a warm tingle flutters through you.

As the night blazes on, the three of you get more and more tipsy. Liquor is burning in your veins as you take shot after shot, laughing and dancing with the people you meet. Yuto keeps a playful eye on you, so much so that you’re pretty sure you’ll be seeing him after his shift, and it puts butterflies in your belly.

“He’s been watching you this whole night,” Felix confirms like he’s reading your thoughts. You’re sandwiched between him and Ten on the dance floor, and Yuto’s directly in your line of sight. He winks at you, absentmindedly wiping a glass in his hands. That warm feeling grows hot.

“Just go get him,” Ten encourages, though he rolls his eyes. He all but shoves you out from between them, immediately pulling Felix in and dancing with him instead. “We can enjoy the rest of our night, and you can enjoy the rest of yours. If he was interested in me, I’d go for it in a heartbeat.”

So you do. You strut your way back to bar, all liquid courage and lust, and make your way right to him.

“My shift just ended,” he smiles as you reach him. “I was wondering if maybe we could go someplace else. I wanted to ask for a few tips with clients.”

“Oh, you’re a date too? I thought you only worked the bar...”

“I’m a new date. I haven’t had my first client yet.” His cheeks tint with a cute shade of shy, but you’re practically beaming at him. “I know you’re with your friends, but maybe you can drop by my place later?”

“We can go now,” you shrug, trying not to seem too eager despite the heavy flirting that’s been going on. “They, uh, they told me I should take the chance if I got it.”

“But do you want to? Do you want to leave with me?” There was a heavy seriousness in his eyes, one that said your consent is essential and he doesn’t take it lightly.

“I would love to leave with you, Yuto.”

-

The night isn’t exactly what you expect, but for all the right reasons. Yuto is funny, kind, and surprisingly enough he really did want to ask you questions about being a date. Time passes in leaps and bounds as you talk away over a few more drinks and snacks. He’s a generous host, offering anything and everything within his means to make you comfortable.

Before you know it, the sky starts to grow lighter as sunrise creeps in. You’re on the couch, sitting close enough that your knees are touching as you face each other and a blanket covers your laps. The conversation has dwindled a bit, and now you’re wearing a dopey sleepy smile as you watch his eyes grow heavy.

“This was not what I expected,” you sigh, brushing rebel stands of his dark hair back from his face. He turns his head just enough to brush his lips to the heel of your hand.

“I had every intention to seduce you, I had a whole plan, but you’re so fun to talk to...”

“What was your plan?”

“Well, I was going to ask you for tips with clients, but I was going to ask for a more hands-on example... You know... Something cheesy like that,” he laughs.

“It would have worked,” you smile, “but maybe another time.” He sits up, suddenly more awake from your words, and leans in closer than he already is. A strong hand wraps the back of your neck, pulling you in ever so gently until his lips meet yours. It’s pleasantly sweet, gentle and soft in the glow of dawn, and exactly what you thought kissing him would feel like. He talked like he wanted to be a big bad dominate in bed, but in every word you could see he was naturally the opposite. So you decide to show him a bit of your charm, the reason why you come with such a reputation in Eden; because you can be anyone’s dream. You have a knack for reading people, seeing past what they want to exactly what they need, and you deliver accordingly.

You climb into his lap, letting the blanket fall to the floor as your dress rides up your thighs when you straddle him. You taste the whimper on his tongue when you take control, rolling your hips as you kiss him till he’s breathless. An impressive erection stiffens against your panties.

“Look at you, baby boy,” you praise, noting the shiver that seems to tickle its way down his neck as you speak, “you talk a big game but you just want to be taken care of, don’t you?”

“H-How did you-”

“I’m good at what I do, sweetie.” You pop each button on his shirt until his torso is bare and you can drag your fingertips from the base of his neck to his belt. “You took such good care of me tonight, don’t you want me to take care of you now?”

“Please.” His voice is barely more that a frustrated whisper against your skin as he pulls you close again, gracing your neck with little kisses. There’s a quick fumble of buckles and zippers before he pushes his pants and boxers down to his knees.

“Easy, baby,” you smile, “I’m not going anywhere.” You distract him with another kiss as you reach between your bodies and take his cock in your hand. Given his height, you’re not surprised that he’s big, and his size send a wave of arousal to pool between your legs. “You just want to be good for me, don’t you?” He nods, his words seem to be lost somewhere in his throat as you pump your hand up and down. “Then touch me. Get me ready for you.”

He submits willingly, pushing the thin fabric of your panties aside and plunging right into the wetness he finds. He stokes an untamable fire in you as he plays and lets you ride his fingers to your satisfaction. You continue touching him the whole while, until you feel a bit of precum under your thumb as you swipe it across his tip. He shudders by your hand.

“Condom?” You stand, leaving him dazed for a moment as you move without warning to take your panties off completely. He fishes through his pocket after kicking off his pants, and by the time you seat yourself on him again, he’s rolled the condom on. You sink down onto him and feel your body flood with pleasure. He lets a low moan slip past his pretty lips.

“Fuck....” You rock your hips expertly as he swears and tugs down the straps of your dress to kiss as much of your skin as he can. A certain power surges through you as you watch him come undone, his cute moans and desperate pleas are steadily fanning your flame.

“You feel so good baby,” you coo, feeding into the praise kink you suspect he has, “so good.” You can feel him buck his hips to meet yours, wanting to prove that he’s just as good as you need him to be.

“Wait. Wait, I’m too close.” You ignore him. Though it’s touching that he wants to prolong your pleasure, there’s no need.

“It’s okay, cum for me,” you encourage, driving your hips faster and clenching your walls around him. Yuto swears again as you push him towards his orgasm, and soon he’s unable to hold it off any longer. He cums hard in the condom while he’s still inside you, moaning from deep down in his chest and letting his head fall back.

“Use me,” he groans through the hight of his pleasure. You feel him drop his hand to your clit, rubbing tight circles to get you there before the overstimulation becomes too much for him. His hard work pays off, and in no time your orgasm blooms sweetly through your veins. You cry his name into the morning air, praising him to the very end.

-

You do your best to sneak in unnoticed, not wanting to wake your roomies at this ungodly hour once you arrive home. All is well until you open your room to find them both sprawled out on your bed. Felix is still in the shirt he wore out last night, only now it’s unbuttoned and half hanging off of him. He’s not wearing pants, and neither is Ten, they’re both just sleeping in their underwear.

“Where am I supposed to sleep,” you mumble to yourself as you wiggle out of your dress and pull on a comfy tee, carefully trying not to wake them as you move around your room.

“Just climb in,” Felix answers. You turn to see his eyes aren’t even open, but one hand is lazily waving you over. “We got a little too drunk. We were waiting for you to come back so you could tell us all about your night,” he explains as you tuck yourself away against him. Ten shifts as you nestle your body between them, but he still out cold.

“He wants to be a dom really bad, but he’s so submissive,” you giggle.

“That’s cute,” Felix yawns and you can tell he’s already drifting off again. You follow his lead, and the three of you sleep the morning away.

[curly-bangtan]

A Drop of Heaven III: Broken Skin (M)

[Series Masterlist]

Pairing: ot7 x reader // this chapter: Yoongi x reader, Seokjin x reader

Series summary: Seven vampires have secretly been roaming the darks of your world for millennia. Each brother selects a Feed who becomes supernaturally bound to him, whose blood will be fed on until their inevitable mortal death. They have spent their eternity hunting for the exorbitant rarity that is angel blood - the most heavenly of food for vampires that fuel them with desire, lust and satiety. So what happens when they all find you, the first angel-blooded being they’ve encountered in two centuries?

Genre: vampire au, poly au, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (e2l)

Warnings in this chapter: blood drinking, soft!Seokjin, mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts (gets a little dark), graphic violence, Yoongi being abusive and sadistic, dom!Yoongi, rough unprotected sex, BDSM I guess?, spanking, biting, choking, hair pulling, feeding during sex, degradation, ass job, hate sex, own cum consumption

Word count: 11.4k

A/N: I do not condone Yoongi’s behaviour at all, it is horrible and not intended to be romanticised!! He is obviously a vampire so violence is a habit built from centuries, but it’s also still not okay. And everything that happens is consensual. I’m honestly so scared that this is too much but I might just be overreacting. I hope you like this update because there were parts that were so difficult for me to write. :(

[prelude, i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, epilogue]

❦

Kissing Seokjin feels like sinking into a cloud after plummeting from the heavens, soft, cold, delicate. You don’t think you’d truly realised how plump his lips are until they are on yours, catching your every breath. You sense his initial shock, feel the fumes of confusion swirling in his chest. Because still, you haven’t stopped feeling, just feeling, him.

His body is tense at first, unmoving. Yet his lips contradict its language by slowly moving around yours, the motion so natural, so fluid, that it doesn’t feel like the first time you’re kissing.

Despite the coolness of his skin, all you feel is a warmth enshrouding your every sense, but mostly your heart. The sire bond doesn’t stop forming, building brick by brick between your souls like a bridge crossing the vast ocean. You see him on the other side, so far, yet so clearly. You’re walking towards each other, no, maybe even running. Full speed.

And then you collide.

And coalesce into one entity.

You don’t register it until your leg has swung around him and he has pulled you onto his lap, hands so gentle that you wonder if you’re imagining his touch. There isn’t a single thought in your brain right now, just a humming, faint colours swimming.

Every single movement is slow, heavy, as if you’re underwater and a pressure is resisting you, but pleasantly so because it makes every movement feel more impactful. Your eyes flicker open just a moment to confirm that this isn’t a dream, and you’re met with such dazzling beauty that makes you question your reality more.

This doesn’t feel real.

Yet at the same time, you’ve never felt anything more real.

Especially as your hands travel to his face, cupping his smooth cheeks, fingers gripping onto him so not to get washed away by the current. Every time you touch, you melt into him.

Not to mention all his sensations overwhelming yours, the way you feel his turmoil at his own conflicting emotions for you. How he cares deeply for you already, wishing just to be close to you in any shape or form because he craves the humanness of love. Yet also how he knows that love, be it platonic or romantic, has long since been vetoed as an option in his life, and given your dynamic, will never not crumble.

Seokjin shudders under your caress, as if he also cannot believe this is true. His hands sliding up your legs on their own accord, not greedily, but not of innocence either.

Then he’s guiding you onto your back and up the bed until your head meets the plush of your pillow, tongue rolling over yours like evening waves. Neither of you think to stop, take a breath, assess the situation. Because the bond between you doesn’t allow you to do anything except be together.

But when his fingers reach up your top, he freezes. Rather than your skin that he was expecting, is the rough lace of the bodysuit you are wearing.

You had both forgotten about that amidst all this. And suddenly, the few minutes before where he had entered the room to the sight of you trying on this raunchy undergarment feels like an eon ago.

His eyes lock onto yours, fingers stroking the patterned material as he softly asks, “Can I?”

“Yes,” you sigh into him, “please.”

Heartbeat unsteady but strong, you feel your whole body tremble under him as he smoothly slides your cotton joggers down to reveal your bare thighs. And when you pull your sweatshirt over your head too, Seokjin thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe.

His insides feel warm from the feeding of your blood, but his groin feels even warmer. He doesn’t think he has ever experienced such a strong physical desire for any of his Feeds in the past. Never anything so potent, compelling. He feels as though he is flotsam, swept away by the ocean into the depths of you.

You look up at him, eyes wide with a confounding innocence that you somehow have maintained throughout the affliction you’ve endured. The thin white material of the lingerie hugs your body so dearly, the floral lace like grapevines across your torso and up to your breasts. The sheer mesh does little to hide the colouration of your nipples. Seokjin feels his bulge growing painfully.

Your hand droops down his front, an action of harmless intent, yet sets fire to his gut. He falls back into you, mouth finding yours as his fingers dart up your legs, marvelling at your soft spotless skin, the same skin that used to be painted with scars and bruises and cuts that dig deeper than flesh, but have miraculously been wiped clean. It had felt like a rebirth.

It is evident from his hesitant touch how nervous he is, his throat quivering. It has been so long since he has remotely felt so alive; it moves him beyond his comprehension.

And it is as if you can sense that he wants you to do so, you break the kiss to flip him around so you are straddling him once again. From the way you sat over his crotch, dressed like a doll in white, Seokjin knows that he’ll come undone under you.

Rather than sealing his lips again, you just watch him for a moment, chest rising from the fervour. Your thumb traces his forehead down to his chin, then brush the corner of his mouth. His eyes fall shut, quaking under your touch, trying to calm the storm in his mind.

Then it darts down his chest like a little mouse to palm his arousal over his slacks. Seokjin gasps, a sound that you enjoy too much. He feels hefty in your hands, already, throbbing at the friction you rub. Your core is blazing at his reaction, his whimpers.

But then, in a flash, he sits up and holds up a finger for you to stop, eyes that are trained on the door shifting immediately. “Wait here.” is all he says before he zooms out from beneath you and through the door that joins your room to his.

You don’t even have time to register that he’s gone until you’re plopped onto the mattress, alone.

What?

Sense is slowly starting to ebb back into you. Had you done something wrong? Wait, well of course, you hadn’t even asked his permission to kiss him. But that doesn’t explain why he had asked you to wait before leaving so hurriedly. This scene reminds you of…

And lo and behold, as you creep up to the door to his room, you hear someone knock. Your attention quickly turns to the second door that opens to the hallway, but you realise that the sound was too muffled for it to be coming from there. No, someone knocked on Seokjin’s bedroom door.

Ears straining to listen as you press the side of your face against the wood, you hear powerful steps enter the room.

“Good night. What can I help you with? Why do you look so troubled, Namjoon?” Although the words are barely audible, his name rings sonically into you. A strange yet familiar rope tugs on your soul.

You think you hear him sigh, and you can imagine exactly the frustrated frown he must be plagued with. “I… I don’t even know how to begin to talk about it, hyung. You know what I’m like…  with words…”

“Yes, of course.” It could be your imagination but there is still the smallest hitch to Seokjin’s breath, yet to his credit, he is hiding it well. “Your debility in expressing your true feelings is second to Yoongi. What’s the matter?”

“Have you felt it yet?”

A pause.

“Felt what?”

“The bond.” Namjoon’s voice is a husky rasp.

You tense because it almost sounds as though it pains him. Unconsciously, your hand grips at your chest, the memory of its violent cinching when your soul was first tethered to his haunting you.

“Th- Why…?” Seokjin sounds as though he’s been asked a deeply personal question. You suppose it is.

“Hell, it’s so- so intense this time. In our centuries, I don’t think any Feed bond has ever been this powerful. When I fed on her yesterday, it felt like we were physically bound together, like the Gods tied us together and I couldn’t walk away from her no matter how much I struggled. I didn’t feel myself, I felt so… human.”

Your blood freezes. You hadn’t known, or even considered, how the sire bond must have felt for him. Do vampires feel everything more heightened due to their superior senses? Or less because they have been numbed over time? That bond with Namjoon felt vastly different from Seokjin. It’s true what he said, it was like your souls were bound by rope. Supernaturally unbreakable rope. And though the initial impact has eventually worn off, everytime your mind lingered a second too long in the thoughts of him, you felt its reminder tugging at your core again.

“I…” Seokjin seems slightly dumbfounded. Whether it’s because he finds himself relating so much to that feeling, or because he’s surprised it had been that strong for his brother too. “Maybe it’s because we haven’t tasted angel blood in too long; it has always driven us a little wild in the past, this time only exacerbated by how much we’ve missed it.”

“Possibly… But, I mean, I really wasn’t myself. I k- I lost control. I felt things, emotions that I can’t make sense of. I can’t even begin to describe them to you.”

“You mean, you felt affection for the girl?”

Silence. You hear your own heartbeat.

Affection?

There was a longing in the way Namjoon had kissed you, like all the anger and frustration you had riled up in him had somehow melted into a flood of desire. And you, yourself. Something had felt warm, pleasant, in your core. You hadn’t wanted him to stop, not even an inkling.

Such contrast to the spiteful words you had been throwing at each other only a minute before he fed on you.

It’s definitely the bond.

“Affect- No- Don’t be ridiculous. Why would you say that?” Namjoon splutters. You can imagine his cheeks staining in colour.

“Namjoon. I know you like to distance yourself from your Feeds, maintain a dynamic in which you always view them as your prey. But you are allowed to grow fond of her. It’s happened to us all before.” There’s a resignation in Seokjin’s tone, like this is a conversation that has been had many times before.

“I’m not growing fond of her! It’s the bond, it’s overriding my sense.”

“Namjoon-ah.” He sighs, exasperation crisp in his muffled voice. “Yes, it is all very much the effects of the sire bond. But you know that the bond manifests in such that reflects on the vampire right? Its shape and form, its intensity, its hold over you. It tells you more about yourself than you’re willing to admit.”

You perk up straight. You don’t think you want to continue listening. You don’t think you want to face the knowledge of what this magic means; it would elicit too many unwanted thoughts, confusion, dilemmas. You don’t want it. You don’t want to think about the deeper reflection of Namjoon’s feelings, and yours too.

So, stealthily, you sneak back onto the bed in your best efforts not to make a sound that would announce your eavesdropping to the vampires next door.

Sat near the edge of the bed, you stare at your wrist, at the fresh wounds that Seokjin’s fang had punctured. It’s starting to hurt now, as you stray away from the state of euphoria that came with the settling of the bond between you. You hadn’t noticed before when you were kissing him, but your hand is slathered with dried crusted blood.

You pick at it. Even licking it to see if your blood truly tastes that divine. It tastes metallic all the same.

Don’t think about the magic. Don’t think about Namjoon. Don’t even think about Seokjin. Just stop thinking for a second. Stop questioning. Stop wondering. Stop before you go crazy.

Thus you sit there blankly until Seokjin finally raps softly at the door after his conversation.

“Come in.” You remember you don’t need to speak up for him to hear you - he’s got vampire hearing.

Visible bother is worn on his expression as he enters. He gazes at you differently now. And once again, it’s like you’ve both awoken from a trance. No longer leaping into each other. The realisation sits bitterly in your stomach.

It wasn’t real, was it?

“Let me heal you first.” It’s the gentleness in his voice that make you sad.

And so you obediently lap up the rich scarlet liquid oozing out of his own wrist. You try to ignore how its taste threatens to tip you over and fall back into him again. You try to ignore that warm embrace you feel around your heart.

Is any of it real?

Soon, the two holes disappear along with the growing sting of your raw flesh. As good as new.

You refuse to look at each other at first, as you put on your clothes to conceal your suddenly very self conscious body and he fiddles with the embroidered collar of his shirt. This isn’t regret, but there might possibly a drop of shame, at what you had been doing.

“Um… That was Namjoon…” Whether or not he knows that you were eavesdropping, he doesn’t show.

“Oh.” You simply utter.

The tension is a tangible thing between you. The residual buzz from the bond is still present, tingling under your skins. If you focus hard enough, you can just about hear whispers of his emotions, but only barely.

After a silence that pains you both to be a part of, Seokjin clears his throat. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression of the kind of person I am. I’m not usually… The sire bond that fixes between a vampire and an angel has never been very well understood in my time no matter the research I’ve done. It’s guarded not only by witch magic and demonic powers, but also celestial strength of the heavens. It… warps the mind and senses.”

It’s a factual statement, yet you feel many underlying implications. It warps the mind and senses. As in what you did wasn’t really of your own wills, is that what he means? It stings, because it had felt so real. It was real. For you anyway.

“But…”

He realises your interpretation, and his eyes soften. “It’s complicated, the paradox of reality. I don’t wish to offend you in any way. I… care about you. I don’t wish to confuse you. So, it’s best if… it doesn’t happen again. For our own sake.”

He’s right, you know. But it feels bitter. Because just as you begin to taste a sweet thing in your mouth, just as you feel yourself healing through a person, it all just vaporises. But there’s no way of knowing if that was all just a trick of the mind anyway.

Or maybe Seokjin’s withdrawal is because of Namjoon. There’s too much confusion, muddle of emotions and incomprehensible feelings. And the more you try to wrap your head around his words that you overheard, the more you find yourself falling into a vortex of unknown.

It’s best not to start down an uncertain path, than realising too late that you’re falling off a cliff’s edge.

You had hope in Seokjin, that you could be close, because he holds that normalcy that you crave amidst this chaos. Could you still be friends? From the way you’re avoiding each other’s eye, you’re not sure.

“I understand.” You stare at a fleck of blood on your hand.

.

You’re staring at your pristine, spotless hands, folded around each other atop your lap. Sitting in the middle of the mattress’ end.

Waiting. Trembling.

It’s Wednesday.

The very day you’ve dreaded the most since learning about the vampire who you’ll be sired to today. The vampire who will enjoy inflicting pain onto you. The vampire who hasn’t a single drop of empathy left in him.

Yoongi.

You’re not unaccustomed to men with power complexes who like to seek validation from harming those weaker than he is. So you’re not sure why you’re scared right now. You should be immune to such fears at this point, but you guess it’s the little human instinct left in you that’s invoking it.

Your life hadn’t always been a saga of continuous abuse; you were a normal teenager once, with a loving family, many friends, a regular content life. But one stroke of bad luck, one tragedy, and your cloudless blue sky was ripped apart. It was a stormy Friday night, you suppose that was your first foreboding from the gods. You had begrudgingly agreed to stay in because your parents were adamant that you shouldn’t go to that Minho’s party again after they heard that he dealt weed to everyone. Still, you had snuck out with the help of your then boyfriend without a single ounce of guilt and scurried off together to Minho’s. Your parents didn’t usually check up on you, so when you had received a furious phone call from your father a little past midnight, you were shocked. Oh fuck, you remember thinking, accompanied by that distinctly horrid heart-sinking feeling.

There wasn’t much you could say to persuade them not to come pick you up right that instant, even as you begged them with tears of humiliation as your peers looked at you in pity, you knew their mind was set. And though it wasn’t very justified at all, you had felt a surge of anger towards them. Resentment.

You had slammed the car door particularly hard when you entered the vehicle, your boyfriend’s worried expression in the corner of your eye as you couldn’t bare looking at him. “Y/N. You lied to us.” You stayed silent. “We asked one thing from you, and that was to stay away from Minho, and you couldn’t do that.” “Minho is my friend!” “Minho is a bad influence!” “I don’t even smoke weed! Have you ever seen me high? No. Do I smell like weed right now? No. Why do you want to control me so badly?” “We weren’t banning you from all parties, it was just this one party. And you couldn’t do that for us.” The disappointment in their calm voices riled you up even more. “And why not? Why can’t I go to this one party if I wanted to? Everyone went to this party tonight, everyone. Did any of their parents stop them? No. Because none of them are as controlling as you!” “Because none of them know about the weed!” “Oh next thing I know, you’ll be saying that my boyfriend is a bad influence too and that I can’t date him anymore.” “You know what, that’s true.” “Oh, For God’s sake! you guys are so annoying. Why do you have to be like this?”

Every time you think back to that argument you had in the car, your nails dig into your fists. If only you had just shut up. If only you had just accepted that you were in the wrong. It was just one party, one stupid fucking party, that means so little in the grand scheme of your life.

“Y/N, mind the way you’re speaking to your parents.”

It had started pouring down heavily on the drive back home. You couldn’t even look out the window because everything was a rain-blurred mosaic. The windshield wipers were wiping vigorously, that unbearably annoying sound now forever etched in your mind in this memory.

“I can speak however I want to.” You watched the digital clock on the screen of the car switch to 01:01. “You guys are the worst parents in the world. I wish I wasn’t your daughter. I wish-”

In movies, car crashes happen in slow motion; the audience sees the shock register in the driver’s face, then watch the whole vehicle flip in 0.5x speed. In real life, all you feel is a violent collision, a loud ringing, a flash of light, all in a split second. Then everything is black.

01:01.

You had still been staring at the time. It was the last thing you saw before your world was torn into shreds.

You had barely made it, by the miracle, or perhaps more accurately punishment of God. You were unconscious for 72 hours after the crash; you parents were unconscious forever. They gave it a day before they broke the news to you.

You had cried until you fainted again and woke up another 20 hours later.

It took months for your injuries to heal, during which you had all day and night to replay that last scene in the car over and over again in your head. Those words you said to them before they died.

Your elderly grandmother who was living with you and your 2-month old sister at the time took the burden of the family. She hadn’t scolded you, blamed you, nor resented you. She just came to the hospital every day with warm porridge and soup and your sister carried on her crooked back, smiled at you and told you to keep fighting.

You didn’t have many relatives; your father was estranged from his family, while your mother only had your grandmother and your uncle. Your uncle was a kind, supportive figure once. But you could tell he didn’t see you the same way after the accident everyone knew you’d caused. You didn’t blame him, you hated yourself too. Still, he moved in to help your elderly grandmother; babies are a lot to handle after all, especially for those who can’t even walk up the stairs without wincing. Your uncle became the breadwinner of the family, working hard every day to pay for your medical bills. You had admired him once, had been so tremendously grateful.

But then your grandmother died.

Heart attack due to stress, fatigue and exhaustion. It was the day before you were set to be released from the hospital.

Everything fell apart. It was like a switch was flipped because all of a sudden there was hatred in your uncle’s eyes every time you saw him look at you, something that burned so deep that it didn’t feel human. It was a demonic sort of evil that emitted from his gaze. Alcohol was his remedy for his sorrows, you were his relief.

The first time he hit you felt like you deserved it. The second time, maybe fair enough. But by the fiftieth time, it felt like it had evolved into something of a habit. It became a spiral of abuse, he became less and less human, more and more a senseless drunk monster. There was a basement where you were locked in as he insisted it was the only way to keep you from causing another tragedy in his life; you weren’t permitted to leave the house, you couldn’t and it wasn’t to do with a lack of trying. Sometimes you were fed and watered, if he was in a good mood. Sometimes your face was burned on the stove if you tried to dispute.

And for a while, you’d found some sort of excuse, justification for him. You killed your parents, his sister. You killed his mother. They had all died in consequence of one bad, selfish decision you’d made. But as the abuse worsened, it became more apparent that he enjoyed watching you bleed, he enjoyed painting your skin with bruises and burns and cuts. In a sick twisted perversion. None of it should be excused or justified.

Your sister grew up in a house of violence, watching your torment in her big round eyes, not uttering a peep. On her second birthday, you had given her a stuffed bear that you found in the basement. She smiled so widely and hugged it so tight to her chest. And you remembered why you were staying alive.

Escape was never an option - your leg, broken from the accident, was never allowed to heal properly before it became your uncle’s favourite batting post. Suicide - you’d thought about for a very very long time, every morning, every night, every waking breath. But if you were to kill yourself, you would have had to kill your sister too. And you couldn’t, you just couldn’t. One evening, while she was asleep, you had held a pillow over her head, centimeters away from suffocating her. But then your uncontrollable sobs woke her up, and she asked in her small innocent voice, “What are you doing? Why are you crying? Did he hurt you again?”

You couldn’t do it.

And so you endured years of being a prisoner of a mad man. Waiting for your deaths. Physical pain became tolerable when you learnt to shut off your mind, transport your consciousness to elsewhere. If you didn’t think about how he was kicking your head, you wouldn’t notice your skull cracking open.

It was only when your uncle realised your attachment to your sister that he found a way to hurt you. That, you couldn’t be immune to.

Growing footsteps at the door rouse you from your deep thought. You feel a dampness in your cheek and you hurry to wipe it away. The footsteps are slow, light, almost a drag.

He’s coming.

Deep breaths. Just remember: state of inertia. Pain is an illusion, a choice. You don’t have to feel it if you don’t want to.

The door opens softly. Inhale. He pads in, black hair a ruffled mess. Exhale. His eyes land on you, sat tensely on the bed of his Feed room, awaiting him. Inhale. He walks closer, each step absolutely soundless. Exhale.

When he arrives in front of you, you scan his face: paper-white skin, droopy eyes heavy from sleep- But wait. His eyes are already shifted; they don’t contain a grain of white.

Just a pitch dark ocean.

His touch is ice when he tilts your head to the side as he slumps onto the bed beside you. Without a single word, he yanks your neck to him and bites into you.

To you credit, you don’t cry out. Eyes clamped shut, you try to focus your attention elsewhere. Don’t mind his rough fingers around your throat. Don’t mind the excruciating pain that feels like a saw digging into your neck. Don’t mind the gush of blood surging out, droplets flying from the pressure. It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt.

Pain is fake. Pain is an illusion. Pain is a neurological response. Pain is fear. Pain is a choice.

Think about something else.

You recall the conversation you had with Seokjin early this morning before you went to sleep, after he had tried to resume a normal dynamic between you, and brush what had happened under the rug. He had told you about the origin of the seven vampires.

Yes, think of that.

.

“It was over two millennia ago, when the Roman empire began to dominate the word’s seven seas and cruel dictators lead our people. We were seven brothers, sons of a rich influential man, fortunately born into a wealthy family that was favoured by our ruler. We were never particularly close to begin with as siblings, each of us absorbed into our lives. Namjoon was a fine public speaker, a clear born-leader, an intellectual, favoured by our father who had high hopes for him. I was a literature student, and despite being the eldest, politics was very evidently not my set path; I had always been more of an advisor. Yoongi had always been an odd, quiet one, but an extremely talented musician. My father didn’t particularly approve of the arts, yet we had so much fortune that he didn’t need all his sons to work. Hoseok was wild, popular amongst the people, held the best most-renowned dinner parties with endless entertainment such as dancers, drinking games and one time even an elephant he’d bought from Africa. Jimin was a hopeless romantic, a lover not a fighter, chasing lady after lady, promising that he was foolish last time, but this time he knows that she is the one. Taehyung loved art, an extraordinary painter and sculptor, even helped us design our new house once. Though he tended to spend too much time with men and women at inns and left a trail of broken hearts after him. Our youngest, Jungkook, was an Olympic athlete; anyone who competed with him accepted their defeat. He was the long-reigning champion, the pride of our family.

“Life was incredible for us seven, perhaps too incredible. Because soon, we realised that we didn’t want to stop living. Namjoon in particular was so magnetised by the idea of immortality, it became his mission, his obsession. This only worsened after the death of our father, as it made us realise that death is inevitable, even for the greatest. But to Namjoon, it was incredibly unfair. Why must the greatest die? The greatest deserve to live and rule for an eternity. That only made sense.

“There were rumours from ear to ear that the Olympian Gods worshipped by all were living among us, hiding. Pluto, or more commonly known as Hades, was said to hold the key to immortality. He was the God of Death after all, if you managed to find him and prove your excellence and worthiness, he shall grant you eternal life, youth and health. Of course, we were all entranced by such possibility. Though, whereas we saw it as folklore, Namjoon saw it as a goal.

“It was four years of seeking, four years of endless obsession, four years of dead ends. But he alas found something - a rumoured family of witches, descendants of Pluto according to the people from their village. They were outcasts for their strange ways and the weird happenings around them. It was said to best leave them alone, lest you wish for malfortune upon your kin. Namjoon paid the warnings no heed, had our slaves cease them from their home and brought to ours.

“At this point, Namjoon’s sanity was toppling. This family was tortured for answers, whipped like slaves for answers and cooperation. And when they continued to refuse, Namjoon had the husband slain, and threatened to kill the two children as well. The female witch who remained finally gave in and agreed to perform a spell of immortality for us.

“Witch magic is a complex matter, even for us now. We discovered that a witch’s promise is irrevocable, magic irreversible, so Namjoon was careful with his demands. He asked for immortality, eternal health, youth and beauty, which had been our original wishes, but he grew greedy and also asked for superhuman abilities such as speed, strength, stealth, healing, heightened senses and much more.

“To our surprise, the witch complied and promised to grant us these things. She concocted a spell which put us into a hibernation of seven days, and sure enough, when we awoke, we were different. We could run at lightning speed, lift boulders, jump the heights of arenas. We could fight lions and bears, and we would win. And so the witch was released with her children, never to be seen again.

“However, as the days passed, more and more began to shift. The taste of food grew bland in our mouth, light from sun grew increasingly blinding and sensitive to our skin, and the canines of our teeth felt like they were remoulding… Then came the unquenchable thirst. For blood.

“One night, Yoongi and Hoseok had gotten in a fight at an inn with some travellers. At the scent of fresh blood, they turned from angry men to black-eyed demons in a split second, ripping into the throats of every single person with a pulse. They had killed nearly a hundred people that night, in the span of an hour. Namjoon masked the incident as a bear attack. But then the same ill fate fell upon us all - a sudden loss of control, then an unstoppable feeding until our hunger is satisfied. It became too much to cover up. And soon, for some reason, the sun began to burn our skin.

“It became apparent that, though the witch did grant our wishes without fail, she had also bestowed a curse upon us. For the rest of our immortal lives, we would never be able to step foot in the sun again, and will be plagued with a monstrous thirst for blood. That was our punishment for our greed and cruelty.”

.

Yoongi finally releases your neck, carelessly ripping his fangs through your flesh and tendons. You fall lifelessly onto your back, head faint and spinning frantically.

You made it through. You hadn’t felt a thing. You managed to block it out.

But now, a searing agony overtakes your senses, so concentrated on your neck that you think you’re going to lose consciousness. Your vision is dark and blotchy as you stare at the ceiling, unmoving.

Is he going to heal you? Or is he going to watch you suffer first?

You lay there, trying to muster some understanding for the vampire who had just tore through your neck and drained what feels like half your body fluids. He hadn’t asked to be a vampire, he is a product of his brother’s greed, which he has to live with eternally.

But that doesn’t give him any reason to be this cold, this heartless.

Blood is pouring out of your wound incessantly, like a perpetual waterfall onto the bedding. You think you’re going to die. But it’s not the first time you’ve thought you’re going to die only to be disappointed, so you don’t have high hopes this time.

And sure enough, as your eyes begin to fall and breathing shallow, a wet warmth is pressed onto your lips. You refuse to open your mouth and be brought back to life, but calloused fingers force your jaw open and the potion flows into you once more.

You hate how good it tastes, how your body knows that this is what heals you. But something tastes different about Yoongi’s blood - there’s a zingy bitter aftertaste, like what petrol smells like. You want to spit it out.

Finally, gasping, you sit up. Yoongi carelessly wipes his already healing wrist on the covers, and you wonder if his reasoning behind getting white bed sheets for his Feed room is for the purpose of staining it red with blood, a display of his wreckage.

You glare at him, watch him pick at his nails. “Fuck you, you wanted me to suffer.”

He meets your eye, and you feel a spear of eyes pierce into your soul. “And what about it?” His voice is low, a hum, a purr, indicative that he’d just woken up.

Unbelievable. He’s fucking sick in the head.

“Not even a hello? A self introduction? You could have at least warned me.” You rub at your right neck where he had terrorised, the ghost of the brain-melting agony haunting you, and you don’t think it will ever stop haunting you.

“Do you talk to your breakfast before you eat it?” He grunts.

Truly, you’re at a loss for words. Gawking at him, you’re incensed to see the indifference in his pupils that have returned to normal now. He doesn’t back down from your gaze. For many, silence is an awkward discomfort, a moment where your brains are scrambling for the next topic of conversation. With Yoongi, silence is powerful; the silence speaks volumes, it tells you more about him than when he is speaking.

“I’m not a fucking waffle. I’m a living, breathing human; I have feelings, I-”

“I don’t care.”

His eyes are still locked onto yours as he climbs further up the bed. It takes every fibre in you not to shrink back against the headboard. You can’t show your fear, you can’t let him know the power he has over you.

“You think you have a hold on me, that I’ll give you the reaction you want,” he’s hovering over you now, your frame trapped between his arms, “but I know men like you. You-”

“There are no men like me.” Yoongi rumbles, his shadow towering over you but you refuse to lay on your back, refuse to cower.

“You act so cruel because you think the world owes you. You act like you don’t give a fuck about anyone except yourself. You abuse the power you have to hurt other people because it validates you. But it’s men like you who have the weakest minds, who are the most afraid and lonely.”

The growl that rips from his throat silences you. You wonder if you’re pushing too far. But what have you got to lose anyway? Might as well gamble with your life. “Shut the fuck up, you know nothing about me.” He clutches your throat in one swift motion.

“I know that you’re just a scared little boy inside who is trapped in this immortal body with no escape from his bloodlust.” You choke out despite his constricting grip.

“Shut up!” Yoongi lifts his other hand at you, but halts before he swings.

You don’t even flinch. Because you know you’ve won. If the game he plays is abuse and violence, you’ve definitely won, you’ve been practicing for it for years. Staring deep into his eyes, you know he knows too. So his arm slowly droops down, and he lets your neck go with an unnecessary shove. You splutter a cough.

He gets off you and hops off the bed, making his way to the window where he flings open the curtains and stares through the window into the dark night. Though he is facing away from you, you can tell that his mind has transported to some place distant, some place in the past, you wager.

He was going to hit you. He was going to hit you.

But he also didn’t. He stopped himself. Why? May there be a shard of hope left for his redemption? Maybe he does have a seed of humanity buried deep somewhere, awaiting its saviour droplets of dew to liberate it from centuries of misery, so it can sprout into a fresh green sap.

But why are you hoping? Why are you giving him the benefit of the doubt? He has no respect for you, or anyone; he views you as beneath him, not even worthy to speak to. He’s worse than Namjoon. Your pain fascinates him. He’s unsaveable.

Just try. He needs you. A voice sounds in your head, so clear that you look around for its source. Save him from himself. It’s your duty.

Duty? You frown. He can rot for all you care.

“What happened to my uncle?” Yoongi’s trance is stirred by your blunt question, though he doesn’t turn to you.

“Dead, Jungkook killed him.” He says it so casually, as if it was nothing more than a fleck of dust, as if he’s pretending not to know the impact it would have on you. Your chest caves in.

Dead.

Why is he dead while you are kept alive here, as a prisoner, as a toy? Why was he allowed to be set free from his crimes just like that while you are being endlessly punished by the one sole mistake in your past?

Drip. Drip drip.

The tears flow out soundlessly. You watch them splatter onto your shirt into dark splotches.

Yoongi notices and peers over at you, frowning. “Why are you crying? Don’t you hate him?”

“I… I fucking despised him. I wanted to be the one to kill him, but only after I do to him everything he did to me. It was my right, my right, and you guys took that from me.” It’s getting harder and harder to breathe as your pulse rises. You’re on the brink of hysteria, you feel it. You’re going to crack open and finally detonate.

If there was one thing you wanted, it was revenge for your suffering at the hands of your uncle. And you couldn’t even get that. What do you have to look forward to anymore?

A scoff leaves Yoongi, almost humoured, but dark. “You wanted to kill him?” He meanders back towards the bed. “Little girl, let me tell you that we did you a favour by killing him for you. Killing is an irremediable curse. It would have robbed your innocence, tainted your purity and haunted your dreams for the rest of your life. Revenge on your enemy is poison for your soul. Be glad you have never and will never kill.”

You suck in your breath, and hold it there. The significance of his words sink into you like a heavy vessel, pushing through the screams of madness wreaking havoc in your brain right now, and planting itself into your heart.

Killing is a curse.

Of course, of all beings, Yoongi would know best.

You sniff and look up, to be greeted by the soft cotton of his sleeve roughly wiping your eyes. “Stop crying, you look ugly.”

“Wh-”

“Plus,” he jabs his sleeve at your drying cheeks, “angel blood runs in your veins. You’re supernaturally inclined to virtue and righteousness. You wouldn’t have been able to commit such sin.”

Is that true? Your angel blood forbids you to sin? Thinking back, you had always been a good chaste child, obedient, caring, sweet and innocent. It was only towards the very end of your parents’ lives where you became more and more corrupted. And if you’re not wrong, it was only that very last month where rebellion arose from you and your relationship with them deteriorated out of the blue.

Where was your angel’s virtue that night they died?

01:01.

“God, you’re going to be a fucking pain.” Yoongi rumbles and the scene dissolves. “You’re lucky the seven of us are sharing you, or I would be making your life more of a nightmare than it was before.”

You ignore his comment; you’re learning that the less of a reaction you give him to his attacks, the more it will bother him. “How come I’m not sired to you yet?” For Namjoon and Seokjin, the bond had formed on the second time they fed on you, while it hadn’t happened with Yoongi yet.

“I don’t fucking know. Sireship is a tempermental thing, I guess. It has always taken me longer. If you’re so prone to be sired to me, I guess I’ll just accelerate the process.”

“N-” You protest as you register what he means but it’s too late. Yoongi has once again clambered over you, disregarding your discomfort as he situates his knees on either side of your lap and bites into your neck.

This time, you can’t suppress the surprised squeal of pain. And fuck there should be a new word to describe the hot white inferno at the laceration of your flesh because agony is a pin prick in comparison. You try to shove him off; it’s been too soon since his last feeding, your skin still feels incredibly raw. But instead, your efforts only cause his fangs to tear through you even more, and you scream at the rupture.

His rough hands hold you in place, pressing down onto your throat until you’re struggling for breath. You pray for the sire bond to come, to alleviate you from the pain even if it will leash you to this demon and cloud your judgement about him. You didn’t think you would ever rather be magically submitted to Yoongi than have to endure his vicious methods every time, but God. The pain is toppling your mind; you’d choose anything and everything so not to feel it right this moment.

But the bond doesn’t come. The universe enjoys watching you suffer, the heavens stand by idly watching.

Fuck, you really think you’re going to die this time. You really just wish you would already.

Yoongi’s body sits on top of you as he pulls you up, closer into him, one of his arms slithering behind your back. Adrenaline filled, your hand flies towards his head in attempt to slap him, though it would’ve been futile anyway. But his own hand releases your throat and catches it in the air, speed frightening, as he slams your wrist against the headboard.

The pounding in your head is growing, the familiar blurring vision as your eyes are fixed on one point in the ceiling, blank. You stop struggling.

He can’t hurt you if you don’t let him. So don’t let him.

Distract yourself. Think about something else. Someone else.

Seokjin.

Imagine it’s him feeding on you right now, rather than this monster. It doesn’t hurt when it’s Seokjin; it doesn’t hurt now. Let him drink as much as he wants because he will most likely starve himself as much as he can postpone the next time he feeds.

Seokjin just wanted to be human. He never hopped aboard on Namjoon’s quest for immortality, he was never greedy and sought power. He just wished for a normal life, with his studies and his beloved brothers.

It’s okay for Seokjin to feed on you. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

No pain. No pain. No pain.

You picture his soft curved features, round button nose, smooth cheeks, plump tender lips. His lips. You two shouldn’t have kissed, but it means something that you did.

Ow. Yoongi pulled away only to bury into another spot nearby again, this time closer to your shoulder, his fangs scraping your joint.

Seokjin’s lips. Think about how safe you felt with him, how understood, how respected. Your sire bond had not only allowed you to feel each other’s emotions, it had also been in the form of a bridge. You felt like equals.

You heart clenches at the memory of his words. “I don’t wish to offend you in any way. I care about you. I don’t wish to confuse you. So, it’s best if it doesn’t happen again. For our own sake.”

Why must you feel this way for him now? Why must you confuse the sense of security he provides with affection? Why do you want more?

God, you want more. You want so much more. You want to feel alive from the rush of kissing someone. You miss the bliss of falling in love.

Why must this world be so cruel? Why must it rob you of all things that keep you sound and grounded? You have nothing left - truly nothing left. You’re just lifeless vacancy.

Your thoughts are going in loops, a downwards spiral. Yoongi devours his meal that is you, delighting in the whimpers you unknowingly let out every now and again. Your back has slid down against the headboard; he is now completely on top of you, your wrist pinned onto the pillow, his face buried in your neck, his body laid between your legs.

Yoongi noticing your consciousness waning again as you chant something over and over again under your breath like a broken doll, so he releases your neck for a moment. Your lips are paper white, eyes glazed, blood surging out of your right neck area like a riptide. It’s a lovely thick crimson, Yoongi’s favourite shade. And he’ll admit that it’s possibly the best he’s ever tasted.

He bites into his own wrist and feeds it to you. The six of them would be dreadfully unhappy with you if he manages to kill you on his first day. This time you don’t resist his blood; it trickles down your throat as you continue to mouth those inaudible words to yourself. Maybe he’s fucked you up for good already. Psh. The thought arouses him.

You choke on his blood as he knew you would because you hadn’t known to swallow, coughing out of your daze. You try to say something, but it comes out as a splutter of his plasma.

“What are you muttering?” Yoongi eyes down at you with a quirked brow, smearing red all around your mouth until it’s dripping off your chin, mirroring him. What a pretty sight.

“M-more.” Your voice is hoarse, as if you’d been screaming. But you hadn’t been.

“What?” He frowns, thumb freezing mid-stroke across your lips.

You think you’ve lost your mind. No, you’ve definitely lost your mind. There’s a hollowness within you that stretches beyond physicality, an outcome of torment after torment, tragedies that keep digging this hole of depression inside you. And you’ve never given up trying to climb out of this crater, you just kept trying and trying.

Until now.

“Give me more.” The lack of emotion in your voice sounds foreign yet familiar. “Make me feel more, fucking please. Because I honestly feel nothing, I don’t even feel the pain anymore. I’m so fucking numb and empty and I just want to feel something again.”

Yoongi blinks at you. Of all things, he hadn’t expected this. He knew you would be an interesting one, given the hell they had found you in. He thought the angel blood would have compelled some shred of purity and naivety in you still, even after your unfortunate past. He had been excited to strip you of your hope and sanity. But it seems like that has already been done.

“What the fuck do you want me to do then? Rip your arm off?”

“I don’t care. Just make me feel more, more than this bleak fucking void.”

He himself is all too familiar with this feeling - of being beaten down so much by the world that nothing even fazes him anymore, nothing even hurts. Unsure of what to do at first, he leans back down, hovering over you. He can’t read your eyes, or perhaps there’s nothing for him to read. You’re just blank.

Should he rip you open? Maybe you’ll feel that. But he knows you mean something deeper.

You watch Yoongi hesitate over you, sniffing at the drying blood on your skin. You do feel something right now: anticipation. What’s he going to do to you this time? Or is he even going to follow your request? Why should he care that you’re just a husk of a person now after all? You’re just his food.

But then his eyes flicker up at yours again, and you hadn’t realised that there are different shades of black until now. There are bright blacks that strike at you, soft blacks that soothe the soul, then there is true black where the darkness is so strong and absolute that it captivates you. Yoongi’s eyes are true black.

“Be careful what you ask for…” The danger in his low voice sends a creature crawling down your back. “You want to feel something? I’ll make you feel something.”

“Just-”

You don’t have time to react when he cuts you off by pressing his lips onto yours. Mind empty. Chest clenches.

Anyone would suspect he was a heartthrob if they felt his lips without any prior knowledge of the kind of person he is. They’re soft, inexplicably soft. You don’t understand how a monster like him has such soft lips… Another thing you don’t understand is why he is kissing you. Why the fuck is he kissing you?

You place your hand against his shoulder and push weakly. Not even a push. Your muscles are numb from the shock. He pays you no attention.

But then, soft as they are, his mouth soon begins to move roughly to claim yours, sucking on your bottom lip as you can’t help but shut your eyes and allow yourself to drown in this feeling. Because, God, you are feeling something, feeling more. You feel the rush in your blood, that exhilarating surge of adrenaline. And you hate that of all things, this is what makes you feel - kissing the man who delighted in hurting you. It’s a joke how damaged you are.

Kissing Seokjin had felt safe, secure, like curling up in bed after a long day. Kissing Yoongi feels dangerous, fatal, like injecting something deadly into your veins just to experience that high, not knowing if this will be the time you’ll overdose or not. It’s precarious. It’s the not-knowing that brings the thrill.

Yoongi bites down on your lip, not at all delicately; you wince as you taste your own blood. It’s twisted but when his tongue flicks out to lap at your cut, something in your core throbs. His hand comes around your throat, digging his fingers into you. Your breath hitches and he takes the opportunity to kiss you deeper. Your own hands stay lingering on his shoulders, not daring to touch him more because that would feel too affectionate.

And this is anything but affectionate. It’s raw, carnal. Tongue laced with hatred, but need for relief.

With his body positioned between your legs, he doesn’t hesitate to announce his arousal as he grinds into your core. Even as you think about how much you despise this man, your traitorous cunt leaks at the feeling of his hardness rubbing against you.

“I can smell how responsive you are.” He growls into your mouth, hand running down your front to slide into your pants. You feel the hairs on your neck rise as his cold fingers meet your pubic bone. “It must pain you so much, how much you hate me, but how wet I make you.” Something in you sets on fire when he finds your clit, pulsing under his thumb.

Fuck, you’re definitely feeling more. More than you bargained for.

“It’s because I’m thinking about your brother.” You spit back.

He slaps you- down there. The wet clap resonates embarrassingly loud. Cool air licks up your thighs to your dripping cunt when he rips off your bottoms, literally rips, and tosses the fabric carelessly onto the floor. “I’ll fuck you until you’re crying my name, you slut. I’ll fuck you until you’re begging me to stop because you can’t feel your legs anymore.”

Your foreheads are pressed together, as you stare at each other ferociously, warm breaths infusing, blood oozing from your lip. His threat sends another thrumming through your veins, which settles itself in your clit. You know he means every word he says. You know you should shove him off and yell for him to stop because that’s the sane thing to do. Instead, you say:

“Fuck me then, you piece of shit.”

In a brute vigor, he flips you onto your stomach. You hear the ring of the smack before you feel his palm collide on the tender cheek of your ass. The tingling sting imprinted on your skin is laced with a sick pleasure. Of all people, you should be the last to enjoy someone hitting you. Yet here you are, as a groan slips out you mouth.

“Do you fucking feel something now?” He spanks you again, this time on the other cheek. “You want to feel something so fucking badly.” Spank, this time harder than last. “Then I’ll make you feel.” Another spank. You bite down onto the pillow that your face is buried in.

You hear him tug down his own cotton joggers and your heart squeezes in anticipation. And when you feel him fit his stiffened velvet length between your ass cheeks, your heart plunges all the way down to your cunt.

Fuck. Your entire body is practically trembling for him, and you fucking hate it. “I hate you.”

“Good.” Yoongi grumbles into your ear as he grinds himself into your rear, gripping onto your hips so hard that it will surely bruise. “I hate you, too.”

“You get hard from watching someone bleed, you’re a sick fuck.” Even as you say that, you’re tilting your head back so the sensitive shell of your ear brushes his lips. The touch drills a twisting pressure in your pussy.

“And you get wet from kissing someone who made you bleed, you dirty fucking slut.” Cock still burrowed between your cheeks, you feel his tip dribble a trail of warm precum. Purring, he nips at your lobe, piercing through your skin as if it were paper. You yelp.

Abruptly, he sits up again and spanks you once more. In the absence of his cock humping into your rear, your backside feels barren. But you soon realise what’s coming next. “Get on your hands and knees.” He commands. When you fail to move quick enough, he wrenches your hip up to the height of his twitching member, liquid still streaming out his slit profusely as he lines his head to your damp entrance.

You’re all but whining for him to put the damn thing in already when he takes your hair and wrap it around his fist like a rein, yanking your head back. Still, he toys with your apparent impatience, slapping and running his bulging tip through your wet folds. Your exhale comes out as a quivering pant.

Just as your string of irritated curses at him are on the brink of tumbling out, he sinks his entire length into you without warning.

“Fuck!” You cry out. It’s been so long since the last time that your walls feel as though a train has run through them, stretching so thin to encompass his size.

And there it is - the vulgar, mind-twisting, irreplaceable feeling of being fucked.

Sparing you no time to adjust, Yoongi slams into you again, and again, in a stable strong pace, pulling your hair back harder until your back is bent upwards sorely. The ache in your cunt is trying to claw its way into you and fester in your flesh. Your knuckles whiten as you close your grip around the pillow cover, creasing the fabric in your fists. Grunting, he tears off your shirt from your back, freeing your breasts to the cool air.

His thrusts are merciless, the slapping of his hips to your rear echoing in the air. Fuck, he feels massive, cock punching into your weeping walls while you clench around him from the pain and the pleasure - two indistinguishable sensations. He tugs on your hair so hard that you have to yield and lift off your hands so you’re balanced on your knees, his greedy hand taking this chance to fondle with your breasts, pinching your nipple and twisting them roughly between his fingers.

Then his hand snakes around your neck once again, squeezing the air out of your lungs. Wheezing, you grab onto his thigh behind yours in retaliation and dig your fingers so hard that you feel his skin crack.

“You’re fucking asking for it.” He snarls. You twist to look at him just in time to see him bare his fangs, then digs into your neck. The sensation of his cock pounding into you at the same instance as your blood being drained into his mouth sends a shock through you. He seems to tense at the impact too.

Wait, no, it’s not a shock.

You feel every single cell in your body quake, dissociate. When you shut your eyes, your soul is sucked into a hurricane of darkness, whirling you deeper and deeper into the black hole. Closer and closer to Yoongi. Even when you try to open your eyes, all you see is black. Endless black. True black. In a state of matter and antimatter at the same time, it feels as though you’ve been transported to a dimension between Earth and Hell, human but not quite, substantial but not quite, real but not quite. You’re a mere essence, a whisper of a soul, yet you can feel the ground beneath your feet. There are chains around your ankles and wrists; you can’t see anything aside from the darkness but the shackles are still ever present, holding you down.

Something trickles down your face - a tear. You touch it, but it feels too thick. You taste it, and it tastes of Yoongi’s blood. Bittersweet. You tug on the chains but they don’t budge, so you follow them, padding through the darkness as you pass metal link after link through your hands. Until you reach a mass.

Not a mass, a person, hunched over. You can just vaguely make out his silhouette that reflects a particularly sad darkness.

His shoulders are shaking.

Dazed, you bend down. Put your arm around him. Nuzzle his neck. And whisper ‘it’s okay’.

You stay there, chained to one another, tears of blood still streaming from your sightless eyes. Huddled together in the darkness.

With a gasp, you return to your body, mind distorted by the magic. And though you’re no longer in that place, wherever that is, you still feel the phantom shackles secured around you. Yoongi is still drinking you in large gulps, but his breathing is noticeably different.

He felt that too, the bond.

His fangs feel different to your flesh, no longer a sharp weapon to break your skin. They feel like an anchor, holding him onto you, letting him enter your soul. You shudder at the intimacy it imbeds.

Despite the trance he appears to be in, his pounding has not once faltered, but more even, as if the bond has driven him on. If he was an animal before, he is a beast now. The weight of his body forces you down, face pinned onto the pillow under him while his hands assail your breasts.

This new sensation is so raw, so undiluted, relentlessly filling you with a fervorous want for Yoongi. Your cunt is furiously clenching around him, the pressure begging to be released from its cage.

“Fuck-” He groans as he finally stops drinking. “This stupid fucking bond feels- Fuck.”

Each thrust he slams into you, you feel another unbreakable chain forming, binding you to him. And each time you close your eyes, you’re back to the darkness where you’re holding the crying boy. Something is clawing your heart, scratching it, tearing it, ripping its chambers open. You realise tears, actual tears this time, are rolling off your temple. You can’t tell if it’s because of the penetration of sadness from that boy made of darkness, or the penetration of Yoongi’s unceasingly brutal cock.

Then finally - ignition at every nerve ending in your core, rupturing through your entirety as if you are a mere vessel. You think you’re screaming but you can’t hear over the roaring of your pulse. The pillow you’re pressed onto suffocating you. Your walls squeeze as the pleasure wrenches you completely.

Yoongi watch you come undone beneath him, pace fastening to chase after his own climax. You’re panting, crying, bleeding from your neck down to your spine, yet features twisted in such pleasure. The juxtaposition. His member is throbbing inside you, veins bulging out on the sides. Hell, he is going to burst. And the moment he feels it coming, he pulls out and watches himself shoot onto your back, splattering your red hand-printed ass with his milky ejaculation.

“Fuck…” He moans, stroking out his high as he feasts on how you are still convulsing under him. Your trickling sweat mixes with your tears.

You don’t think you can move at all, even as Yoongi gets off you. His fingers play with his cum on your ass, smearing it along with your blood to paint himself all over you. You suspect it’s a mark of possession, a mark of victory. Because you definitely feel defeated.

You feel alive, but dead. You feel ashamed.

His tongue trails up your back, tasting himself along with your scarlet liquid. Angel blood has always been a favourite of his, because he loved how crazy it made him, how feral. But now, after the sireship, its taste is… untaintedly holy, like ambrosia, the food of the Gods. Unmatched by anything he has ever drank. He doesn’t think he can go back to drinking any other moral’s blood after this. You’ve ruined him for good.

And the bond… Yoongi stops licking. There are foreign emotions whirling within him right now, and one of them, he thinks is fear. Fear of the strength of this bond. Fear of the intimacy it threatens between you.

He had felt you - your arm around him, your gentle voice tickling his neck - during that complete blackness where he had fallen back to a deep dark past. It was a vulnerability that he had never experienced before. He was powerless against your intrusion.

So Yoongi pushes himself off you and clears his throat. “You dead yet?”

No response, no movement.

He rolls his eyes and commences to heal you. Mortals are annoyingly fickle creatures, you drink too much of their blood or fuck them too hard and they pass out, he thinks.

This time, it takes you a while to regain your consciousness, during which Yoongi dresses himself, but doesn’t bother cleaning you up. You sit up, naked and shamefully exposed. When you meet his obsidian pupils, you don’t know how to interpret the confusion in them.

“What the fuck?” You ask as if you hadn’t willingly took part, even though you both know you clearly had. There is a raw soreness blaring between your thighs, and you’re embarrassed to find yourself glancing over at his crotch.

“You asked me to make you feel something. Why are you acting surprised?” His lids are half closed, bored, as he surveys the puddles of red on the bed. Your eyes follow his, trying to process how the sheets had been spotlessly white not three hours ago, yet now they only possess one corner that isn’t stained in crimson. It looks as though cattle had been slaughtered here as a sacrifice to the divinity. It’s all your blood.

And when you lock eyes with him again, you feel the weight of the chains hanging from your limbs. Bound forever.

“You feel alive now, don’t you? Dead inside still, but at least your heart was racing when I was fucking you.” He taunts, slowly rolling off the bed in an indifference that boils your blood.

You hate how true his words are. That was the very feeling you wanted, the thrill that you were seeking to break you out of that inertia. You hate how it was with him, of all people. It could have been anyone under this roof, yet you picked this monster. And you hate how, even now, you don’t think you regret it, not even with the disgust and resentment raking at your chest for this vampire.

“You should get used to it. Sex is a faultless coping mechanism for those of us who are too hollow to feel anything else.” Yoongi continues, as he heads towards the door. “Wash yourself up and stay here until I come back when I’m hungry again.”

A response still trying to formulate in your brain, all you can do is stare at his back in silence. Quietly fuming.

Yoongi pauses before twisting the doorknob. “Oh, and don’t think I did that for you. I couldn’t wait to fuck you as soon as I tasted your blood.”

It was all you could do to restrain yourself from leaping across the room and hammering his face. Not that you would’ve been able to anyway. Motherfucker is so insecure that he couldn’t risk you thinking that he would ever not act out of self interest, so he masks it with spiteful words to try to hurt you.

“You tried so fucking hard to break me, but I was already broken.”

His head turns, shadows casting over his profile. His lips purse into a smirk that holds no amusement at all. “Join the fucking club, you’re nothing special.”

“I fucking hate you.” You spit back at him, the venom imbued in your words is more than you thought you were capable of and it surprises you.

He gazes at you over his shoulder, unfazed. Cold and unfeeling. And somehow the words he reply inflict an ache in your heart that shouldn’t be there because, all of a sudden, you see a flash of the small broken boy before you.

“I fucking hate me too.”

Then he slams the door behind him.

❦

@taexxxiiaa @serendipity-secrets @killcomet @askingtheimportantthingshere@blackpanther4550 @comingjimin @unatempesta-dipensieri @dapppphhhhh  @unatempesta-dipensieri @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @queerloser17 @linyi-lovbts @somewhereinthestarss @xxqueenwxtchxx @whitefeatheredwyvern @embrace-themagic @brokencrownqueen @i-dont-even-know-fck @bangtandimples @kalkeegan @beetaeass @confessionsofascientist @chimycthulhu @hisunshiine @shooklier @livetay84​ @runlikeabuffalo​ @nanna022 @berryjam17​ @thelouhvre​ @bluemooncnblue​ @enigmaticlove-03​ @lanu-la​ @bangtanfancamp​

❦

23/11/2019

© Copyright 2019

[lastbluetardis]

Chemical Reaction (16/22)

Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started. Together, they navigate the highs of new love and the lows of coping with past trauma to forge deep and unbreakable bonds of love and commitment. Part 2 in the Catalysis series. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: ~4500 words, explicit -- this chapter was getting to be 10k words long, so I chunked it into two smaller ones. Hopefully the next one will be up in just a few days since it’s already mostly finished.

If you like my stories, consider leaving me a tip? I know these are trying times, but if you are able, I would really appreciate it xoxo. And as always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated as well.

AO3 | FF | TSP

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 | Ch19 | Ch20 | Ch21 | epilogue

Over the last several months of sleeping—literal sleeping—with James, Rose grew accustomed to being woken earlier than she preferred. At first, it was because the cats, used to their routine, would barge into the bedroom at around seven-thirty and start demanding breakfast. She had nearly shrieked the first time Pippin launched himself onto their bed, yowling right at their heads. James had grunted and shooed him away, but the cat was persistent, and continued pestering them until James crawled out of bed and fed him and his brothers.

Eventually, the cats realized their new housemate wasn’t as much of an early riser as their master; on the nights Rose stayed with James, they would graciously wait until eight to start making a fuss.

James was usually awake by that point, and would slip out of bed, trying not to make noise or shake the bed too much, but invariably, Rose would wake up, too. Not completely, though, and she enjoyed spending the next hour or so drifting between dozing and wakefulness; she especially appreciated it when James would slide back into bed and they would cuddle, or sometimes indulge in lazy morning lovemaking. He only did it around half the time; the other half, he would get started on breakfast or would make himself a cup of coffee and sit quietly reading or studying or watching the television. It made the mornings he returned to bed with her more cherished.

Therefore, Rose wasn’t at all surprised to feel her boyfriend slip out of bed, even though it was dark through the windows. She didn’t have the energy to turn to see the time; plus, the ache between her thighs after three rounds of lovemaking the night before disincentivized her from moving at all. Not that she was complaining. There was something satisfying about the soreness left over from thoroughly having sex, almost like the pleasant burn after a vigorous, refreshing exercise.

Rose absently reached out and rested a hand on the warm imprint of James’s body on the mattress beside her, wishing it was his actual body instead.

The next thing she was aware of was someone picking up her hand and moving it. She cracked open her bleary eyes. James lay on his side, arms outstretched as he wriggled closer until he was pressed to her. Maneuvering until she mirrored his position, she flung a leg over his hips and draped an arm around his ribs. He was naked, same as her, since neither of them had bothered with pajamas the night before. The length of his body molded to hers until there was hardly any space between them at all.

Shivering lightly at the feel of so much skin touching hers, Rose tucked her head into his neck, breathing in the warm, musky scent of him. 

They remained like that for an immeasurable amount of time. Rose would gladly have stayed there for the rest of the day, but alas, she worked the afternoon shift at the grocery store. Speaking of…

“What time issit?” she mumbled.

“Seven,” he answered, his voice a low rumble in his throat.

Excellent. She didn’t have to be at work until ten, and she planned to stay precisely where she was until the last possible moment.

James, however, had different plans.

When it became clear that she wasn’t dozing off any longer, he threaded his fingers through her hair and tilted her face up. He was so close that his nose brushed against hers. The warm puffs of his slow breathing tickled her lips, narrowing her focus to nothing except him. She could count the freckles that dotted his nose and cheeks, if she wanted to. Could see the day-old stubble shadowing his cheeks in what would probably be a nice beard, if he ever decided to quit shaving.

Glancing up, she noticed his gaze was as intense as hers, his eyes dark and depthless, twitching ever so slightly as they traced her features. She wondered what he focused on, when they lay like this. Was there anything he particularly liked to admire?

“What are you lookin’ at?” she blurted.

He blinked, his gaze refocusing on hers. His brows knitted together as he replied, “Er… you?”

“No, I mean specifically. Are you looking at anything in particular? Like… up close, I like looking at your freckles.”

“My freckles?” 

“Mhm. You’ve got lots of ‘em, and they’re adorable.”

Rose reached up and brushed her fingertips along the bridge of his nose and across his cheekbones, following the trail of freckles up his temple to the ridge of his brow. His eyes fluttered shut, mouth quirking into a smile when she rubbed the pad of her finger through his eyebrow in the wrong direction.

“I like that your eyes are slightly different depending on the lighting.”

It took her a minute, having forgotten her question. “Really?”

He nodded. “Right now, they’re dark. Almost completely brown, like mine. If I were to turn the lamp on, they would go to a more whiskey brown. When you’re in the sun, they go even lighter. Amber colored, like they’re reflecting back the sun’s light. Sometimes they’re hazel brown, sometimes hazel green. And if you’re wearing a lot of eye makeup, they can almost go gray. I love watching them, to see what they’re doing.”

She’d never paid much attention to her eyes before, or even thought about what they looked like, apart from generic brown.

“You’ve got very pretty eyes,” he concluded, bending closer to her. His mouth approached her eyes, and she shut them automatically. A second later his lips fluttered gently across one eyelid, then the other, before he planted a kiss low on her forehead.

She smiled at him when he nuzzled the tip of his nose against hers. He hummed through a grin, eyes slowly closing again as he angled his head to the side and finally pressed his mouth to hers.

Kissing James was always a slightly out-of-body experience. Her head emptied of anything apart from the feel of his lips on hers, of his hands on her body. It was as though the universe melted away, leaving nothing else behind except for them.

The entire length of their bodies was twined together, their front halves in complete contact. Despite all the love they’d made the night before, Rose could feel James’s burgeoning arousal the longer the kiss continued. There was nothing urgent about his movements this morning, not like last night, when he’d been utterly insatiable and almost frantic. Nevertheless, Rose felt her herself beginning to respond to him. Her heart rate increased, pumping blood all throughout her body and sending throbbing, delicious heat to all the right places.

Even in the height of her relationship with Jimmy, when it seemed like all they did was party and shag, Rose didn’t remember it ever being this all-consuming. It was intoxicating, and not even the last four months of being physically intimate with James had cooled her lust for him. She wanted him just as much—if not more—now as she did at the beginning. The deeper in love she fell with him, the stronger her desire to share her body and soul with him. Sex with James was so much more than physical pleasure; it was emotional satisfaction unlike anything she had experience before. Which, of course, made the sex even better, too.

His hands roamed at will across her skin, tracing abstract patterns and shapes into her flesh and leaving goosebumps in their wake. He placed his palm onto her hip and rocked his entire body into hers; his chest pressed to hers, and his hips rubbed deliciously against hers. Pleasure swept through her belly, settling low behind her navel. 

He repeated the motion, and it was only then that she realized he was trying to coax her onto her back. Disentangling her legs from his, she complied, pleased when James followed suit immediately. He hovered above her, propping himself up with his forearms on either side of Rose’s head as he lazily rolled his hips into hers, stimulating both of them as the hard length of him teased at her folds.

“Is this all right?” he murmured, his breath catching in his lungs. “We, er, did it a lot last night…”

“This is perfect,” she interrupted.

“Dunno what’s gotten into me,” he admitted. “Can’t seem to get enough of you.”

“I’m certainly not complaining. Well. At least not ‘til I can’t walk anymore.”

He snorted and puffed up with an insufferable, egotistical pride. She rolled her eyes and flicked his nose before tugging him down for another kiss.

It was one of the slowest build-ups Rose had ever experienced. It was as though she and James were more focused on kissing, caressing, and feeling. They were merely letting things progress without much thought, together in the moment and basking in the emotional and physical love that they shared. Lovemaking in one of its purest forms. 

Rose was hardly aware of the lingering ache between her legs when he slowly slid into her and began to move. They continued to touch and kiss each other, their rhythm unhurried. Gentle sparks of pleasure were fanned into a blazing fire that took them both by surprise when, minutes later, Rose gasped and moaned, clenching around him. It was more intense than she expected, especially considering she’d been perfectly satiated when they’d gone to bed eight hours ago. Instead, it felt as though she hadn’t had sex in months, and her body was overcome with hormones and endorphins, flooding her senses with pleasure and love for the man atop her, inside her.

When she came down from her high, James was getting close to his. His face was tense with concentration, eyes squeezed shut as he was able to selfishly focus on himself. Sweat beaded at his temples as he rocked his body into hers, his tempo quickening as his urgency increased. His breathing became ragged, and the needy little moans he let out squeezed her heart. She loved seeing him like this. She loved watching him lose himself in her. She loved knowing he was finding pleasure and completion with her, just as she’d found it with him.

“James,” she whispered, reaching up to rest her hands on his pectorals. She rubbed her palms through his sparse smattering of chest hair. He forced open his eyes, his rhythm slowing, to blink dazedly down at her. She clamped her thighs tighter around his hips in apology and in encouragement; she hadn’t meant to make him lose his rhythm, but she hadn’t been able to stay silent. “I love you so much.”

His throat bobbed as his breath stuttered. “Love you, too… Oh.”

His hips quickly found their previous rhythm, though with slightly less finesse as his desperation and desire took over. Grunting wordlessly, his back bowed and he arched his hips deeply into hers, finally giving in to his release and his pleasure.

Rose watched him intently, enjoying the pure relief playing across his face, slackening his features. She wanted to kiss him. When it seemed as though he was coming down from the throes of passion, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and guided him down for a kiss.

Breathing harshly through his nose, he reciprocated the kiss feverishly. When they broke apart, he dropped his head into the crook of her neck and slipped his hands under her back, holding her tightly. She returned the hug just as fiercely, never wanting to let him go again. Rose didn’t want to go into work; she wanted to stay in bed with James all day and do nothing more than exist with him, beside him.

“By the way,” he murmured, his voice somewhat slurred. Rose cracked open an eye and saw him smiling sleepily at her. “Happy Birthday.”

The words came out so tenderly, so reverently, so confidently, as though it were her actual date of birth. For an embarrassing second, Rose worried she had somehow lost track of an entire month; she blamed the lingering endorphins for her foggy brain as she blinked wordlessly at him.

He broke into a sheepish, boyish grin. “So, not today then?”

It took her mind a minute to catch up before she realized the date. April had begun, and with it, James’s mission to figure out her birthday.

Snorting, Rose said, “No, not today, you numpty.”

“Though you could be pulling an April Fool’s prank on me,” he mused. “Wouldn’t that be an interesting turn of events?”

“I promise you, on my own life, your life, the life of my mother, and the lives of your cats, today is not my birthday. And for the record, I don’t like April Fool’s Day. Never been a fan. It gives arseholes an excuse to be bigger arseholes.”

James pouted. “Well, is your birthday coming up soon?”

“Sometime this month,” she replied innocently, feeling a wide grin stretch across her lips.

“Ro-oooose! Can’t you give me a hint?” he begged. “A teeny tiny little hint?”

Rose tapped her finger against her chin before she answered, “It’s not the first day of the month, or the last day of the month.”

James groaned and face-planted into her breasts. Giggling, Rose carded her fingers through his hair. “Poor baby.”

“You’re making it very hard to be a prepared boyfriend,” he muttered, his voice muffled.

“Now you know how I felt on your birthday. Besides, spending time with you is all I want for my birthday. And maybe some birthday sex.”

“How am I supposed to have sex with you on your birthday if you won’t tell me when it is?” he challenged, grinning smugly.

“Guess you’ll have to shag me every day, just to be safe.”

“You drive a hard bargain. But I suppose I can rise to the task. All in the name of love.”

Rose pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then nudged for him to get off her. “I should get a shower. I have to be at work at ten.”

“Bugger, I forgot.” He heaved a sigh. “I’ll have breakfast ready by the time you’re finished.”

With a parting kiss, they rose from the bed and parted ways.

True to his word, James had a stack of waffles and eggs waiting for Rose when she stepped into the kitchen. He was also stirring honey into a mug of tea, which he set at her place at the table. They ate their breakfast and chatted mindlessly about their plans for the day and school assignments: James offered to proofread her essay for her English composition class, while Rose offered to quiz him with flashcards for his upcoming political ideologies exam.

After they’d eaten, they cleaned up from breakfast and dinner the night before. Their bowls were still in the living room, as were piles of their clothes.

“Aha!” Rose had forgotten where she’d left her phone until she spotted it sitting atop her jeans. She picked it up, and saw she had quite a few email and text notifications. Her stomach churned when she saw Jimmy’s name. In the passion from the night before and that morning, she had forgotten about Jimmy and how she had told him she was ready to talk to him. She was beginning to regret that decision.

After taking a deep, calming breath, she unlocked her phone and opened WhatsApp. There were messages from Jimmy, her mum, and a friend back home. She tapped Jimmy’s name to bring up his message thread.

Thanks for hearing me out. I've been spending the past week figuring out exactly what I want to say to you, but it doesn't feel good enough.

I don’t know if I can ever tell you how sorry I am Rosie. I’m sorry for everything, but especially for hurting you, and not pulling my weight in our relationship. I’m sorry for going out all the time, and wasting our money. I’m sorry I left you with the bills and for never paying you back. And I am so sorry for cheating on you. It makes me sick, and I wish I had a good reason for why I did it, but I don’t, except that I’m an awful, terrible person.

“Ready to go?”

Rose jumped and had to fight not to hide her phone from James. Instead, she backed out of Jimmy’s messages and opened her mum’s. They were the usual “good morning” messages, along with some gossip from the estate.

“Yep, just wanted to check my messages. Nothin’ important.”

She slipped her phone into her back pocket and gathered up her clothes from the floor. She dumped them into the laundry basket to do later, then followed James to his car, where he drove her to work.

All morning, Rose thought about Jimmy’s messages, trying to mentally transcribe a reply. For all intents and purposes, his apology seemed genuine—she would have to tell Elsa, who had bet he wouldn’t actually give a real apology.

However, after years of putting up with his apologies only to have her heart broken again, Rose was wary about getting caught up in his honeyed words. She made a pact with herself: she would accept his apology, thank him, and then put him firmly behind herself so that she could look ahead to her future with James.

She didn’t have a chance to respond to Jimmy until the late afternoon, by which point she wasn’t sure if he would be awake or not, what with the five-hour time difference. In any case, she sank onto her sofa, exhausted from her day of running the cash register at the grocery store, and opened up his messages. She read them again, and was no closer to having an answer for him than she did when she first skimmed his words.

Maybe simple was the way to go.

“Thank you for apologizing,” she typed and sent.

A few seconds later, she saw that he was typing. Still awake, then.

I really am sorry, Rosie. If I could turn back time and do it all over again, I would change everything.

Rose snorted to herself; he would have to go back to almost the beginning of their relationship if he wanted to make any real changes. And honestly, if someone appeared in her living room with a time machine and offered to let her go back and change the way her relationship with Jimmy had gone, she would not even be tempted to take the offer. For as painful and traumatic as it was, it had eventually led her to James; he was the one thing in her life she would never regret, the one thing in her life she would never want to change.

Deciding to be perfectly blunt with Jimmy, she said, “I wouldn’t. You broke my heart, but I came out all the better for it. I’m in a good place now. Well. Apart from when you first texted me. But even that was a good thing. It showed me I hadn’t let myself grieve for everything that happened, but I’m fixing that now. I’m happy.”

I heard you went back to school. In America?

“Yeah. Got a full tuition scholarship from…” Rose deleted that last word; she definitely was not going to give him her specific location, thank you very much. “I decided I needed a fresh start.” Best decision I ever made.

Rose would have gladly left the conversation there, but something compelled her—the niceties of polite British conversation, perhaps—to reciprocate the questions back to him. “What have you been doing with yourself? Still making music?”

Nah, the band broke up a year ago. For a while I tried to make it solo. Things didn’t work out.

I’m working in construction now. Hard work, but the pay’s good. I’ve got my own flat and everything. It’s nice.

“Still with… your girlfriend? Can’t remember her name.”

Who, Brenda? No, we split an age back. God, it must've been two or three years since I’ve seen her.

Rose’s chest hollowed out. Not only had Jimmy destroyed their two-and-a-half-year-old relationship without a care in the world, he’d destroyed it with a woman he’d only had a short fling with. She tried not to let it bother her, really, she did; but it was crushing to know she hadn’t been satisfactory enough to keep Jimmy invested. She and their relationship hadn’t been interesting enough, hadn’t been important enough, for him to stay.

This is a Jimmy problem, not a Rose problem. He’s a wanker, and that is not your fault. It’s a reflection on his character, not yours.

The little voice in the back of her mind sounded suspiciously like Elsa, and Rose couldn’t help but smile. She would have to tell her friend that she was invading her inner thoughts. Elsa, her own personal Jiminy Cricket conscience. 

“I hope you find happiness, Jimmy. I really do.” She sent that message, then followed it up with, “I appreciate your apology, and I hope it gives you peace, too.”

I feel I haven’t done enough to atone to you. You were the most important person in my life, Rosie. And I still care a great deal about you.

“There really isn’t much more you can do. You’ve said your piece, and to be honest, I think we both just need to accept that things ended badly, but we’ve moved on. Or at least, we should move on.”

And what if I don’t want to move on? I love you, even after all this time.

The air gusted out of Rose as though she’d been punched, and her ears rang loudly in the silence of her flat. What the bloody hell was he playing at? There was no way—no fucking way—he could be serious. He could not love her. They hadn’t spoken in three and a half years. He hadn’t made any effort to contact her until now. While she was unspeakably grateful for that, that wasn’t the behavior of someone who supposedly loved her.

Take James, for example. On the days they didn’t see each other in person, they exchanged texts daily, even if it was something as small as “I hope you’re having a nice day” or “Thinking of you” or “Love you xoxo”. She couldn’t imagine going even a day without hearing from him in some way, shape, or form. On the days where one of them was in a bad mood, or they had a minor disagreement, they checked in with each other. Because that’s what love is. It’s eternal and enduring, even though the most trying of circumstances.

Shaking herself out of her head, Rose tapped away furiously on her phone.

“The feeling is *not* mutual. I have moved on. I’m in America. I’m studying something I love. I…” She nearly told Jimmy she was in a happy, healthy, loving relationship, but decided he didn’t deserve to share in or know about her joy. James was hers, and she had no intentions of letting Jimmy taint him. “I am happy you’re doing better, but I won’t give you hope of there ever being an ‘us’ again. We were young, we made mistakes, and we’ve learned from them. I have no intention of going backwards.”

Okay. Though I would like to do more for you. I left you with loads of bills to cover. It’s not fair you were out all that money. I would really like to pay you back.

Rose’s lungs seized up. “No. The debt has been paid, and I want to forget about it.” I won’t dare give you a scrap of ammunition… I won’t let you dangle this over my head in the future. “I appreciate the gesture, but I’m going to decline. I’m also going to stop the conversation. I’m exhausted, and I don’t want to argue with you about this.”

I’d like to discuss it with you further though. When you have the energy. Just think about it, yeah? You paid six months of rent on your own… that’s a lot of dough. Consider it reparations. Think on it, and we can talk about it later. Good night, Rosie.

Rose rolled her eyes, but closed out of her phone. Wanker. Wanker, wanker, wanker! A wanker who clearly grew and matured over the last three and a half years, but a wanker nevertheless.

She rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes, where a dull ache was forming behind her brow. Wanting to instead chat with someone who most certainly was not a wanker, Rose grabbed her phone, pulled up James’s number, and dialed it. He answered on the third ring.

“Hi!” he said brightly, a grin evident in his voice.

“Hey,” she replied, her body releasing all of its tension as she let his voice wash over her.

“Finished with work? Wanna hang out? Or do a long-distance Netflix and literal chill date night?”

Rose bit her lip around a laugh. “What, too worn out to do a proper Netflix and chill date night?”

He was silent for the span of a few heartbeats before he confessed, “There must seriously be something wrong with me if I would gladly have a real Netflix and chill date with you. We’ve had sex, what, four times in the last twenty-four hours? Not even… more like twenty hours. My bits are gonna fall off. And how are you even walking?”

Giggling, she said, “Quite full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Pfft, well clearly I haven’t done a good enough job, then.” He sniffed. “But seriously… isn’t this weird? I thought we were beyond the horny hump.”

She choked. “The horny hump??”

“Yeah, you know…” With the way he paused, it was not at all difficult for Rose to picture him in her mind’s eye, gesticulating vaguely with his hands. Her chest warmed with affection for him. “…the honeymoon period, I suppose. The time where all we want to do is shag. January. I thought we’d worked it all out of our system in January, but it’s like a second wave has hit, because good God, Rose…” He let out a wistful sigh that clenched her heart. “I want to make love with you over and over again. I want to lie naked with you and hold you and touch you. I want to be with you, exist in the same space as you.”

The yearning in his voice settled heavily in her heart, and all of a sudden, she wanted him in her flat right now so she could hug him. 

“I’ll be at yours as soon as possible,” she promised, standing from her couch and slipping her shoes on.

“No, wait, you don’t have to,” James hurriedly said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“I want to,” she said simply. “I miss you, too. And I… if it’s something you still want, I’m really looking forward to moving in with you when my lease is finally up.”

“Something I still want? Of course I want it. I will never not want it, Rose.”

Even though it felt woefully inadequate to how she felt, all Rose was able to get out was, “Me too. I’m on my way. Love you,” before she ended the call and hailed an Uber ride to take her to James. To take her home.

[missjackil]

Happy Hoidays! May they be happy and healthy for you and your family! 🎁🎄🥂🎇 So I wanted to ask you why you think Jensen hated the ending ? You always have an interesting take on things😊

The very Happiest of Holidays to you too Nonnie! Thanks!

I don’t think Jensen “hated” the ending. He never said he “hated” it, he said it didn't sit right with him, and he was uncomfortable with it, but never “hate”. He also corrected the thought at Vegas Con to say “It’s a good ending, it’s just how we get there I had a problem with” and he has always maintained that he’s too close to the characters, but after he took a step back and looked at it from the outside, he can’t think of a better ending. 

Now I think, and this is just my opinion, that he loves the brothers as much as any of us do, and wanted them to retire together, or ride off into the sunset, or if they had to die, die together in a big heroic blaze of glory,  I’m too close to the characters and love the brothers, and this is what I hoped for them, so maybe that is what he hoped too?

Jared said in a recent Zoom with Sam Highfill that he had a problem when they pitched it too. He said you never want to know how your character ends, no matter what it is, it’s always a gut punch, but when he looked at the ending from a storytelling perspective he thought “Wow, that was a really good story!”

There could have been several acceptable ways to end the series, but retiring or riding off into the sunset isn’t really an ending (which I would be fine with because I want my boys back ASAP) and dying together, though it might be tragically beautiful, doesn't give closure to the characters. I really like this ending because the whole story added up to something. It took a long time to get there, but every storyline and trauma played a part in fixing Heaven and Hell, Sam and Dean learning so many important lessons, creating an unbreakable bond between them and really leaving the world a much better place. 

Even with all the loose ends and writing issues, SPN is a great story. The Greatest Love Story Ever Told and Im confident J2 believe it too. 🥰

[booksandwords]

Fracture by Jocelynn Drake & Rinda Elliott

Series: Unbreakable Bonds, #6 Read time: 2 Days Rating: 5/5

The quote: The little kid who had tagged along after him and regularly popped by his first apartment just to eat his cereal in the mornings was fucking gone. — Jude Torres

For all intents and purposes, Fracture starts with a phone call from Anna, Judes mother. Jordan has been found naked, beaten and shot. He's been in surgery for hours. After looking at the progress of the surgery Snow quickly discovers it's not looking good. What follows is Jude and Snow trying to figure out what happened to the now 20-year-old Jordan. Please pay attention to the trigger warning, you can access it through the preview on Amazon, Drake and Elliott pull no punches. Fracture is set three years after Shatter, a year after Blaze. Lucas and Andrei have a daughter now, Daciana.

It was interesting to see a character we had already seen changed, not broken but definitely hurting and at risk. We know from Shatter that Jordan's father left when we found out Anna was pregnant, Jude was 13. He became a pseudo father to Jordan. Given that I like that Jude is guilty for not knowing what was going on. It suits is family-driven personality. I appreciate the choice to create echoes of Shatter with Jude nearly having a similar reaction to Snow and surgery and Rowe. Neither of them wants to have that reaction, to hate Snow for his not being on duty but they know he is the best. There is a fantastic linguistic choice in Fracture, Snow and Jude nearly always refer to each other as partner or lover rather than boyfriend. They've been together three years, boyfriend does not feel like enough to describe them and doesn't suit them as people. They spend less time in bed this time, and the dynamics are slightly different but perfect given what is going on.

I think everyone who reads Unbreakable Bonds as their personal favourites. I have never been shy about saying mine are Snow and Jude (followed closely by the Masters of Mayhem). I wanted to read this as not only for the continuation of their story but because after reading the blurb I knew it was about Jordan. I wanted to see another side of Jude and Snow, I wanted that role reversal. I was so happy with what we got. Watching Jude get needing help while Snow is the one that is together and controlled. Seeing Snow support Jude and seeing him confront his darkness again for love are all things that were rewarding to watch. If you enjoy the Unbreakable Bonds series you will enjoy this. It uses similar dark themes that other books have but uses them in a slightly different way. Though as always family is everything.

My regular dump of randomness.

And then, when those twenty minutes were up, they’d plan to set the world on fire. — There is a beauty to this line, especially in context

I'm so happy that Rebecca got her man. Three years later and she is still with Carrick. Though I do have some questions about how she was handled. She's been in a relationship with Carrick for as Jude has been with Snow but she works through rather than taking emergency family leave.

Does Jude know the connection between Shane's father, Abe and Dom? He knows Abe is in a relationship with a younger man but does he know it's Dom? Readers of Ward Security will know but people who just read Unbreakable Bonds won't put the pieces together.

"“The triplets? Noah paused in front of the door on the first floor and smirked at him. “Quinn, Cole, and Gidget. Rowe’s IT specialists.”" — I did not see this coming. Oh and I really like Cole too.

“When do we get to see the lil lady?” — Look I have a soft spot for Domonic. This line alone made me smile. He's talking about baby Daci. Oh and shortly after this it's revealed that Dom is a sniper... yeah okay. Be still my heart. How is this fun, flirtatious, constantly moving creature also a sniper?

I have a few more points here that are on the ending.

I like the association between the words Shatter and Fracture, it says a bit about the goings on in the books.

[elencelebrindal]

Hello! How are you? Do you have any favourite episodes in the series you've seen? I'm mean, favourite episode of the Hades Chapter, of The Lost Canvas, for example...

I do! I have a lot of favorite episodes, especially in the classic series. I used the English wikipedia page for the episode titles, so forgive me any mistakes. Just for fun, I’ll write the Italian name as well, ‘cause why not. 

Classic Series

Ep . 46 "Cry Out! The Nebula Chain that Combines Attack and Defense" “La migliore difesa è l'attacco”

Ep. 47 "Farewell Hyoga! Sleep, O Brave One!" “Addio a un amico”

Ep. 49 "Love! Shunrei's Prayers" “L’ira del dragone”

Ep. 50 "Arise Dragon! Shiryu's Angry Cosmo" Una duplice vittoria

Ep. 58 "Heroic! Ikki Died For Friendship" “Addio, fratello”

Ep. 60 "Hyoga Revives! I'll Put My Life on the Line" “La cuspide scarlatta”

Ep. 61  "Surrender or Death! As Long as I Still Have These Wings" “Un aiuto inaspettato”

Ep. 62 "Forge Ahead Hyoga! The Proud Hero" “Quale destino per Crystal?”

Ep. 66 "Ah Shiryū! Become a Star and Vanish" “La pienezza del dragone”

Ep. 69 "Demon Roses! Sweet Fragrance of Death" “Bellezza fatale”

Ep. 70 "Rest in Peace! Shun's Last Smile" “La rosa nera”

Ep. 83 "Bewitching Harp! The Prelude of Death Beckoning Shun" “Una triste melodia”

Ep. 84 "Death Sentence! Stringer Requiem" “La vera natura di Mime”

Ep. 85 "Sorrowful Hero! Frozen Hatred" “Folken e Mime”

Ep. 86 "Phoenix! The Crimson Blazing Wings" “Risveglio da un incubo”

Ep. 97 "Siren! Beautiful Melody of Death" “Nettuno signore dei mari”

Ep. 103 "Watch Out, Shun! Dreadful Fangs of the Demon Beast" “Un dono giunto da lontano”

Ep. 104 "Death of the Demon Beast! Indestructible Golden Chains" “Secondo Cavaliere d’Oro”

Ep. 108 "Isaac! A Cold-Hearted Man" “La vendetta di Abadir”

Ep. 109 "Hang in There Kiki! A Sorrowful Death Battle" “Una sconcertante verità”

Hades Chapter

Ep. 04 "Expiation of the Demigod" “Redenzione inattesa”

Ep. 06 "The Warrior from Ancient Times" “L’antico guerriero”

Ep. 09 "At the End of Pride" “Orgoglio e infamia”

Ep. 10 "The Golden Clash" “Il colpo proibito”

Ep. 15 "The Tribunal Of Silence" “Il tribunale silenzioso”

Ep. 18 "Hades! A Surprising Possession" “I giudici degli Inferi”

Ep. 20 "God's Punishment! Greatest Eclipse" “L’eterna eclissi”

Ep. 21 "Ikki! Sorrowful Punch" “Un cosmo pieno di dolore”

Ep. 25 "Farewell! Gold Saints!" “Addio, Cavalieri d’Oro!”

Ep. 30 "Awakening from Myth" “Il risveglio del sommo Ade”

Ep. 31 "To a World Overflowing with Light" “Un mondo di luce”

The Lost Canvas

Ep. 05 "Poison Rose" “La rosa velenosa”

Ep. 06 "Procession of Funeral Flowers" “Un corteo funebre di fiori”

Ep. 12 "Sacrifice That Will Not Fade" “Sacrificio incessante”

Ep. 17 "Valueless" “Spazzatura”

Ep. 18 "I Just Want You to Live" “Desidero solo che tu viva”

Ep. 23 "Sacred Sword" “La spada sacra”

Saintia Sho

Ep. 04 "The Reunion of Sorrow! The Bond of the Separated Sisters" “Dolorosa riunione! Il legame delle sorelle separate”

Ep. 09 "A Spiral of Conflict! The Golden Apple and Orion's Devotion" “Una spirale di conflitto. La mela d’oro e la devozione di Orione”

Soul of Gold

Ep. 03 "Gold vs. Gold: Clash of the Saints!" “Scontro micidiale: Cavaliere d’Oro contro Cavaliere d’Oro!”

Ep. 05 "God's Cloth Ultimate Power!" “Limite estremo! La forza delle armature divine!”

Ep. 07 "Showdown! God Cloth VS God Cloth"  “Devastazione! Armatura divina contro armatura divina”

Ep. 08 "Baldr, the Man Chosen by God!" “Baldr, l’uomo eletto degli dei”

Ep. 09 "Saga, the Unbreakable Bond of Brothers!" “Saga, un ardente legame fraterno”

Ep. 13 "Let Our Prayers Be Heard! The Eternal Golden Legend!" “Il nostro lascito al futuro! L’intramontabile leggenda dei Cavalieri d’Oro”

And that’s it. I have no favorite episodes in Saint Seiya Omega (still don’t like it) and please don’t talk to me about the Netflix series. 

[grigori77]

2019 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 1)

30.  GLASS – back in 2000, I went from liking the work of The Sixth Sense’s writer-director M. Night Shyamalan to becoming a genuine FAN thanks to his sneakily revisionist deconstruction of superhero tropes, Unbreakable.  It’s STILL my favourite film of his to date, and one of my Top Ten superhero movies EVER, not just a fascinating examination of the mechanics of the genre but also a very satisfying screen origin story – needless to say I’m one of MANY fans who’ve spent nearly two decades holding out hope for a sequel.  Flash forward to 2016 and Shyamalan’s long-overdue return-to-form sleeper hit, Split, which not only finally put his career back on course but also dropped a particularly killer end twist by actually being that very sequel.  Needless to say 2019 was the year we FINALLY got our PROPER reward for all our patience – Glass is the TRUE continuation of the Unbreakable universe and the closer of a long-intended trilogy.  Turns out, though, that it’s also his most CONTROVERSIAL film for YEARS, dividing audiences and critics alike with its unapologetically polarizing plot and execution – I guess that, after a decade of MCU and a powerhouse trilogy of Batman movies from Chris Nolan, we were expecting an epic, explosive action-fest to close things out, but that means we forgot exactly what it is about Shyamalan we got to love so much, namely his unerring ability to subvert and deconstruct whatever genre he’s playing around in.  And he really doesn’t DO spectacle, does he?  That said, this film is still a surprisingly BIG, sprawling piece of work, even if it the action is, for the most part, MUCH more internalised than most superhero movies.  Not wanting to drop any major spoilers on the few who still haven’t seen it, I won’t give away any major plot points, suffice to say that ALL the major players from both Unbreakable and Split have returned – former security guard David Dunn (Bruce Willis) has spent the past nineteen years exploring his super-strength and near-invulnerability while keeping Philadelphia marginally safer as hooded vigilante the Overseer, and the latest target of his crime-fighting crusade is Kevin Wendell Crumb (James McAvoy), the vessel of 24 split personalities collectively known as the Horde, who’s continuing his cannibalistic serial-murder spree through the streets.  Both are being hunted by the police, as well as Dr. Ellie Staple (series newcomer Sarah Paulson), a clinical psychiatrist specialising in treating individuals who suffer the delusional belief that they’re superheroes, her project also encompassing David’s former mentor-turned-nemesis Elijah Price (Samuel L. Jackson), the eponymous Mr. Glass, whose life-long suffering from a crippling bone disease that makes his body dangerously fragile has done nothing to blunt the  genius-level intellect that’s made him a ruthlessly accomplished criminal mastermind. How these remarkable individuals are brought together makes for fascinating viewing, and while it may be a good deal slower and talkier than some might have preferred, this is still VERY MUCH the Shyamalan we first came to admire – fiendishly inventive, slow-burn suspenseful and absolutely DRIPPING with cool earworm dialogue, his characteristically mischievous sense of humour still present and correct, and he’s retained that unswerving ability to wrong-foot us at every turn, right up to one of his most surprising twist endings to date.  The cast are, as ever, on fire, the returning hands all superb while those new to the universe easily measure up to the quality of talent on display – Willis and Jackson are, as you’d expect, PERFECT throughout, brilliantly building on the incredibly solid groundwork laid in Unbreakable, while it’s a huge pleasure to see Anya Taylor-Joy, Spencer Treat Clark (a fine actor we don’t see NEARLY enough of, in my opinion) and Charlayne Woodard get MUCH bigger, more prominent roles this time out, while Paulson delivers an understated but frequently mesmerising turn as the ultimate unshakable sceptic.  As with Split, however, the film is comprehensively stolen by McAvoy, whose truly chameleonic performance actually manages to eclipse its predecessor in its levels of sheer genius.  Altogether this is another sure-footed step in the right direction for a director who’s finally regained his singular auteur prowess – say what you will about that ending, but it certainly is a game-changer, as boldly revisionist as anything that’s preceded it and therefore, in my opinion, exactly how it SHOULD have gone.  If nothing else, this is a film that should be applauded for its BALLS …

29.  THE PEANUT BUTTER FALCON – quite possibly the year’s most adorable indie, this dramatic feature debut from documentarian writer-directors Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz largely snuck in under the radar on release, but has gone on to garner some well-deserved critical appreciation and sleeper hit success.  The lion’s share of the film’s success must surely go to the inspired casting, particularly in the central trio who drive the action – Nilson and Schwartz devised the film with Zack Gotsagen, an exceptionally talented young actor with Down’s Syndrome, specifically in mind for the role of Zak, a wrestling obsessive languishing in a North Carolina retirement home who dreams of escaping his stifling confines and going to the training camp of his hero, the Saltwater Redneck (Thomas Haden Church), where he can learn to become a pro wrestler; after slipping free, Zak enlists the initially wary help of down-at-heel criminal fisherman Tyler (Shia LaBaouf) in reaching his intended destination, while the pair are pursued by Zak’s primary caregiver, Eleanor (Dakota Johnson).  Needless to say the unlikely pair bond on the road, and when Eleanor is reluctantly forced to tag along with them, a surrogate family is formed … yeah, the plot is so predictable you can see every twist signposted from miles back, but that familiarity is never a problem because these characters are so lovingly written and beautifully played that you’ve fallen for them within five minutes of meeting them, so you’re effortlessly swept along for the ride. The three leads are pure gold – this is the most laid back and cuddly Shia’s been for years, but his lackadaisical charm is pleasingly tempered with affecting pathos driven by a tragic loss in Tyler’s recent past, while Johnson is sensible, sweet and likeably grounded, even when Eleanor’s at her most exasperated, but Gotsagen is the real surprise, delivering an endearingly unpredictable, livewire performance that blazes with true, honest purity and total defiance in the face of any potential difficulties society may try to throw at Zak – while there’s excellent support from Church in a charmingly awkward late-film turn that goes a long way to reminding us just what an acting treasure he is, as well as John Hawkes and rapper Yelawolf as a pair of lowlife crab-fishermen hunting for Tyler, intending to wreak (not entirely undeserved) revenge on him for an ill-judged professional slight.  Enjoying a gentle sense of humour and absolutely CRAMMED with heartfelt emotional heft, this really was one of the most downright LOVEABLE films of 2019.

28.  PET SEMATARY – first off, let me say that I never saw the 1989 feature adaptation of Stephen King’s story, so I have no comparative frame of reference there – I WILL say, however, that the original novel is, in my opinion, one of the strongest offerings from America’s undisputed master of literary horror, so any attempt made to bring it to the big screen had better be a good one.  Thankfully, this version more than delivers in that capacity, proving to be one of the more impressive of his cinematic outings in recent years (not quite up to the standard of The Mist or It Chapter 1, perhaps, but certainly on a par with the criminally overlooked 1408), as well as one of the year’s top horror offerings.  This may be the feature debut of directing double-act Kevin Kölsch and Dennis Widmyer, but they both display a wealth of natural talent here, wrangling bone-chilling scares and a pervading atmosphere of oppressive dread to deliver a top-notch screen fright-fest that works its way under your skin and stays put for days after.  Jason Clarke is a classic King everyman hero as Boston doctor Louis Creed, displaced to the small Maine town of Ludlow as he trades the ER for a quiet clinic practice so he can spent more time with his family – Amy Seimetz (Upstream Color, Stranger Things), excellent throughout as his haunted, emotionally fragile wife Rachel, toddler son Gage (twins Hugo and Lucas Lavole), and daughter Ellie (newcomer Jeté Laurence, BY FAR the film’s biggest revelation, delivering to the highest degree even when her role becomes particularly intense).  Their new home seems idyllic, the only blots being the main road at the end of their drive which experiences heavy traffic from speeding trucks, and the children’s pet cemetery in the woods at the back of their garden, which has become something of a local landmark.  But there’s something far darker in the deeper places beyond, an ancient place of terrible power Louis is introduced to by their well-meaning but ultimately fallible elderly neighbour Jud (one of the best performances I’ve ever seen from screen legend John Lithgow) when his daughter’s beloved cat Church is run over. The cat genuinely comes back, but he’s irrevocably changed, the once gentle and lovable furball now transformed into a menacingly mangy little psychopath, and his resurrection sets off a chain of horrific events destined to devour the entire family … this is supernatural horror at its most inherently unnerving, mercilessly twisting the screws throughout its slow-burn build to the inevitable third act bloodbath and reaching a bleak, soul-crushing climax that comes close to rivalling the still unparalleled sucker-punch of The Mist – the adaptation skews significantly from King’s original at the mid-point, but even purists will be hard-pressed to deny that this is still VERY MUCH in keeping with the spirit of the book right up to its harrowing closing shot.  The King of Horror has been well served once again – fans can rest assured that his dark imagination continues to inspire some truly great cinematic scares …

27.  THE REPORT – the CIA’s notorious use of torture to acquire information from detainees in Guantanamo Bay and various other sites around the world in the wake of September 11, 2001, has been a particularly spiky political subject for years now, one which has gained particular traction with cinema-goers over the years thanks to films like Rendition and, of course, controversial Oscar-troubler Zero Dark Thirty.  It’s also a particular bugbear of screenwriter Scott Z. Burns (The Bourne Ultimatum, Contagion, Side Effects) – his parents are both psychologists, and he found it particularly offensive that a profession he knows was created to help people could have been turned into such a damaging weapon against the human psyche, inexorably leading him to taking up this passion project, championed by its producer, and Burns’ long-time friend and collaborator, Steven Soderbergh.  It tells the true story of Senate staffer Daniel Jones’ five-year battle to bring his damning 6,300-page study of the CIA’s enhanced interrogation program, commissioned by the Senate Intelligence Committee, into the light of day in the face of increasingly intense and frequently underhanded resistance from the Agency and various high-ranking officials within the US Government whose careers could be harmed should their own collusion be revealed. In lesser hands this could have been a clunky, unappetisingly dense excuse for a slow-burn political thriller that drowned in its own exposition, but Burns handles the admittedly heavyweight material with deft skill and makes each increasingly alarming revelation breathlessly compelling while he ratchets up the tension by showing just what a seemingly impossible task Jones and his small but driven team faced.  The film would have been nought, however, without a strong cast, and this one has a killer – taking a break from maintaining his muscle-mass for Star Wars, Adam Driver provides a suitably robust narrative focus as Jones, an initially understated workman who slowly transforms into an incensed moral crusader as he grows increasingly filled with righteous indignation by the vile subject matter he’s repeatedly faced with, and he’s provided with sterling support from the likes of Annette Bening, delivering her best performance in years as Senator Dianne Feinstein, Jones’ staunchest supporter, the ever-wonderful Ted Levine as oily CIA director John O. Brennan, Tim Blake Nelson as a physician contracted by the CIA to assist with interrogations who became genuinely disgusted by the horrors he witnessed, and Matthew Rhys as an unnamed New York Times reporter Jones considers leaking the report to when it looks like it might never be released.  This is powerful stuff, and while it may only mark Burns’ second directorial feature (after his obscure debut Pu-239), he handles the gig like a seasoned pro, milking the material for every drop of dramatic tension while keeping the narrative as honest, forthright and straightforward as possible, and the end result makes for sobering, distressing and thoroughly engrossing viewing.  Definitely one of the most important films not only of 2019, but of the decade itself, and one that NEEDS to be seen.

26.  DARK PHOENIX – wow, this really has been a year for mistreated sequels, hasn’t it?  There’s a seriously stinky cloud of controversy surrounding what is now, in light of recent developments between Disney and Twentieth Century Fox, the last true Singer-era X-Men movie, a film which saw two mooted release dates (first November 2018 then the following February, before finally limping onto screens with very little fanfare in June 2019, almost as if Fox wanted to bury it. Certainly rumours of its compromise were rife, particularly regarding supposed rushed reshoots because of clashing similarities with Marvel’s major tent-pole release Captain Marvel (and given the all-conquering nature of the MCU there was no way they were having that, was there?), so like many I was expecting a clunky mess, maybe even a true stinker to rival X-Men Origins: Wolverine.  In truth, while it’s not perfect, the end result is nothing like the turd we all feared – the final film is, in fact, largely a success, worthy of favourable comparison with its stronger predecessors.  It certainly makes much needed amends for the disappointing mismanagement of the source comics’ legendary Dark Phoenix saga in 2006’s decidedly compromised original X-Men trilogy capper The Last Stand, this time treating the story with the due reverence and respect it deserves as well as serving as a suitably powerful send-off for more than one beloved key character.  Following the “rebooted” path of the post-Days of Future Past timeline, it’s now 1992, and after the world-changing events of Apocalypse the X-Men have become a respected superhero team with legions of fans and their own personal line to the White House, while mutants at large have mostly become accepted by the regular humans around them.  Then a hastily planned mission into space takes a turn for the worst and Jean Grey (Game of Thrones’ Sophie Turner) winds up absorbing an immensely powerful, thoroughly inexplicable cosmic force that makes her powers go haywire while also knocking loose repressed childhood traumas Professor Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) would rather had stayed buried, sending her on a dangerous spiral out of control which leads to a destructive confrontation and the inadvertent death of a teammate.  Needless to say, the situation soon becomes desperate as Jean goes on the run and the world starts to turn against them all once again … all in all, then, it’s business as usual for the cast and crew of one of Fox’s flagship franchises, and it SHOULD have gone off without a hitch.  When Bryan Singer opted not to return this time around (instead setting his sights on Queen biopic Bohemian Rhapsody), key series writer Simon Kinberg stepped into the breach for his directorial debut, and it turns out he’s got a real talent for it, giving us just the kind of robust, pacy, thrilling action-packed epic his compatriot would have delivered, filled with the same thumping great set-pieces (the final act’s stirring, protracted train battle is the unequivocal highlight here), well-observed character beats and emotional resonance we’ve come to expect from the series as a whole (then again, he does know these movies back to frond having at least co-written his fair share).  The cast, similarly, are all on top form – McAvoy and Michael Fassbender (as fan favourite Erik Lehnsherr, aka Magneto) know their roles so well now they can do this stuff in their sleep, but we still get to see them explore interesting new facets of their characters (particularly McAvoy, who gets to reveal an intriguing dark side to the Professor we’ve only ever seen hinted at before now), while Turner finally gets to really breathe in a role which felt a little stiff and underexplored in her series debut in Apocalypse (she EASILY forges the requisite connective tissue to Famke Janssen’s more mature and assured take in the earlier films); conversely Tye Sheridan (Cyclops), Alexandra Shipp (Storm), Kodi Smit-McPhee (Nightcrawler) and Evan Peters (Quicksilver) get somewhat short shrift but nonetheless do A LOT with what little they have, and at least Jennifer Lawrence and Nicholas Hoult still get to do plenty of dramatic heavy lifting as the last of Xavier’s original class, Raven (Mystique) and Hank McCoy (Beast); the only real weak link in the cast is the villain, Vuk, a shape-shifting alien whose quest to seize the power Jean’s appropriated is murkily defined at best, but at least Jessica Chastain manages to invest her with enough icy menace to keep things from getting boring.  All in all, then, this is very much a case of business as usual, Kinberg and co keeping the action thundering along at a suitably cracking pace throughout (powered by a typically epic score from Hans Zimmer), and the film only really comes off the rails in its final moments, when that aforementioned train finally comes off its tracks and the reported reshoots must surely kick in – as a result this is, to me, most reminiscent of previous X-flick The Wolverine, which was a rousing success for the majority of its runtime, only coming apart in its finale thanks to that bloody ridiculous robot samurai.  The climax is, therefore, a disappointment, too clunky and sudden and overly neat in its denouement (we really could have done with a proper examination of the larger social impact of these events), but it’s little enough that it doesn’t spoil what came before … which just makes the film’s mismanagement and resulting failure, as well as its subsequent treatment from critics and fans alike, all the more frustrating.  This film deserved much better, but ultimately looks set to be disowned and glossed over by most of the fanbase as the property as a whole goes through the inevitable overhaul now that Disney/Marvel owns Fox and plans to bring the X-Men and their fellow mutants into the MCU fold.  I feel genuinely sorry for the one remaining X-film, The New Mutants, which is surely destined for spectacular failure after its similarly shoddy round of reschedules finally comes to an end this summer …

25.  IT CHAPTER 2 – back in 2017, Mama director Andy Muschietti delivered the first half of his ambitious two-film adaptation of one of Stephen King’s most popular and personal novels, which had long been considered un-filmable (the 90s miniseries had a stab, but while it deserves its cult favourite status it certainly fell short in several places) until Muschietti and screenwriters Cary Joji Fukunaga and Gary Dauberman seemingly did the impossible, and the end result was the top horror hit of the year.  Ultimately, then, it was gonna be a tough act to follow, and there was MAJOR conjecture whether they could repeat that success with this second half.  Would lightning strike twice?  Well, the simple answer is … mostly.  2017’s Chapter 1 was a stone-cold masterpiece, and one of the strongest elements in its favour was the extremely game young cast of newcomers and relative unknown child actors who brought the already much beloved Loser’s Club to perfectly-cast life, a seven-strong gang of gawky pre-teen underdogs you couldn’t help loving, which made it oh-so-easy to root for them as they faced off against that nightmarish shape-shifting child-eating monster, Pennywise the Dancing Clown.  It was primal, it was terrifying, and it was BURSTING with childhood nostalgia that thoroughly resonated with an audience hungry for more 80s-set coming-of-age genre fare after the runaway success of Stranger Things.  Bringing the story into the present day with the Losers now returning to their childhood home of Derry, Maine as forty-something adults, Chapter 2 was NEVER going to achieve the same pulse-quickening electric charge the first film pulled off, was it?  Thankfully, with the same director and (mostly) the same writing crew on hand (Fukunaga jumped ship but Dauberman was there to finish up with the help of Jason Fuchs and an uncredited Jeffrey Jurgensen) there’s still plenty of that old magic left over, so while it’s not quite the same second time round, this still feels very much like the same adventure, just older, wiser and a bit more cynical.  Here’s a more relevant reality check, mind – those who didn’t approve of the first film’s major changes from the book are going to be even more incensed by this, but the differences here are at least organic and in keeping with the groundwork laid in Chapter 1, and indeed this film in particular is a VERY different beast from the source material, but these differences are actually kind of a strength here, Muschietti and co. delivering something that works MUCH better cinematically than a more faithful take would have. Anyway, the Loser’s Club are back, all grown up and (for the most part) wildly successful living FAR AWAY from Derry with dream careers and seemingly perfect lives.  Only Mike Hanlon has remained behind to hold vigil over the town and its monstrous secret, and when a new spree of disappearances and grisly murders begins he calls his old friends back home to fulfil the pact they all swore to uphold years ago – stop Pennywise once and for all.  The new cast are just as excellent as their youthful counterparts – Jessica Chastain and James McAvoy are, of course, the big leads here as grown up Beverley Marsh and Bill Denbrough, bringing every watt of star power they can muster, but the others hold more interest, with Bill Hader perfectly cast (both director and child actor’s personal first choice) as smart-mouth Richie Tozier, Isaiah Mustafah (best known as the Old Spice guy from those hilarious commercials) playing VERY MUCH against type as Mike, Jay Ryan (successful on the small screen in Top of the Lake and Beauty & the Beast, but very much getting his cinematic big break here) as a slimmed-down and seriously buffed-out Ben Hanscom, James Ransone (Sinister) as neurotic hypochondriac Eddie Kaspbrak, and Andy Bean (Power, the recent Swamp Thing series) as ever-rational Stan Uris – but we still get to hang out with the original kids too in new flashbacks that (understandably) make for some of the film’s best scenes, while Bill Skarsgard is as terrifying as ever as he brings new ferocity, insidious creepiness and even a touch of curious back-story to Pennywise.  I am happy to report this new one IS just as scary as its predecessor, a skin-crawling, spine-tingling, pants-wetting cold sweat of a horror-fest that works its way in throughout its substantial running time and, as before, sticks with you LONG after the credits have rolled, but it’s also got the same amount of heart, emotional heft and pathos, nostalgic charm (albeit more grown-up and sullied) and playful, sometimes decidedly mischievous geeky humour, so that as soon as you’re settled in it really does feel like you’ve come home. It’s also fiendishly inventive, the final act in particular skewing in some VERY surprising new directions that there’s NO WAY you’ll see coming, and the climax also, interestingly, redresses one particularly frustrating imbalance that always bugged me about the book, making for an especially moving, heartbreaking denouement.  Interestingly, there’s a running joke in the film that pokes fun at a perceived view from some quarters that Stephen King’s endings often disappoint – there’s no such fault with THIS particular adaptation.  For me, this was altogether JUST the concluding half I was hoping for, so while it’s not as good as the first, it should leave you satisfied all the same.

24.  MOTHERLESS BROOKLYN – it’s taken Edward Norton twenty years to get his passion project adaptation of Jonathan Lethem’s novel to the big screen, but the final film was certainly worth the wait, a cool-as-ice noir thriller in which its writer-director also, of course, stars as one of the most unusual ‘tecs around.  Lionel Essrog suffers from Tourette syndrome, prone to uncontrollable ticks and vocal outbursts as well as obsessive-compulsive spirals that can really ruin his day, but he’s also got a genius-level intellect and a photographic memory, which means he’s the perfect fit for the detective agency of accomplished, highly successful New York gumshoe Frank Minna (Bruce Willis).  But when their latest case goes horribly wrong and Frank dies in a back-alley gunfight, the remaining members of the agency are left to pick up the pieces and try to find out what went wrong, Lionel battling his own personal, mental and physical demons as he tries to unravel an increasingly labyrinthine tangle of lies, deceit, corporate corruption and criminal enterprise that reaches to the highest levels of the city’s government.  Those familiar with the original novel will know that it’s set in roughly the present day, but Norton felt many aspects of the story lent themselves much better to the early 1950s, and it really was a good choice – Lionel is a man very much out his time, a very odd fit in an age of stuffy morals and repression, while the themes of racial upheaval, rampant urban renewal and massive, unchecked corporate greed feel very much of the period. Besides, there’s few things as seductive than a good noir thriller, and Norton has crafted a real GEM right here. The pace can be a little glacial at times, but this simply gives the unfolding plot and extremely rich collection of characters plenty of room to grow, while the jazzy score (from up-and-comer Daniel Pemberton, composer on Steve Jobs, King Arthur: Legend of the Sword and Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse) provides a surprising complimentary accompaniment to the rather free-form narrative style and Lionel’s own scattershot, bebop style.  Norton is exceptional in the lead, landing his best role in years with an exquisitely un-self-conscious ease that makes for thoroughly compelling viewing (surely more than one nod will be due come awards-season), but he doesn’t hog ALL the limelight, letting his uniformly stellar supporting cast shine bright as well – Willis doesn’t get a huge amount of screen time, but delivers a typically strong, nuanced performance that makes his absence throughout the rest of the film keenly felt, Gugu Mbatha-Raw continues to build an impressive run of work as Laura, the seemingly unimportant woman Lionel befriends, who could actually be the key to the whole case, Alec Baldwin is coolly menacing as power-hungry property magnate and heavyweight city official Moses Randolph, the film’s nominal big-bad, Willem Dafoe is absolutely electrifying as his down-at-heel, insignificant genius brother Lou, and Boardwalk Empire’s Michael K. Williams is quietly outstanding as mysterious jazz musician Trumpet Man, while Bobby Canavale, Ethan Suplee and Dallas Roberts are all excellent as the other hands in Minna’s detective agency.  It’s a chilled-out affair, happy to hang back and let its slow-burn plot simmer while Lionel tries to navigate his job and life in general while battling his many personal difficulties, but due to the incredible calibre of the talent on offer, the incredibly rich dialogue and obligatory hardboiled gumshoe voiceover, compelling story and frequently achingly beautiful visuals, this is about as compulsively rewarding as cinema gets. Norton’s crafted a film noir worthy of comparison with the likes of L.A. Confidential and Chinatown, proving that he’s a triple-threat cinematic talent to be reckoned with.

23.  PROSPECT – I love a good cinematic underdog, there’s always some dynamite indies and sleepers that just about slip through the cracks that I end up championing every year, and one of 2019’s favourites was a minor sensation at 2018’s South By Southwest film festival, a singularly original ultra-low-budget sci-fi adventure that made a genuine virtue of its miniscule budget.  Riffing on classic eco-minded space flicks like Silent Running, it introduces a father-and-daughter prospecting team who land a potentially DEEPLY lucrative contract mining for an incredibly rare element on a toxic jungle moon – widower Damon (Transparent’s Jay Duplass), who’s downtrodden and world-weary but still a dreamer, and teenager Cee (relative newcomer Sophie Thatcher), an introverted bookworm with hidden reserves of ingenuity and fortitude.  The job starts well, Damon setting his sights on a rumoured “queen’s layer” that could make them rich beyond their wildest dreams, but when they meet smooth-talking scavenger Ezra (Narcos’ Pedro Pascal), things take a turn for the worse – Damon is killed and Cee is forced to team up with Ezra to have any hope for survival on this hostile, unforgiving moon.  Thatcher is an understated joy throughout, her seemingly detached manner belying hidden depths of intense feeling, while Pascal, far from playing a straight villain, turns Ezra into something of a tragic, charismatic antihero we eventually start to sympathise with, and the complex relationship that develops between them is a powerful, mercurial thing, the constantly shifting dynamic providing a powerful driving force for the film.  Debuting writer-directors Zeek Earl and Chris Caldwell have crafted a wonderfully introspective, multi-layered tone poem of aching beauty, using subtle visual effects and a steamy, glow-heavy colour palette to make the lush forest environs into something nonetheless eerie and inhospitable, while the various weird and colourful denizens of this deadly little world prove that Ezra may be the LEAST of the dangers Cee faces in her quest for escape.  Inventive, intriguing and a veritable feast for the eyes and intellect, this is top-notch indie sci-fi and a sign of great things to come from its creators, thoroughly deserving of major cult recognition in the future.

22.  DRAGGED ACROSS CONCRETE – S. Craig Zahler is a writer-director who’s become a major fixture on my ones-to-watch list in recent years, instantly winning me over with his dynamite debut feature Bone Tomahawk before cementing that status with awesome follow-up Brawl On Cell Block 99.  His latest is another undeniable hit that starts deceptively simply before snowballing into a sprawling urban crime epic as it follows its main protagonists – disgraced Bulwark City cops Brett Ridgeman (Mel Gibson) and Tony Lurasetti (BOCB99’s Vince Vaughn), on unpaid suspension after their latest bust leads to a PR nightmare – on a descent into a hellish criminal underworld as they set out to “seek compensation” for their situation by ripping off the score from a bank robbery spearheaded by ruthlessly efficient professional thief Lorentz Vogelmann (Thomas Kretschmann).  In lesser hands, this two-hour-forty-minute feature might have felt like a painfully padded effort that would have passed far better chopped down to a breezy 90-minutes, but Zahler is such a compellingly rich and resourceful writer that every scene is essential viewing, overflowing with exquisitely drawn characters spouting endlessly quotable, gold-plated dialogue, and the constantly shifting narrative focus brings such consistent freshness that the increasingly complex plot remains rewarding right to the end.  The two leads are both typically excellent – Vaughn gets to let loose with a far more showy, garrulous turn here than his more reserved character in his first collaboration with Zahler, while this is EASILY the best performance I’ve seen Gibson deliver in YEARS, the grizzled veteran clearly having a fine old time getting his teeth into a particularly meaty role that very much plays to his strengths – and they’re brilliantly bolstered by an excellent supporting cast – Get Rich Or Die Tryin’s Tory Kittles easily matches them in his equally weighty scenes as Henry Johns, a newly-released ex-con also out to improve his family’s situation with a major score, while Kretschmann is at his most chilling as the brutal killer who executes his plans with cold-blooded precision, and there are wonderful scene-stealing offerings from Jennifer Carpenter, Udo Kier, Don Johnson (three more Zahler regulars, each featured with Vaughn on BOCB99), Michael Jai White, Laurie Holden and newcomer Miles Truitt.  This is a proper meaty film, dark, intense, gritty and unflinching in its portrayal of honest, unglamorous violence and its messy aftermath, but fans of grown-up filmmaking will find PLENTY to enjoy here, Zahler crafting a crime epic comparable to the heady best of Scorsese and Tarantino.  Another sure-fire winner from one of the best new filmmakers around.

21.  FAST COLOR – intriguingly, the most INTERESTING superhero movie of the year was NOT a major franchise property, or even a comic book adapted to the screen at all, but a wholly original indie which snuck in very much under the radar on its release but is surely destined for cult greatness in the future, not least due to some much-deserved critical acclaim.  Set in an unspecified future where it hasn’t rained for years, a homeless vagabond named Ruth (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) is making her aimless way across a desolate American Midwest, tormented by violent seizures which cause strange localised earthquakes, and hunted by Bill (Argo’s Christopher Denham), a rogue scientist who wants to capture her so he can study her abilities.  Ultimately she’s left with no other recourse than to run home, sheltering with her mother Bo (Middle of Nowhere and Orange is the New Black’s Lorraine Toussaint), and her young daughter Lila (The Passage’s Saniyya Sidney), both of whom also have weird and wondrous powers of their own.  As the estranged family reconnect, Ruth finally learns to control her powers as she’s forced to confront her own troubled past, but as Bill closes in it looks like their idyll might be short-lived … this might only be the second feature of writer-director Julie Hart (who cut her teeth penning well-regarded indie western The Keeping Room before making her own debut helming South By Southwest Film Festival hit Miss Stevens), but it’s a blinding statement of intent for the future, a deceptively understated thing of beauty that eschews classic superhero cinema conventions of big spectacle and rousing action in favour of a quiet, introspective character-driven story where the unveiling and exploration of Ruth and her kin’s abilities are secondary to the examination of how their familial dynamics work (or often DON’T), while Hart and cinematographer Michael Fimognari (probably best known for his frequent work for Mike Flanagan) bring a ruined but bleakly beautiful future to life through inventively understated production design and sweeping, dramatic vistas largely devoid of visual effects.  Subtlety is the watchword, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t fireworks here, it’s just that they’re generally performance-based – awards-darling Mbatha-Raw (Belle) gives a raw, heartfelt performance, painting Ruth in vivid shades of grey, while Toussaint is restrained but powerfully memorable and Sidney builds on her already memorable work to deliver what might be her best turn to date, and there are strong supporting turns from Denham (who makes his nominal villain surprisingly sympathetic) and Hollywood great David Strathairn as gentle small town sheriff Ellis. Leisurely paced and understated it may be, but this is still an incendiary piece of work, sure to become a breakout sleeper hit for a filmmaking talent from whom I expect GREAT THINGS in the future, and since the story’s been picked up for expansion into a TV series with Hart in charge that looks like a no-brainer.  And it most assuredly IS a bona fide superhero movie, despite appearances to the contrary …

[thousandeyesand-one]

In the name of the White Wolf & The Dragon Queen!

So I was recovering from dumblr not allowing my posts in the jonerys tag for some reason finally it seems to have worked out smh, like I did nothing!? I badly wanted to discuss the Ghost won't like dany nonsense but I couldn't coz you know dumblr! Here It is I've been holding it forever!

"The wind was blowing wet and heavy as they crossed the valley of the Milkwater and rode singlefile through the river camp. Ghost kept close to Jon, but the scent of him went before them like a herald, and soon there were wildling dogs all around them, growling and barking. Lenyl screamed at them to be quiet, but they paid him no heed. “They don’t much care for that beast o’ yours,” Longspear Ryk said to Jon. “They’re dogs and he’s a wolf,” said Jon. “They know he’s not their kind." *No more than I am yours.*"

In the books Ghost was with Jon when he was wildling's hostage as opposed to how in the show they made ghost wander off before Jon came across ygritte. Ghost is the reason Jon could kill Halfhand when he bites his calf but in the show Jon kills him on his own, in a single combat without any help also Jon uses Ghost to keep Ygritte away from him at night & ghost even helps him because that's what Jon wants, just like ghost protects Sam & cares for him because Jon cares for him & because that's what Jon wants. Ghost is Jon's extension of his personality just like Drogon is to Daenerys. Because the entire time that Jon was beyond the wall with him While he was a hostage ghost was an extension of his inner monologue. Outwardly Jon was playing a turn cloak for the Wildlings but only ghost truly knew he never gave up on being a man of the Nights Watch.

"*There were cookfires all along the river, amongst wayns and carts and sleds. Many of the wildlings had thrown up tents, of hide and skin and felted wool. Others sheltered behind rocks in crude lean-tos, or slept beneath their wagons. At one fire Jon saw a man hardening the points of long wooden spears and tossing them in a pile. Elsewhere two bearded youths in boiled leather were sparring with staffs, leaping at each other over the flames, grunting each time one landed a blow. A dozen women sat nearby in a circle, fletching arrows. Arrows for my brothers, Jon thought. Arrows for my father’s folk, for the people of Winterfell and Deepwood Motte and the Last Hearth. Arrows for the north.*"

This is where his undying fidelity for North comes to play he doesn't respect ryk, rattleshirt, weeper or ygritte! He doesn't yet know what it's like to be a ruler, a leader, he surely has those traits in him but still at heart being as young as he was (in the books) he is a follower, of his old gods, his father's words & his home of Winterfell along with his newest allegiance to Night's Watch. Ygritte wanted to change Jon's loyalty, she wanted him to help them raid & ravage the lands of his father & his fore-fathers but jon is way too loyal to his kind for that to happen just like arya is fiercely loyal to the north. Jon's & ygritte's goals never matched, ever! But Jon still fell for ygritte nonetheless he kept his undying loyalty to the north but still fell for a Person who reminded him of arya. And in jonerys's case by the end of S07 Jon & dany's goals matched. No matter how much people deny it by saying dany is still more focused on the conquest; night king killed her child she will destroy anyone who does that & Jon feels guilty that she lost her dragon because of him, that her house sigil is now incomplete because of him, there is guilt in her too for not trusting him. She wanted to help Jon in saving the north which is & always has been his goal. And to say dany's stubborn nature, rashness, bravery & her inclination to not only understand him but also to fly to a frozen, strange corner of the world to help him on his word reminds him of arya would be an understatement!

"*But not all he saw was warlike. He saw women dancing as well, and heard a baby crying, and a little boy ran in front of his garron, all bundled up in fur and breathless from play. Sheep and goats             wandered freely, while oxen plodded along the riverbank in search of grass. The smell of roast mutton drifted from one cookflre, and at another he saw a boar turning on a wooden spit.. *"

Jon idolized King Daeron I Targaryen, the Young Dragon. He was a Bastard who was hungry for glory the likes of which he knew he won't find anywhere in the 7K but at the wall. So he joined the ancient order only to learn of it's receding ranks once honorable men of nights watch now reduced to reavers, rapers, cut-throats, thieves. Nobody as honorable as his uncle or LCMormont. But he made his peace with the situation & the First chance he got to get out there & earn some valor & make a name for himself like Qhorin Halfhand, that which he was so hungry for he took the chance! Which lead to series of events that spiralled out of his control he ended up falling for someone which he never intended & he learned that the price for glory is quite high! At this time he was a young boy who thought glory was easy that's why he looks at all the battlements & instantly villainizes the wildlings. Only to realize with ygritte's death that there was no glory in killing the Wildlings so he tried to save them hoping to see the glory in that. Maybe there was glory in it being the first LC in the known history of the watch to have done so but the watch itself didn't think so & ended up taking his life. The path to glory didn't turn out to be as promising as he thought in fact it was full of compromising crossroads. His loyalty to North never died but something else awoke him; the openess to considering all human life equal & the fact that battle has two sides of compromising crossroads. He wasn't ready for Battle of the Bastards until he saw Rickon die up until then it looked like he was just going where his new life was taking him, he doesn't like fighting unnecessary battles unless it's against the dead & for the living. He's a better leader for all that & as a LC who wasn't afraid to do what nobody has done by saving & taking Wildling's help against the dead & he wasn't faking it! Even though Wildlings have been the enemy of the North when time came they helped save his life against the watch itself; similarly he wasn't afraid of taking the Dragon Queen's help against the dead fully aware of the era-defining conflict between Starks & Targaryens & still being truthful in all his actions when time came the Dragon Queen came to his help & saved his life too. 

"*Can a bird hate? Jon had slain the wildling Orell, but some part of the man remained within the eagle. The golden eyes looked out on him with cold malevolence. “I’ll come,” he said. The blood kept running down into his right eye, and his cheek was a blaze of pain. When he touched it his black gloves came away stained with red. “Let me catch my garron.” It was not the horse he wanted so much as Ghost, but the direwolf was nowhere to be seen. He could be leagues away by now, ripping out the throat of some elk. Perhaps that was just as well.*"

In the books Jon is a warg or atleast has shown warg-like traits, by far dreaming Ghost's vision & inhabiting his mind initially he wasn't sure what this exactly means. When orell's eagle attacked him he wasn't brutally harmed but still he wanted ghost close to him similarly when he dies he called for Ghost. That was his last words "Ghost.. " 

I believe everyone is aware of this very popular theory that before dying Jon warged into ghost. Like orell left a little bit of himself in his eagle, his most immediate emotion that he felt before dying that is hate & revenge just like Jon who must've felt the same before dying & his calling was more of a defensive move since all his other defences were failing, ghost was what he needed at the very end. His "Ghost.." was just like daenerys's "dracarys".

Daenerys & Jon's journey in taming their magical beasts & properly using them as the magical mythology of the WOIAF tells of a magical beast like a Dragon or direwolf were used back in the time when both of them weren't unheard of, all Kings of Winter had a Direwolf & some even rode into battle on the back of their direwolves & most of the Starks of the Past were wargs , that's how they tamed such vicious beasts like direwolves. Once warged into a Direwolf that creates a life-long bond between the beast & the warg. Similarly all the Valyrians had dragons & they rode into battle on the back of their dragons, Daenys the dreamer was a dragon dreamer who foresaw the doom of valyria making dragon dreams a recurring aspect in the blood of Old Valyria as daenerys had dragon dreams too. Also dragons natural lifespan goes past the rider but the bond only breaks when the rider dies before that just like the wolves this bond is unbreakable too. So basically the show gave us a good view into the journey of dany taming her dragons & becoming a dragon rider just like in the books but with Jon on the other hand unfortunately the t.v. show cut major arcs of his story related to Ghost.

Apart from being Jon Snow's Loyal Albino-red eyed pal ghost is very interesting in the books..

Firstly when the Starks discover their direwolves all 5 of them belonging to the true born stark kids are huddled together but ghost was seperate from the group. His appearance is also very different to other direwolves with white fur & red eyes. There is another theory that says Bloodraven often warged into Ghost. That many' a-times he used Ghost to get to Jon. For example when ghost brought jafar flowers hand warning the watch & specifically Jon about the threat of the dead, then leading him to Jeor Mormont's chambers before the Wight attack, in the books Ghost leads Jon to cachè of dragonglass hid by the fist of the first men along with the Horn also when Jon tries to leave the Watch in the middle of the night it's ghost who gives away his position by moles town, he stops Jon from leaving the watch. Not that ghost was never himself or always warged by bloodraven or something but yeah a lot of times he was.

Apart from ghost there was another, jeor mormont's crow who is also believed to have been warged by bloodraven.

Before bran falls off the tower he used to climb there to feed corn to the crows & after his fall during his coma in his dreams bloodraven asks him "... say got any corn?" So bloodraven was basically keeping an eye on bran through one of the crows.. When jon talks about Bran's health with LCMormont his crow screams "Corn! Corn! Corn!" & when jeor mormont informs Jon that bran is awake the crow screams "Live! Live!"

"He rose & dressed in darkness as mormont's raven muttered across the room. "Corn", the bird said &, "King", &, "Snow, Jon Snow, Jon Snow." That was queer. The bird never said his full name before, as best Jon could recall" 

                                                                  -Jon AGOT

"Do you think your Uncle Benjen was the only ranger we've lost this past year?" "Ben Jen", the raven squawked, bobbing its head, bits of egg dribbling from its beak. "Ben Jen. Ben Jen."  "No", Jon said. There had been others. Too many. "Do you think your brother's war is more important than ours?" the old man barked. Jon chewed his lip. The raven flapped it's wings at him. "War, war, war, war," it sang   

                                                                  -Jon AGOT

 When Jon burns the Wight in LCMormont's room..

"Jon tried to shout, but his voice was gone. Staggering to his feet, he kicked the arm away & snatched the lamp from the Old Bear's fingers. The flame flickered & almost died. "Burn!" the raven cawed. "Burn, burn, burn!"

                                                                 -Jon AGOT

When LCMormont gives him Longclaw he initially refuses it so the crow says..

"Take it" echoed his raven, preening. "Take it, take it."

                                                                 -Jon AGOT

In the show they omitted both these aspects of Jon's storyline, wherein not just bran but also Jon has a connection to bloodraven. Him being Aegon & Bran being Brandon. Both these names have prophetic value in their respective houses. The raven stayed with Jon when he became LC in fact he is the reason Jon was elected. I was always pissed at why the tv show reduced ghost to just another 'pet'. But before getting to that, first about the journeys of both Jon & dany in taming their magical beasts.. 

Dany at first acquired the dragon eggs that were said to have turned into stone over the time but she hatched those eggs bringing dragons back into the world.

While they were infants she taught them as a pet is taught to take care of themselves, be able to gather or atleast help themselves with food & or follow commands by daenerys "Dracarys". In many ways dany trained them like she would've trained her son. 

Whenever daenerys acts like a Valyrian or behaves like a true Targaryen & let's the Fire & Blood in her out by commanding her dragons to do what they do best. Whenever daenerys let's the dragons behave like themselves they grow closer to her. Their bond shows best at such a time.

Again when daenerys acts like a Valyrian during the sacking of Astaphor & truly allows the greatest weapons of war in the world her Dragons to do what they do best she brings them closer to herself.

And then as the dragons grew in age & in size their viciousness grew as well & they became harder to be tamed. While this was one of the many reasons why it was harder for dany to tame them but that isn't it. Daenerys locked them away for the sake of the safety of people of mereen like her ancestors who made the Dragon Pit to lock away their dragons. Being treated as a mere pet doesn't do well with dragons instead of being captured drogon escapes while Rhaegal & Viserion are imprisoned. When daenerys tries to be a Queen unlike the Targaryen Queen that she should be & sort of resists her Valyrian nature the dragons grow apart from her. For a long time Daenerys tried to be a different sort of queen for mereen so drogon knew he wouldn't survive the captivity like the dragons before him & he escaped. But the bond never died as long as the blood of Old Valyria flows within dany she will always have a bond with the dragons. Drogon doesn't let her touch him until he returned to Daznak's fighting pits & in a way reminds her what she is & she rides him for the first time.

Beyond the books what also happened is drogon gave her a taste of who she really is, a Dragon in her own right! After which she burns all the khals & was reborn in the fires again which gained her drogon's allegiance.

I suppose there were elements of Jon's Targaryen heritage coming to play when drogon accepts his touch in S07. But it's not drogon who burns quentyn it's Rhaegal because quentyn tried to tame him without any blood of Old Valyria. Jon embracing his Targaryen heritage will be complete when he becomes a dragon rider himself. But before that not only does drogon accept Jon but also recognizes something in Jon, drogon already has a rider so it was just a moment of recognition. Tyrion has also touched both Rhaegal & Viserion but they didn't recognize anything in him except the fact that he isn't a foe & they didn't harm him. Apart from recognizing blood in Jon; drogon is now not only a full grown embodiment of Targaryen sigil but also an extension of daenerys's personality. That's why he is roaring while dany is roaring her bloodriders speech. They have truly become bound to one another! Quaithe's words of remembering that she is blood of dragon is complete now because she has truly become a dragon, she's owning it!

Continued

[suddenwaves]

MY YEAR IN BOOKS – OCTOBER

Risk Taker (Mixed Messages #3) by Lily Morton – 4/5

Goodreads

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Saddle Up (Clean Slate Ranch #3) by A.M. Arthur – 4/5

Goodreads

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Elements of Retrofit (Thomas Elkin #1) by N.R. Walker – 4/5

Clarity of Lines (Thomas Elkin #2) by N.R. Walker – 4/5

Sense of Place (Thomas Elkin #3) by N.R. Walker – 4/5

Goodreads

--

Vanilla Clouds by Roe Horvat – 4/5

Goodreads

--

Three's Company by N.R. Walker – 4/5

Goodreads

--

Blaze (Unbreakable Bonds #5) by Jocelynn Drake,  Rinda Elliott – 4/5

Another great instalment of this series, I missed these guys.

Goodreads

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

The Viper by Amanda McKinney

Broken Ridge #1

 My, Oh My!

What a story!

Astounding, Spectacular, Brilliant, and Breathtaking!

Now to try to find the words to tell you more…

 What I liked:

* All of it really, but here goes…

* The writing – exquisitely plotted and beautifully written

* Dark in so many ways and yet with a glimmer of light here and there

* The love the sisters had for one another

* Learning the backstory of Collette, Jade, and their family a piece at a time

* Viscerally feeling what drove the sisters

* The focus the women had

* Being able to admire Collette and Jade while also trying to put myself in their shoes

* Collette: intelligent, computer hacker extraordinaire, strategist, savvy, flawed, loving, wealthy, businesswoman, capable, cunning, imperfect – capable of much more than she realizes

* Jade: strong, resilient, supportive, dedicated, free spirit, lethal, martial arts trainer, strong, talkative, protective, close to Collette, intriguing, opposite and yet similar to her sister Collette – eager to see what she will end up doing in the next book

* James: ex-cop, military veteran, DEA agent, alpha, commanding, lethal, intelligent, team oriented, intuitive, “sees” Collette as she really is and admire/cares for her, communicative, intriguing, really liked him.

* Blaze: assistant to James…would like to see him again in the future

* The way the dark gritty aspects of the story were handled

* That I could easily visualize the scenes in the story

* That I was fully engaged and invested in the outcome of the story

* Again, all of it really except…

 What I didn’t like:

* Exactly who and what I was meant not to like

* Knowing that in real life there are people who experience horrible events like those mentioned in this book – I wish they didn’t

 Did I enjoy this story? Yes

Would I read more in this series? Definitely

 Thank you to the author for the ARC – This is my honest review.

 5 Stars

    BLURB

 “Revenge is an act of passion, vengeance is an act of justice.” – Samuel Johnson A brash DEA Agent and ruthless private detective collide in this small-town, seductive tale of revenge, murder, and the unbreakable bond between sisters. They say revenge is a dish best served cold. Apparently they haven’t met the Archer sisters. Owner of Archer and Archer, Inc, a prestigious New York PI Firm, Colette Archer embodies effortless perfection in her couture suits and trademark chignon. But this private investigator has a secret. When night falls, Colette slips on her wig and into the persona of a tequila guzzling hustler who occasionally fancies two men instead of one. This double-life comes as an unwelcome side-effect of a horrific past that she and her sister Jade, a bohemian, martial-arts-instructing renegade, decide to settle once and for all—regardless who they must destroy in the process. Unreasonably obstinate—according to his boss—DEA Agent James Black is one mistake away from spending his career crunching numbers under confinement of his six-by-six cubicle. In a last-ditch effort to save his fledging career, James seeks the assistance of Ice-queen Colette Archer who, despite the spark of heat between the them, seems to despise him almost as much as false dichotomy. After following Colette and her sister to a small, sleepy town in Montana, James learns of a devious—and dangerous—pact the sisters have made to avenge their past. Using her weakness to his advantage, James tricks Colette into helping him uncover the whereabouts of a ruthless drug lord. But when Colette gets brutally attacked, James realizes he has inadvertently set wheels in motion that might not only cost him his job, but also the woman who’s stolen his heart.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Amanda McKinney is the bestselling and multi-award-winning author of more than fifteen romantic suspense and mystery novels. Her latest book, Rattlesnake Road, was named one of POPSUGAR's 12 Best Romance Books to Have a Spring Fling With, and was featured on the Today Show. The fifth book in her Steele Shadows series, Jagger (Steele Shadows Investigations), was recently nominated for the prestigious Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense.

Amanda wrote her debut novel, LETHAL LEGACY in 2017, after walking away from her career to become a writer and stay-at-home mom. Her books include the bestselling series, STEELE SHADOWS SECURITY, the multi-award-winning BERRY SPRINGS series, BLACK ROSE MYSTERIES, and many more to come.

Set in small, Southern towns, Amanda’s books are page-turning murder mysteries peppered with steamy romance. Amanda is a member of Romance Writers of America, International Thriller Writers and Sisters in Crime. She lives in Arkansas with her handsome husband, two beautiful boys, and three obnoxious dogs.

Text AMANDABOOKS to 66866 to receive Amanda's newsletter and get the latest on new releases, promos, and freebies!

Follow Amanda on:

Facebook Instagram Goodreads AWARDS AND RECOGNITION:

2021 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense, 2nd Place Winner Winner of the 2018 Golden Leaf for Romantic Suspense Winner of the 2019 Golden Quill for Romantic Suspense Winner of the 2019 I Heart Indie Award for Romantic Suspense 2018 Maggie Award for Excellence Finalist 2018 Silver Falchion Finalist
2018 Beverley Finalist
 2018 Passionate Plume Honorable Mention Recipient
 2019 Maggie Award of Excellence Finalist 2019 Stiletto Award Finalist 2020 National Readers Choice Award Finalist 2020 HOLT Medallion Finalist 2020 Book Buyers Best Finalist 2020 Carla Crown Jewel Finalist 2017 2nd Place Winner for It’s a Mystery Contest

[thebloggergirls]

Book Review: Blaze by Jocelynn Drake & Rinda Elliott

Book Review: Blaze by Jocelynn Drake & Rinda Elliott

Reviewed by Susan65

Title: Blaze Author: Jocelynn Drake & Rinda Elliott Series: Unbreakable Bonds #5 Heroes: Lucas & Andrei Genre: M/M Contemporary Length: 260 pages Publisher: Self-Published Release Date: June 22, 2018 Available at: Amazon Add it to your shelf: Goodreads

Blurb: The rings have been selected.

The champagne placed on ice.

The cake decorated.

And the pre-wedding sex is off the charts…

Lucas…