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1kook · 3 years

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crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

#networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #Jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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5lazarus · 3 years

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Salt, Flesh, Heat

Bull notices that Solas is a deeply sensual person, reveling in clean clothes, good-smelling herbs, and hot water. He's also deeply masochistic. When the two find themselves enjoying the baths one early morning in Skyhold, Bull decides to press. Solas decides to play along. A @black-emporium-exchange gift for gamerfic. Read the other works in the AO3 Collection here! Read the story on Archive of Our Own here.

Steam on skin, worn wood pressing slick into his back as each vertebrae clicks: the Iron Bull sighs as he unwinds in the Skyhold baths. Few beyond the servants and the hungriest soldiers and Josephine herself were up at this hour. Bull has the steam room to himself. Carefully he unwinds his bulk onto the bench, laying his towel over his eyes. The clearcut eucalyptus smell lingers on his skin, sweated into his muscles. He groans aloud as a muscle in his bad knee pops.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he grunts.

Then the door opens and the dawn rushes in. Bull lifts the towel from his remaining eye. Solas stands there, a bit nonplussed. Shit, Bull thinks, and slowly makes room.

Solas lets the door close firmly shut. He holds a bundle of white birch twigs and dried eucalyptus.

Bull grins. “Want me to hit you with that?”

Solas climbs onto his bench and drapes himself on the upper story. “That may not be necessary.” Right, Bull thinks, you self-flagellate enough for both of us. He inhales deeply. “Would you mind putting more water on the stone? Some of the steam escaped.”

Bull says, “Uh, sure.” Slowly, because the ache in his body is delicious and he savors it, he reaches for the ladle and throws another pail of water onto the heating stones, and then another, and another. He hears Solas settle onto his bench, right leg stretched out. Bull turns to look. The man’s pale, graying red hair trailing down his chest. Dorian managed to catch a glimpse of his cock when they bathed after a particularly fetid journey into a Dalish swamp, and reported that it was the largest he’d ever seen on an elf and one of the bigger he’d seen on a man. Bull has to admit he is curious.

Amusement in his voice, Solas says, “Are you quite done?” Still tense, he turns away from Bull. He’s wiry, built broader in the shoulder and legs than most mages he’s met, but still has a weak core. Blackwall told him he’s fought in “some elven skirmish,” and he looks like a man about to retire from the field. He has a slashed scar on his right shoulder and claw marks on his right leg.

“Where’d you get that?” Bull points.

Solas does not turn around. Bull’s eyes travel down his back and rest on his well-shaped ass and thighs. Solas is a bit too thin for him, practically speaking, but he does like to look. He’s built like a dancer gone to middle age, rather than some Emerald Knight stalking the Dales for humans to kill, or—so he has heard from Ben-Hassrath stationed in the outskirts of the Tirashan—Dhal’Vallaslin chasing down strange elves with crimson vallaslin, who sacrifice the living to their long-forgotten gods. He seems more the type to plan and give orders, than carry out the dirty work himself, though of course Bull has seen him do it. He saw what he did with those Kirkwall mages.

Bull asks, voice casual, “You know, you’re kinda built like a dancer.”

At that, Solas shifts. He opens a single blue eye, looking down at him like a large cat eying a much smaller, squeakier dog. “I was many things, as a youth.”

“A dancer?” Bull says, taken aback, and slightly turned on.

“Not that,” Solas laughs. “And you, Iron Bull? Were you ever a—performer in your youth?” Solas slowly raises to his knees and leans over, taking the ladle from him. In one easy swoop, he throws more water onto the steaming rocks, and leans against the wall, inhaling deeply.

Bull says, a tad defensively, “That’s not how we do things in the Qun. I was earmarked for the Ben-Hassrath pretty early on.”

Solas says, “But there are many ways of being a spy, regardless of how your government attempts to standardize. Though I suppose you are too—big for the more subtle aspects of infiltration work.” He stretches. During his time with the Inquisition, he has put on enough weight and muscle that his ribs no longer show.

Bull says, “I did my job okay. Most of it is people-work. Watching, being watched. Don’t need a lot of variety in that.” He snorts. “The less, the better.” He eyes the bushel of branches Solas brought with him to the bania. The eucalyptus mingles wonderfully with the heady scent of sweat. He says, “Are you sure you don’t want me to hit you with that? That’s why you brought that here, right? I thought that was just a Dalish thing.”

He’s hit a nerve. Solas says sharply, “The Dalish do not monopolize all aspects of what has become of my people’s culture. And one simply…rubs the body with it, harder force is not necessary.”

“Ah,” Bull teases, “but if you really want to get the eucalyptus into the skin.”

“And I assumed this early, I would be alone,” Solas says flatly. “How is your knee, Iron Bull?”

Bull grunts, “Shitty. Running from all those demons tore it up again. But this helps. How’s yours?”

Solas pauses. Bull edges to the intersection of the benches, trying to find enough space to spread his leg out without having to sit on the floor. He maneuvers his bulk carefully, and gently lifts his bad leg onto the bench, folding his good leg underneath. It’s a vulnerable position, but he can see the door.

Finally, Solas admits, “My sleep has been disrupted with the amount of strain I’ve put my body through. I am hoping this will help before I must return to my desk and Vivienne’s lectures, as we calculate yet again the futility of using templars to isolate the rifts.”

Bull chuckles. “She’s still on that?”

“She has relented that a team of templars cannot hold the perimeter by themselves. We differ on how many mages are needed to perform the ritual to stabilize the Veil, and how vulnerable it leaves them.”

Bull says, “Give yourself a little bit of a good thing before you charge into the bad. That’s what I like about you, Solas.”

“Oh?” Carefully Solas climbs down onto the lower bench, favoring his unscarred leg.

“You know, you’re such a sensualist. You clearly like the baths, you don’t mind talking, you like the birch broom and feeling your blood roil and all that. I’ve seen you flirt with the Inquisitor before, and you were positively purring at the Winter Palace. But!”

“But,” Solas repeats, looking up at him. “But?” He is enjoying this, Bull is amused to realize. He enjoys it when people talk about him. As a younger man he must have preened. With that red hair, he would’ve had to.

Bull says, “But you never go all the way. You never fully surrender yourself to it. You get tipsy but not drunk. And you never let yourself alone with the Inquisitor, or anyone, really.”

“I am here with you,” Solas points out.

Bull shrugs. “And even though you like to talk, you like to argue, to debate, you never hang around the Mage’s Tower, or go back to the tavern with Dorian and the others. You keep patching up your shitty homespun even though with the Inquisition salary, you can buy yourself proper robes. You’re a masochist, man. I’ve never met someone so—sensual—who likes to torment himself so much.”

Solas is silent. Sweat pours from both their bodies, dampening the smooth hot wood. He fingers the bundle of oak twigs and eucalyptus, rubbing a single leaf with his thumb. Lowly, voice pooling like steam, he says, “Surely I do not need to tell you of the pleasure of desire, long-denied, finally sated. Or of living simply, with the occasional indulgence in luxury. After all, what is an elvhen apostate to do with silk? I take pleasure in making and mending my own garments, Iron Bull. As for other indulgences of the body…”

He trails off and Bull swallows heavily. He flicks his tongue around his lips. The air tastes of clean water and sweat: his own and the sharper, earthier scent of the elf’s. Every species has their particularities.

Bull says, “In the Qun, we believe in moderation, sure. And if you’re into edging, more power to you. But you know that’s not what I mean. If someone ends up that tightly-wound, that isolated, the Tamassrans intervened—“

“And if you do not give a proper showing of yourself, they break your mind and set you sweeping floors,” Solas says flatly. “I have seen how such authoritarian systems deal with dissenters. I take my pleasure in my own ways, in my own time. Not at my commander’s orders.”

Bull says, “It’s not like that. Sometimes you just need a good fuck, or a massage, or to be sat down in a discussion group with the priests and get into an argument all night long. The Tamassrans just prescribe the medicine. It’s good, it works. Keeps you from going too far.”

“Which is precisely why there is no Tal-Vashoth problem in Par Vollen,” Solas says. “Once, while in the Fade—“

Bull groans, “Right, let’s put some demons into this.”

Solas says, “Do you ever tire of repeating what your elders have told you, or would you like to learn something? Once, in the Fade, I saw a young Qunari working in a simple kitchen, baking bread as she was ordered every morning.”

“Cute,” Bull says. “So I’m not the only Qunari you’ve asked about their horns.”

Solas ignores the dig. He continues, “In every loaf she broke the rules. She’d take a pinch of sugar and would fold it to the center, like a secret.” He leans back with a fond smile. “And this act of small rebellion brought a shining smile across her face.” He spreads his hands, as if he has laid a winning flush in their game.

Bull thinks, you had to have been a slave. Are you the baker? Rather than provoke him further, Bull takes a different tact. “Hey, Solas. Why do you shave your head?”

Solas blinks. He raises a hand to his scalp, which is beginning to get bristly again. He says, “Fastidiousness, or lack of fastidiousness. Take your pick.”

Bull says, “No, really. If you can ask me how I put on a shirt I can ask you about your hair. Why do you keep it shaved? You’re not naturally bald, are you?”

Solas eyes him. “I am certain you have heard Dorian complain, at length, of the difficulties of keeping his hair perfectly coiffured and shaved while traveling. I have been nomadic most my life. It became easier, this way. Particularly since it is such a prominent color.” He shifts slightly.

Bull says, “Hey, I like red heads.”

“I know you do.”

“Don’t you ever think about growing it out?”

Solas laughs. “No. Never.” He pops his knee up and stretches his other leg, sighing as the muscles in his back audibly crack. Taking the bath broom, he begins rubbing the leaves into his skin. The air fills with its medicinal scent, and under that: earth.

Bull says, “I can rub that into your back.”

Solas says, “I prefer to take my pleasures simply.”

Bull says, “But I can look.”

Solas rolls his shoulders back and begins rubbing the bundle into his arms, swiping sweat away. “I never said you could not.”

Bull, frustrated, brings his bad leg down with a thump. He says, “You gonna take a dip in the cooling pool? Or is that too much of an indulgence for you?”

“My people first discovered this way of bathing,” Solas says distractedly. “I will take any opportunity to enjoy it now that I can, however primitive our facilities in Skyhold.”

“You’ve got baths, out in the woods?”

“You’ve never built a steam hut, and then flung yourself into a snow drift? Really, the Qun did not let you enjoy your youth.”

“But your people did,” Bull says, seizing on this note of autobiography.

Solas places the bundle on the bench. He stands up in silence and tosses another ladle of water onto the furnace. The room fills with steam, and Bull feels sweat pool in the back of his head.

Solas takes his towel and wraps it loosely around his waist. Looking over his shoulder, he says, “I took pleasure when it came my way.” With that rejoiner, he grins, and opens the door. Bright light and cool air pools in; the steam thins. The day has begun. Solas leaves.

Alone in the steam room, wonderfully hard, the Iron Bull says, “Fuck.”

#dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fanfic #da fanfic #dai fanfic #dai #dragon age #solas #iron bull #solabull #solas/iron bull #iron bull/solas #slash #banya #romance #flirting

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occult-castiel · 4 years

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The Same Page

This is my @destielsecretsanta2020 gift for @eclypseaf!!! The request was open, but bonus points for Miracle being present. So I wrote some post empty rescue fic!

This one honestly gave me a really hard time and I have no idea why. I hope you like it and have has an awesome christmas!

[Ao3 Link]

The portal spits them out in the dungeon.

Dean stumbles out first, a half step ahead of Cas. Human, malleable, and very much alive with one of the little dude's arms draped over Dean's shoulder.

Cas stumbles forward. Dean shoots an arm out in front of him, places a hand firmly against his chest. He maneuvers his other arms under his trenchcoat, grips his side firm.

His skins almost cool to the touch — much too cold to be safe. Not for a human, especially a brand new one.

And what if he's sick? Or gets sick and can't get better? Without his grace, there's a whole new set of worries. A bad flu that gets worse until he's gone, a hunt going wrong, fucking cancer. Heart disease kills pretty much everyone, doesn't it?

He takes a deep breath and focuses on the gentle thud of Cas' heart against his palm.

The last eight months haven't been easy. Not between the alcohol Sam eventually cut him off from, and the hunts getting sparse, and Jack being terrifying and gone until he wasn't.

Cas lulls his head to the side. His inky heart sticks to his forehead, and his blueberry-sweet eyes are unfocused but still manage to catch Dean's.

It's achingly familiar, and he smiles easy. "Hey there, sunshine."

Cas pinches his brows together as his head swims to stay upright. He slurs through some half-baked, nonsense question about coral reef bleaching, and Dean's so relieved he laughs.

Cas smiles at the sound, dazed and feather-light, but the joy is unmistakable.

It's the best thing Dean's ever seen. Fuck, he missed him. Missed him so much he didn't know what to do with himself.

Cas winces — what little help he was giving Dean in holding him up falls. He makes up the difference quick. Weak fingers curl around Dean's wrist.

"Sorry —"

"S'okay. Gonna —" he swallows hard. Tries to shove away the distinct pin-prick in his tear ducts that always means he needs to man the hell up. "Gonna get you to a bed, okay?"

Cas grunts, a pitiful noise that's mostly air and entirely feeble. "Tired."

"Rest then. It ain't far. I gotcha, buddy."

When he nods, his hair brushes Dean's neck.

It's not well thought out. The lack of work and overload of carbs haven't done Dean's muscles any favors. His joints creak and protest every step, but his room isn't far, and he'd be damned before he let's Cas feel like he has to do anything alone this time.

Miracle hops off the bed the moment the door opens.

Dean lays Cas on top of the bunched up blanket. Once he's down, Dean slowly works the trencoast and suit jacket off, his hands careful as they trail across the thin cotton of his shirt.

Cas shivers, and Dean wrestles to tug the blanket out from under him, Miracle nuzzling the side of his leg the whole time.

She's probably hungry. Or just wants attention. He hasn't exactly been available the last couple weeks, too busy with his nose in piles of research. But it all payed off.

Cas grimaces in his sleep, and it twists the cords in Dean's chest. He reaches his hand out and ghosts his fingers across the sweat-stained hair stuck to his skin, gently pushing it to the side.

He'd said it once, not more than a month ago, in the darkness of his room, Miracle tucked as close as he could get her.

He said he loved me, and I — I didn't say it back. But I do. God I do.

Dean trails his hand from his forehead to the flushed pillow of his cheeks. The other knuckles roughly at his eyes and comes back wet.

He has no god damn idea what he wouldve done without Miracle to talk to. Cause he could never get it out to Sam. Not those last moments. Not what Cas really means to him. Always too close to an edge of something larger than any apocalypse they've ever dealt with.

He traces down low enough to brush across Cas' wrist, the pained look still on his face.

Dean swallows, his heart hammers hard in his throat. Timid even though the guy is unconscious, Dean grabs his hand.

His mind blanks. Turns to complete static — a jumble of half-formed thoughts about every reason he ever told himself not to.

He's an angel. The worlds ending. Always ending. He doesn't feel that way. Can't, the equipment for it's not there. It's why he leaves, isn't it? And what the fuck could ever hope to start when it's all always falling apart? When they could fall apart.

Everyone leaves.

A flash of cold prickles down his back, and he tries to takes a deep breath. It goes down ragged. There was something he read once, about picking out a sense.

Cas' breath, slow and steady. The clink of Mircale's claws on the floor. A muted buzz from the florescent lights in the hall.

He breaths again, a little easier. His fingers curls into Cas' palm, and his finger twitch against Dean in response. The dent in his brows relax, his jaw goes slack.

"S'okay Cas." He squeezes. "Just... be okay."

When his phone rings, dumped and forgotten on the other side of the room, he isn't quite sure how to let go. Like the ligaments in his hand have cemented in place, forgotten the muscle memory to make the movements happen.

When the second call comes through, Cas mumbles something. Dean's shoulder slack, and he pulls his hands back, clammy and with a slight tremor.

It's Sam. There's a small tug of guilt — he should've called him the moment he put Cas down. He knows he would've been worried sick if Sam was the one that had to go.

Sam's relieved too, promises to buy stuff for dinner on his way back from where Dean went in the Empty about fifty miles out. And he must hear something in his voice, because he stresses to go watch a movie or something and let Cas sleep it off.

Of course he's right. They knew Cas would be out cold. But leaving the room is still hard, and he lingers in the doorway until he gets a good look at Miracle's mess of tangled fur.

He hasn't brushed her hair, since that's practically what the fur is, in weeks.

"C'mon girl."

He grabs the brush from the bedside table, casts on last look at Cas, and takes Miracle to the TV room.

She hops on the couch next to him, tail thumping with excitement.

"You wanna get pretty to meet Cas later?"

She nuzzles his hand, sticks her nose against the brush, and a little bit of the stress from today lightens up.

He flips on some netflix show about baking food, and talks to Miracle as he starts in on her snout.

It's ritualistic to touch on whatevers going on with her, at this point.

As her fur smooths, he tells her about the Empty. Its piss-poor lighting, the mind boggling way directions work, how it has this awful burnt-licorice and gasoline stench clung to the nothingness of its everything.

It kinda makes his head hurt.

Almost two full episodes in, he has all her fur neat and tidy, and his little monologue has circled back to Cas. She'd know a lot about him if she could talk.

"It's hard to believe he's really back. And — and maybe it'll be good. We could, I dunno, get you a yard?" He nods, smiles. "Yeah, I bet your spoiled ass would like that. The bunker ain't a place for pets."

Miracle leaps from the couch, and someone clears their throat from the door.

Cas stands in the doorway, hunched in on himself. Dark strands of hair twist up in random directions, and the casual clothes Dean left him fit snugly.

He looks... comfortable. Like he slipped into humanity ages ago, not this afternoon.

"Cas."

He tilts his lips up, tight and sheepish. "I see you have a dog now."

"Yeah. Miracle. She uh — she helped me." He motions vaguely to his head. "Might not be batting a hundred up here if not for her."

Cas glances down at her, and the tense smile softens. "I'm very grateful then."

Almost reverent, he scratches the side of her ear.

Dean shakes his head. Blinks. Two things he never thought he'd see side by side mixed with the insanity of the day make none of this seem real.

Deep breath.

"She can — she can be there for you too," Dean says. "If you need it. Dogs are great listeners. Even the Madonna types like this one."

Cas gives a contemplative hum. "They are both blonde."

He puffs a breath of air. It's easy to forget Cas actually knows what he's talking about now, sometimes. Even if he does still miss the point by a mile.

"It was your turn."

Cas raises an eyebrow.

"To, uh, pick a movie." He motions to the seat next to him. "If you want."

Cas runs his bottom lip between his teeth and doesn't look at Dean. Doesn't say anything either. Just nods, walks over, and sinks into the couch.

It's a respectable distance. Close enough Dean would be able to sense him, far enough away they won't touch.

Miracle curls up on the other side of Cas, head flopped on his lap, right next to his balled up hands.

"Is it over?" His voice is small.

Dean doesn't have to ask. "Chuck isn't aproblem anymore." Cas sighs, slinks down bonelessly into the cushions. "We figured it out, took his powers. Jack's fixing up Heaven with it. Says he's gunna do that, find a way to put Amara back together, and then come home."

"Good. I don't think I'm up to fighting standards." He rolls his head to the side. They're close enough Dean can make out each muscle in his neck when he swallows. "You didn't have to save me, Dean. I'd — made peace with that fate."

It's bullshit. It's bullshit and Cas has to know it. He almost tells him a much, but if he can't have that talk now, then he never will.

He licks his lips. It doesn't help the dryness.

"Did you mean it?"

It's a dumb question, but one he needs answered.

Cas doesn't miss a beat. "That and more." The serenity in his words is endearing as it is cutting when he adds, "But we don't have to address it. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

It's Dean's turn to melt with relief. "Good — that's good."

Cas winces. "I understand if you'd like some space —"

He starts to stand up, and panic seizes Dean's chest like a vice grip. He grabs his wrist and Cas freezes.

"No! God no. Cas, it — it wasn't supposed to happen like that."

He looks confused, before some amount of understanding smoothes out some of the worried lines in his face. His eyes flick down to Dean's mouth for an instant. "How was it supposed to happen, then?"

"I thought, maybe on a hunt? Or — I don't know. Just... " some place I could say it back.

Its not good enough, saying it without saying it. Cas gave a speech. He saved Dean's life, saved the god damn world. All without knowing.

He shakes his head. Starts again. He had enough practice between thoughts he couldn't shove away and late night pet-therapy. "I thought you knew. Hell, I've been scared everyone knows. And if they did, you did too, right?"

"Subtly isn't always my strongest suit."

He laughs, and it's almost on the wrong side of sane. "Don't I know it."

He can do direct.

Slow enough that Cas has time to pull back, he runs his hand up his arm, cradles it against the back of Cas' neck. He leans across the small distance and kisses him.

It's clumsy and unsure, and Cas places a skittish hand on Dean's side like he's not sure what he's allowed to have even now, but their lips mesh together in a way that feels better than anything he can remember.

When they part, he's not sure either one of them are breathing. And he can't look at Cas, not when he says it. Not yet. So he presses their foreheads together, keeps his eyes fully lidded.

"I don't know how you could think you aren't worth saving. You — you're it for me."

"Dean —"

He shakes his head, and the tips of their noses brush. "I love you more than I know what to do with. You know that right?"

Bewildered, Cas says, "I didn't."

"Yean, well. Now you do."

He scoots back in place, flushed firm against the cushion. Their hands tangle together, and their knees are touching, and it's too much and not enough. But mostly not enough. Dean dares a glance over. Cas is staring at their hands, a pleased smile on his face.

And they're on the same page.

"I think you said something about a yard when I walked in?"

Instead of answering he says, "We should retire. I'm too old for this shit."

"Entirely?"

Dean shrugs. "A hunt here and there wouldn't hurt I guess."

"We'll talk about it later." He reaches over him, grabs the remote. "I think you said it was my turn?"

Dean grins, full and toothy. "Yeah, just no more romcoms, dude. I can only take so many."

Cas nods, curt and serious. "Of course."

He does anyway, and it's the best shitty movie Dean's ever seen.

#destiel secret santa #sorry this is being posted so late in the day!!!#my internets broken at the moment so it was very difficult to get it up #and i also couldnt run it through any spelling/grammer checkers #hopefully theres nothing atrociously wrong with it #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic

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berrydoodleoo · 3 years

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spring is in the world

Title from ‘since feeling is first’. Chosen with Luna in mind, who in this AU has defied her fate and is no longer confined to parentheses. Read more about the art here, or have a short fic instead:

In hindsight, she shouldn’t have assumed things were going as well as they seemed. She had no great experience in taking lovers, after all, having devoted most of her thirty-odd years to fighting the Scourge in one form or another. She had lost so much time, first to her injuries after Altissa and the coma that had swallowed her for years, and then to the terrible fear and lethargy that gripped her once Ardyn was dead and her purpose in life (seemingly) fulfilled.

Not to mention that Noctis and Prompto were Lucian, whose upper-classes still ascribed to all sorts of prescriptive rules about romance and marriage. She should have been more vigilant -- Prompto in particular still regarded Noct and the sunlit world with nervousness bordering on dread, as if they might be ripped away from him at any moment. So what if she had danced with Noctis and Prompto at the ball held for the New Dawn’s first anniversary last week? So what if she had kissed Noctis outside her room, when he very courteously escorted her to her quarters? So what if Prompto had given her a gift of watercolor paints and cold-pressed paper at breakfast, asking with a flirty smirk if she had a model for her newest painting?

And most of all -- so what if they had made plans to celebrate Noctis’ birthday with a trip outside the city, where they would sleep (hopefully together) beneath the stars (her first test of her new resolve to walk in the dark without fear). So what? They hadn’t said anything out loud, hadn’t made any promises. She shouldn’t have assumed. She should never assume. It was such a terrible risk, forgetting to be afraid. She should have known….

It’s when she lays her hand over his, resting on Noctis’ chest, that she realizes they’ve been having two separate conversations. “He’s here to stay, Prompto,” she says, pressing gently. “I promise.”

“I know, I know.” Prompto clears his throat, forces a rough little laugh. “It’s not that.” He sniffs.

It gives her an ugly jolt to see him so distressed. They’d only been watching Noct sleep, praising his handsome features and planning how best to tease him when he awoke. Umbra is snoring cutely at Noctis’ side and Pryna is probably still in the field, chasing butterflies. Everything had seemed perfect.

Prompto glances skittishly at her frown and then begins to babble. “I just, uh -- got used to checking, you know? Making sure he hadn’t stopped breathing or started bleeding inside or something. It’ll, uh.” He shakes his head, tries to pull his hand away. “It’ll be weird not being able to check, you know, but I won’t -- I mean, I know you two -- I won’t get in the way, I won’t make things difficult, I promise--”

“Prompto,” Luna interrupts gently, struggling to follow. “I don’t understand what you’re--”

Prompto rakes his free hand over his eyes, smearing the hint of tears around. “You guys are gonna be great, you know?” He smiles bravely, props his head on his fist like they’re still chatting idly and he isn’t weeping openly. “You’ve waited for each other for so long. I guess destiny can be kind after all.” He tries to smile.

But he can’t keep the bleakness out of his eyes, and it’s clear that Prompto doesn’t believe any of this kindness has been reserved for him. “Prompto,” Luna bursts out, fumbling, confused, “are you -- breaking up with Noctis? Through me?”

Prompto recoils, or tries to; she still won’t let him get away. “O-of course not,” he stammers, “we weren’t -- I mean -- not really, we haven’t, not since -- he wouldn’t lie to you like that--”

Luna untangles this with some effort. “Do you mean you two aren’t together?” Confused, she reviews their interactions from the past few days, and then from the last time she saw them, after the final battle. “You haven’t been -- Prompto Argentum, you two haven’t been refraining because of me, have you?”

Prompto gapes at her. She gapes back.

“You have!” Astonished, Luna leans back to peer at the sky. “Why in the -- Prompto. Dear, dearest Prompto.” She checks on Noctis, in case their spirited conversation has woken him, but he sleeps on obliviously. She’ll have words with him later.

Prompto tries to sit up, retreat again, and this time Luna tugs him quite firmly back into place. “Don’t you dare,” she orders, and he freezes. “Prompto, you and Noctis love each other. You’ve been part of each other’s lives for so long, have supported and believed in one another through the worst of--” She finds she can’t find the words to continue, and tries again. “I would never, will never, seek to separate the two of you.”

Prompto’s lower lip is trembling. Luna starts to shift forward, cup his cheek, and then realizes such a gesture might be unwelcome. Dear gods, she has misread this. Such a fool she is. She’d thought--

“Quite the opposite,” she finally continues, quietly, despite the cold terror creeping through her veins. “So long as the two of you have one another, I may have peace in my heart, for I know that one good, true thing prevails.”

She blinks back a sudden flood of tears. Perhaps they don’t want her. Perhaps she doesn’t have a place with them after all. She wants her room, suddenly, her safe, prison-like room, where nothing joyful grows but nothing can hurt her, either.

“But you guys have been -- oh.” Prompto blinks rapidly, and then starts to redden. “Oh. Is this a, uh, Tenebrean thing? Like the triad thing? Oh man, is this what Iggy was trying to -- oh, man.”

Luna can’t help it; she bursts into damp, semi-hysterical giggles, despite the icy shake in her guts. Prompto smiles up at her blurrily, and then starts to laugh as well.

“Man,” he says again, suddenly beaming, eyes still tear-reddened. “He is gonna give me so much crap about this. I am literally never gonna live it down. Wow.” He takes a deep breath and squeezes her hand tenderly, overwhelmed. “Is this really -- you might have to -- I am really oblivious sometimes, but uh, I guess you know that now.” He laughs again, edged, at himself.

Luna starts to nod, changes to shaking her head, and then feels hot, wet tears dripping down her face. She’ll feel foolish later. Prompto sits up, and this time she lets him, because he’s moving to lean closer, cup her face and wipe her tears away.

“Luna,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I misunderstood.” She presses his rough, large hands to her cheeks and feels herself crumple a little more. “No,” he continues. “No, please don’t cry. I can’t -- I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Luna takes a deep breath. She isn’t been rejected. You aren’t being rejected, she reminds herself. “No, no,” she says wetly, “I shouldn’t have assumed--”

She stops herself. She’s making an effort to reprimand herself less these days. She is trying so hard to be better. And in a fight for blame, she suspects she and Prompto could go round and round until the sun went down and never came up again, but that isn’t what she wants. For either of them.

Luna takes a deep breath. She refuses to start their relationship in a spiral of apologies and self-blame. She doesn’t want that anymore. She wants to open the door to a rolling world of yellow suns and indigo skies and, eventually, gentle nights that fill her with wonder and comfort instead of fear. She wants to let go of the fear and her desperate need for control -- she wants to be free, a part of the world for the first time in her life.

So instead of berating herself, she grips his hands in hers and lets their combined grip rest against their (still sleeping, seriously, Noct?) king’s chest. Umbra is watching them with interest, she notes. And then she takes another breath.

“Prompto,” she says, falling back on an old, formal proposal from a romantic show she used to watch, as a teenager confined within Fenestala Manor. “Will you grant me the honor of your affection and presence, and keep a place for me in your heart?”

Prompto’s lovely eyes widen, full of hope and delight. Pure sunlight. He’s grinning and she’s breathless. All further words fly from her mind.

His fingers squeeze hers as he leans forward for a kiss, and then another, tentative turning into playful, his smile slotting sweetly against hers again and again. Blindly, her hands work themselves free to touch his cheeks, his throat, the rasp of his short beard. He retreats for a quick breath, tracing her lips with hot, hooded eyes, and then devours her mouth in a kiss that raises her onto her knees, toes curled and body tingling. Oh, oh, oh--

“Hey,” Noctis grumbles, exactly like a grumpy cat awoken from a nap. “Uh, did I miss something? I thought we were waiting till my birthday.”

Prompto gasps, wrenching away. “That’s what that’s all about?” he demands shrilly, and Luna bursts into giggles. “The camping trip? Oh my gods, Gladio’s gonna kill me--”

Noctis pushes himself up his elbows, squinting and scowling with the sun in his eyes. “What? You seriously didn’t know?” He sits up, absently guiding Luna to sit at his side in a way that makes her heart warm. “Thought you were kidding about that.”

“--never gonna hear the end of this, crap--”

Noctis looks to Luna, about to ask something -- probably ‘what on Eos is happening right now, I was only asleep for thirty minutes’ -- but then his expression changes and he makes a wise choice of priorities. “Uh, Luna? Pryna’s after the cheese again.”

Luna yelps and Pryna yips, betrayed, and the dog knocks the picnic basket over in her haste to escape her mistress, wedge of cheese clamped firmly in her jaws. Prompto dives to catch her -- “I’ve got her!” -- but he doesn’t. Noct fails to catch him and he lands on their legs, trapping them. Umbra runs in circles and barks for the sheer, chaotic joy of it. Pryna devours her stolen prize. And in the sunlit field, with her loves bickering and playing at her side, Lunafreya laughs until she cries for the first time in her life.

#ffxv #lunafreya nox fleuret #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #ot3 #my art

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redloftwingfeathers · 3 years

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I feel like talking about the shit Zelda not only had to put up with but also what she subconsciously summoned herself and you're going to sit and listen and maybe cry with me okay? Okay.

While I don't think that was very cash-money of 'Hylia' to make Zelda wait until she's reached true, unrelenting despair to finally find her light, it made me wonder how everything came into play that made her journey so painstakingly hard, and not just Hylia pulling fast ones from the clouds. (Trust me I wanted to blame the goddess so bad after that moving performance at the spring of power but wait!! there's more!)

Things I'm looking at are specifically Zelda's anxieties of wanting to be a scholar but having to throw herself to the dogs of religion to keep Rhoam happy, the HEAVY depression she carries with not just from the loss of her mother but also just constantly being berated by her father and feeling like she's not good enough for Hylia, the jealousy and anger she harbors towards Link in their beginnings and how it effects her growth.

All of these are things (coming from someone who is very mentally ill) are ingredients that distract Zelda from her goals, intentional or not.

Zelda has a classic case of "I wanna do This Thing (studying, traveling) but I have to do That Thing (religion, strict orders) instead and now the fun is sucked out of it and my mind is buzzing and now I don't know what to do girl (hylia) HELP"

What's even worse is despite her hand-picked maturity, she KNOWS what is right and what she needs to do (her level of self awareness is impeccable sometimes) but she is still just a child in the end, wanting to live her life without dictation, which causes frustration and anger and can lead to self-doubts.

Starting with the loss of her mother, Rhoam claims that Zelda did not cry at all during the ceremony, and that it proved to him he could still be a strong king with how unwavering his daughter was. And although that's shown as an "awe inspiring" moment, it shows Rhoam does not understand how the processing of grief registers differently amongst people, especially children. She may have not showed it when she was, what, 6? (Not every normal 6 year old understands the fragility of mortality) but you can definitely see it affects her later on as Zelda grows older. It may not be entirely visible at first, but the way they portray it in HWAoC (I know its not entirely canon but bare with me on this) she longs for her mother's advice and comfort when her pleas and ideas fall deaf on the king's ears. Her mother seemed to be a very wise and compassionate queen, where Rhoam is a wise and a very bite-the-bullet king.

When stakes are high he trusts what he thinks needs to be done, and he enforces Zelda to finish her training Because she is part of his plan to push back the calamity. He knows protocol, and there's no room for creative thinking when the land of Hyrule is in danger. (Disclaimer: I hate Rhoam but I can also try to see what Nintendo was doing. He's not intentionally mean, he's an assertive dad that wants to see his daughter succeed (and also hella depressed) but he's really fucking bad at it and comes off as a dickhead. He is the embodiment of a boomer that does things the old fashioned way to get things done).

But all of this pressure he is putting on her, taking away things that make her happy so they don't distract her from her duty, shooting down her ideas because he wouldn't know how to even approach it from his standpoint, it really does a number on Zelda and really births her insecurities.

No matter how hard she prays and dedicates herself to Hylia, it doesn't work. Her mind is distracted, filled with fear and very little hope that the magic isn't Working. What even kicks me in the jaw more is that she's putting all of her effort into these prayers, and it's not even her wish she's making. It's Rhoam's wish. Her Ancestral Family's wish. That's why it hasn't sparked. She's praying on the behalf of her father and ancestors and not herself because she firmly believes there's other ways to settle the score. Zelda knows the importance of her role but its just not clicking when someone else is forcing you to do it. It just doesn't work like that.

Moving onto her liaison with Link, she is, well, in the beginning very irritated with him. Even a little bit after being chosen by Fi. But I don't think she MEANS to be angry at Link, he didn't do anything wrong in all honesty. She shouldn't take out her anger on him, but she's jealous, and he exists...so like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

When Link is suddenly chosen by the sword at a drop of a hat?? Yeah she's relieved, but there's also undertones of resentment. All of her Champions are here at the ready and she's still trying to figure out what shoe goes on first. She is the goddamn Princess of Hyrule, one who carries the blood of Hylia in her veins, and this random tiny knight who, mind you, fought tooth and nail to be her escort ends up finding his role before her? She is riding the struggle mule up Mount Lanayru (and I don't really blame her). And when she's exploring the shrines?? She makes it very clear to him she can work independently and does not need an escort, which although understood (freedom is a peace everyone strives for) she is careless regardless of her careful planning and efforts. She's a Princess, wandering Hyrule unarmed (and without her powers) with a horse as her only mode of transportation. You won't see yourself as a target even if they're pinned on your back, and with her determination to utilize these mysterious shrines as more Sheikah tech is being discovered is making her blind in remembering where she's placed in social status. It's dangerous, and I'm glad Link is there to see what she fails to see.

That's another thing too. As they progress and strengthen their friendship, Zelda sees Link as a mirror to question what her role really means. She uses him as guidance to help understand her situation, asking him "If you were told your whole life This is what you're meant to do, to take up your family's legacy...but one day realize this isn't what you want, would you still take the path you've been told to take?" In this case I think it's safe to say this is what Link knew he wanted. He loves being an aid to those in need, and becoming a knight despite following his father's path, this felt like his true calling. The spirit of the hero is VERY strong in his soul, and when he sees someone in need of help [Zelda] he's going to aid them whether they want it or not.

But Zelda still feels so lost, she feels so disconnected from her ancestors, as the previous daughters in the royal families were Given their powers at birth and meant to be awakened when the time has come. They were all given the gift of premonition, to be a medium for Hylia and a messenger of the gods, and overall able to keep Ganon away from the world no matter how many times he crawls back from the depths of hell. Being told your whole life you're meant to be like your ancestors, but not being able to fulfill any of those roles? It makes the past seem like one giant fairy tale when in you're in BotW Zelda's shoes.

No voices, no premonitions, no secret awakenings...Nothing.

At this moment, I finally understood why Urbosa said to Revali about Link. She said he is a constant reminder of Zelda's own failures. Link found his calling by following his instinct. Zelda has yet to figure out what she really wants, and is clouded by judgements not only from her father and people, but from herself too. With every passing day she is undergoing a meltdown, questioning if she is even meant to be apart of this whole plan anymore, probably something among the lines of "Was it meant to be someone else? I'm the only daughter, and yet I can't even do my one job." She lost everyone and everything, she's frightened, it feels like she's lost her faith in the gods, or even dare say, the gods lost faith in her.

But through absolute despair when Link just about gives his life for her protection, that's when it all clicked. She found her power and strength through Link, who was the one that, all this time, taught her about what she needed to do to awaken her powers without even directly telling her. Every conversation she had with him, she saw herself in Link. She saw all the effort he gave into becoming a royal knight, the unwavering determination in his eyes with every Lynel he slew, a never ending supply of optimism and hope no matter how high the stakes were. And yet he was also Free. He followed his path blindly, not even knowing where he'd end up, as long as he knew he was

able to protect those in need. And she wanted that.

He was her mirror, and Zelda managed to awaken herself when that mirror cracked.

Living the burden of being part of a prophecy and saying you're ready for anything, is very reckless. Understanding the heaviness that comes with sacrifice is not truly understood until it starts happening to you.

Zelda found her wish, her independence through Link. Her mind is finally clear and she understands what her role means in all of this.

She is meant to protect, to save, to understand more than just personal loss.

Zelda couldn't stand by idly anymore after everyone told her to do something else and let others handle the job. That was the last straw when Link stood in front of her, shield weak but at the ready when that guardian approached. She saw the desperation and said NO, which finally broke her seal. She chose to sacrifice herself, igniting her powers just as Hylia did for her people. She chose to save her last, literally dying hope, because Ganon cannot be fought alone.

He was the connection, the literal link, she needed to awaken her powers. And I just find that so fucking great.

Anyways thanks for coming to my TED talk I've been typing this for like 4 hours now

#hHGDFJDF SORRY THIS IS SO LONG #dont tag as zelink pls i tried keeping this ambiguous as possible thank #the legend of zelda #botw #aoc spoilers #sorta #cat talks #also my thoughts are flying faster than my fingers #so this might skip and jump around #my adhd welcomes you

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gleekto · 4 years

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Even Better Than the Real Thing (3/15)

Summary: College AU/Famous!Blaine and Fanboy!Kurt - Kurt POV

Kurt really doesn’t have time to figure out the dating world between being a freshman at prestigious theatre school, LAADA, and his active but secret blogging life in the Sing!Fandom. So what if Sing! ended last year? There are still fics to read and actors to follow. Especially the uber talented heartthrob lead, Blaine Anderson. He can act. He can sing. He can even dance. He’s gay. He’s out. And he’s only 24. Kurt is willing to twiddle his thumbs and click refresh until Blaine Anderson’s next project.

He just didn’t expect the next project to be on his roommate Rachel’s new TV show.

Part 1, Part 2

Even Better Than the Real Thing (3/15)

LimaBlaineFan: Spoiler alert - My source is back. He is going to be meeting Blaine tonight.

After Wednesday’s official announcement that Blaine Anderson had been cast as Rachel’s musically talented but romantically challenged love interest, Colin Red, on That’s So Rachel, Kurt’s followers jumped again. 331 more this time. It’s the credibility surge - not that he’d ever be a troll.

Kurt realizes he’s in a potentially problematic position, with one foot venturing into the real life filming world of Blaine Anderson, and his other foot firmly in the fantastical world of fandom. He realizes that he could end up in a conflict of interest, or with inside information that he clearly can’t share or worse, that he accidentally does. But who’s he kidding? He’s just been gifted a fan’s dream ticket of a non-fandom interaction with his celebrity crush. Yeah there might be consequences, but for now Kurt plans to enjoy having his cake and eating it too.

Kurt puts the finishing touches on his cocktail party outfit - layered blacks and greys for the cool fall day with a perfectly fitted long jacket. Sophisticated without looking like he’s trying too hard to impress very impressive company.

“Kurt, you ready?” Rachel is already halfway out the door as he grabs his phone and notices the red private message alert beside the growing notes on his “my source is going to meet Blaine” post.

MercedesSing!: It’s you, isn’t it? You remember that I know that Rachel Berry is your roommate, right?

Kurt types quickly as he exits the apartment. Can’t talk now with a winky emoji.

...

The cocktail party for the cast of That’s So Rachel isn’t exactly what Kurt was expecting. With Patti and Barbra, he expected glitz and glamour, unlimited martinis, caviar, and free air pods in an obnoxious swag bag. Instead, there is some nice red wine, hot dogs in a blanket, fried mushrooms on a stick, and a take home cookie with a cartoon face of a smiling Rachel Cherry. Low key and almost relaxed. And he will definitely enjoy biting off Rachel’s head.

Kurt relaxes at the less intense than expected atmosphere, and manages to be an excellent plus one for Rachel’s idols turned TV moms. He and Rachel are so engaged discussing the brilliance of a gender reversed ‘Company’ with Patti, and his own lauded rendition of Rose’s Turn from his high school Glee club, that he almost forgets that Blaine Anderson is coming. Almost.

When Patti is called over to meet one of the executives, and he and Rachel are left with a cone of appetizer fries in hand by the wine bar, he starts to get nervous. His eyes wander, trying not to search but definitely searching. There’s Jesse St. James who is playing Rachel’s music teacher talking to the showrunner. There are the friendly hair and makeup gang over by the couches. Rachel points out another couple of young women who will be playing Rachel’s friends. But no Blaine Anderson. Kurt tries not to look distracted.

“Rachel, hey!”

Just from the voice Kurt knows.

“Oh Blaine, hi,” Rachel turns around to a smiling and wow really quite perfectly dressed Blaine Anderson, approaching from the back door.

“Sorry I’m late. I just had to finish up filming before running home for a quick shower.”

“Great to see you. We were just-”

“That is a really great outfit. Especially the shoes.” The words just fall out of Kurt’s mouth as he swings on the balls of his feet. Could he make a more awkward first impression? He apparently can’t keep his mouth shut when it comes to red shiny shoes perfectly matched with a soft red cardigan, skinny tie and jeans that fit just so. Somehow Blaine is even more warm and gorgeous in-person and wow, does he have style. Which Kurt appreciates - unfortunately, out loud.

“Oh. Thank you.” Blaine looks slightly surprised but not put off by Kurt’s over enthusiasm. “I could say the same to you,” Blaine grins now, eyeing Kurt’s grey sweater-blazer, which does look great, Kurt admits. He feels like the fanboy at Comicon. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Blaine says. “I’m Blaine Anderson.” He extends his hand.

I know, Kurt thinks, smiling dumbly. I know. “I’m Rachel’s roommate.” Kurt shakes his hand - warm, soft, firm. Of course he would have a firm handshake. Kurt keeps smiling, hoping he’s being polite, but there’s an awkward silence.

“Kurt,” Rachel adds. “This is my roommate, Kurt Hummel.” Great. He forgot to say his name. Nothing like a first impression.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kurt.” He knows that people in fandom who have had the luck to meet Blaine in person have said it, but he can now verify that Blaine really is good at that eye contact thing. His eyes are focused right on him and Kurt is sure he will drown. Kurt nods, trying not to seem like he’s staring. “How did you two meet?”

Rachel looks at Kurt, waiting for him to speak, probably because Blaine is looking at him, and not at Rachel. When he doesn’t say anything, Rachel eventually chimes in. “We went to high school together in Lima, Ohio-”

“The thriving metropolis,” Kurt manages to snap out of his stupor to give a shout out to his hick hometown. Blaine nods, laughing. He’s still looking at him.

“I know what you mean.”

“You do?”

“I’m from Ohio, too. Westerville.” Kurt knows that. “Not exactly the best place for a wannabe actor to grow up.” Blaine went to the prestigious Dalton Academy - also known as the gay Hogwarts of the Midwest. And he is absolutely not going to ask him about that.

“Fair,” Kurt replies, still smiling like a starstruck fanboy. He is a starstruck fanboy. And before Blaine notices, or worse, before he says something stupid, he figures he should exit while he’s ahead - leaving no damage in case they actually do meet again. “It was nice to meet you, Blaine and I’ll leave you two to talk shop. My glass is empty and I’m going to get another red while the line is short.”

Kurt takes a deep breath while he waits in line. Conversation completed and no harm done. Rachel and Blaine are talking animatedly about something or other and he has a moment to breathe as he makes his way to the bartender, “Merlot, s’il vous plait?”

“You speak French?” Kurt turns to see a once again grinning Blaine Anderson, who has somehow appeared behind him in line. What?

“Me?”

Blaine gives him a quizzical look. “You did just speak French to the bartender, right?”

“Oh! Oh yeah, of course. I don’t really speak. I just took French in high school.”

“A Corona please,” Blaine asks the same bartender as Kurt turns to walk away, red wine in hand, “Hey Kurt. Wait up.” Kurt freezes. Okay. “Cheers,” Blaine says as he chinks his beer bottle to Kurt’s wine glass. “Sometimes it’s nice to just have a drink and chill at these events, you know?” Blaine leans into him so he can hear what he’s saying in the noise of the crowd. “It’s a lot of industry people and a lot of being on. They’re great. Don’t get me wrong. But it takes a lot of focus to say all the right things to Patti Lupone.”

“Oh my god, I know. I just met her.” Kurt agrees. “I’m studying at LAADA so Rachel wanted to make sure I made the connection-”

“You’re at LAADA? That’s awesome. Such a great school,” Blaine knocks into his side. “You know if I hadn’t gotten my part on Sing!-” Kurt keeps his face neutral, “I would have gone into musical theatre. Did you do Glee Club with Rachel?”

“She’s already told you about Glee?” Kurt says. “Guilty. We weren’t exactly the top of the social pyramid at a football crazed school in Lima, Ohio.”

“I was in Glee club in Westerville, too, way back when. Dalton Academy?”

“Oh yeah,” Kurt nods nonchalantly. “The Warblers, right? I think we competed against them a couple of times two years ago.”

“Yeah,” Blaine nods fondly. “We were strangely revered by the boys at the school but Dalton was still very much an old boys’ club in the middle of Ohio. It’s not the progressive mecca some may think it is.”

“I may have heard a rumour-” Kurt pauses.

“Yeah, no. It’s not the gay Hogwarts,” Blaine makes quotation marks with his fingers. “Not when I was there at least. I was out but I never had a boyfriend until I moved to LA.” How can he be having this conversation? “But then I got Sing! and you know, dating wasn’t so easy.”

“It wasn’t?” Because Kurt is pretty sure that there would be boys literally lining up for a chance at a date with fandom’s most eligible sweetheart.

“No,” Blaine shrugs. “It’s really hard to meet people when you’re on a show like that, you know? Constantly in the spotlight, or in the selfie camera. It becomes hard to distinguish between fan and friend.” Kurt’s eyebrows rise. “And with that schedule on Sing! - I was too busy for anything serious, anyways.” Kurt nods keeping his face as flat as possible while his heart beats out of his chest, hoping Blaine can’t hear it over the background music. “I should apologize. I’m doing all the talking. What about you, Kurt? Do you have a boyfriend?”

What.

“Who me?” Kurt is taken aback. The combination of the very chill and bizarrely intimate conversation he’s having with Blaine Celebrity-of-My-Dreams Anderson, while being casually asked about his (non-existent) love life, the assumption that he’s gay and could be taken so obvious and ordinary, makes him feel like he’s in the Twilight Zone. He is in the Twilight Zone - he is talking about his love life with Blaine Anderson. He needs to compose himself. “Oh no. No no. Like you said, small town Ohio is not exactly a gay mecca. Just swinging and single,” Kurt says awkwardly. He knows he’s beet red but Blaine bites his lower lip and his smile gets wider.

“Blaine!” Jesse St. James from across the room, beckons him over. “Come here. Meet Joan Silver - she’s the executive producer.” Blaine looks up at the ceiling and sighs.

“I’m being summoned,” Blaine says and Kurt nods, still feeling surreal. Blaine reaches out and squeezes Kurt’s upper arm, “Really nice to meet you,” He winks, “Rachel’s roommate.”

#even better than the real thing #gleekto writes #ahhh the meet cute

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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1029

[found at: zelthie]

What were you doing before you got on the computer? I took a long-ass shower after the humid nightmare that was today.

Is there anything you really want right now? I wish I had some pastry to go with my iced coffee. I miss my studying sessions at coffee shops :( and it’s not like I’ll get to have them again once Covid is over, because I’m not even in school anymore. Sigh. Also, a longer weekend. I can hardly believe it’s Sunday again tomorrow, and that after that will be Monday again. I love my work, but I also want to reeeeeeeeest.

What's the best gift you've ever gotten? Probably the front-row concert tickets my dad got me for Paramore. Outside of my parents, I really appreciated the scrapbook Gabie made for me three years ago. It turned out to be the first and only handmade gift she’d ever make for me, so I think of it fondly.

What's a song you think the world needs to listen to? Idk, people have different tastes and so it may not be possible to name a song that would successfully appeal to everybody.

Has there ever been a person you regret ever being friends with? As much as I like to firmly believe that regretting friendships should be avoided as much as possible because those people made me happy at one point, I’ve got nothing nice to say about Marielle.

Do you think you have a good understanding on love? I don’t know anything anymore.

You just discovered a new color! What would you name it? No thanks, please don’t ask me to be creative any time of the day.

What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Cookies and cream, and recently, chocolate chip cookie dough.

What do you want to do on your honeymoon? I have not had one but should I do, I’d love to go somewhere non-beachy for a change.

What's one thing you remember learning in school? Spelling difficult words. English (the language, not literature) was my favorite subject in middle school and I always liked the pop spelling quizzes we had. There are some words I could still remember getting wrong, like ‘rendezvous’ and ‘coup d’etat’ but I was always excited about learning their correct spellings so that I could start using them on my own time as well.

Are you more of a cat or dog person? Dog for sure.

How do you want to be remembered by people? [trigger warning] Idk. Whenever I think about...leaving, I always also think about leaving some kind of note instructing whoever’s in charge of stuff to keep things hushed, because I don’t want the whole thing to be a big deal and for it to spread. I don’t really want to be remembered for anything.

Do you like road trips? Yaaaaaaaaas. As long as I’ve got the right playlist that’s also long enough as well as several seasons of Friends, I’d be good to go.

Do you think Medical Marijuana should be legalized? I haven’t read much about it and that topic in general is still widely taboo over here, but I personally have nothing against it.

If you were forced to dye your hair another color, what color would you get? Brown.

Excited for anything? My first paycheck :D :D

What do you think of your parent(s)? They’re doing their best.

Are your grandparents dead? Just one.

What celebrity do you think should have never become famous? Amber Heard and the Paul brothers.

What's your favorite thing to do online? Watch stuff on YouTube. These days I’ve been revisiting wrestling again so I’ve been watching loads of matches and promos I enjoyed throughout my teenage years. I’m scared to dip my toes into today’s content though, because I barely know anyone anymore and there would be a lot of storylines I’d have to get acquainted with; but idk, I might get there someday.

Are you glad George W. Bush is out of office? I didn’t know his presidency all that well because I was way too young when he was still in office. Apparently he’s not very popular.

If you could appear on any TV show, what show would you choose? I’ve always wanted to try out The Amazing Race. I was definitely hooked to that show as a kid.

What does your full name look like without the letters t,a,i,o,e,l,n or s? Rby.

Your mood summed up into one word? Emotionless. I’m literally not feeling anything at the moment, but this is still a lot better than being miserable so I’ll take it.

How often do you talk to other people about the weather? Only when we’re experience extremes, like if it’s painfully, annoyingly hot out or if there’s a bad typhoon. Otherwise I try to find something else to talk about.

Are you doing anything else besides taking this survey right now? Nope, my full attention is on here.

What's a name you wouldn't mind having? At this point, I’ve learned to be okay with my name and don’t feel the need to whine about it anymore.

What's your favorite thing to wear that you own? My mom jeans or denim jacket.

What do you think of Barbie dolls? Boring, mostly. I grew up with boys, so we had more toys marketed for boys and those are what I ended up liking more.

When you were little, did you ever want to go to Disneyland? Not really.

Do you currently have a job? What kind of job do you *want* to have? I do. I’m already in the job/career I had wanted and aimed to be in.

What do you like to do on your free time? Being on YouTube, playing with my dogs, surveys, eating.

What's your relationship with your parents like? With my mom, it’s permanently strained after years of verbal and emotional abuse, but at some point I just learned to live with the trauma – it’s like, we get along these days and we barely get into screaming matches anymore, but at the back of my head I’m still constantly reeling from the hurt she had put me through when I was younger.

My dad and I act like each other’s buddies, but we silently look out for one another. For example he’ll sometimes make a plate of corndogs just for me while I’m at work, and that’s his way of saying “Are you ok? Here, have this. I’m worried about you” without ever having to say it to my face.

Do you own any pets? Yes, I’ve got two dogs.

How many places have you traveled to? Six countries and all over my own country, except Mindanao.

Do you own a cell phone? If so, what kind? iPhone 8.

What are your goals for the future? For things to fall into place, whatever that would bring me.

What's your favorite kind of drink? Just plain old cold water, or coffee.

Did you ever get into the Twilight saga craze? What about the Harry Potter craze? I was (and am, heheh) into Twilight; I wasn’t into Harry Potter.

Where is your mind at: The Past, the Present, the Future, or all around? My mind tends to make space for all three of these.

What's a really good movie you've seen recently? I haven’t seen any films recently but I am planning to watch Ammonite, which I have high hopes and expectations for.

Are you happy where you are right now? Career-wise, yes. As for everything else...could be a little better.

What's the first thing you thought in your head when you woke up today? AHHHHHHH SATURDAY.

If your best friend confessed that they can see the future, you would...? Ask how they were able to get such an ability.

Write a random quote that comes to your head: I’ve been watching Friends all day so the first set of quotes I thought of upon reading this question was, “I just don’t want to face three failed marriages.” “At what point did you think this was a successful marriage?” hahahahaha.

What's your opinion on milk chocolate? Like it, but sometimes can be too sweet.

What about Dark Chocolate? I don’t like dark chocolate bars themselves – too bitter; but I don’t mind it being incorporated in other sweets, like cookies that have dark chocolate bits.

You do know that white chocolate isn't even really chocolate, right? Yes. But it’s my favorite kind.

Do you get annoyed when surveys mention a band you've never heard of? If they mention it excessively or if they name too many unfamiliar bands, then I’m likely to get annoyed, yeah. But I skim through potential surveys anyway, so if I observe that a survey has too many music references I can’t relate to then I just don’t take it.

What's your opinion about Katy Perry's song "I kissed a girl"? Cool song and ahead of its time tbh, but she has so many other better singles.

What's your least favorite pizza topping? Pepperoni, beef, and pineapples.

What would you do if you discovered the US was now drafting for the war? Don’t care.

Are you even living in America, or are you from another country? Bingo for the latter.

What's your favorite social website? Twitter.

Do you believe in heaven? If so, what's it like? If not, why? No. I associate heaven with gods or higher beings, so believing in it would just kill the point of being atheist. I do like to find comfort in some sort of afterlife where I’m not in pain and am reunited with all my loved ones, though. I don’t necessarily believe in it, but it’s just comforting to think about and makes death a lot less scary.

What's your favorite video game? Super Smash Bros. Brawl would probably be my all time favorite. I do plan to get Super Smash Bros. Ultimate for the Switch, so that might get dethroned soon.

In your opinion, is Bzoink the best place to find fun surveys? Yes.

What's your opinion of high school? It only got fun once I found the right friends. Without them, I’m sure my experience would have been miserable.

Do you prefer the country or city? City.

Texting: Is it fun, evil, boring, or none of the above? It can be all of these things depending on the context of the conversation.

What email service do you use for your main (or only) email account? I’m mainly on Gmail. I have an Outlook account that’s still active, but I’ve been listing it less and less for social media sites.

What's your favorite dumb pick-up line? I don’t do pick-up lines, really. I find the entire concept pretty lame.

What are your plans for the next 48 hours? I got hooked to Friends again, so I’ll probably continue watching for the whole of tomorrow. For Monday, I’ll be at work again.

Did you ever read "Captain Underpants" when you were little? Yes. I lovedddd those books, but I always had to read them in secret (my cousin owned the books and I just asked to borrow) because my mom disapproved of them. My favorites were the Flip-O-Rama sections.

What's better: The old Cartoon Network, or the new one? Or do you not care? I’m not aware of the new version, so that leaves me with one choice. Generally, though, Cartoon Network was my least favorite channel out of the big 3 of kids’ channels.

Disney Channel shows are all pretty cheesy, aren't they? The ones they air today are, but maybe I’m just saying that because I’m already outside of their target demographic.

What's your opinion on the Jonas Brothers? I can’t think of a reason to dislike them. They’ve always been likeable, whether as individuals or as a band.

What are some of your favorite singers/bands? Beyoncé, Paramore, Hozier, alt-J, Coldplay, Against Me!, The Japanese House are the main favorites I like mentioning.

Why do the lead singers in bands always get the most recognition?! Probably because they’re the ones mainly heard. I always recognize all the members in my favorite bands, though.

Did you ever believe in the Tooth Fairy? I did, but when I didn’t receive any money after placing my tooth under my pillow, my hopes and belief got shattered pretty quickly.

What's your favorite type of weather? Cold, cloudy, and rainy.

What's your opinion on reading books? I think it’s great when people are able to find the time to read books, and lots of them. I wish I didn’t grow out of it.

You're given a chance to act in a Hollywood Blockbuster! Would you accept? Nope.

What it if it was a movie directed by Tim Burton?(He directed Sweeney Todd) He ranks pretty low for me. He’s a great director and I respect his craft, but his filmography is not a personal favorite of mine.

How do you feel about Taco Bell? I wish I can have it more often, but we only have two branches in the Philippines and they are both far away.

Are you hungry right now? I can honestly go for a snack right now :/ Like chicken tenders or pad thai. I’m super tempted to order from Grab since I have more than enough cash on me, but I don’t want to be irresponsible with my money so very early on lol

How often do you go on to Youtube? Everyday, and most of everyday.

It's possible to be addicted to anything... What are you addicted to? Curry.

What's your opinion of Wallgreens? Unfamiliar.

Back when Spongebob Squarepants was famous, were you interested in it? Yes, it was my favorite cartoon.

What's your dream pet? Dogs.

You see a mermaid while relaxing on the beach with friends. What now? Think that it’s probably a social experiment and let them be.

Who's been your favorite teacher growing up, and why? My music teacher always gave amazing life advice alongside her lessons, and she was so graceful and so classy and she simply invited respect everywhere she went. I’ve always wanted to be like her.

When you were little, did you ever like Pokemon? Yes. I watched the anime and collected Pokemon pogs and cards. My cousin had a lot of the video games and I’d watch him play those, while my sister had a couple of Pokemon books that explained each Pokemon.

How often do you get headaches? These days, everyday. Hahaha work is super hectic.

Do you have any songs stuck in your head right now? If so, what? Saw You In A Dream by The Japanese House.

#survey #surveys

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naefnan · 5 years

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Puzzle book

This was made as a gift for a Secret Sanders in Twitter (and I’m going to say it, I was super nervous about all this). It’s my first time writing and publishing in English (because English isn’t my first language) so… yeah. NERVES, what else what do you want me to say?

Anyways, my person was @mostlysandersidesposts so I hope I did a decent job with what you requested. I know that maybe it’s really rough but I’m a little proud of this.

I hope this can make you smile at least once!

Words: 2441

Pairings/ Characters: None, LAMP platonic, they are just kids, Remus, and maybe I forget Deceit (oops)

TW: Maybe insecure thoughts (If you think I need to add another one just tell me)

Summary: An adventure can bring you more than just your lost favorite book.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

“It’s not here!”

With some echoes, a worrying exclamation bounced in an almost empty classroom.

“I’m certain that I left the book in my seat…”

A chaos of papers, books and notebooks was forming in a seat at the back of the room and the culprit seemed to have no intention of stopping his search.

Logan didn’t talk to many people in his class. He was in third grade, but he didn’t have a group of friends. Well, in full honesty, he didn’t have friends. Period.

He wasn’t bother by this. He preferred to do the projects alone, play alone, without annoying kids playing loudly or meddling on his stuff.

It was easy this way. It was… fine.

Once per week he would usually bring a book to the school to read it in the breaks. It helped him keep his mind busy.

Sometimes it was the wonders of the science’s world like the cosmos, the biosphere. Other times it was just interesting novels, mystery and suspense… or even cunning detectives.

But his favorite book was something different. Never, in all this time, he had dared to take him to school for the fierce fear of losing him.

But that week he was in a good mood.

And he thought that it wouldn’t happen.

And it happened.

“I knew it was a wrong choice…”

“What was a wrong choice?”

A voice in the door was the one that took Logan out of his inner struggles. Curious, unexpected, with a head slightly tilted to the side and a smile.

Logan, tense, just turned his head.

He didn’t want anyone to get into his problem; well, he didn’t want to have a problem, to begin with. But there he was, one of his classmates approaching him, about to get into his problem.

“Sorry, I came here just for my snack.”

Shorty, light brown hair, dark glasses, very similar to the ones he uses, a mess of freckles under his eyes and definitely very, very confused as to why there are papers everywhere.

“Uhm… Do you need some help?”

“No, I’m fine by my own. Thank you.” Logan replied sharply.

“But you seem… a little troubled there.”

This wasn’t going anywhere. Logan was tired, he just wanted to read his book, he just wanted to forget this… thing he was feeling in his chest.

Maybe… just once.

He sighed, having resigned to what could be another bad decision. “On Monday I decided to bring my favorite book to school, but apparently, I lost it,” he explained.

“Oh,” the boy replied, “that doesn’t sound good at all.”

There was a silence. Then…

“I’ll help you find it!” the freckled boy declared enthusiastic.

Now Logan was the confused one. “Why would you do that? I’m just a stranger to you.”

“Yes, but it is something valuable to you…right?”

Logan nodded slowly. “Very.”

“Then I’m helping you! Like my mom always says: Join and conquer”

“Actually, that’s not how the saying goes.”

“Really?” The boy’s mistake didn’t prevent a smile from forming on his face. “Well, it works anyway” he shrugged.

“No, I think it doe-”

A greeting hand interrupted Logan. It was filled with joy.

“I’m Patton Lockheart.”

After a moment of hesitation, he returned the gesture. “Logan Carson.”

“See! Now we’re not strangers anymore.”

That afternoon was pretty sunny for an autumn. The cheerful screaming of the other kids pierced through the classroom, where the sunbeams touched the feet of both children.

✿ ✿

The two of them searched the room from top to bottom, but there was no clue where the precious book could be. Under all the seats, where they keep the school books, in the teacher’s seat, even behind the curtains. In a couple of minutes they were hopeless and ready to give up.

“Wait a minute. Logan, have you read your book in any other place other than in the classroom?”

“Oh, yes I have. When the others get too noisy here in the class, I go to a special place outside.”

“Maybe you forgot it there! If we look in that place or ask the people nearby I’m sure we’ll find it!”

No, that couldn’t be. Logan was sure that he hadn’t taken his book outside that day. But Patton wasn’t exactly on the wrong track. Maybe asking if anyone has seen or heard about a lost book could help.

“Patton, that is-!” The taller boy, impressed by the idea, slipped a gasp before finishing his sentence, then he regained his composure. “While the chances of my book being at that place are low, you may have a good idea of how to get it back.”

“Really?” Patton jump up and down, happy to help.

“But, it’s the schoolyard! It could take metaphorical hours. We don’t have that much time.” Logan explained.

But Patton was already one step ahead. They decided to continue the searching in the lunchtime.

✿ ✿

“Don’t worry, he’s perfect at finding stuff.”

“OH MY GOD! Remus, please, come here! Don’t run with that in your mouth!”

There was an exasperated voice ringing on the other side of the wall.

“Here it is!” Patton pointed to the door that was now right in front of him with a confident face. Logan swallowed hard and ask himself if following Patton had been a good decision.

An adult woman slammed the door open and came out with messy hair and clothes full of paint.

“I’m going to take a break…” And then she disappeared.

With the same confidence that his face showed, Patton peek through the door into the classroom and asked with all the power his lung offered him.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Roman. Roman de la Cruz.”

“You vookin’ fo’ mah brotha’?”

A boy full of dirt and band-aids appeared under the nearest desk. Even with a scissor in his mouth he showed a gigantic smile. “Fe was gong to thi bafroom”

“Excuse me, what did you just said?” Logan was bemused with this boy’s appearance.

“Oh, forry…” The boy realized that the scissors made it difficult to understand him and took them off in a second. “He will be back soon, don’t worry.”

“Logan, this is Roman’s twin, Remus.”

The dirty boy stand up and greeted the two boys with the scissors still in his hand. “Hi! What are you doing here, Pat?”

“Logan lost his book this morning and I’m helping him find it. We wanted to ask for Roman’s help since he’s a really good finder. Do you think he will accept to help us?”

“I’m sure he will, we’re not doing anything anyways. Also, Roman never says no when someone needs help. He can be such a piece of stupidity sometimes but he sure is a better person than I am.”

“That is ridiculous. No one is a better person than anyone. You have your own strengths and weaknesses, just like Roman.” Logan responded serious. Remus looked at him surprised, but genuinely glad.

“Thanks, nerd. Although the stupid part is very real.”

“Stupid? What are you talking about Remus?” Another voice appeared behind the duo. “Oh, hi Patton! What are you doing here?”

A kid very similar to Remus but a lot more presentable showed up. Like his twin, Roman’s clothes were slightly dusty and his hair was just messy curls.

“Logan Carson. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Wow, no need to be so formal, nerd.”

Logan leaned to Patton’s ear. “Is he really that good and that necessary?”

Patton giggled and nodded. “Can you help us with something, Roman?”

“First of all, I heard that nerdy. Second, if it’s for you Patton, sure, tell me, how can I help?”

Patton and Logan explained everything to Roman and he immediately accepted. Soon, the three were already looking around the schoolyard and asking everywhere.

Roman turned out to be very effective. He had a vibe that made him stand out among the other children so they never ignored him. And although Logan at first hadn’t believed that he was a good finder, he really was. In a few minutes, they already knew that someone had been seen with a book that had the same characteristics of Logan’s book and they were heading to the place where this person could be.

Logan was, maybe, a little, jealous.

✿ ✿

“How did you know the twins? They are in fourth grade.” Asked Logan while they were walking.

“We are his neighbors!” Roman got into the conversation. “We play with Patton after school sometimes. Well, more me than my brother.”

“Why?”

The freckled kid got nervous and started fidgeting with his fingers. “Remus is a little… intense… but he is nice!”

“Intense?”

“One time, he put three chickens in his house to see if they got along with his dog. Nobody knows where he got the chickens or how one of them got trapped on the roof.” told Patton.

Roman started laughing so much when he remember that story that he stopped walking to look at Patton. “My mom had to chase the chickens AND the dog because they were making a disaster in my house. It’s funny now but Remus got grounded for a whole month.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I don’t understand how Remus does what he does. He has his jokes and his crazy stuff… And I’m just… dull. I mean, I don’t get good grades, I’m not good at any sport, I don’t know how to make jokes…”

Nobody said anything in that instant. Roman had this melancholy smile that made the heart hurt a little. And before someone said anything Roman continued talking.

“Sorry, it’s just that I’m actually glad that you needed my help, Patton. I’m not good at many things, but at least I’m proud to say that I’m very good at finding thing-”

Just when Roman had started walking again, something had stopped him. A hand in his hand.

“Thank you.” Logan murmured. His hand squeezed the other firmly.

Roman smiled. This time, there was proud in his lips. “It’s the least I can do.”

✿ ✿

Without realizing it, they had already reached the destination. It was weird because none of the three kids knew that this place existed. This hidden corner of the school with moderately tall bushes.

The group of searchers went a little further into the corner, peeking through the bushes, to find an unexpected surprise.

There, sitting with his legs glued to his chest, there was a little boy. In the child’s hands, the dark cover of the book of “Puzzles in Wonderland”, with the radiant golden details in the corners of the pages and the riddles taken from Alice’s world that Logan loved to solved.

“My book!”

The scream frightened the boy, who dropped the book in an instant.

“AHA! The culprit was this delinquent all along!” Roman pointed at the boy angrily and as if he was ready to attack.

The boy was trembling from top to bottom on the floor and looked at the trio in confusion. “Your- Your- Your book? This- This is your book?” Words were lost in the stuttering.

“Why did you steal the book, thief? Where did you get it from? Do you know the punishment you will have for stealing?”

“I- I- I-” Tears were forming in the terrified eyes of the child.

“Okay, Roman, Roman. Calm down. You are scaring the kid.” Patton stopped Roman from throwing himself at the helpless boy and crouched beside him. “What’s your name?”

“Vir- Vir-… Virgil.”

“Okay. Virgil, why did you have Logan’s book?”

“I- I didn’t know it was someone’s book. I just found it here in my place, well it’s not my place but, I thought… well I didn’t really think, it’s just that… I- I didn’t know it was yours, I’m sorry…” his breathing was choking and he was hiding more and more in his hoodie.

Logan took a quick look at the book to confirm that despite the fall it had had before, it had no scratch.

Then, an idea crossed his mind.

“It’s okay.” Logan said, crouching down to take the book and see the panicked boy. “I’m not upset. It’s not your fault my book went missing, right?”

In a calmer voice the boy whispered. “Yeah”

“Do you like Alice in Wonderland?” he asked again.

Virgil nodded with his head looking to the floor.

The glasses boy offered him the book. “Would you like to solve some puzzles with me?”

“But-” Virgil talked again, concerned.

“Believe me. After all this day, you would be doing me a favor if you say yes.”

The now quiet kid thought for a moment in his answer and after a few seconds he nodded again.

Roman made a shocked face. “Are you going to forgive this delinquent? After all the work we’ve made?”

Logan smiled, settling to open the book in the grass. “Such a piece of stupidity sometimes,” he recalled.

“Hey! I heard that!” The dramatic kid crossed his arms and was ready to leave but then he changed his mind when he saw that Patton was also joining in the fun. “Move over, I also want to see the book!”

“You’re not a little curious of how your book ended up here?” Virgil asked, a little uneasy.

Logan just sighed. “That’s for another day.”

✿ ✿

“Logan Carson. I can’t believe you just skipped a class! I never expected this from you!”

The teacher was furious and her heels sounded repeatedly in the empty room.

Logan wasn’t paying attention. He was just looking at the window, wondering how his day had started with a problem and ended up becoming a ‘I skipped a class to read a book with a bunch of strangers’.

You’ll see… Logan didn’t talk to many people in his class. He was in third grade, but he didn’t have a group of friends. In full honesty, he didn’t have friends.

But an adventure can bring you more than just your lost book.

And now it was easy this way. It was fine.

And Logan, for one second, didn’t regret this.

All this. The lost, the searching, the help, the angry teacher, the feeling in his chest.

The feeling that he was… alone. That no one wanted him as a friend.

Because that feeling was no longer there.

Because he knew he wasn’t a ‘know-it-all’ for his good grades.

He wasn’t vain for talking with big words.

He wasn’t a cold hearted robot because it is difficult for him to interact with others.

He was a cool guy too.

He was a funny guy too.

He was just a kid that wanted friends that could understand him.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #LAMP #platonic #maybe i'm going to do a second part #Sanders kids #i'm very scared haha #naefnanstuff

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dork-empress · 6 years

Text

Life, Love and Death

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 (here), Part 8

Read on Ao3

While the mortals rejoice their months of warmth, Persephone mourns what she's lost. Her mother attempts to speak to her.....as does a mysterious stranger

It was the most prosperous Harvest in years.

The plants themselves seemed to be celebrating. The flowers bloomed bigger and brighter than ever before, and the food grew more delicious and nutritious. The countryside was a green paradise, the sky a magnificent blue. After so long of never-ending white, the world was filled with color again, and for months and months the plants prospered.

The mortals rejoiced at the return of warmth. There were parties and feasts that lasted days long. People walked everywhere they went, offering thanks upon thanks to the Gods. No one wanted to be cooped up inside anymore.

Not even Persephone.

She wasn’t quite up for celebrating, so she simply sat down in the fields. She closed her eyes, listening to the birdsong and the wind, the insects, the animals, and even the humans out in the distance.

It was everything she’d missed. Everything she would have wanted down in the Underworld. The price for it was a bit too high, but still, that could not deter her from enjoying these simple pleasures provided for her. Sitting here, breathing the fresh air, feeling the sun-warmed grass beneath her fingers, the world became peaceful.

“Persephone? Child?”

Almost peaceful.

Persephone collapsed down onto the grass. It was only a matter of time before her mother came and found her, but that didn’t mean she wanted to hurry the encounter along.

“There you are!” Her mother called, and she turned away from the voice, determined not to address Demeter until she absolutely had to. “I thought I told you not to go running off.”

Persephone did not respond, keeping her back firmly facing Demeter. She heard a huff and a thump, the sound of Demeter sitting behind her. “Still not speaking to me?” Persephone stayed perfectly still in answer. They hadn’t properly spoken in months, always reverting to a screaming match that was always the same.

Demeter tried running a hand through her hair, but Persephone pulled away. “Child, I know it seems hard right now, but in time you’ll see--”

“I’m not,” Persephone hissed.

“Hm?” Demeter asked.

“I am not a child,” She balled her hands into fists to prevent herself from shouting. “I’ve grown. I’m hundreds of years old. By all accounts I am an adult.”

Demeter sighed. “You will always be my child.” She tried again to put a comforting hand on her daughter.

Persephone sat up out of her reach. “So that’s it, then?” she said over her shoulder, “I’m never allowed to grow up, never allowed to go out, get married, have children of my own? Never allowed to have my own dominion to be a proper goddess of?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Demeter said, still keeping her voice soft. The first time Persephone had made that point, Demeter had screamed at her.

“Then what did you mean?” Persephone spat, “because I’m no longer enjoying being your pet!”

“Persephone, enough,” Demeter said sharply. She took a deep breath, calming herself down. “Of course your not a pet, dear one. Of course you’ll grow up and have a family and dominion all of your own. I spent my whole childhood in my father’s stomach. I wanted something more for you, to let you enjoy your youth. Growing up is nothing you need to rush into, nothing you need now.”

“If not now, then when?” Persephone demanded, angrily picking at the grass, “A wealthy man comes offering me not only anything I ask for, but his love and devotion as well. What kind of greek mother are you to deny that for your daughter?”

Demeter was silent for a long moment. Finally, she spoke so softly, her voice was almost lost to the wind. “A man offered me that, once.”

Out of pure curiosity, Persephone turned just slightly, watching as her mother fiddled with a wildflower in her hands. This was not going according to the script their fights always inevitably lead to. Demeter looked hesitant, as if she didn’t believe she was saying the words herself, but still there was a note of something….wistful. “He gave me gifts, pretty words, warm touches….and promises, promises of wonderful things. In return, I gave him my heart….” The wistful smile melted from her face. “But that wasn’t what he wanted.”

Persephone was too shocked to be mad at her, turning instead to face her fully, “Zeus?” She asked.

Closing her eyes in shame, Demeter nodded. “I knew he was married. To my sister, no less. To lie with him was to betray her. But even from the beginning, their marriage was rocky. Zeus fed me pretty lies about how he married the wrong sister, how he would leave her and fix his error. I almost believed him. Just long enough for him to get between my legs.”

“Again, gross, Mother.” Persephone said.

That prompted Demeter to chuckle, reaching over to cradle Persephone’s face in her hand, idly rubbing non-existent dirt off her cheek. “And yet, even with all the heartbreak and pain that came with him….I can’t bring myself to regret it. Because at least he gave me you.” Tears sprung to her eyes, “And you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, daughter.”

Persephone turned her head down and away. No matter how angry she was, she still loved her mother, even when she didn’t want to. “Hades isn’t like Zeus. I know him, I swear. It’s not a trick, and he’s not just after sex, I know it.”

“Darling,” Demeter said, tucking her hair back behind her ear, “All young women who’ve been swept off their feet by a man say that. And it’s rarely true.”

“But sometimes it IS true!” Persephone protested, “You have to believe me, mother. Please.”

“No!” Demeter shouted, making Persephone flinch. Demeter took a breath, calming herself down, “Love...I know it seems hard now. But you have to trust me on this. If you are so set on marrying, I can try to help you find someone who will treat you as you deserve. Just...not Hades. I know my brothers far too well.”

Persephone scowled. “I don’t want someone else,” She said, knowing that she was whining.

Demeter sighed “Just….think about it.” Emotionally exhausted, Demeter picked herself and kissed Persephone on the head, “I love you.”

Persephone hummed reluctantly. She was glad to hear about her mother’s reasons...but still found it unreasonable. And...she still missed Hades too much to forgive.

Demeter walked away, leaving Persephone alone to her sorrow. Now that Demeter was gone, Persephone actually wished she’d return. She had isolated herself, and now was suffering from her own loneliness.

She hugged her legs close to herself, curling up and shutting her eyes as tight as they could go. Light spots popped in front of her eyes and tears burned on their way out from beneath her eyelids. She didn’t sob...maybe it would help, but she just lay there, silently crying in the bright sunlight and warm happy atmosphere.

“Persephone…” a voice called. At first, she thought it was Demeter again, but looking around, her mother was nowhere in sight. “Persephone……” The voice called again, higher pitched. It traveled on the very winds themselves

“Who’s there?” She said, getting to her feet to have a better look around. In the distance were the sounds of celebration from the humans, but they were too far. “Hello?” She turned wildly.

She stopped at a burst of wind, pushing the grass aside, heading right down to the forest and parting the branches to make a path. “Persephone….” the voice repeated, calling her down.

Oh, that was a bad idea. That was a VERY bad idea. Rule 1 of living as a God was to NOT blindly walk down mysterious paths at the beck and call of vague voices. “Show yourself,” She demanded the of the air around her.

The wind picked up again, and she caught the sound of a dog barking. A familiar dog.

Persephone squinted down the path as she watched a large shadow approach….but it couldn’t be…. “Cerberus?”

Just as she confirmed that it was indeed Cerberus, looking odd in the bright sunlight instead of the dark underworld, she was being bowled over by the beast.

“Whoa! Hello!” Persephone said as two of the heads lavished her in licks. The third just nuzzled at her. “What are you doing here? HOW are you here?” She demanded, petting him and trying to calm him down.

He did not come. Instead, he nosed at her until she was picked up off the ground. “WHOA!” Cerberus bounced her in the air, having her land on top of his head, desperately clutching onto his fur. “Cerberus! Cerberus put me down! Cerby---Down!”

Cerberus ignored her, and joyfully trotted down the path from whence he’d come.

As they made their way through the forest, Persephone hit upon every low-hanging branch they passed until her hair and clothes were covered in leaves and twigs. Bravely she attempted to grab one of the branches to pull herself to freedom, but she only got wacked in the face for her efforts. “Cerby! Stop! Heel! Roll Over!” She tried anything she could think of, but Cerberus continued carrying her through

Finally Cerberus came to a sudden halt, Persephone flying forward and landing in a heap on the grass. Slowly, she picked herself up, trying to brush herself off, as Cerberus sat panting beside her, tail thumping back and forth.

“Where’ve you taken me?” Persephone asked the dog, looking around at the forest clearing. There was a large boulder sitting in the center, and Persephone was just grateful she hadn’t been flung into it head first.

“Persephone,” The soft voice came again, louder this time, as if the person was standing right next to her. It was definitely a woman’s voice, and an older woman at that. “Come here, my child.”

It...It sounded as though it was coming from the boulder.

Cautiously, she turned up to look at Cerberus, who had two heads panting happily, and the third nudged her forward. Slowly, she made her way around the boulder. “There you are,” the voice said, “Oh, you’re a pretty one, aren’t you?”

On the other side of the boulder was a face made out of the stone. It would be wrong to say it was carved out, more like it had somehow grown naturally, the many lines in the rock acting as wrinkles for the old woman.

Persephone bowed her head, “Great-Grandmother Gaia,” she addressed as politely as she could, “My apologies, I didn’t know it was you who called.”

“Chin up, child,” Gaia said, kindly, “The curse of being...well, me, is that while I hear everything, nobody seems to listen.”

Persephone swallowed, unsure how to respond and so just stood to face her.

Gaia smiled, looking her over, “I don’t know if I remember being as young as you. I’m not sure I ever was. And yet...you have a certain amount of wisdom. More than many of your elders. That’s why I chose you.”

Persephone blinked in surprise, “I...chose me?” She asked. Gaia didn’t respond with more than a smile, “I’m….I’m honored of course, but...chose for what?”

“To fix the cycle,” she said, “The cycle between life and death. You already saw...were the only one to see how I suffered.”

“You were suffering?” Persephone asked, quickly racking her memory, “The soil….”

“Yes, dear, the soil,” Gaia chuckled, “You’re mother is a tireless worker, but she is far too fully entrenched in the idea of life. She doesn’t--cannot--understand that life could possibly need death to continue. But you, you could. If only you learned a bit more about death.”

Persephone’s brain felt like it was going leagues a minute. “It was you…” she said, more muttering to herself than to her, “You caused the earthquake. You….You caused me to fall.”

“Something I am sorry for,” She said, “Though it seemed to work out well for you, hmm?”

What might have been an eyebrow in the rock raised teasingly. Persephone blushed, making Gaia chuckle, “I admit, it’s not a pairing I might have expected, but I have seen the comings and goings of all life on Earth, and I will say, there are stranger things in the universe.”

“Did you...did you know my Mother would cause the winter?”

The humor disappeared from her face. “I...guessed,” She said slowly, “That she may slow her work if she became consumed with a search for her daughter. But I am not the fates. I could never have predicted how long you would be gone, nor that Demeter would pull the other gods into her search.”

“But you could have told them!” Persephone’s voice rose, “You knew what was happening, you could have told them where I was!”

Gaia took a deep breath, “The Winter…..left me weak,” She said, “Which, was part of the point, I suppose, to rest so that I might spring anew. And I already mentioned how difficult it is to get people to listen to me in the first place.”

Persephone sat cross legged before the Earth. “Now that it’s over, though...you got your rest….”

“And I feel more refreshed than I have in a very, very long time,” Gaia smiled at her, “Thanks to you.”

“The bloom…” Persephone thought, “The harvest….Everything’s growing well again. That’s because of the winter.”

“Yes,” Gaia said, “but...like the phases of the moon, or the rise and fall of the sun….the bloom cannot last forever.”

“You mean…” Persephone’s heart turned cold, “Another winter?” Another stretch of months filled with cold and ice and death. Such things did not belong in the world of the living.

Gaia sighed, “It is the cycle,” she said, “And this time, the humans will be prepared. They’ve learned to keep spares now that they have their surplus from the bloom. They will adapt better.”

Persephone bit her lip, “But...I can’t cause it again. My mother will never go for making it, she’ll never understand, like you said.”

“You caused the last winter,” Gaia said, soothing.

“YOU caused it!” Persephone frowned, “You sent me….and my mother is the one who abandoned her duties. I….my role in it was an accident, and more than that, one I can’t replicate.” She frowned, turning to the ground, “My mother and Zeus saw to that.”

Gaia chuckled, “My grandson believes he controls the universe. And he does control many things, has won that right with blood, as my son won it before him. But he did not create this world. And there are always ways to try and force his hand.”

Persephone frowned, not understanding. “Beast,” Gaia called. Obediently Cerberus came over, tail still thumping as he sat in front of the boulder. “Show your mistress your gift.”

The third head, the one that did not lick her, lowered himself to the ground, and finally opened his mouth. Out rolled a tree.

It was strange seeing a tree of underworld here among trees of the living. In the underworld, these leaves, the bark, the fruit, was one of the brightest colors the surroundings had to offer. Here, against the brilliant green grass, the blooming flowers….it looked so dull as to be practically drained of all color.

Sitting in the dark dull shrub of leaves at the top, a number of small pomegranates fell and rolled on the ground. Cerberus’ head leaned forward, nosing one of the fruits over to Persephone’s knee.

She picked it up, looking at it contemplatively as she thought back to the last time she held this kind of pomegranate in her hand. She had been about to eat it, but Hades bowled her over, saving her….saving her from becoming a part of the dead.

Persephone looked up into Gaia’s face. Without speaking at all, Gaia smiled, and Persephone knew what she wanted from her.

As Persephone watched the boulder, the face solidified, and with minimal changes at all, seemed to be just a normal boulder once again. Gaia would not force her, would not even ask this of her. This was Persephone’s decision, and her decision alone.

Why was she hesitating?

She broke the pomegranate open, marveling at the dusty red jewels inside. Cerberus perked up, excited. She dug into the fruit with her finger, plucking up one of the seeds and dropping it past her lips.

Oh, Zeus, it tasted awful. It was like eating ash fresh and hot from a fire. Gasping and choking, she forced herself to swallow. Cerberus gave a small woof of encouragement as she tried desperately not to throw it back up. Hades words echoed to her ‘It is not meant for the living.’

Once she was she could hold it down, she felt an immediate change. A drop in the temperature, except that the drop came from inside her. But it wasn’t enough. She dug again for a second seed.

After the second seed, she felt her heartbeat slow, pounding in her chest.

After the third, her hands started shaking, and it was hard to keep herself upright. Cerberus leaned down, allowing her to rest against his muzzle.

After the fourth, she noticed her skin had begun turning gray, drained of color just like the tree.

After the fifth, the taste had actually started to turn sweet.

After the sixth, she could no longer keep herself conscious.

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

Hades frowned in his garden, trying to hold back his wrath. “Who. Did. This.”

The dead avoided him, floating away, scared he would break his millenia long trend of caring for them. He hardly noticed. He simply stared at the gash in the garden.

A tree had been plucked from the ground, stolen, marring the dirt below, a terrible blemish in the pristine organization of the maintained plot.

Something like this was unheard of in the peaceful underworld. None of the dead would dare upset him. And even if they had, normally he would not be overly upset, just annoyed that more work had been created for him. But this was the gardens. This was Pers--no. No, it still hurt to think her name. But this was her domain. This is where he first really spoke with her. This is where she spent her days when she was bored. This is where they had walked down past the trees countless times, enjoying the moment and each other.

And someone had dared scar it.

“Lord Hades,” A voice, oblivious to his overflowing anger, said behind him, “We have more pressing issues at the moment.”

His anger was all but dissipated at the sound of the voice as he turned, confirming it was who he had thought it to be. Never in his life had he seen Charon leave his ferry. It was unheard of. It wasn’t done.

And yet, here he stood, delving into the inner reaches of the underworld, far from the river and his ferry. And the thought of whatever would drive him to do such a thing plunged Hades emotions directly from anger to fear.

Silently, he followed the ferryman out to the gates of Hades, instantly seeing the problem.

A gaping hole had appeared in the cave walls, leading up, up, up, no doubt to the surface world. Hades eyes went wide. How could something like this just...appear? This must be the work of some God, but which? “It seems,” Charon said, standing side by side with Hades, “that someone has released your pet.”

Hades turned to him in confusion, but then he started noticing what was gone instead of what had been added. Cerberus was missing. “No…” he said, trying to work what may have happened, “Cerberus is sworn to protect Hades. He would not abandon his charge, not for anything…”

“Not even if he believed a part of his charge was missing?” Charon asked. Hades tried to figure out what he meant. A part of the Underworld missing? “A part of Hades missing.” Charon clarified, as though he could read his thoughts.

Hades’ brow uncreased as realization hit. A part of Hades. A part of him was gone.

Persephone.

The tree. The Pomegranate tree.

He didn’t know how this was possible, but it didn’t matter. He had to find her, damn Zeus, damn himself to whatever punishment he would face. He had to leave, now. “Charon,” He said, his mouth dry, “I need to borrow your ferry.”

“Forgive me, Lord,” Charon said, “But I think you may need something a bit faster.”

Hades rarely used his chariot. He traveled so rarely beyond the underworld. Still, at his beck and call, his golden chariot came, pulled by 4 sable-black horses. With less than a thought to spare, they rode on, carrying him up the tunnel. Hades worried for a moment that the tunnel might close in on them, but it stayed open, the bright light at the end leading him up towards life.

Emerging from it, he found himself in a forest. Nearby was a clearing with a large boulder….and a monstrous 3-headed dog.

Hades re-directed the chariot, hurrying as he went. He leaped from it as it came to a sudden halt.

Cerberus looked up on him as he lay, curled in on himself. Hades put his hand out, unsure of how the dog would act so far from his environment. Slowly, Cerberus unfurled, revealing the young woman resting on her body.

Hades felt weak looking at her, rushing to her side. “Persephone?” he asked. She looked so pale...almost sickly. Hades clutched her hand in his, “Persephone please…” Her hand was cold. Her hand had never been cold. She was like fire, warm and playful, she was not….she couldn’t be….

Tears sprung to his eyes as she lay lifeless before him. “Why?” he demanded of her, even as she did not, could not answer “Why….why would you…”

Cerberus whined at him, nudging Persephone lightly with his nose. Hades knew what the dog wanted...what he wanted, what she NEEDED…..what was absolutely forbidden under any circumstances….

Fuck it.

Hades gathered his love in his arms and gently placed her in his chariot. “Heyah!” He whipped his horses along, sending them back along through the tunnel, Cerberus on his heels.

He hardly noticed the tunnel closing up behind the dog, and he definitely didn’t hear the voice whispering, “Good luck, child.”

#greek mythology #Hades #Persephone #hades and persephone #fic #laura writes #tell me what ya think!

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hekate1308 · 6 years

Text

How Not To Parent

Drowley AU based on my own post - Dean’s and Crowley’s daughter got into trouble at school. Enjoy!

“She gets that from you, you know.“

Dean Winchester, somewhat irritated, turned to his husband. “I’d like to know why. The last time I checked, we both raised her –“

“She’s your biological daughter” Crowley said smoothly, “So she gets it from you.”

“I never blamed any of Gavin’s faults on you” Dean argued.

And God knew their eldest had not exactly sailed the waters of puberty smoothly.

“That may be, but he also never got us invited to someone else’s home to “clear the air”” Crowley spat.

Dean shook his head. “I know you don’t like it, but if you only ever ate with people you like, you’d only ever eat at home.”

“I fail to see how that would be a problem.”

He sighed. “Crowley...”

“I simply see no merit in us “clearing” anything up. This was clearly a fight between Emma and that bully Walt, so –“

“Stop it” Dean interrupted him.

“Stop what?” he asked innocently.

“You’re proud of her for pummelling him to the ground, I can tell.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Tell me you aren’t.”

“I’m not.”

“Not even a little bit? I can tell when you’re fibbing, you know.”

“I can tell when you’re fibbing” Dean mocked him, then sighed again before conceding, “Of course you’re right. Emma stood up for what she believed in, but that still doesn’t mean that she had a right to hit him. We have to deal with this.”

“I could show her how to handle her enemies without –“

“Oh no” Dean raised his hands to stop him, “You’re not showing her your techniques. Not yet, at least.”

“Why?”

“Because I want her to be able to handle them, not completely destroy her enemies and take their livelihoods.”

Crowley smirked.

“Sometimes I really wonder why I married you.”

His smile fell.

“I didn’t mean that, and you know it.”

And he hadn’t. Sam had asked him countless times if he really wanted to go through with it before the wedding (he and Crowley weren’t exactly the best of friends even now) and Dean had stood by his man each time. He wasn’t about to stop doing that.

Crowley still looked a little sad though, so he stepped up to him. “Hey, I’m sorry, alright?” he began, reaching and trailing his tie with his right hand. “Make it up to you tonight?”

Crowley smiled. “I am counting on that, darling.”

Say one thing about him: As nasty as he could be to others, he was always easy to placate when it came to his loved ones.

“He was insulting Dottie Keenan, and she was this close to crying!” their fourteen-year-old exclaimed. “And there’s nothing worse than openly crying in school!” She hesitated. “Except maybe dying.”

“I am glad” Crowley drawled, “That you have your priorities in order”.

“Just as you taught me, Father.”

“I don’t think anyone’s priorities are in the right place at this very moment” Dean said firmly, knowing well that his husband’s greatest weakness was the tendency to go soft when either he or the kids tried their puppy dog eyes on him, and Emma was definitely using them now.

Little cheater.

“Emma, you can’t just walk around and punch bullies in the face. That’s just not how you do it.”

Crowley threw him a glance and Dean glared back; the last thing he needed was to him indeed starting to explain to Emma how to best ruin Walt’s life and look innocent.

Thankfully, he stayed silent.

“Actually I think...” Dean trailed off. He knew he should probably punish Emma, but how could he do that when she had been sticking up for another girl? There were so many bad people in the world, someone had to take them on.

He sighed. “Don’t do it again. And if anyone asks – especially Uncle Sam – you were dealt with most severely, young lady, do you hear?”

She grinned and skipped off to call Gavin, who was doing his first semester at Stanford. They’d probably end up laughing together over their dumb parents.

Dean wouldn’t have had them any other way.

“Look at this tacky window frames.”

“Crowley, not everyone has the money for designer ones” Dean reminded him.

Money had indeed been an issue between them in the beginning, and had more than once almost separated them. Dean had taken a while to realize that Crowley throwing expensive gifts at him was not meant to be condescending, but indeed him spoiling those he cared about at every opportunity.

“I am not talking about them being cheap, I am talking about them being tasteless.”

“Any chance you won’t be acting like this in front of Walt’s parents?”

“If they start badmouthing our daughter, no.”

Dean’s heart beat faster even as he knew that he probably shouldn’t encourage that line of thinking, but he would always be touched at Crowley’s devotion to his family. He took his hand and squeezed it. “Let’s do this.”

To say this was awkward would have been an understatement.

Mr. and Mrs. Irving lacked all understanding that their son’s behaviour might have had something to do with Emma’s attack.

“Our daughter” Dean tried again, “Has told us that Walt was... annoying a young lady she’s friends with, and she wouldn’t lie to us –“

“Are you sure there?” Mrs. Irving interrupted him. “Why wouldn’t she lie, since she was the offending party?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I do hope you have taken proper measures to ensure something like this won’t happen again” the woman dared to announced, “We’ve been thinking about making a complaint because the school didn’t act either.”

That was because everyone at school knew Wart Irving to be an unlikeable bully, but Dean had to word his answer differently.

“The school investigated the incident, and it is procedure in such cases that when it is found –“

“Pardon, but why would you know anything about the procedures involved in such matters?” Mr. Irving asked and studied him with a contemptuous expression on his face.

Really? Not only did they have to raise their son like this, but now they had to be elitists too? Dean was working his usual t-shirt and jeans get-up he put on once he came home for the evening, since he’d decided he might as well get this over with in the clothes he felt most comfortable in.

Crowley, of course, always wore a suit. Dean had only got him to wear something casual on a few memorable occasions.

“I’m a teacher myself” he said.

He was used to people reacting with surprise; apparently no one expected someone looking like him to want to educate kids.

By now, he’d stopped feeling resentful about it.

His husband, he remembered a little too late, had not. Crowley not only seemed to think that Dean was more than entitled to be treated with respect by each and every member of the human race, but also to consider any criticism of his husband as a criticism of himself.

“How could they possibly think” he’d fumed one day after dressing down a rather impertinent waiter, “That I would take anything but the best?”

But then, he’d always been a romantic at heart, even though he pretended not to be. Dean was rather sure his wedding ring hadn’t left his finger since he put it there.

And so, the inevitable happened.

“I do find it fascinating that you cannot manage to explain to your son that harassing others is a bad thing, but you do find the time to judge my husband for not being dressed the way you think teachers should be.”

“It’s not about his profession, it’s about self respect.”

And that, thankfully, was when Mrs. Irving did the right thing for the first time that evening and hastily said, “Dinner was ready.”

Dean guessed she saw murder in Crowley’s eyes and takes his hand as they are being led to the table. He throws him a glance that could be considered apologetic – if Dean didn’t know him that well. It will have to be enough.

Dinner was cooked well enough, he supposed, although it had nothing against his burgers (if he said so himself). Mr. and Mrs. Irving followed the age-old rule that nothing bad should be discussed at table, and he was glad to make some stilted small talk about the school he himself worked at, Gavin’s progress, and Crowley’s business.

As to Crowley himself, the stoic silence he maintained was probably for the best. He could take just about any indignity when it was directed towards himself – otherwise he’d hardly have managed to build up his own firm from ground up – but when it came to his family...

Afterwards, they were led back to the living room while both Irvings disappeared to get them drinks.

For about a minute, they sat next to each other on the couch, completely silent; then Dean couldn’t help it anymore.

He began to chuckle.

Crowley grinned. “I will say this, they are more perceptive than some of my erstwhile business partners.”

“You were pretty obvious. Did you have to look at him like you wanted to stab him?”

“I did.”

“Crowley –“

“I will try not to glare at them. Happy?”

It was an almost heroic act, so Dean acquiesced.

When they finally came back with glasses of red wine for each of them – Dean sighed internally because if there was one other thing that could raise Crowley’s hackles, it was serving him bad wine – he decided to try and broach the subject again.

“Look, I am sorry Emma punched Walt” he began carefully. “And we have explained to her that she should refrain from such techniques in the future when she wants to help someone. But I still feel that Walt’s behaviour needs to be addressed as well.”

“I don’t –“ Mr. Irving began, but stopped suddenly. Dean had no idea why until Crowley took his hand and he glanced at his husband to see him smile at the others – in that threatening, I-am-going-to-kill-you-for-this-later way he had during company meetings.

Quite frankly, he was glad they weren’t sitting at the table anymore so no knives where in reach.

Mr. Irving swallowed and Dean told himself that he had no right to find Crowley’s behaviour sexy in front of the parents of the child their daughter had hit.

“I know you don’t think so, Mr. Irving, but it might be a good idea to think about it again before we sue you.”

“Sue us? Why?”

“For starters, for the emotional damage done to our daughter –“

“She punched our son!”

“Oh yes” Crowley said, leaning forward, still that unsettling smile on his lips. “She did. But guess what. That doesn’t mean a thing when I am after someone. And I should warn you that my brother-in-law is one of the best lawyers in the State. Not only would I win, but I’d take most of your savings and this house, while we’re at it.”

He stood up, pulling Dean up as well. “I think that cleared everything up, then. Enjoy your evening.”

“That was a bit harsh” He said once they were on the street.

Crowley sighed. “Dean –“

“They were not that impolite –“

“That’s not it. That’s not it at all.”

“UI don’t understand.”

“Did you notice something about the house?”

“Can you be more specific –“ Dean was about to complain when he went through the rooms he had seen in his mind and realized. “Where are the family pictures? They have a kid.”

“Exactly.”

“But that doesn’t have to mean –“

“Dean, I have pictures from their ultrasounds to Gavin’s high school graduation on my office desk. I know what neglect can do to a young mind.”

Dean winced in sympathy as he remembered what Crowley had told him about his own childhood. “but we still don’t know –“

“I recognize a house without love. I’ve been living in the opposite for too long now.”

“You sap” he muttered.

“Your sap. And we better keep an eye on the situation, in case the kid needs help.”

“Fine” Dean mumbled, dragging him into a kiss, “But if we eventually have to get him out of there, you’re the one explaining to Emma why we did it.”

“It’s a deal, darling.”

#my writings #drowley #dean winchester #crowley #dean x crowley #parent!dean #parent!crowley #emma winchester

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surveys-at-your-service · 7 years

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Survey #114

“oh yeah, i’m a reaper man; every good thing, i kill it dead.”

What kind of makeup do you think is appropriate for church? Who cares. Wear what you want; I don't see how your makeup affects God's opinion on you while in His house. What would you wear to church? I don't dress up for the same reason as above. I just wear my usual. Would/do you like having brown eyes? I like having blue eyes. It's not that brown isn't pretty, it's just so common. What kind of gift would you appreciate for your birthday? I'm just asking for money again. Can already go see Sara, time to work towards the tattoo. What do you use Facebook for? My main reason is legit funny pictures lmao. There's few people I'm actually actively interested in keeping up with. Would you rather be called a geek, a nerd or a dork? A geek is 100% a compliment lol. Do you like pretzels? Soft ones, yes. Especially the ones from those little shops at malls, omgggg. I'd prefer to not eat hard ones. You want your next pet to be what? A bearded dragon. Or two rats. Would you spend 20 dollars on a candle? Ha. No. What is the goriest thing you’ve seen in real life? There was a deer that died directly beside the road leading to our old house and it was decaying. I still remember all the maggots squirming around in its side. @_@ Do you take any meds? If so which and why? Mood stabilizers, anxiety med, something for nausea if one of my mood stabilizers causes it, Melatonin, something for heartburn, and birth control unless I want my uterus to tear me apart from the inside. Is "no glove, no love" your STRICT policy? If I actually was to have sex, yes. Even with me on the pill, I'm not taking any risks. Not getting pregnant. If someone breaks a law, should they be punished if they did not know it was a law? Depends on the law. Name a band you sort of like: What a thing to admit, but Blood on the Dance Floor. I like some of their songs, while others are just too repulsive. In your head do you call yourself 'I’ or 'you’ or both? Usually "you," and always when I'm trying to calm or reassure myself, because it's like hearing validation of something from another person. Someone tells you 'well there are black people, and then there are (removed term bc fuck that word)’. What do you think? My former friend used to say that and I fucking hated it. Who REALLY has a higher sex drive, girls or guys? How can you tell? I might be mistaken, but I'm pretty sure there's science behind men having more of a libido. Do you enjoy wild parties? I literally could never. Have you ever been stereotyped? As what? I was called both emo and goth in high school. It wasn't offensive to me personally, but I don't think I totally fit any stereotype. Who do you know that you believe does not masturbate? I don't for a number of reasons, and I can name a few others I'm pretty sure don't. Does a cloned human being have a soul? Why or why not? explosion.gif Who looks better naked, men or woman? Women. I'm bi, yes, but penises look fucking disgusting to me personally. Is there anything you won’t say unless someone else says it first? Nothing immediately comes to mind. What’s your favorite type of doughnut? Either glazed or cake (the totally plain ones). Do you have any candles in your bedroom? Do you light them often? No, I have an incense burner. I use it often enough. What is your least favorite thing about your full name? I just don't like my last name, and my middle name's too common, but at least I like the name itself. What’s your favorite kind of Poptart? Probably the chocolate sundae one. But I don't like Poptarts much. Do you think you look good with a hat on? I can't remember the last time I wore a hat. Are there some songs you can’t listen to because they remind you of something? "The Mortician's Daughter" and "Stairway to Heaven." Do you live near a street light? No. Do you wear any rings? A red gem one I got from Mom, then a "bitch/jerk" friendship ring (Supernatural reference) with my girlfriend. Do you put collars on your cats? When we had cats, yeah. Do you like celery? Ew no. Did you cry while watching the Notebook? I've never sobbed at a movie, but I cried, yeah. I've cried in subsequent watches too lmao. I think I've always teared up, actually. Do you have a protective mom and dad? Mom's extremely protective of me. I'd say Dad's pretty normal. What field trip did you last go on? Probably for a band competition in high school. Five ways to win your heart: Uhhh. Show compassion, patience, generosity, wisdom, and maturity. Your views on mainstream music: It's getting too vulgar to be on the radio. I firmly believe children don't need to hear profanity (they don't know when it's inappropriate to use) or talk of sex, and songs just have so much censorship yet lack thereof now. If you're going to censor almost an entire song, why the hell play it? Then some songs are so clearly about sex or just openly say the word that it bothers me. I wouldn't wanna explain what sex is to say my like five-year-old if they heard some of the shit on the radio and asked questions. Put your iPod on shuffle and write that 10 first songs that play: 1.) "Clocks" by Coldplay, 2.) "Paradise City" by Guns N' Roses, 3.) "Blessed With a Curse" by Bring Me the Horizon, 4.) "Let It Die" by Starset, 5.) "I Don't Love You" by My Chemical Romance, 6.) "Animals" by Nickelback, 7.) "Shoots and Ladders" by Korn, 8.) "Divinity Statue" from DMC3, 9.) "Float On" by Modest Mouse, 10.) "This Is Gospel" by Panic! at the Disco. A quote you try to live by: "Life's hard. Shouldn't you be, too?" ... It's not meant to be an innuendo. How do you know when someone thinks you’re attractive? I would literally have to be told lmao. Which one of your relationships was the shortest? Two weeks and it was fucking stupid. Which was the longest? Almost four years. If you want to get married, what age? I don't have a set age in mind. Just whenever my s/o and I are ready. What did you end up getting for Christmas? A PS2 after mine broke years ago ahhhh, way too much money from my dad, his wife, and my grandpa, a "meerkat lover" street sign, a meerkat puzzle I'mma do and frame for my room, some pajama pants, an iHome for my iPod, Pikachu and Grumpy Cat plushies that're too cute, among other things that aren't coming to mind rn. Do you think buying underwear/bras at Victoria’s Secret is a waste? Meh, mixed feelings. Like they are way too expensive for some damn bras and underwear, but if they make you feel more confident or pretty in your body, buy them. Do you like glittery things? Usually. Do you like Red Lobster? It used to be my favorite restaurant, but after I got sick after eating there, I haven't gone since. Even though I was feeling sick before we went, it's just an association thing. What are you most scared of? Relapse, losing certain people. Favorite video game? "Silent Hill 2" Do you believe that leaving a significant other for someone else is ever a good idea? YUP. because if you loved the first person, you wouldnt even consider the second. <<<< This. Do you have any possessions that you’re very attached to, and you’d be absolutely devastated if you damaged or lost them? Absolutely devastated... the little rock I got from my partial hospitalization at Holly Hill. When someone "graduates," you pick a shiny rock from a jar that gets passed around the room for your "classmates" to wish you well and say anything they'd like to say about you while they hold it. I cherish that thing so much. What’s the naughtiest thing you’ve ever done, and you got away with it? I guess have oral entirely naked on the old chaise in the living room. But we were home alone. How much do you want to weigh? I was totally happy at 120, but I was fine at 140. Supposedly I should be like 130-something. If you HAD to do your holiday shopping for EVERYONE in only ONE store what store would you pick? Uh probably Walmart lmao. Do you believe that guns don’t kill people and that people kill people? Why? People kill people, and that's coming from someone afraid of guns. You have a choice where you're pointing that thing. What is the difference between a good poem and a bad one? I don't like ones that are virtually impossible to understand. Which do you need more: sugar, caffeine, alcohol, drugs, sex, sleep? I'm addicted to caffeine, I can't go two days without it. @_@ Who is someone you know should deserve more respect? Ha, my Dad from my mom. What movie would you like to see again, that you haven’t watched since you were a kid? The first movie that came to mind was "Shiloh." Are birds happy in cages? Are pets happy indoors? I truly doubt birds are happy in cages, but maybe if they have enough entertainment and it's big enough? But I'm sure like dogs and cats are fine indoors considering a whole house is much bigger. Though I think bigger dogs especially need to be let out to run around sometimes. Hula hoops or jump ropes? Jump ropes. Loved it as a kid. Now my knees would murder me. Can you understand sign language? No. But I remember learning this song in elementary school that we had to sing and do sign language to, but I don't remember any of it. Does anyone in your family hunt? Nicole, my little sister. How about fish? Me and Dad, maybe his dad. Do you pronounce the "l" in salmon? No. Have you ever gotten stuck on an amusement park ride? Thank Christ no. Have you ever seen an albino animal? Maybe? I've seen a white alligator, but it technically wasn't albino. Have you ever tried summoning Bloody Mary? No. When is the last time you consumed alcohol? New Year's Eve. I drank a margarita way too fast but felt nothing because my alcohol tolerance is God-Tier. ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ (Though I like never drink.) Do you ever judge people based on if they believe in God or not? No. Are you sometimes scared to express your opinions in fear of what others might think? Y U P Do you ‘bless’ strangers when they sneeze? Sometimes. Would you rather go to a University or a community college? The latter if they offered good classes. It's cheaper, and you can still get a worthy degree. What’s your favorite kind of bread? Pumpernickel. What toppings do you like on your pizza? Only jalapenos or pepperoni. What color or design does your shower curtain have? It's just white. What color is your microwave? Black. Could you ever give yourself a shot? If I had to, yeah. Have you ever been so embarrassed that you cried? Story of my life. How many people have told you they were in love with you? One. Would you ever have sex with the last person you texted? Well, we're both girls, so actual sex would be psychically impossible, but I'd do as close as we could to it if she made it very clear she wanted to. Does it bother you when people don’t answer questions with exact answers? Yes, especially if I'm asking them a question about needing validation for something. Don't be vague. Have you ever watched a needle go into your own skin? I usually do so I know exactly when it's coming. And if I'm getting my blood drawn, I watch it for whatever reason. @_@ Have you ever seen someone get a piercing/tattoo? Yes. Do you like strawberry and banana smoothies? Strawberry. I doubt I'd like banana. Do you know someone that is mute, deaf or blind? My sister Ashley is literally blind in one eye, I think her right? For the other two, idk. What’s your favorite horror movie? I really like both "Blair Witch Project"s, as well as "The Crazies." Is it true that people with depression CAN’T function in society? Sometimes, absolutely. Can you think of any person or group you cannot empathise with? Pedophiles, rapists, racists, abusive people, homophobes, the list goes on. Do you want to get married? If so, what color will your dress be? It'll be either black, white, or ivory, idk. Do you like peanut butter and fluff sandwiches? NO. Do you play video games? If so, what kind? Yes, just about exclusively story-based ones that usually involve horror. But I like many others, so long there's actually plot to it. How old is your oldest and youngest friend? Oldest is like... 32, youngest is 17, I think. How weight conscious are you? Only extremely. Stripes or polka dots? Polka dots. What was your first word? "Dada" What's a show that you absolutely refuse to watch? "13 Reasons Why" Do you remember how old you were when you started swearing? 7th grade. Have you ever been involved in a custody battle before? I'm actually not sure. I don't think so. If it did, Mom never told us. Did your parents ever let you play in the pits of those multicolored balls? Yes, until I think a dirty needle was found in one of McDonald's ball pits. Do you think biting is weird or sexy? I like it so long you don't leave a mark in an obvious spot. Do you have a class ring? No. What type of internet browser are you using? Chrome. How long do your showers typically last? Not even ten minutes. Can you cry on cue? No. Were you a Nancy Drew reader when you were younger? No. Are you the kind of person that takes pictures with a drink in your hand? No, and quite frankly, it's obnoxious. You're getting intoxicated. Congrats. Do either of your parents have a mental illness? Mom has depression, and she says Dad's bipolar, but I absolutely don't see it now that they're divorced. When you were growing up, did your family rent or own your home? Own. When was the last time you wore a full face of makeup? I couldn't tell you. The most I ever wear is eye liner, shadow, mascara, and lipstick, but I don't consider that a "full face of makeup." Do you own an iPad? No. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? No, thank goodness. Do you think it’s wrong for people to say 'retard/retarded’ as an insult? I FUCKING HATE IT. How many people of the opposite sex have made you cry? I think two. Would you eat a live tarantula for $1,000? No, I just wouldn't be able to. If it didn't have its fangs, maybe? What’s one health problem you wish you didn’t have? Anxiety. Shit would be so much better without it. Is your mom or dad the older parent? Mom by one year. Do you have any close friends that were adopted? No. Do you believe that people can be psychics? No. List these apple types from greatest to worst: green, red, yellow. Red, green, yellow. Does your house have more than one fireplace? We don't have even one. When it rains does it leave a lake in your front yard? No. My original home was like that, though. It ALWAYS flooded. Do you dread when people ask you to sign their yearbooks? No, I actually found it flattering to know they wanted me to sign it. Where is one place that you’d never be caught dead in? A strip club, to name one. Do you have a favorite Scooby-Doo movie? I loved the Phantom Virus one. Even had the game. Do you dislike when people ruin the endings of anything for you? Yes, unless I ask to just be told. You are holding onto your grandmother’s hand and the hand of a newborn that you do not know as they hang over the edge of a cliff. You have to let one go to save the other. Who do you let fall to their death? What was your rationale for making the decision? ... Whoa. I'd feel fucking godawful, but I'd save my grandmother. I'm not calling the baby less human, but my grandmother is more conscious of life and everything, I guess? Which would you choose: true love with a guarantee of a broken heart, or never loved at all? Why? Never love at all. Heartbreak is fucking awful. Have you ever seen the movie "A Walk to Remember?" Cliche or worth watching? I think it's worth watching. Very sweet movie. Do you know how to sew? What’s your favorite thing to sew? No. Do you own many pairs of shorts? I don't own any. Do you ever have movie nights with your significant other? Ye<3 Do you like fiction or non-fiction books more? What’s your favorite? Fiction. "Johnny Got His Gun" and "The Outsiders." Have you ever slept in the same bed as your friend? Yeah. How many tattoos would you get? I want LOADS. What brand of toothpaste do you use? Crest. Would you ever tattoo the name of a bf/gf or spouse on yourself? No. I'd get a matching tattoo relatively deep into marriage, but name, nah. What’s your least favorite season? Summer. D: What’s your favorite dessert? Red velvet cake. Do you like cotton candy? Meh, I can have a couple bites. Do you have any shirts signed by famous people? No. Where do you normally get your hair cut? A family friend's salon. What would your dream engagement ring look like? I really like dragon's breath opal rings or rose gold ones but idk how expensive either are. @_@ What’s the longest your hair has ever been? Like to the small of my back. How do you feel about bleach blonde hair? Gorgeous on some people, not for me. Do you know anyone who has been arrested? Yes. Name 2 questions that you will most likely never say ‘no’ to: 1.) "Do you wanna go get a tattoo?", 2.) "Do you wanna Skype?" if it's Sara. Imagine someone has a great personality, sense or humor, family and job. they also really really like you a lot. Would you consider dating them if they: Were fat? Yes. Limped? Yes. Were a midget? Yes. Had HIV? No, because I'm too scared to put myself at risk. Were paralyzed in one arm? Yes. Had a glass eye? Yes. Had only 6 months to live? No, that would destroy me. Would you get married on TV? No. I don't want people I don't care about watching. Do you own a metal detector? No. I did as a kid, though.

#survey #quiz #questions

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jbuffyangel · 8 years

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The Shift Begins: Arrow 5x10 Review (Who Are You?)

Wow. I mean... WOW. "Who Are You" was an amazing episode.

Probably my favorite of the season. I liked it even more than 5x08 and I LOVED 5x08. It had unbelievably tight pacing, great action, strong (and necessary) character development, wall to wall Olicity and fabulous subtle LL shade. It integrated the new characters almost seamlessly too.

Y'all... I even liked Wild Dog.

But best of all? The shift has started for Oliver and Felicity.

Let's dig in...

Olicity (and Bl*ck S*ren)

Storytelling is never an easy journey, especially in television. It is a long, arduous, sometimes infuriating, and at times boring, process. It can also be exhilarating and heart wrenching. Our emotions fluctuate as does our investment. Watching a television show as it airs, with a 23 episode season, is full of ups and down. There will be good episodes. There will be bad episodes. It's a roller coaster ride.

But every once and awhile there's that fantastic episode. The one that shines above all the rest. The loopty loop. The diamond in the rough so to speak. The episode that makes all the patience worth it.

"Who Are You" is that kind of episode. There's a significant amount of pay off from the set up of the beginning of Season 5, but also for those of us who've been religiously watching for five years. The shift in Oliver and Felicity's dynamic started tonight and it's launching them in an entirely new trajectory. And it's exactly where we need to go.

"Laurel's" return isn't really all that much about Laurel. I mean... it IS, but I've always said that as long as they bring KC back for specific ways, this guest contract can be extremely effective. As irritated as I was at how quickly Arrow brought KC back after we JUST said goodbye to Laurel, this was an effective use. It highlighted the emotional shift between Oliver and Felicity, by examining their vastly different perspectives on what Laurel's return means. It's not even about Laurel. This is about world view.

For Oliver, it's a miracle. Listen, as cover stories go, Bl*ck S*ren's was a spectacularly bad one. Sure the "time travel" excuse works, especially when you throw in Sara and the Wave Rider, but once you dig into the details a bit it makes ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE.

Details Felicity rapidly picked up on and Oliver was blind to.

For Felicity, it was too good to be true, so she was suspicious. It was too good to be true for Oliver, but rather than be his pessimistic, distrustful self, he just embraced it full on. It wasn't just that Oliver believed Laurel was a miracle. He needed her to be one.

Whereas for Felicity, we can finally see the events of the last four years finally taking a toll on her. She's sees the darker underbelly of this supposed "miracle" because history has taught her that when something is too good to be true on Arrow... it normally is.

Felicity: After the past four years it's hard for me to accept good news.

But the fact that Oliver is essentially throwing caution to the wind, ignoring all signs, and embracing the freaking rainbows, is such a freaking massive character shift, it's almost mind boggling. This is the Oliver Queen version of Rainbow Brite.

It's also a massive character shift for Felicity to be the one who is not hopeful. To be the one who is suspicious and distrustful.

So, it's strange when it's Felicity who wants to throw the party celebrating Laurel's return. Have you ever seen a less enthusiastic party? Nobody wants to celebrate Laurel's return.

Of course, Felicity isn't celebrating Laurel's return. She's getting her Nancy Drew on with an elaborate ruse in the form of a “Welcome home Laurel” party.

She's using the party to analyze "Laurel" more and then, literally analyze her, by using her glass for a DNA analysis. Did you notice that "Laurel" almost reached for the glass of champagne instead of the glass of water? Somebody forgot to do their homework! Tsk tsk.

To Bl*ck S*ren’s credit, she figures out Felicity’s on to her almost as as quickly as Felicity figures it out.

You pretended to be Laurel for a hot minute Bl*ck S*ren. Slow your roll. Although, maybe a minute was long enough.

Of course, Oliver shows up just as Bl*ck S*ren is attacking Felicity and Rory.

HE RUNS TO FELICITY'S SIDE.

Oliver needs to know she's safe; to know that she's not hurt. He uses his special “hey.”

Like he’s done so many times before...

Felicity reassures Oliver, but

He can't even take his eyes off of her. Felicity is his only concern.

Words are never enough for Oliver in these situations. He needs to touch Felicity. He needs to feel her. The physical connection is the only way Oliver can reassure himself. Oliver has done this again

and again

This is no different. As much as some things change... some things never do.

They grip each other's forearms, as Oliver holds Felicity steady, but he doesn't help her stand up. In point of fact, there's absolutely no reason for the two of them to be holding onto each other so tightly and for so long other than ALL THE FEELINGS. And, once again, Olicity is surrounded in green light. The ever present, unbreakable connection. For Oliver to feel, in her bones, that she is safe. It's his tether. The same tether Oliver needs. The same tether he will always need.

These two wreck me.

After a nasty run in with Prometheus, Bl*ck S*ren reaches out to Oliver and the team arranges a meet by that god awful statue.

Don't worry, it's on its last legs.

This when we see the shift in Oliver and Felicity clash.

Honestly, his crabby voice is even hotter when he’s crabby with Felicity.

Oliver is trusting Bl*ck S*ren. He believes she can offer intel and he tells the team NOT to move on her. Felicity argues with him, but Oliver holds firm. Felicity pretends to agree, but then she switches "the boys" (there's no limit to how much I love that Felicity called them that) to a separate channel. In one of the best lines of the episode, Felicity tells the boys to "light her up."

Commence the fist pumping.

My parents have had similar arguments, with my mother issuing orders that differ from my father's to me and my two sisters. So, Oliver and Felicity are Mom and Dad of Team Arrow, and "the boys" are trial run triplets. Come fight me.

But you know what my sisters and I did? We listened to our mom. And that's exactly what Curts, Rene and Rory are going to do. Where Mama goes so goes your nation.

Of course, the team jumps the literal gun and spooks Bl*ck S*ren, prompting her to unleash her sonic scream and, in the process, DESTROYS LAUREL'S STATUE. This calls for the Numfar Dance of Joy.

Goodbye statue. We knew thee for a short time and yet we shall not miss thee.

Loyal little children that they are, Curtis, Rory and Rene try to cover for Felicity, but she comes clean with Oliver. She gave them the order to go. What I love about this is Felicity's isn't sorry about what she did. She firmly believes she was right.

QUEEN.

This is the start of that split in tactics we've been hearing about. Felicity liked that the team listened to HER. They followed HER orders. They used HER tactics. When Oliver wouldn't listen and do things Felicity's way, she ploughed right through him. This is very S1-S3 Oliver Queen esque behavior. It strongly points to Felicity setting up her own team to go after Prometheus once she grows tired of Oliver's opposition to her tactics and his approach.

And this is all about approach. Felicity doesn't trust Bl*ck S*ren and, while Oliver recognizes there's good reason not to trust her, he can't let go of the hope that there's a piece of goodness in Bl*ck S*ren. That there's a piece of Laurel in her.

Felicity believes Oliver has blinders on. Is Felicity right? Yes. But oh... isn't it wonderful to see him so doggedly optimistic? So blindly and stupidly hopeful. That's what heroes do. That's who heroes are. And that's the question Arrow is really asking.

It's the question Oliver asked Bl*ck S*ren, but it's really the question he is asking himself. It's the question Diggle and Felicity are asking themselves as well. We decide, every day, who we are, with every choice we make. Our souls, are simply a reflection of the circumstances we are presented, the choices we make and the consequences of those choices. Which then lead to more circumstances and more choices. And so on and so on and so on and before you know it, you've built a lifetime of choices. And in their wake is the legacy you leave.

Oliver believes if you change the circumstances, you are giving someone the chance to choose again. He wants to give Bl*ck S*ren love, trust, compassion and hope because maybe she hasn't been given those things before. Maybe that's the shift that will make all the difference for Bl*ck S*ren to choose again, and be someone else. It's certainly something Oliver has felt in his own life. It's the gift Diggle and Felicity gave him and Oliver is trying to pay it forward. It's the question that haunts him, especially in light of Prometheus and Billy, because it is Oliver's choices that led to the creation of Prometheus. He believes it led to Billy's death. If Oliver could just change the circumstances... would he do it all differently? He's offering Bl*ck S*ren the redemption he so desperately craves. Not just for Laurel's death, but for every mistake he's ever made.

Oliver, Felicity and Diggle have all chosen to be heroes, but now it's about choosing what kind of hero they are going to be. Every season, Oliver misses a piece to his evolution to the Green Arrow. This time, this season, he's finally starting to see the whole picture.

And for Felicity as well. This is not just about Billy. He was just the last straw in a house made of straw. She has suffered so much. She has endured so much pain and loss. Felicity has always taken the higher road. She's always been the believer, but she's really asking herself, "Where has all that belief gotten me?" Felicity is tired of losing. She is tired of hurting. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. So, Felicity is adapting. She's going to fight fire with fire this time and maybe it'll yield a different result. Maybe this will make the pain go away.

Felicity works out some major rage, by beating the crap out of punching bag. Oliver comes in and ever so softly, in that gentle voice reserved only for her, tells her to extend her wrist. Y'all he just gave her a training tip. And that sweet little smile he gives, scrunching up his nose, when Felicity says “Ow” because he can’t handle her adorableness? Fabulous. IS THIS REAL LIFE?

Felicity can't even stand to hear Oliver use "Laurel's" name. Bl*ck S*ren isn't Laurel. She's a bad guy and she's thrown in with the Big Bad. Felicity isn't interested second chances. She doesn't want to hear about how Oliver is trying to save Bl*ck S*ren . She's using Oliver just like Prometheus did. Felicity wants Oliver to stop Bl*ck S*ren before anyone else gets hurt... before he gets hurt.

But Oliver pushes back just as hard. If there's anything the past five years has taught Oliver, there is so much in this world he doesn't understand. Instead of closing himself off to that, Oliver is trying to expand his world view. He's trying to be more accepting, more understanding, more compassionate. He needs to reach Bl*ck S*ren because once upon a time, not so long ago, someone came along and reached for Oliver.

Someone changed Oliver's circumstances.

Someone gave Oliver a second chance at life.

Felicity.

(And Diggle too). But what's so heartbreaking about this scene, is that Oliver is still Oliver. He can be obtuse, oblivious to the what's right in front of him. As he waxes poetic about changing Bl*ck S*ren's circumstances, he fails to recognize that Felicity's circumstances have changed to. And those circumstances are changing Felicity.

Felicity: You think you can save her?

Bl*ck S*ren is just a symptom of a much larger problem that is brewing between Oliver and Felicity. This shift in dynamic has a purpose.

This line is an important callback to the same line Helena said to LL in Season 2 when she was facing her island. Eventually, every character on Arrow goes to the Island. Every character lets the darkness in, because we all have a dark side. That’s just being human. Felicity is the last to go to her island because of who she is. She’s the strongest among them and because of that strength was able to hold onto her light. But everyone has a breaking point and Felicity has found hers. The darkness is setting up shop. There will come a time when it will be Felicity who needs to be saved. Only, she won't want to be. Felicity won't want Oliver to reach her, or anyone else who loves her. Yet, Oliver remains doggedly determined about Bl*ck S*ren. Imagine the determination he will have for Felicity. Oliver will reach her. There won't be a choice. Not when it comes to Felicity.

But the darkness never comes out. It always stays. It will always be something Felicity has to face, understand, and overcome. Just like every character on Arrow, but most especially Oliver. The key is that she has the person who brings out the best in her. The person who harnesses her light - OLIVER. This brings another level of connection to their relationship. It’s equal emotional support... and that is one area Felicity has always done the heavy lifting. This shift is necessary.

Whooo! Both are bringing their zinger A game.

But first, we have to allow Felicity to go down this darker path. We have to allow Felicity to get lost, so she can be found. This season is all about Oliver and Felicity walking in each other's shoes. Oliver is being the light, the source of hope and belief. And Felicity... is taking matters into her own hands. She's going to protect those she loves, especially when they cannot protect themselves. Felicity lost Billy to Prometheus' deception. That deception caused Oliver incalculable guilt and pain. Felicity can't save Billy, but she will save Oliver. She will protect him, especially when Oliver cannot protect himself. Felicity will protect Oliver even though she knows he will disagree with her methods.

It's a very Oliver Queen like move. Why is it so important we walk in our partner's shoes? Why is it so important we understand their perspective on a deeper level. Because it's the catalyst to change. It ignites our compassion, our understanding... and our forgiveness.

Felicity faces off with Bl*ck S*ren, and I have to say, it's an exceptional scene. Emily Bett Rickards is bringing this unflinching, uncompromising, darkened steel to Felicity Smoak. It's fantastic and Emily is chewing up this meaty storyline. They are only going to give her more and it's only going to get better. I feel it in my gut.

Honestly, this scene with Bl*ck S*ren is straight out of fanfiction.

Although, that "taller" remark fell a little flat. Is LL taller than Felicity? Does Oliver have a height preference I was unaware of? I was so confused.

Maybe some fanfiction authors should send the Arrow writers some better zingers. They did pull their ace though, a line I am sure they have been waiting a loooong time to say.

I cackled. Arrow having the balls to make fun of their exceptionally horrible romantic backstory with L*uriver will never get old with me.

Felicity knows what's really going on with Oliver. He feels guilty over Laurel's death and Bl*ck S*ren is a shot at redemption for him. Felicity Smoak knows Oliver Queen in his bones. Yes, I know what I did there.

Bl*ck S*ren escapes and Oliver is basically WTF because they followed Cisco's specs and no one ever escapes from The Flash! Felicity levels with Oliver. Bl*ck S*ren didn't escape. She let her go.

Oliver uses his angry voice. It's super hot. The exchange goes something like this:

Felicity: Don't worry. I put nano tech in Bl*ck S*ren's water. We'll be able to track her.

Oliver: (in his hot angry voice) That's a horrible idea. WORST IDEA EVER.

Felicity: Hey buddy, you taught me how. You did the same thing with Anarky!

Oliver: Oh. (whispers) Damn it.

Awkward pause...

Oliver: (in his deep angry voice that keeps getting hotter) Can we have the room please?

It would be at this time I shouted at my television, "For hot, angry sex! SAY FOR HOT ANGRY SEX!"

He didn't say it. Damn it! The boys have to leave and Wild Dog is bummed. He wants to watch Mom and Dad fight.

HA! Sucker!!! We get to stay. Muhahaha.

But hot angry Oliver doesn't yell. He immediately softens.

Felicity does not soften, however. In fact, the gloves are off.

It is the first time Oliver is really realizing how far Felicity is willing to go to get to Prometheus.

Felicity risked her life and not only is it worrying to Oliver... it's scaring the crap out of him.

SHOTS FIRED! I didn't take this as Felicity blaming Oliver for Billy's death. It's clear that she doesn't. It is, however, a condemnation on Oliver's attempt at the moral high ground. He's killing again. Morally justified? Perhaps. Goodness knows Felicity has advocated for Oliver killing the Big Bads before and she certainly has no problem putting Prometheus in the ground now. However, Felicity doesn't believe Oliver has the right to argue the moral high ground. He's taken the darker path too. He's doing whatever is necessary and so is she.

And yes, maybe, there was a little dig in there. If Oliver was holding to his "don't kill" code then he would have never tried to kill Prometheus... and Billy would be alive. Change the circumstances... change the choice... change the result. She's uses his Bl*ck S*ren argument against him, and twists the knife a little as she does it. This is an angry, frustrated, grieving Felicity. This is Felicity in pain.

Oliver promises justice for Billy, but Felicity jumps in with yet another zinger. Felicity NEVER refers to LL as Oliver’s ex, so she is really angry. And maybe Bl*ck S*ren’s digs got to her a little.

Honest to God, I thought he was going to kiss her. The way she's inches away from Oliver, challenging him. Remember, Oliver has a thing for strong women!

Yes, they are fighting but it's been so long since she stood this close to him. It's almost like Felicity is daring him to. Oliver glances down at her lips and hesitates. Then, he takes a deep breath, almost like he's holding it, willing himself not to just lean in and...

Is it warm in here? Wowza.

This one of the reasons I didn't mind the more subtle touch with Oliver and Felicity's scenes in 5A. Sometimes, when you pull back on characters it's almost like recharging a battery. Then, when you let them loose again the chemistry is electric. It's shooting sparks on steroids.

That was this scene. This is the push/pull dynamic we've been waiting for between Oliver and Felicity. Neither of them is backing down and it is so hot. As they say, opposites attract, but what's so interesting is that they've role reversed. The believer versus the cynic. The hopeful versus the disillusioned. The light versus the dark. Yet, the role reversal still maintains their opposite corners. This is a fight Oliver and Felicity have had before... many times. Only this time they are walking in the other's shoes.

Felicity and Oliver both take a step back, retreating to their separate corners, if not to just break the physical temptation, but allow themselves a moment to regroup.

Oliver watches the video between Felicity and Bl*ck S*ren and acknowledges what we all know... Felicity Smoak knows him best.

He comes towards her again, only this isn't a confrontation. Oliver has softened. He extends an olive branch. Oliver acknowledges that Bl*ck S*ren isn't their Laurel. Their Laurel is gone and they are never going to get her back. (This is yet another big blazing sign to the LL fandom that she is gone forever). But that's why Bl*ck S*ren is so important to Oliver. He's acknowledging that Felicity is right. He failed Laurel. This is a shot at redemption for Oliver. Without Bl*ck S*ren there's no chance of that. Or is there? We'll get to that later, but right now, Oliver feels like he's failed so many he's lost without the chance to fix it. Felicity is arguing it's an illusion, but Oliver argues back it's an illusion he needs right now.

And then he just says, "Okay?"

It's soft, gentle and pleading. This isn't Oliver demanding. This is Oliver asking. This is Oliver asking Felicity to please do this... for him.

That goes both ways. If it's Oliver asking... Felicity will do it.

This is an exceptionally beautiful, heart wrenching scene, because at the core of this is Oliver and Felicity's relationship. Oliver failed Felicity on a massive level. All he wanted to do was fix it, but he couldn't. She shut the door on them forever. Oliver feels he's lost any chance of redemption with Felicity as well. Oliver needs to reach for Bl*ck S*ren because he can't with Laurel, Moira, Robert, Tommy, Shado, Billy (even Prometheus in a way)... and most especially Felicity.

OR CAN HE? The whole point of this Dark Felicity story line is to offer Oliver that chance at redemption. It will open the door both Oliver and Felicity feel is long closed. Oliver will reach for Felicity the same way he's reaching for Bl*ck S*ren, only this time it will not be an illusion of what he lost, but the real thing. When Oliver reaches for Felicity she will eventually reach back.

Oliver puts Felicity in the field because Curtis needs help with the tech that'll stop Bl*ck S*ren's scream. Felicity is helping Curtis. The world makes sense again. Also, Felicity in the field so ...

Oliver and Prometheus face off.

Prometheus informs Oliver he can either stop him or save Felicity. It's 100% ridiculous that Prometheus thinks there's a choice. Dude, you need to watch Arrow.

Take it away Damon Salvatore.

Bl*ck S*ren goes after Felicity.

Can't you hear all those horrid anti Felicity fans cheering? This line is the writers thumbing their nose at that incessant request however.

See, this is why I love Arrow. Never have I seen a show so unabashedly play favorites. Bl*ck S*ren is the bad guy. Arrow won't let the bad guy win. Hell will freeze over before Arrow lets Bl*ck S*ren, or any version of LL, kill Felicity. Hell will freeze over before Arrow ever chooses LL over Felicity. There's no choice to make with them either.

Oliver chooses Felicity because DUH. Once again, they are enveloped in green light. The tether, the connection, the impossible dream, the minute and far away, is always there.

Oliver gives Bl*ck S*ren the hard sell. Yet, even when presented with love and compassion, Bl*ck S*ren still chooses evil.

Thus, cementing her as a real and true bad guy. The force of her sonic scream blows Oliver and Felicity backwards.

Oliver grabs Felicity and she holds on for dear life.

Once they hit the ground, Oliver shields Felicity with his ENTIRE BODY.

He even covers her ears with his arms, giving absolutely no thought to his own life. He couldn't protect her from the bullets.

He couldn't protect her from Havenrock

or Billy's death.

But he will protect her from this.

THIS is the kind of Olicity stunt we know and love. Welcome back old friend.

Curtis saves the day with his tech (more on that in a bit) and no truer statement was ever made...

And because Arrow is unabashedly Team Felicity, they give us this glorious gif:

There will be no end to the reblogging of this gif. This gif gives us life.

And if you think Arrow doesn't know the underlining meaning behind this scene, trust me, they know. That's why they put it there. It's the proverbial "shove it" to all the anti Felicity fans. Also, I may only refer to Bl*ck S*ren as pumpkin from now on.

And of course, because she is a total cupcake with extra frosting, Felicity excitedly tells Oliver she listened to his training tip and kept her wrist straight.

But Arrow is not done. No sir! Oliver can't hide the pride and heart eyes. Doesn't even bother trying.

OLIVER IS US Y'ALL! I mean, we always knew he was Team Felicity, on account of him choosing Felicity over Laurel every chance he got, but I thoroughly enjoy a little anti Bl*ck S*ren shade coming from him after we've heard him wax poetic about her for the last 40 minutes.

And then... Felicity and Oliver find a peaceful truce. They haven't resolved their issues at all. In fact, they are just ramping up. However, Felicity concedes that what she did was reckless and put the guards' life at risk. Oliver acknowledges that her plan worked. They almost got Prometheus.

See, this is why when Arrow finally pulls the trigger on an Olicity that stays together it will work wonderfully. There is enough "drama" between these two characters just based on their personalities and approaches to life. The push/pull dynamic is where the heat comes from. You can have Olicity fight and face drama without constantly keeping them apart. What's beautiful about them is even when they disagree, they have each other's backs. They are a team. And they will always find their way back to one another.

Felicity is sorry about Laurel.

Oliver is sorry about Billy.

The love in her voice fills the bunker. We can actually see Oliver’s heart stop.

Just stop fighting it y’all.

Oliver tells Felicity that "Laurel" isn't back in Central City. He's moved her to ARGUS lock up. He's keeping her close, because he still hasn't given up hope that he can reach her.

Between The Wars by Allman Brown

Between the wars we dance

Between the wars we left

Don't wake me yet

We're still what's left

Hasn't happened, hasn't happened yet

Between the wars we stay

Fading echoes spin away

Lost in memories, in memories

We're still what's left

Hasn't happened, hasn't happened yet

It's important that Felicity asked specifically about "Laurel." Note, she doesn't use the name Bl*ck S*ren. It's a tiny little acknowledgment that Oliver's hope is worth something.

In fact, it's worth everything.

And this is the line. The line that tells us exactly where Arrow is headed with Olicity. This is the line that we will hold on to when times get darker between them... and they will. We are just beginning this dark arc for Felicity. But this line already signals the door is already opening in Felicity. It will be Oliver's optimism, his light, that will help lead Felicity out of the dark and back to him. And when she does, Oliver will be ready for her. He will be the man she's always deserved.

And thus... the shift begins.

Flashbacks

We're back in Russia! Remember Russia? Honestly, I totally forgot what was happening in Russia, so it was good Flashback Ollie did a little recap for me.

Basically, Oliver is getting the crap beat out of him by Pakhan, who's upset that he failed at blowing up Kovar's casino. Instead, Oliver put his own interests (killing Kovar) above the Bratva. Oliver thinks Pakhan is a two faced, lying, SOB, because Kovar is a government agent and the deal he made with Pakhan also betrays the Bratva.

Pahkan argues that Oliver fails to see the bigger picture. For all Oliver knows, Pakhan could be double crossing Kovar that in serves the Bratva.

Arrow has struggled with tying in the flashbacks fluidly with present day, but they did a little better in this outing. Pahkan does a nice little psychoanalysis on Oliver, post ass kicking. The photo of Laurel falls out of Oliver's pocket, and Pahkan mistakes Laurel for Whatshername. It's important to note that Oliver didn't bother telling Pahkan Whatshername's real name because I'm pretty sure, like me, Oliver has forgotten what it is. When Oliver explains that she's not the woman he's here to avenge, Pahkan is a little, "Dude. How many do you have a thing with" and thus becomes my flashback spirit animal.

Oliver explains he couldn't return to Laurel because he's become a monster she wouldn't recognize. Well... that and you were the douchebag that cheated on Laurel with her sister and then her sister died, but that's just details.

Pakhan has an interesting take on things. He believes Oliver is blaming himself for the darkness inside of him, when really, it is just a product of his time on Lian Yu. It's the circumstances that created the darkness... not Oliver. Pakhan believes that ultimately, Lian Yu, made Oliver who he is today. Otherwise he'd still be a total asshat.

This feels accurate. It's the Bratva way of looking at the road not traveled, similar to what Oliver did in 5x08. Pakhan is pushing Oliver to view his darkness as a positive, to turn it into nectar, by committing himself fully to the Bratva. It's a slightly messed up version of unconditional love and acceptance. It's an illusion of family, but one Oliver needs. Just like he needs the illusion that Bl*ck S*ren is Laurel.

Here's the problem with Pahkan's take. Yes, in many ways Oliver's darkness is a byproduct of his circumstances. However, that eliminates any responsibility on Oliver's part. He still had choices to make. Just like Bl*ck S*ren made choices. Just like Felicity made choices. Oliver shouldn't be hating himself as much as he does for his darkness, but he doesn't get off scot free either - which is what Pahkan is selling him right now.

There is a happy medium here and Oliver will find it in present day. He'll let go of the guilt, but understand that he is still responsible for the choices he makes regardless of circumstance. Which is why, in the end, he will toe the moral line no matter what happens.

Tina Boland: The New Black Canary

Arrow removes the god awful statue of Laurel and Felicity wonders if they are doing the right thing. Perhaps they should rebuild it.

It is absolutely the right thing to remove that eye sore and you should absolutely not rebuild it.

Oliver has a much more poetic response than my, "Sweet Mother of Moses NO!" He's starting to realize legacy isn't about statues. A legacy is a living and breathing thing. He hasn't done enough to honor his promise to Laurel. He's determined to find a woman worthy of the BC title. That's how Oliver finds redemption in her loss. That's how she never truly dies. Laurel's legacy lives on in the people who loved her and those who continue to her fight.

Are they making Laurel more important in her death than she ever was on the show? Yes, absolutely. This is not going to change my friends. This is why they killed her. Her death served more purpose than her life. The good news is we're moving on from the LL piece of the BC chapter. Even better, Olicity is going to find the new BC. Arrow is ready to shift the story to somewhere new.

As we predicted, and as it was spoiled, the new character Tina was introduced at the end of the episode. She has the sonic scream just like Bl*ck S*ren did. So, obviously she's a meta human. It's possible Arrow has another origin planned. Her sonic scream sounded different than either LL's or Bl*ck S*ren’s. But Tina could be connected to Central City and the particle explosion. I'm wondering if Wild Dog is from Central City. Granted, I can’t tell if Wild Dog knows Tina in the promo, but if he does then maybe he’s hiding from her for a reason.

I'm wondering because the amazing @callistawolf was quick to point out to me the scene where Wild Dog remarks about everyone's blasé reaction to Laurel's return. Oliver tells him the Lance sisters have a habit of coming back to life and Wild Dog is floored this has happened before.

This is a thinly veiled reference to the Canaries coming back to life. I believe there's a Wild Dog connection with Tina. Perhaps they were in a relationship or she’s a family member. It's possible Wild Dog believes Tina died in the explosion. It could explain his angry reaction to the metas in the crossover (Thanks Sara!) In any event, I believe Oliver's "warning," for lack of a better word, to Wild Dog, about Lance women coming back to life, is that tradition will continue with the new BC. Wild Dog's BC.

I thought it was a great introduction to Tina. Her desire to protect women is a call back to Sara's crusade, the one who started it all... The Original Canary. So this isn't just about Laurel. It's about honoring the history of the Canaries on Arrow.

I enjoyed Juliana Harkavy's delivery and her physicality. It was just a brief glimpse, but I liked what I saw so far. The promo looked awesome. Wouldn't it be wonderful to love Arrow's BC? Fingers crossed!

John Diggle

Diggle wasn't in the episode a ton. "Who Are You" was mostly set up for his bigger storyline coming up. Diggle isn't running this time, but he's not giving up like last time either. He's ready to fight the charges. Again, this is about the kind of man, the kind of hero, John Diggle wants to be. And he doesn't want to be the kind of man who lets his demons get the better of him. John Diggle is a man who stands up and fights and he's finding that piece of himself again.

Adrian Chase

Oliver was able to bring in Adrian Chase and I have to say the gelling of this new character was seamless. Arrow did an excellent job of explaining away that pesky detail about Adrian not being a military attorney. The scene in which he instructs Diggle to punch him to delay his transfer and transfer him to civilian court was GENIUS.

There was a moment, between Adrian and Oliver that's worth noting as well. Adrian told Oliver it was important to keep what happened with Billy and Prometheus a secret. He essentially said secrets are the only way to justice. This could be a veiled reference to Adrian Chases' comic book history. SPOILERS.

**************

Adrian Chase is Vigilante in the comics. However, in the comics his identity is revealed and Adrian commits suicide. It's an incredibly dark resolution to this character. Since this season is all about legacy, and Oliver deciding who he is and what kind of hero he wants to be, I think this line is very important. It points the direction where Adrian is going. The amazing @callistawolf, has long believed Oliver will reveal himself as The Green Arrow, Tony Stark style. If Adrian Chase, The Vigilante, believes secrets are the only way to justice, and is ultimately destroyed by that belief, then he represents a lesson Oliver has to learn. The point is to push Oliver towards a new way of doing things. Oliver can no longer find justice through secrets either. I'm going to meta on this more later because there's a lot there. Stay tuned.

Curtis Holt and Wild Dog

Y'all... I liked Wild Dog this episode. I was agreeing with Wild Dog. I assure you it was a disquieting feeling.

But then he called Felicity "blondie," infuriated me

and all was right with the world again.

I appreciate Arrow’s references to Rene being an acquired taste. That’s the writers acknowledging many of us can’t stand him. The reason Wild Dog was easier to take this episode is because he stopped being a dick for the majority of the episode.

In fact, it was Curtis calling Rene on his general asshatness that triggered the shift in character. So, lets keep that up Arrow. Less dick-douche and more compassionate friend. That’s a taste more to my liking.

Curtis lost his husband and is generally tired of getting his assed kicked. He's tired of failing at being a vigilante. He feels he's lost everything with nothing to show for it.

Arrow used the newbies extremely effectively this episode. Now that they've set the characters up, and we've gotten to know them, they can shift focus back to the main characters and the newbies can become solid B storylines. This is an excellent example of that.

Curtis is the new LL when it comes to fighting. Arrow isn't doing that great of a job at showing his progression. We sort of jumped to kicking ass in about an episode, complete with parkour moves, but at least they've settled on this "Mr. Terrific gets beat up" theme with every fight. It's an acknowledgment that he has the longest way to go training wise.

Curtis worked amazingly well last season on Arrow because they played to the character's strengths: his humor and chemistry with Emily Bett Rickards, and his technical abilities. My biggest frustration with the evolution into Mr. Terrific is that Arrow seemed to abandoned his technical abilities. Instead of being the Cisco of Arrow, like I hoped, he was taking over areas of Felicity's expertise. Forcing her to act out of character to make it work sometimes.

That was all fixed in "Who Are You" and played heavily into Curtis' arc. Wild Dog wisely told him that instead of focusing on what he can't do (fighting), focus on what he can do (genius inventor).

So, it's Curtis who comes up with the tech to stop Bl*ck S*ren and he ultimately saves the day. Let's stay on this road with him Arrow. Make a clear division of duties between Curtis and Felicity. Let Curtis be Arrow's Cisco and slowly move him along on the Mr. Terrific training. I don't think they'll stop Curtis from becoming Mr. Terrific, but I'll be happy if this slows the train down and refocuses his character like they did in this episode.

Stray Thoughts

Where you lookin’ Oliver? Felicity’s eyes are higher up.

I almost didn't notice Thea wasn't in the episode. That is how bad it's gotten with her lack of storyline. Let's fix that Arrow.

Flashback Ollie actually referring to LL's photograph is something new and different.

Don't try to understand The Flash Wild Dog.

Best Curtis line of the night. Close secod was "Heard what? Just kidding. Pretty sure people in Florida heard that.”

Bl*ck S*ren's black lipstick is so distracting. I dislike it very much.

Oliver should have explained his friendship with Diggle to Adrian this way, "John Diggle is my Yoda. We have the bromance to end all bromances. Save my lobster."

Anti crime unit is still a thing? Billy was part of the anti crime unit? Ugh. I'm trying to remember Billy's 10 minutes on screen, but it's hard.

John Diggle... why is your voice so handsome? Also your face? I ask the important questions.

"I'm use to it." Has anything more accurately summed up Olicity? I think not.

Wig is still worse than Oliver's bloody face.

Felicity has a hard time swearing. Because she's a cupcake

"More tinkering. Less fighting." STOP MAKING SENSE WILD DOG. YOU ARE FREAKING ME OUT.

Talia Al Ghul has arrived! She's pretty. She looks like Nyssa. I am jazzed. My Batman roots demand it

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