#not a “melancholy pair” but a creepiness pair

[v-akarai]

[hongjoongscafe]

Bloody Love...

Chapter: IX-Cello-

♠︎Pairing: yandere!king!jungkookxoc(coronis)

♠︎Genre: angst, smut, yandere, gore, dark romance, horror, creepy (dark fantasy).

♠︎Summary: "you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong."

♠︎Word count: 2.4k+

♠︎Warning: manipulation, spirits.

♠︎Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

♠︎Masterpost

♠︎Serieslist.

(Please please please listen to this playlist I found. Play Ghost song at first and then just let it shuffle. Trust me you won't regret it. This is a violin and cello playlist that I luckily found. Please, do play. It will set the perfect mood for this chapter.) (this is the melody that His Majesty is playing. Listen to it once.)

…

Melancholy. The melody was melancholy as it vibrated through the air. The cello played a tune that earned the cries of demons.

The forbidden notes danced across the air, twirling around like handsome lovers in the ball, lost in their own tune, away from the forbidding eyes, claiming their love against the world.

The world moved along the tunes, in steady steps, crossing the lovers as they looked at them with disgust. The women hid their disgust behind the dirty, torn hats. The men spit on the polished shoes of the lover for intimately touching His beloved.

The melodies swirled around her, pulling her out of her slumber, begging her to move her feet with the music and dance for her saddened lover drowning in this forbidden love.

They manipulated her senses, holding her hand and waist closer to them as they danced toward the edge of the cliff. The wind threaded through her long locks and caressed her skin harshly. Even the winds stood against them. The sky growled at them. The thunder poured on them, trying to pry them apart. To break them. To hurt them. To make them fall… to never be loved by each other.

There was a striking scent in the air, different from the rotten stink of the slammer. It was roses mixed with a certain musky scent. The very scent that sent chills down Coronis’ spine. They complimented the melancholy of the notes and mixed them with the harmony. Even the scent was manipulated by the force of the power of the melodies played by the lover.

She shifted as she felt the soft mattress under her fatigued body, her head resting on the spongy cushions. It was as if she melted into the bed and was one with them. The silky cover covered her. Her long black hair was scattered around her.

Her eyes behind her lids fluttered and slowly opened.

Unhurriedly, she blinked, trying to adjust her eyes out of blurriness. The darkness of the bedchamber cleared in front of her eyes, pushing her back to reality and yet her mind still sucked into the manipulation of the cello. She was dazed. The magic of the music captured her. As if they cuffed her hands and feet down to the reel world of forbidden love.

The purple of the chamber with dark gold furnishings was reflected in the burnt orange of the hundreds of candles burning on the candelabra and the chandelier above. The thorny black and red roses taunted her from the sides of the bed. The purple of the silk sheets and the bed hangings turned her into the royal of the heart of the devil.

The devil who sat at the far end, near the large windows, the manipulator of the music. His broad shoulders curved under His thick clothing. His arm swiftly manoeuvred the melody into the roundness of lugubrious.

The side of His face glowed under the candles, reflecting His static emotions. Deep into the heart He was lost. As if His inner voices consumed Him, whispered to Him.

The sounds still danced around the chamber, twisting and turning like a hazy aura.

Softly she stepped off the bed. Steady feet, she tiptoed towards Him as her heart thumped heavily inside her chest, aching for something she never craved. Her mind was blurred under His spell.

She swayed and danced slowly closer to Him. Deep into her daze, her eyes followed His sight, who was looking deep into the curves of the redness of the gigantic moon outside the window.

Her eyes filled. Her mind numbed. Her small hands fisted in anger.

The hatred of the unknown filled her. Who were those who forbid the love of the forbidden?

The cries of the spirits echoed in her mind. They screamed and sobbed painfully.

In a heavy daze, her foot thumped against the table, shattering the glass full of wine down the rug.

The spell broke.

The cello stopped.

The eyes of the Lord returned back to reality.

Coronis woke up from the blur of the spell. The hazy melodies in the air fell down and vanished. The sensibility dawned on her. Her feet stopped and her eyes widened.

The event of the slammer roughed around her head, scratching the membranes of her brain. The horror skimmed into her nerves as she gasped and harshly stepped back. She stumbled and fell on the rug and crawled backwards, away from the King.

His Majesty stood up and settled His cello down on the chair. He adjusted His clothes and looked at Coronis. His eyes softened and His shoulders relaxed.

“You are awake,” He said as she trembled like a dying bird on the ground. “I was worried you weren't waking up. It has been two nights.”

Her breath hitched. Two night? I remained asleep for two night? Did I sleep in His bed all this time? What did he do to me? Did he touch me? The worries crawled under her skin as disgust filled just like the people in the daze.

He walked closer and closer and kneeled down in front of her petite form. The back of His fingers gently caressed her pale cheek. “You don't look as good, my beautiful. I must feed you something. You have lost weight and look queasy.”

Coronis's teeth cluttered as she tried to move away from His warm, bloodied hands. “Please,” she begged weakly.

The palm of His hand softly held her cheek as His thumb rubbed the high of her cheekbone. “Why, my little birdy. Why are you begging me? What is it you need?” He spoke like a lover to His beloved.

“Let me go,” the tears rolled down her cheeks. “Let me go back.”

She didn't catch the subtle twitch in His jaw. “Do not ask for the impossible, my little birdy. The moment you stepped into the clutch of my palace, you became mine. And I will not let go of what is mine.” He looked to the side and said, “Jimin, Ana.”

Coronis now noticed the guard by the door who opened the door slightly and forwarded the command to the guard outside the chamber. She gasped when she felt The King picking her up and taking her to the bed and resting her there. He covered her legs with the sheet and sat facing her on the edge of the bed.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, wearily. She did not understand why The Lord was being so gentle with her as if she was a delicate glass. But if that had been the situation then why did he bring her here at all? Why didn't he just let her be free?

He chuckled, breathy and licked His lower lip before he spoke. “I can't punish you more than I already did,” the honey poured from His voice. “You are mine. And you belong here, right next to me. Not somewhere like that,” His eyes were burning with menace. The orange of the candle and the red of the moon painted His face into the depth of the details.

Her brain was spinning in her skull. Her thoughts were mingled. All she could see was a monster in a handsome body. “It’s not right,” she whispered, scared to even breathe in His way.

He scoffed, softly as he tipped her chin with His finger. His eyes looked into hers. “My beautiful,” he muttered, His face only inches away from hers. “you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong.”

Her eyes widened but before she could speak, the door to the Chamber opened. A lady in a long maroon gown, with her head bowed, stepped inside the room. Her hands were busy with a wide tray.

“May Your Highness live long,” she paid her courtesy to Him. She moved like a ghost to the table in front of the sofa, placed the tray on it and waited.

“Ana,” His Majesty began, still looking deep into the voidful eyes of Coronis. “She is soon to be Queen Consort. Treat her like one,” His pupils dilated as he said the next thing. “If not… I won't care if you are a man or a woman…”

He got up and moved away. His heavy presence followed His steps. He nodded at Jimin once and left the chamber altogether but not without having one look of her over His shoulder.

Her eyes stayed on the door as the lady, Ana, tended to her needs.

As Coronis was deep into her mind, the impression of His Majesty flashed in front of her eyes when He was playing the cello. His black, still expressions were raw. He was consumed by the powers inside Him.

There was more to Him. More than the ruthless demeanour he carried.

In the end, no one is born a villain.

…

The night went by like the good times. His Majesty did not return back but the guard– Jimin– stayed there the whole night.

In the early moments of dawn, Ana came in and guided Coronis to another chamber. “This is where you shall live until His Majesty commands otherwise,” said Ana as she guided her to the adjoining toilet. There was a big tub in the middle, surrounded by the candles. The petals of roses in the cloudy water were pretty.

“Your highness, His Highness has demanded your presence in the court, this gathering. We must prepare you for the formality.” there was a beat before she whispered “Please do not make this harder. For you and I, it will not end pleasantly… now if we have your permission.” She featherly took hold of the dress she was wearing.

That left no choice behind so she hesitantly nodded. There were two more girls slightly older than herself waiting in the tub. Ana helped her into the tub and the others cleaned her.

She silently waited for them to be done, accepting this as her life for now. Knowing that fighting against the word of The Lord won't end anywhere near joyously.

In a few, she was all dolled up for The King. Her hair was pinned up, her body was clad in a beautiful black gown. Its heavy georgette trail draped behind her and her head was covered with a black fine net veil.

Walking down the corridors of the palace, the eerie-ness shadowed her. Like a blur, everything passes by. A true feeling realizing that her life was never hers. Even living in the village was for His sake.

No one was alive who didn't work for him. Alive had a purpose… a purpose to worship His Highness. Nobody worked for themselves but Him. His command was their purpose. He was the one who owned her, and let her live.

Everything was his. The air, the ground, the animal, the human, the right to live, the right to die… it was all his.

He was the Giver.

And He was the Grim Reaper.

A lonely tear silently rolled down her cheek under the veil. Defeat.

The heavy cold gust narrowed down the T-point. Ana stopped Coronis from stepping forward. They, Ana and three other girls who were escorting her bowed down as the steps of the cold huddled through the path.

“Bow down, and close your eyes,” Ana whispered to her. She bowed, her head and her eyes closed.

There it was… a heavy presence of a spirit in front of her that stopped. They made their presence known. She felt the eyes of the spirit taking her in. There was a cold feeling lingering on her cheek and then on her head, and then it felt as if they held her hands in their cold ones.

“For He is wicked, you shall be the cure…,” A whisper barely made it into her ears. A shivering spark travelled down her spine.

The clicks went farther away. The hushed whispers dissolved in the air, away from them.

Coronis opened her eyes and her sight fell on her hands. The streaks of red painted her skin and a lone petal of black rose in her palm.

The sorrow of the spirit…

She clutched the petal in her hand. Something in her telling her to not let the mournful go.

For He is wicked, you shall be the cure…

…

The Lord was on His throne, ever so pridefully, looking down at her as she paid her curtsy to Him. He had never seen a sight so beautiful. So delicate, and yet so powerful.

She reminds Him of Her. She was delicate and yet She held Her head high up. Like the queen She was, She never bowed down… Until…

But even She wasn't as beautiful as His birdy was.

His lips stretched into a thin smirk. Coronis was His.

“My beautiful birdy,” he rasped. “Have I ever known there was such a beauty living in the village of rotten, I would have chased you long ago. I could have taken you under my wing and kept you like a princess all along.

“Poor, my heart, craved for you and didn't even know,” he continued. “And today, here you stood… attired like all mine.” His eyes took in the length of the court, looking wickedly into the eyes of the voiceless ministers, passing the silent threat of never daring to look at his princess birdy who stood there like a delicate flower… like a delicate rose.

He took a deep breath, feeling prideful for what He was about to say.

“I hereby announce the wedding ceremony with my bethorled. We shall tie the knot on the sixth night from today. There shall be no delays and no antagonism regarding the said shall be endured,” His voice was loud and clear.

For ages, He wandered around the palace and His life. Not once did He find His peak interest. But now he understood that his miserable life was meant to be bound with her. She was His purpose. To keep her. To protect her. She was what His interest peaked in.

He saw how her body froze. Then she shook. She was breaking down right there as everyone saw it unfold.

Rising from His throne, he descended down the stairs and stood toe to toe with his Queen-to-be. Holding her left hand in His, “Today I put my ring on your finger as a promise to tie a knot in six nights. I mark you as mine as the witnesses witness my word,” He said as he slipped the black diamond ring. His hand disappeared inside his Mantle and pulled the familiar bone necklace out. “And from now on,” He slipped his hands under the veil and tied the necklace. “This remains around you. Only when I say, you will put it away.”

He saw the tears streaming down her cheeks. The black of the kohl smeared along with them. He wiped them with his thumb, cupped her face and made her look into his eyes through the veil.

“Beautiful…” Coronis’s eyes widened as He whispered. “My heart breaks every so little when I look into the depths of your beautiful eyes. No one was born as beautiful as you are, my little birdy.”

He admired her, taking every inch of her face. The perfect slope of her nose. The perfect plum lips. The enticing scent of her skin. “Take my love back to her chamber. And start preparing for the ceremony,” he commanded Ana and kissed the ring on Coronis's hand before letting go.

He watched her retreat. The trail of her gown flowed before him.

For a few, the chaos in Him tamed down and gazed at her. They starved to devour her and love her. Caress her soft skin under His fingertips and give her the taste of the pleasure he craved.

Six more nights.

Six more nights.

Six more nights.

He repeated again and again until His mind fell numb.

“Six more nights… and nothing will take you away…”

…

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae @demonshauntingthedoves

@darkuni63 @mageprincess7 @whipwhoops @ackercute @ane102 @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @unhingedgf @jungkooks21 @namjoonscrabjuice @yluv-damara-13 @jksgirlhere @lavenderymoons @passionandsuga @posionapple24 @blueberry711 @shawtylilsalty @gukiebaby @vantelover07 @douknowbts @andioppsworld @xicanacorpse @ttanniett @koohrs @crazy-eight17 @jesshujk @sadxaries @fantasticwarl @catlove83 @iveivory @lippynabiii @igotnojamsz @deadgolgibody @jjk174 @captainengineer-trixie @shakespeare-in-the-park7 @kosmosjkookie

Have a nice day/night💓

[fartistt]

MAKE YOU MINE!

would you take someone else's hand if you had the chance?

fem reader

warning(s): fanon personality, fanon name, i'm writing this fic literally hours after the video dropped we deadass know nothing about this guy -🍝

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skelly, as much as he hates to admit it, has to come face-to-face with the fact that his little pumpkin patch has developed a bit of a trespasser issue. normally he wouldn’t mind—after all, what kind of pumpkin king would he be if he weren’t to share the spoils and wonders of his humble kingdom with the rest of his people—if it weren’t for the fact that whoever kept romping about his lovely abode wasn’t like the other pumpkin patch visitors.

see, skelly considers himself to be a gracious host. he is the pumpkin king, and the duty of any good ruler is to ensure that everyone within the gates, or in his case: sprawling fence, of his kingdom is enveloped in joy thanks to his wise governing. be they the resident mice or a lost passerby, his responsibility is to make sure they all leave with a wide grin. macabre perhaps, but his best dealings are in sparking happiness through the morbid. 

but you.

each time you come to his pumpkin patch, you come ready to burst into tears. your eyes are watery and glossy, vision undoubtedly blurry as you stumble over the pumpkins through the pitch black dark of the night. the first few times you’d come to the safe haven of his pumpkin kingdom to sniffle your eyes out, he ignored it. he figured you came here after something sad to cheer yourself up and would want space more than the consolation of a pale, creepy lonesome man, but once it becomes a semi-routinely occurrence, he makes the sage decision that now your issues have fallen under his jurisdiction.

isn’t he such a benevolent ruler? he knows it’s wrong to find excitement in someone’s despair, but he can hardly remember the last time he’s had a proper, breathing human visitor. it’s like fate, like destiny itself has drawn you from whatever it is causing you this much sadness and into the soothing comfort of his soon-to-be embraces.

“don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, sweet darling. i’ll be right there,” he hums to no one in particular when the quiet sounds of your clumsy footsteps alert him to your reentrance into his pumpkin patch. he thinks that he looks rather dapper, dressed to the nines in his finest tattered suit and pulling on a matching pair of gloves decorated with bone motifs. “your dearest king is but your humble servant. soon enough, i shall turn that melancholy of yours into unabated joy for none other than me. a far better outcome than whatever is ailing you, don’t you agree?”

there’s no one to respond to him, but he still stretches his dry lips into a satisfied smile. the final touch is his trusty pair of dark sunglasses. a good king never shows his true emotions even during the simplest of diplomatic journeys. that, and he doesn’t want to scare you with his bright orange eyes from the get-go.

it doesn’t take him long to find you. you’re planted in the heart of the pumpkin patch, ensconced and hidden away in the comfort of the long shadows of the night, hunched over and wiping futilely at your eyes while big fat tears drip over your waterline. the sight of you crying makes skelly’s heart wrench inside of his chest. what in the world could possibly make such a sweet creature like you cry like this?

he clears his throat. he’s a gentleman, and he doesn’t want to scare away his lone guest. “my dear… what’s troubling you?”

his voice is soft and careful, but it still makes you gasp and jerk away reflexively. he doesn’t blame you: the last thing you’re expecting during your nightly trips to what you probably assumed was an abandoned pumpkin patch would be a tall, lanky man hovering over you while you cried. he stays in his place and holds his hands up in mock surrender as if to signal to you that he has no foul intentions.

you wipe at your eyes and peer up at him through your clumped lashes, the serene moonlight bouncing off of your wet cheeks. your voice wavers and cracks, “who… who are you?”

“oh! i’m so sorry,” he gasps, placing a hand over his heart. “where are my manners? you may call me skelly. i’m the ruler of this quaint pumpkin patch, so to say. some even call me the pumpkin king. a bit pompous, if i do say so myself. i’d say that maybe you’ve heard of me, but given how surprised you are… i’d wager that you haven’t.”

he flashes you an innocent smile. you know the smart thing would be to run and never look back, but when he squats down so that he’s eye level with you, some part of you can’t bring yourself to muster the strength to flee. you’re already this miserable, what’s the use in trying to wade off an inevitable end?

“so what brings you here? this isn’t the first time i’ve heard you sobbing your heart out. it makes me rather upset to see you this distraught. i’ll lend you an ear, so tell me your troubles.” you can make out the slight glint of his eyes past the dark lenses of his glasses. “maybe i can help you out.”

you bite the inside of your cheeks. your mind is frankly too frazzled to think things through too thoroughly, but you still know better than to spill your deepest darkest secrets to some stranger that crept up on you in the dead of the night in the middle of nowhere. but at the same time, you’re only here because you’re at your wit’s end with nobody to turn to, and a chance encounter like this with a seemingly benevolent being might be your last straw to grasp at desperately.

you suck in a nervous breath. “it’s… it’s silly, really. nothing that the- uh- pumpkin king needs to concern himself over. i’m being dramatic.”

his dry lips twist into a frown as he peers at you. “i doubt it’s anything silly if it’s enough to make you cry like this. you can tell me everything. i promise it. take a chance on me, why don’t you?”

you gaze up at him. his white skin, the strands of his snow white hair, the outline of his body, the silhouette of dark suit and all of the pale ribbons cascading from his chest all seem to glow under the illumination of the night. every part of his man, from his painted smiles to his practiced words, are too good to be true. it makes him look almost deceptively angelic, poised perfectly so that you have no choice but to hand over yourself to him. you should know better than to gamble on something that’s not guaranteed, but you’ve chosen security before only to be stabbed in the back mercilessly.

you swallow back whatever fear bubbles up from the depths of your heart. 

“um… i go to a school nearby. night raven college. it’s an all boys school. maybe you’ve heard of it,” the words tumble from your lips clumsily. your heart thunders inside of your chest. “i’m from… somewhere really far away. i can guarantee you haven’t heard of it. no one ever has. the headmaster promised me that he’d help me go home in time, but it’s been so long without any progress. i’m starting to think i’ll never go home.”

you sniffle and hang your head, wanting to bury your face back in your arms. you mumble under your breath, “and… i don’t want to speak badly of anyone… but i’m sick of the students at the school too. they’re all mean and selfish, and i’m just tired. i’m tired, skelly.”

something in his unmoving dead heart stirs slightly when you sigh out his name. he reaches over and places a soothing hand on your shoulder, and a shudder creeps down your spine when you feel just how cold his body is even through the layers of his gloves. it’s like ice against your skin, the grips of frost tracing your body.

“homesickness, is it? i don’t think your sadness is silly at all. it must have hurt you so badly to have to endure everything in such an unwelcoming place. poor thing,” he coos. “no wonder you come here so often. you must have suffered so much if you preferred being alone like this over spending another night in that awful school… if only i knew sooner! i would have done so much  more to make you feel welcome.”

you shake your head. “it’s not your fault. i was the one who was too trusting from the beginning. i… i should have never taken the headmaster’s hand through the mirror.”

you feel pitiful under his gaze, but at the same time, you can’t help but feel a knot deep inside of you loosen slightly at his honeyed words. it’s childish, to want to be pitied and cared for, but simultaneously, this was the bare minimum of everything you wanted. all you had asked was for a place to make your own while you waited for a way to return home, and even that much was too much to ask for from the incompetent schoolmaster and his equally intolerable students.

skelly smoothes down the fabric of your clothes on your shoulder, each stroke of his long fingers like the unforgiving touch of winter. it’s like he’s trying to comfort you, but you fight off the urge to shiver under his hand. 

“say…,” he starts after a pause of silence, “i know a pumpkin patch is a far cry from the amenities of a school, but if you don’t want to go back… you don’t have to. i know it’s sudden, and you surely don’t have to give me an answer right away if you don’t want to. but what if you were to stay here with me?”

you freeze. you blink slowly, twisting your head so that you’re looking at skelly again. he offers you a placid grin, shrugging his shoulders slightly. 

“stay here…?” you mumble. “with you?”

“precisely, my dear. i’ve been growing quite lonely all by myself too. i think we have a perfect deal! a pumpkin queen to a pumpkin king,” his words take on a more lively note. your stomach churns, and skelly claps his hands together. “i would never mistreat you the way those silly boys do. i’m a gentleman, first and foremost. i’ll make you feel at home right away. you won’t even have the time to miss that school and all of the misery it's put you through.”

temptation. you wish you were smarter. more resilient. more grounded to know better than to be swayed by the offer of a total stranger. but you’re at your rope’s end, and anything sounds better than the gilded cage that night raven college has become to you. would it be so bad to take a chance elsewhere? to follow a man who solemnly swears that you can put all of your suffering behind you if you only have the faith to look towards him without any regrets or doubts?

as if he can read your mind, skelly stands up and turns back towards you. he crouches down slightly, dipping forward into a subtle bow, and he holds out a gloved hand towards you.

this scene is all too familiar to you. it harkens you back to the first night you landed in this universe, everything warped and unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. the all knowing moon, the darkness threatening to swallow you whole, a dark robed stranger with promises of salvation dripping from their lips, and a chance to take back some semblance of control of your life that’s jumped from your reach. instead of a mirror, your reflection stares back at you with a lifelessness from the wide glass lenses hiding skelly’s eyes. 

it’s like you never learn, and a sense of foreboding washes over you as the pumpkin king’s disarming smile widens.

a hand extended to you. a hand taken.

this time around, you hope you’ve chosen correctly.

x

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[arminsfavoritepookie]

○ BURDEN by @arminsfavoritepookie

○ Synopsis: “He would do whatever it took to win your heart, even if it meant sacrificing his own sanity in the process.”

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Fem reader

○ Contains: Obsessive tendencies, Mentions of Stalking, creepy and shy eren, mentions of mental illness, depression, mentions of not eating/sleeping, again obsessive tendencies. Modern Au

The old cafe was shrouded in shadows, its dim lighting casting a melancholy veil over the patrons huddled in the corners, muttering under their breath. Eren, slouched in his seat at the back, felt a sickly rush of excitement building within him as he waited for you to arrive.

His cold, forgotten cup of coffee sat beside him, abandoned and stale. His eyes, glimmering with an unsettling intensity, were locked on the entrance, and he licked his chapped lips in anticipation. 

At last, you entered. Your form was as graceful as a swan's, your movements a flawless, delicate dance. Every person in the cafe glanced your way, enraptured by your ethereal beauty. Eren too was spellbound, but not in the way one might expect. He felt a seething contempt bubble within him, fuelled by his obsession with you. He had to possess you, to break you down and find out what made you so captivating. 

As you seated yourself by the window, Eren couldn't help but fixate on you, studying your every movement. You were bathed in the warm glow of the sunlight, which only seemed to enhance your already breath-taking appearance. He could feel the raw power emanating from you, and he yearned to bask in its aura.

The pool-like swirls of emotions in your eyes fascinated him, and he felt his own reflection trapped in their hypnotic depths. He wanted to plunge into those depths and explore every inch of you.  It was not just your beauty that enthralled Eren, it was your unyielding command over those around you. You moved with a confidence that only came from a sense of self-importance and authority.

Your every breath seemed to hold the world in sway. You were meant to be worshipped, and Eren was all too willing to become your devoted follower. As he sat in the corner, his heart beating erratically in his chest, he knew he had found something rare and precious. He couldn't tear his gaze away from you, couldn't stop his mind from obsessively constructing images of what your life was like, what made you so commanding, and how he could enter your world and become a part of it.

The coffee had gone cold, forgotten in his trembling hands, but Eren hardly noticed. His mind was a whirlwind of thought and emotion, fixated entirely on you. He had to possess you, no matter the cost.

The cool, aloof exterior you presented was enough to turn any man's head, but he wondered what it was like to look past that facade and delve into the depths of your mind. The warm glow of the early morning sun illuminated your stunning features, accentuating the intricate tones in your hair.

As Eren gazed upon you, he couldn't help but feel drawn to your cool, aloof exterior. The way you presented yourself to the world was enough to turn any man's head, but for him, it was something else entirely. He longed to delve deep into the depths of your mind and explore the enigma that was you. 

The warm glow of the early morning sun illuminated your stunning features, accentuating the intricate tones in your hair. He couldn't help but watch you as you perused the menu with delicate fingers tracing each dish. It was like watching a goddess in her element. Every movement, every breath, every fondle of your hair—it was all exquisite to him. 

But as the seconds ticked by, his obsession with you began to consume him. You were a puzzle that begged to be solved, an enigma that he simply had to explore. His mind was consumed with thoughts of you, and the darker ones began to surface. He imagined sweeping you away to some secluded location, where he could finally unveil the depths of your desires and unlock the full potential of your being. It was a disturbing thought, but he couldn't help it.

To him, you were the ultimate prize, the most breathtaking creature he had ever laid eyes on. Eren's mind was a dark and twisted labyrinth, shadowing your every move, learning every habit, every nuance of your being. He would watch with fervent intensity as you left your apartment each morning, his eyes hungrily tracing the contours of your lithe form as you made your way to the nearby office building.  

The mere thought of you was enough to set his blood boiling with lust and longing. He yearned for your attention, desperate for the chance to whisk you away to a life beyond your wildest imaginings. He craved the ecstasy of being in your embrace, lost in the depths of your beauty and grace.  

Each night, Eren would find himself drawn to the base of your building, his eyes locked onto the window where you rested, a breathtaking vision even in sleep. The darkness only served to heighten the ethereal quality of your being, illuminating your angelic face with a soft, otherworldly glow.  

As the wind whistled through the streets, he could almost hear the faint whisper of your voice echoing through the stillness, a symphony of grace that enveloped him completely. But sometimes, when the longing became too great to bear, Eren would find himself sneaking into your room, unable to resist the overwhelming urge to be near you.  

He would inhale the intoxicating scent of your lavender-scented bedsheets, the silky fabric whispering against his fevered skin as he traced his fingers over the garments scattered on your carpet. His obsession teetered on the brink of madness, yet he was powerless to resist it.

Your beauty was a tantalizing riddle that he ached to unravel, an elusive and exquisite enigma that defied all comprehension. In your presence, Eren felt whole in a way he had never experienced before. Every moment spent near you was a precious gift, a tiny glimpse into a world he could never hope to touch.

He was utterly consumed by you, his fixation hidden away in his private thoughts, for you were nothing short of perfection. A celestial being, sent from the heavens above, every feature of yours flawlessly crafted by the gods themselves. The way your eyes twinkled, as if each glance held an endless supply of stardust, left him breathless.

He could get lost in them for an eternity and never tire. And the curve of your lips, oh, they were a work of art, like a masterpiece painted by the greatest artist of all time. They were divine and made him weak at the knees every time you spoke. Your skin was smooth and luscious, like a rose petal untouched by any flaw, beckoning him to run his fingers over it, exploring every nook and cranny.

The way the light caressed your skin, creating a perfect symphony of radiance and beauty was something he could stare at forever. The sound of your laughter was enchanting, like the sweetest notes of a violin. It was a melody he could never get enough of and made him want to bask in your presence for all eternity. Yes, his fixation was unhealthy, and he knew that. He understood the boundaries and respected them.

Still, he couldn't help but get lost in the ecstasy that was you, the most exquisite creature he had ever known. His private indulgence, the epitome of perfection, everything about you was something he could never forget. but in his mind, he could think of no greater joy than losing himself in the bliss that was you —the most wondrous creature he had ever had the privilege of seeing .

Eren's heart thudded erratically against his chest, echoing throughout the quaint little cafe as he pushed open the heavy wooden door. The rich, warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee flooded his senses, enticing his nostrils, but his gaze was fixated on one thing and one thing only - finding you.

His mind conjured up a vivid image of you standing by the window, your radiant presence casting a spell over him, making everything else in the room fade away.  As if a dream had materialized into reality, his eyes landed on you standing exactly where he had pictured you. You had your head buried in a book, the spine bending with every page turned, your body swaying slightly to a tune only you could hear.

The gentle tapping of your foot on the hardwood floor, barely audible in the din of the cafe, brought a smile to his lips. It was clear you were waiting for your coffee, and he knew he had to seize the opportunity to speak to you. 

With each step he took, Eren's apprehension mounted. He tried to ignore the way his palms were damp and clammy, or the dryness that crept up his throat, as he inched closer to you. As he stood beside you, he tried to muster the courage to make small talk, hoping to charm you with his wit and humor. But it was no use.

His eyes were magnetically drawn to yours, the bright glint of which shone like a thousand suns in a sky full of stars.  The cashier's call for your coffee snapped Eren out of his trance, but his hand moved reflexively towards yours as you both reached for the same cup.

The electric jolt that ran through him upon your fingers touching his, sent a flush coursing through his veins. He watched in amazement as your hand enveloped his, causing a tingling sensation to spread across his skin like the kiss of an angel's wings.

His heart swelled at the thought of this unexpected intimacy. When he looked up at you again, he saw something he had never seen before —a deep, intense look that seemed to bore straight through him, as if you could see everything he was feeling, everything he was thinking.

At that moment, Eren's heart thundered in his chest, sweat coating his palms as his eyes remained locked onto yours. The raw vulnerability he felt in your presence was a sensation he craved, as though being exposed to your gaze was the only way he could breathe. As you stuttered an apology, Eren watched as you grabbed your coffee with quivering hands.

His obsessive tendencies screamed at him to reach out and touch you, to soothe your nervousness, but he remained restrained by the facade of normalcy he presented to the world. But his mind was a tangled web of desperation, of longing to be the only thing on your mind. The way your fingers fidgeted around the lid of your cup sent chills of desire down his spine, his eyes never leaving the way you moved.

He stumbled through his apology, Eren's gaze still remaining fixated on you, taking in every detail of your face, your hair, the curve of your neck. He could feel the energy radiating between the two of you, as though a current was running through the air, binding you together in a magnetic embrace.

Your shy smile only added to the madness within Eren, his brain racing with possibilities, schemes to ensure you were never out of his reach. The realization that you shared a love of the same brew was like a revelation to him, his twisted mind taking it as a sign that you were meant to be together.

The possibilities of a future with you filled him with a dangerous euphoria, driving him to believe that anything was possible, as long as he kept you by his side. For Eren, this small moment was just the beginning of a plan that would consume him completely, the first step in a journey towards owning every inch of you, both physically and mentally. He would not let this chance slip away.

As the weeks went by, Eren found himself sinking deeper and deeper into a pit of jumbled thoughts. His mind was consumed by one singular desire: to see you again, at that quaint little cafe. He spent hours obsessively planning his appearance before each meeting, scrutinizing every detail in the hope of impressing you. He would sit across from you, gazing at your pretty face with a fervor that bordered on madness. Your perfectly white teeth, your plump lips—everything about you seemed impossibly beautiful and unattainable.

Eren began to analyze your every move and word, searching for hidden meanings in the inflections of your voice and the expressions on your face. He was convinced that he could read the emotions behind your laughter and smiles, convinced that they were evidence of a mutual attraction.

It was on one such visit that he asked if you would like to go for a walk in a nearby park. As you strolled together, Eren could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Your breath grew ragged and quick, and he found it almost unbearable to contain his excitement. In a rare moment of boldness, you asked for his number, a shy smile crossing your lips.

Eren felt a rush of elation— the opportunity to take things to the next level with you was within his grasp. But with each text and call from you, his obsession only intensified. His mind spun out of control, trying to decipher the true meaning behind each message. Did you love him? Did you crave him like he did you? The uncertainty drove him to madness, causing him to fixate on every detail of your conversations until he could barely sleep or eat.

Eren knew that his obsession was not healthy, but he was powerless to stop it. He felt as though he were teetering on the edge of chaos, with every message and interaction sending him hurtling further into the abyss. In his lucid moments, he wondered if you could sense the darkness lurking within him, if you were repulsed by the intensity of his need for you. But even if you were, it only fueled his determination to make you his.

He would do whatever it took to win your heart, even if it meant sacrificing his own sanity in the process.

[johnwickb1tsch]

graphic by @treedaddymcpuffpuff 😍😘😘😘

~ Enigmatic Stranger ~ Part 2

a young!John Wick x fem!Reader roundrobin fic… by @sweetwolfcupcake , @treedaddymcpuffpuff , & @johnwickb1tsch

part 1

johnwickb1tsch

He’s following you. 

You know it’s the only explanation. 

You don’t really think he means you any harm, but…isn’t that how all those creepy stories on DATELINE begin? 

A neatly packed giftbag appears on your doorstep a few days later, containing your notebook and all your favorite pens. No note, but you know. 

He knows where you live.

You can’t call the cops–even if you wanted to. You just know it won’t do any good. 

And…you don’t really want to get him into trouble. You just want…

Well you don’t know what you want, dammit. A properly functioning brain around him, maybe. That would be helpful. 

The next time you’re in your favorite corner cafe, the barista tells you that your usual order has already been paid for. Happy holidays to you! 

Not nearly as thrilled about it as the nice girl was clearly expecting, you look around frantically. You know he’s here somewhere–in the corner? Across the room? That’s when you spot a flash of mocha dark eyes meeting yours from the other side of the window–outside. He gives you a smirk, and a little finger wave. 

Coward. 

You don’t know where you get the courage to march back out to the sidewalk with your fists clenched–maybe because deep down you know by the time you get out there, he’s already gone.

Sweetwolfcupcake:

It's a bit silly but you are the type to get excited when your breath clouds in front of you. You know how childish it is, and if someone would point that out, it might make you a little embarrassed. But for the most part, you barely care. The world is already miserable, last year, in retrospect was brighter and lighter than this year and life in general, is never going to be a fairy tale. So, why care?

You blow out your breath with a deliberate heaviness, smiling at the sight of the puffs of clouds escaping your nose and mouth as you make your way towards your apartment. It's freezing and you are reminded of your pending grocery shopping.

Oh right, you want to make the perfect cup of hot chocolate and eat healthy for once. It was...what? Your last year's resolution?

New Year resolutions are stupid anyway...

You think as you put the needed items in your cart. Where was the---Your car bumps into a surface before it is held firmly still. You look up immediately, ready to apologise when your eyes meet a similar dark pair. His hair is slightly tousled, and it's unfair because now, besides being devastatingly handsome, he is also cute. To any passerby, he would be an attractive and cute stranger.

He is technically a stranger to you as well. But your eyes are not tricked by this. A panther looks adorable too, as long as it's on the TV screen, in the zoo or far away. A panther right in front of you will make your life flash before your eyes.

He is the panther. Dressed in black, he reminds you of a black panther---dark, majestic, rare, almost mystical. But the eyes...They are everything you fear and crave. You see the quiet melancholy, the yearning, the kindness, and then the depth, the darkness, the...hunger. You have never seen so many contradictions at once.

(ref image)

"Be careful."

There it is, the slight curl of his lips and your cheeks are heated again.

"I'm sorry." You manage to whisper out and attempt to pull back your cart. But he holds it in place.

Why are you reminded of the wildlife adventure tale where the protagonist comes face to face with a wolf and begins to back away? Why does it make so much now?

"Please excuse me." You frown at his hand holding your shopping cart. It's not as assertive as you would have liked it but at least you show your displeasure.

"Oh, my bad." There is an amused gleam in his eyes as he lets go of your cart. "You should be careful walking around," he adds after a moment of pause and a little twinkle in his eyes which grow slightly softer.

In silence only nod and back away,  waiting for him to pass by as you pull your cart aside. You sigh when he makes no move. He just observes you, standing without even a basket, you notice.

Just pass by, it's not like he's going to pounce or something.

You tell yourself before gathering enough courage and breezing past him. All the while, your heart thumps in the way you are familiar with. you have got a fat crush on him, but he also scares you.

He is this mysterious, brooding stranger who has been kind to you. But he carries an aura that makes your sixth sense stand still and stiff in alert, and have your body pumping adrenaline for a fight or flight response.

No, this man is not good for your health. Besides, you are sure he has been following you around and if this doesn't make you run in the other direction or activate your self-preservation, you don't know what really will.

Such men look good only in fiction.

You tell yourself as you grab the first item you see on the shelf, disregarding your brand preference and rushing towards check out.

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

This is ridiculous. You are a grown woman. You shouldn’t be pining after some boy like in the school playground when your hormones were raging, out of control beasts. You have your own place, your own car, take care of yourself quite well, actually, thank you, and it kinda sorta maybe feels like you’re being intimidated by a man right now.

That will just not do at all. 

However, you don’t want to make assumptions. Sure, every part of this dance with handsome, dangerous, sometimes blood speckled stranger seems like you’re being hunted—followed, but what if it’s just a coincidence? What if your paranoid and anxious, creative mind has gone too far—again?

These thoughts, the flimsy ones that protect your pride and sanity, are also the ones that make your tongue dry up and your voice shrivel the next time you see him at the library. He’s sitting at your usual spot, nestled into one of the big stapled chairs with the huge tome of Aesop’s Fables looking way too tiny balanced in his big hands. 

Before you can turn on your heels and put your tail between your legs, he speaks, a speck of amusement tinkling in his dark, velvet voice that makes your tummy hurt. “Are you ever going to ask me why I’m following you?” 

Oh. Oh. There it is. Your suspicions confirmed. Or maybe he’s just fucking with you. Either way, what a dick move, and that nervous boil in your belly turns sour with anger in seconds. 

“You’re…following me?!” You try it as a roaring demand but it comes out like a timid squeak.  

He shuts his book softly, and looks over at you, eyes roaming once over your body—stiff shoulders, little Pride and Prejudice book clutched white in your knuckles, legs twitching with the urge to run. “That’s what I said, yes.”

“Well—I’m—“ your voice crescendos into a tight, high whine, wheezing and struggling to escape from your bone dry throat. “I’m calling the police, then.”

A couple people are looking over at the two of you now—he notices and you don’t. And, he should get you out of here before this escalates any further, but Jesus Christ you’re so delectable and sweet and too innocent for even that book you’re holding, so instead he chuckles at your threat. Laughs at you. 

Your hand twitches to slap him, and you think maybe this is how it feels when the tiny mouse bites the big hungry snake in a last ditch effort to escape death. “I’m not kidding, stay the hell away from me. I will—“

How in the world does he move so fast—quietly, too, pressing you back into an alcove of shelves before you can scream or think or fight. You feel the worn spines of adult fiction digging into your back as he settles his hand over your mouth.  “I am following you,” he says again, “because someone else is trying to hurt you, and I need to know why.” 

You barely hear or care what he’s saying, before all of your teeth sink into the hard flesh of his palm, and you bite. You bite like the mouse, and the serpent curses and loosens just enough so that you can wriggle out of his grasp and run for your life.

Johnwickb1tsch:

You’re not stupid. 

Usually you would never be out alone this late at night, but you had a bad day at work, so you decided to treat yourself seeing a movie, and then your subway train broke down. You had to walk for blocks, and you are exhausted, and freezing, and your feet hurt. 

It’s like this man can just materialize from the shadows. Like he’s some kind of fucking ghost. 

You don’t try to run this time. You just freeze, looking up at him with your big woodland creature eyes. You notice he has a bandage on his hand, and you wonder if he’s going to pay you back for that. 

“Please don’t hurt me.” You hate how small your voice sounds. 

“If I was going to, wouldn’t I have done it by now?”

“Unless you like playing with me.” It leaves your lips before you even realize what you’re saying, and the sardonic curl of the corner of his mouth floods you with agonizing embarrassment. 

“I do, but you still shouldn’t be out here alone this late.”

“Subway broke.”

“Then take a taxi.”

“I’m broke.”

He just growls in response to that, maybe understanding all too well. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“I can walk beside you, or behind you. Pick one.” 

Sweetwolfcupcake: 

You try not to steal glances at him as he walks beside you. You are keeping an eye on him. At least this is what you tell yourself. The silence is nowhere near suffocating, but it is tense. Not the confrontational type of tense but with the kind that comes with the acknowledgement that the man you have a fat crush on, claims that some other people are following you, and now, he is walking you home, being all gentlemanly after almost creeping the daylights out of you with his antics.

Well, for someone very comfortable with her mundane life, this is a lot to take in for you. And yes, you would admit that seeing him so often and the way you can't seem to stop yourself from thinking of him every now and then, you realise that you love your solitude, but you also are lonely and crave as just as much as love, shelter and support that any normal human around you. No matter how many philosophical texts you have come across, and understood, you know that you are not above the person you pass by. Your needs are just as humane, you are still bound by the social expectations, your thoughts, your doubts, your dreams and your emotions. You are no saint.

But you also know that the least you can do is to avoid a man like him who exudes danger and yet holds an allure so strong that it makes you weak on your knees. You know that men like him are either a lesson or a lifetime's worth of wait. You should not allow your heart to flutter the way it does when he stands close behind you while you unlock your apartment door.

Is he going to follow you in?

Should you even allow that?

Thankfully, your rational mind kicks in at the right moment.

"Thanks for walking me home." You turn around, keeping the door closed. A clear indication that you do not want him following you in.

You really don't, right?

Stop reading foolish novels!

Mr Enigma, as you come up with the name, raises an eyebrow with that amused twinkle that makes your lips twitch, itching to smile for some reason.

It's not that the fear magically vanishes from you. No, it is there, but somewhere, you are growing comfortable with him. Not too comfortable, but enough to be able to stand your ground and try not to chicken out. Even though you find it hard to believe that there will be no repercussions for the bandaged hand.

"Isn't it rude to not invite your guests in?"

"You are not a guest."

His lips curl up again and even though it is faint, you can bet that he has a heart-melting smile.

His dark, deep eyes assess you for a moment before he relents and steps back, but it feels like a chess game trick. The type of move that makes the opponent feel at ease, while the person comes up with a check-mate.

"Okay, good night then."

You are relieved and partially scoff at your train of thought. Maybe you have been watching too many crime shows.

"Good night" You nod and turn around, opening your apartment door.

"Do not forget to lock the kitchen window."

"Yeah, thanks." You mumble as you enter your home before shutting the door.

The sigh of relief bubbling in your throat stops at the realisation that leaves you cold.

How the hell does he know about your kitchen window?

Treedaddymcpuffpuff: 

You really do plan on locking it initially, in your defense. That little rusted latch with the white paint chipped off—you wrap your fingers around the unpleasant texture of it and start to slide the lock into place, but then stop. It’s a bad idea. Terrible, even, to leave your window unlocked, to go specifically against Mr. Enigma’s word. 

You smile a little bit, probably out of sheer insanity, as you grab the ledge of the pane and tug that window fully open. Cool air is not the only thing that perks goosebumps on your skin as you look out into the street-lamp yellow night for a slinky black figure lurking just out of sight. 

You’re only going to leave it open for a few minutes, you promise yourself, bundling up on the couch with a thick blanket and cup of warm, spicy tea. Otherwise your heat bill will be astronomically high on this month’s statement, and you definitely can’t afford that again. 

You don’t have to wait long with that rapid expecting beat of your heart before a cold weight settles heavily into the couch beside you. You refuse to look up from Pride and Prejudice—the childish games we still play—as if you’re the 16 year old again with a mad crush on the guy that wears leather jackets and smokes behind the bleachers and trying desperately not to prove it.

“It’s okay,” he assures, “I have all night.” 

“Just a couple more pages.” Trying banter with him feels so oddly natural that it scares you, much like everything else about this man. You try to swallow and have 0 saliva to do it with.

You have no idea what the last five pages even say, no matter how many times you try to read the lines over again, because it’s impossible to focus on anything but his increasingly warming body on the other side of your little sectional, still as stone.

When you finally shut it and look over at him, he’s smiling a little bit again, like he can’t help but be entertained by your shy demeanor. You purse your lips to avoid nervous giggles—or maybe terrified screaming—whatever works. 

“I told you to lock your window,” he says. 

You open your mouth to say something witty, but instead the insolent child comes out. “You’re not the boss of me.”

Johnwickb1tsch:

“Oh no?"

"No." Where you get the pluck to lift your chin at this man, you don't know.

"I’m just trying to keep you safe. You’re not helping, by the way.” He still seems amused, but there’s a hard undercurrent in his words.

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why do you care? Why did you warn me, that day in the park?”

“Because I could tell you’re innocent.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know anything about me.”

The corner of his mouth turns up at that. 

“Okay. Have you ever killed anyone?”

Your heart stutters. “No…”

“Right. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. You even give the pigeons right of way on the sidewalk.”

You sigh resignedly. Maybe he’s got your number after all.

“And I know you love books. I know you like vanilla roast with so much milk and sugar in it that it barely passes for coffee.”

You stick your tongue out at him for that. Maybe it’s a mistake, because you see the glitter of laughter in his dark eyes…and they fixate on your mouth for a long, pregnant, second.

“I know that in a different life, I would have liked to meet a girl like you.”

You’re not sure why you feel sorry for him in that moment. He’s practically a stranger, and he broke into your apartment. You should be scared, not wanting to hold his hand. You shouldn’t be excited, that he is still looking at your mouth. 

When he touches your chin lightly with one long finger, angling your face towards him, you freeze. Can he feel you shaking? You don’t even know if it’s anticipation, or fear. If he actually kisses you…you might implode.

This is it, and there isn’t anything you can do to stop it.

Whether it be resignation, or surrender, you close your eyes, and you feel him lean in, the warmth of his mouth hovering over yours. 

“I’m a bad man, y/n,” he says quietly, so close you feel his breath on your lips, and you swear your heart stops. “So lock. Your damn. Window.”

Then he’s gone, as though he disappeared into thin air like a ghost–or The Boogeyman. Only the flutter of your curtains indicates that he was ever actually there.

Suddenly, your limbs feel numb, and you can’t tell if you’re relieved–or disappointed.

Sweetwolfcupcake:

For once, you take out the tea bags and prepare a cup for yourself. It has been four days since the eventful night and there is no sign of your Mr Enigma. You're not counting, you just have selective memory.

You pause, realising that you thought of him as 'yours'. Nothing could be further than the truth, which should not bother you.

It does not upset you to the standards of being truly upset, but there is this disappointment. He clearly said that he wished it were in another life that he met you. And you take it as a sign that he clearly does not want to be involved with you. If he can't or if he was being just kind at the moment, you don't know.

The universe has its funny ways---wait, you don't believe in these silly theories.

You do not want to think of why you closed your eyes that night. What were you expecting? A kiss?

You smile sardonically as you fill your cup with warm water before dropping the tea bag. Has life not taught you enough? People like you are not made for 'love stories', or even 'miracles'. No, people like you see through the shit the world has built around. All those couples smiling and lying to each other. All the aged-up 'perfect' pairs resenting one another till the day of their death when they wish they had never met each other.

You see that all around you. No matter how much effort one puts in, the other somehow manages to smash it all. You love too much, you end up hurt, you love with restraint, and regret kills you from within.

Love isn't for people like you. You do not believe that you have anything to give after what you already lost a few years ago. The night when you waited in the rain for that one man you loved to turn up.

Something turned numb in you eventually.

One man with haunting eyes can not hurt you. You decide and sip your tea, trying to shove his thoughts somewhere far away.

-----

You find yourself at your favoured corner table in the cafe again. The sun set a while ago and while you are tired after work, the Christmas special offer on the hot chocolate chimed its bell for you.

Okay, you love hot chocolate and even if there were no offer, you would have gone for it.

Taking out your notepad, you begin to scribble out the words that refuse to leave your mind until they bleed into paper. A short poem of six lines. But as soon as you read it again, you know it is all about him.

Wow.

You are one messed up woman.

You sigh and put your head down on the table. Along the internal monologue of self-slander, the aroma of hot chocolate wafts through and it has your attention already. You look up to find a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of you before you hear the chair scrapping. Y

You blink. There he is again, sitting in front of you with your notepad in his hand.

Shit!

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

”I locked my window,” you say.

“But not your door,” he muses, a dark eyebrow raising.

“Shit.” 

“If you keep being careless, I might have to take you home with me to keep you safe.” 

“You said you’re dangerous, so how would I be safe with you, exactly?” To your credit, the sarcasm is biting a little harder through your tone, now as you grow accustomed to his presence.

“Safe from everyone but me,” he revises.

“Then how is that safe?” You ask, even growing the balls to roll your eyes. You bring the steaming mug up to take a rich, chocolatey drink, and the liquid almost spills over with the nervous quake of your hands. 

“Safe in the sense of being alive.” 

“So…you don’t want to kill me?”

He snorts. “Far from it.” 

You have to think about that for a minute. What in the ever loving hell is he talking about? He’s dangerous, so you have to lock your window. He’s safe, so you might have to go home with him. He doesn’t want to kill you, he was to do the opposite? He’s so very fucking handsome with that dark scruff just edging on unruly, curling over his sharp face. That heavy, angled nose and those fucking cheekbones. 

“Something you want to ask?” He goads, leaning a bit more toward you, that pretty mouth curled into a serpent’s smile. 

“What..” You swallow sand. “What’s your name?”

[whorediaries-09]

say it's unforgivable

pairing- sirius black x auror!reader warning(s)- hurt/comfort. a/n- heads up, maa and papa refer to james' mum and dad :)

little train. series masterlist.

the moment he gets up from the metal chair, he realizes he's doomed. his heart aches. he has nowhere to go. with maa and papa dead he's stuck, stranded upon the lonely crevice of life. as the minutes pass by, he stands, watching as the others leave. dumbledore sits still, physically calm.

'is there anything you need to say dumbledore?' he watches as the old man slowly creeps from the chair, descending near him. he stands before sirius, his icy blue eyes hovering over his ragged form.

'the man you are sirius, i expect you'll go and try to track down harry?' he asks him, his voice low. 'i save you trouble, harry is within the safe realms of his aunt and uncle.'

'aunt and uncle?'

'lily's sister and husband.'

'WHAT!'

'calm down, he's safe. that's the only way to keep him safe. the blood connection between petunia and lily. petunia knows about this, always has known about this. she's promised to not hurt harry and keep him within safe and secure conditions until he turns into an adult.'

'i don't care dumbledore. i need to see harry potter. he's my godson, i am his legal guardian. not petunia, not her husband.'

'i know.' dumbledore's eyes twinkle for a few moments before he runs his bony hands through his long beard.

'you can join hogwarts as an assistant healer. with all the incidences you had with remus lupin, i'm sure you've got a trick or two up your sleeve.' sirius gulps.

'what?'

'you can see harry in 5 years when he joins hogwarts.'

'no. i need to see my godson now.'

'you will, when you get yourself together. take some time off for yourself sirius.'

'i don't care. i need to see him and check whether he's okay. i need to know. i don't trust petunia with how she treated lily. i need to make sure he's okay. the last time i trusted you albus, i was thrown into prison and my freedom was stolen away from me. not again will i let this happen. i'm leaving, albus.'

*-

he sits beside the coffee counter, shimmying through newspapers. ever since he'd been released, the press was after him. not wanting more attention than he'd already gotten, he decided he'd keep to the muggle world for the time being. that meant being closer to spotting harry and staying away from attention.

for the time he'd been in the wizarding world, within the creepy turns of diagon alley, hagrid had returned him his motorbike. he'd hugged the giant man, thanking him. within the span, he'd also found his mother had died a year back, leaving him to be the heir of the noble house of black. when he'd been left alone with the information of his death mother, he left a pang of joy in his heart, followed by guilt.

he loved his mother, but his mother never did. it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't help but love her. or perhaps it was pity he felt for her, for she had been through the same as him. but it was him who felt the need to break free from the abuse. he hated he had to make her feel like a failed mother. while he felt guilty for feeling joy for losing her, he certainly didn't miss her. no, he was the one who got away.

he crushes the butt of the smoked cigarette, ready to explore the city of london after years of being shrouded in darkness. the need to escape from the darkness still gathers him into a haze of melancholy. he wanted to feel the cold air ripping through his locks, nipping at his skin. he wanted to see the city lights pass by as he fulfilled the need of fresh air filling up his flesh. he may not have yet found a place to stay, but he didn't feel the need to be confined within four walls.

the bell chimes again. a thursday evening didn't see many customers, the cafe deprived of hustle, resulting in a quiet cafe. the bell caught his attention, so he turned his head, watching at the door. his heart skipped a few beats, as a familiar face walked into the cafe. it was his savior.

'a salted caramel latte and a butter cookie, please,' you said to the barista, passing down the bills to fulfil the payment. he walked up to you, his heart bleeding with gratitude.

'hi,' he said, catching your attention. you brushed strands of hair behind your ear, smiling at him.

'hi, mr. black.' he knitted his brows together.

'psst! don't call me that, call me sirius.' he bent down, leaning into your ear, 'i'm out of azkaban solely because of you.' you smiled at him picking up your latte and cookie that the barista slipped across the counter.

'trust me, mr. - sirius i stand for justice.' he crumpled his fingers together, putting his hand into his pockets.

'i agree with you. uhm... fancy a walk perhaps?' he asked. your eyes brandished slowly over his features, your mind seemingly reeling with questions.

'i never thought the sirius black would walk. didn't you drive a motorbike?' he grinned, his eyes lighting up. this was the first time he'd felt the joy after so many years- he allowed himself to relish it, because there was no darkness to shroud his joy into melancholy.

'i do drive one. how did you know?' pushing open the door of the cafe, you walked into the fresh night air, as he followed you. taking a sip of your latte you replied vaguely,

'that, sirius is for me to know, and you to guess.' he grinned, seemingly enjoying your teasing behavior.

'so, you don't fancy a walk,' he stated, putting his hands into his pockets. your eyes raked over him, taking in his starkly contrasting appearance from the day you'd last seen him. within the glow of the streetlight, his high cheek bones and razor sharp jaw underneath porcelain skin rubbed with a soft stubble reflected upon his features. he was wearing a black t-shirt paired with beige slacks. he had cleaned up well within the few days. the air had already been of great favor to him.

'don't you have anyone waiting for you, sirius?' his gray eyes stared into yours before he whispered a quiet no.

'are you sure sirius? or are you too eager within your emotions of gratitude?'

'i hate how you can read through me so easily, sweetheart. but you're partly incorrect, i actually have been sitting alone here, shimmying over the things i've missed.' he moved closer to you.

'i don't think you should spent time alone, sirius. you need other people's company. human's are driven by the presence of other humans, you should be reminded of your roots, of your presence of mind. you'll go insane if you sit alone, secluded.'

'and here you are declining me a walk with you. you're human aren't you? we can interact. either ways, i've asked remus to meet me tomorrow. he says yes.' you laughed, the sound echoing amongst the cars and motorbikes which honked along the streets of london.

'so, what do you say?'

'i'm sure i could also do with a little bit of company,' you replied. your voice was low and soft, like a cool breeze amongst the salty waves of the sea. he smiled at you, wrinkles of a chronicle scarring beside his eyes. he moved closer, standing by you.

'so where shall we go?'

'where ever the city takes us.'

the city reeked of driving him crazy. till it was one hell of a drug, so he could use it up.

****************************************

original idea posted by - @lilwnet

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

taglist (for series) - @urbansaint

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

****************************************

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Mature Rated Fics Masterlist (51)

Part 1 - Part 48 / Part 49 / Part 50 / 

Created: March 27th, 2024

Last Checked:------

Love is a Growing Up-WinterWednesday (ao3) Summary: Everlark canon universe. Katniss and Peeta must come to terms with their daughter growing up. Girl toastbaby's 18th birthday. Love the Sunrise-hutchabelle (ao3) Summary: Katniss doesn’t like being jealous, but Peeta has a way of reassuring her about his devotion Making Regrets-FanficAllergy, RoseFyre (ao3) Summary: Not everything goes according to plan. Especially not where Johanna Mason is concerned. Melancholy and Infinite Sadness-endlessnightlock (ao3) Summary: A place to put some horror prompts from tumblr and other creepy little things. Also, I may add older horror drabbles to this list in the name of conciseness. ;) Memories in Winter-Hutchabelle (ao3) Summary: Peeta’s alone with only memories to warm him on a cold winter night. Until the phone rings. Missed Signs (Or Growing Suggestive Plants Together-Oakfarmer, I Hope You Ain't Mad I Borrowed Your Title)-endlessnightlock (ao3) Summary: When lots of phallic shaped items start showing up around the Everdeen/Mellark Household post-Mockingjay, Peeta and Katniss are slightly oblivious to their implied meaning. Haymitch sets the pair on the right track. Mockings-HalfHope, thesweetnessofspring (ao3) Summary: The year: 2010. The anticipation for the conclusion of the story of the girl on fire: Immeasurable. The fandom: Barely holding onto their sanity. This fanfic: Written to provide laughter in the insanity, turned out to be a pretty good time capsule. This is a parody of Mockingjay fan theories I wrote back in July of 2010. If you're curious what discourse in the fandom was like prior to Mockingjay's release, take a read! Mother of Pearl-hutchabelle (ao3) Summary: The pearl means everything. Mrs Hawthorne-kismet4891(ff) Summary: One shot, M, AU: "I know that he is eighteen and just a kind boy helping his widowed neighbor, but that doesn't stop me from caressing between my thighs with thoughts of him on my mind." Everlark participating in a May/December romance Mutt-Falafel_Waffel (ao3) Summary: They said it was an extension of the Human Genome project… They lied.

[dollyyun]

𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆 | chap 07

SYPNOSIS: wherein the princess, who is a clandestine assassin, has been commanded to eliminate the seven vampire princes.

GENRE: 18+ (mdni), reverse harem, contemporary fantasy, enemies to lovers, third pov, eventual previous past lives will be entailed.

WARNINGS: expletives, blood, violence.

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

TAGLIST: @aishigrey @kgneptun @b3tt7boop @smg-valeria @lhspeachie @enhaverse713586 @strxwbloody @firstclassjaylee @jwnghyuns @luminouskalopsia @deobitifull @loumin908 @sousydive @mlywon

🍒 MASTERLIST 🍒

The events of last night are still fresh in her head. She remembers vividly what happened after she danced with Jake. Above all, she recalls being carried in a bridal style by a pair of strong arms while becoming mildly inebriated from accidentally drinking one of their strongest rums before losing her consciousness.

Her body moves slightly when she reacts to the sensation of a palm cradling the side of her face and a thumb gently caressing her cold cheek, providing her with warmth just by his touch. He has a warmth that is unlike any other and a warmth that she recognises, which stems from his intrinsic power.

Her eyelids flutter open, and in an instant, her eyes meet his almond-hued eyes with radiant gold rims. The emotions in his eyes are as brilliant as the sun, exhibiting an abundance of love and adoration─familiar sentiments that are solely reserved for her whenever he gazes at her.

His perfect cupid bow lips curve into a grin that sends a flutter to her heart, to which she reciprocates with a soft smile. She averts her gaze momentarily from his face. Only then does she realise they are at someplace where there are infinite meadows as they lie next to each other, with his hand remaining on her cheek.

"Hello, love." The mellow tone of his voice intensifies the butterflies swarming in her tummy.

"Jino." She utters his name, making his heart swell with the apparent affection in her voice. Her soft countenance is shadowed by mischief while a grin smears across her pink lips. "Have you been watching me sleep?"

He hums pleasantly in response as he remains caressing her cheek affectionately. "Is it a problem?"

"It's creepy." She scoffs lightly, but the smile on her lips can't fool him into believing her words.

"I know you love it." He scoots his body closer to hers until the proximity between them is almost nonexistent. He grabs her hand tenderly before raising it up to kiss her palm and placing it on his warm cheek right after.

Any traces of mischief on his face are gone, replaced by melancholy, with his gaze on her face, as though he is also memorising her features and engraving them into his mind. His eyes glisten beautifully. "You look as beautiful as the day I lost you, love." The sadness he carries in his tone is raw and almost painful in the way he speaks.

Despite the tears pricking her eyes and how her heart clenches in pain from recalling a certain memory, she manages to smile at him. "Did you miss me?"

"So, so much." His voice is barely above a whisper. He leans towards her face to plant a kiss on her forehead. "My love." He murmurs, trailing his kisses down her cheeks. A teardrop slides down his cheek as he closes his eyes to place a tender kiss on her lips. "My beautiful love." He whispers against her lips.

This time, she doesn't hold back the impending tears. Their lips remain connected, with thousands of emotions pouring into the kiss while their hearts ache the same. As the breeze hits their skin, they slowly pull away, fluttering their eyes open.

"I wish to be here with you forever." He says, cradling her hand close to his chest. "I wish for a lot of things, Lilith."

"As do I." Her lips tremble, and the sight of her face with tears streaming down silently looks devastatingly beautiful in his eyes. "But we can only afford to wish, especially after what we have done."

"Do you regret it?" He asks firmly. "I know I don't."

"I don't know." She sighs softly, feeling his hand squeezing hers in a comforting manner. "Our defiance has led to terrible consequences."

"The curse Astra inflicted upon you," He murmurs solemnly. "and us."

She nods her head, but despite being disheartened, she manages a feeble smile before leaning in to peck his nose. "Thank you."

His cheeks are coated in pink from her initiation of affection. "Why are you thanking me, love?"

"For treating the reincarnated me kindly, especially for the dance." Her chuckles bring a smile to his lips. "I can feel her feelings have shifted towards you."

"I can say the same for Jake." His breathy chuckles make her heart flutter. "I mean, me. Since Jake is me. But I can't deny the fact that my reincarnated name sounds weird to hear."

"How about you get used to it?" She grins, and the playfulness returns to her eyes. "Jake."

He groans, dipping his head into her neck and subsequently inhaling her scent, which makes him calm. "Too weird, my love."

"Jino~ Jake~" She begins to play around, eliciting giggles from the man, who is still burying his face in the curve of her neck while his arm is locked around her waist. Her fingers ascend to his blond locks, marvelling at how smooth they feel. She hums delightfully, leaning down to his ear before whispering, "Jake?"

"Elora." He reciprocates, mumbling against her skin. "I'll call you Elora. It's fair since you kept teasing me."

"I'm already accustomed to hearing that." She retorts, but her voice remains soft, almost lulling him to sleep just by the sound of her voice. But something catches her attention, causing her fingers to cease playing with his hair. "Jino?"

"Yes, my love?"

"You're fading." Her eyes catch the way his figure is starting to fade, almost turning into dust. Pain slithers its way around her heart, squeezing her heart painfully.

"Close your eyes, love." He gently implores, bringing his lips to her forehead and pressing a deep, lingering kiss. "I'll remember you soon. I'll make certain of it."

She closes her eyes almost painfully, swallowing back a sob as his warmth gradually departs her until she feels nothing. Just sheer coldness and the stark reality that whatever happiness she experiences will always be ephemeral.

She weeps silently, holding back painful sobs while she remains lying on the ground. Unbeknownst to her, as she succumbs to the grievance that is enfolding her in its cold embrace, a pair of warm yet strong arms go underneath her body, pulling her out of the grievance as she finds herself being carried in a bridal style.

"I'm here, my rose." His deep, husky voice sends her a wave of consolation while his arms provide her with a sense of security, also leading her to seek solace in his arms. "Don't cry anymore. I'm here now."

"Noa." Her voice sounds slightly hoarse, bringing a frown to his lips. She flutters her eyes open as she looks up to meet his grey eyes. His heart clenches at the sight of her beautiful face being stained by the tears.

He manages a smile, though it is faint. "Let's go for a fly, yeah?" Just as he says that, the huge movement behind his back captures her attention.

She watches as his wings, which seem to be made out of feathers painted coal black with fog emanating, extend out. She has almost forgotten about his fairly large wings, which used to render anyone of a faint heart petrified by the sight as well as his true form.

"Hold on tight to me." He instructs her firmly, yet there is a tinge of softness. She complies, locking her arms around his neck and closing her eyes as she embraces herself for the impact of the departure.

A yelp leaves her lips, startled by the precipitate of the departure, and she can feel the difference compared to when she is on land. On the other hand, he takes a glance down at her with a soft chuckle, finding her reaction endearing. She is just the same as she was.

His wings flap deftly behind him, soaring higher, until he is certain that they are able to view the picturesque meadows while the skies are gradually painted in the beautiful shades of purple and blue as the sun has descended, now welcoming the twilight by the horizon.

"You can open your eyes now." His voice is laced with amusement, which automatically brings a scowl to her face, but nonetheless, she flutters her eyes open.

Her arms around his neck tighten, feeling apprehensive about the fact that she is practically many feet above the ground. But the way he holds her firmly and carefully reminds her that she can trust him.

So she begins to loosen the tension in her body and decides to watch the skies gradually turn dark. A soft gasp leaves her lips as soon as she takes a glance below, admiring how beautiful the meadows are, with varieties of flowers blooming.

"Are you still afraid?" His question pulls her attention away from admiring the overall view as she lands her gaze on his face.

The sound of his flapping wings can be heard while the wind hits her skin. Her eyes soften before she puts a small smile on her lips. "No. Why would I be afraid when I'm in your arms?"

His heart warms at her affirmation. "That's right, my rose. You can always trust me."

Heat weaves across her cheeks at the endearment. "If only the reincarnated me could trust the reincarnated you." She murmurs sadly, her eyes turning crestfallen.

In response, he tightens his arms around her body before he heaves a low sigh. "Me too, but for as long as I'm unable to breach the borders, I'm afraid that the reincarnated me may hurt you, or worse."

"I feel the same way as well." Her beautiful eyes glisten with tears as she smiles ruefully. "Even as we've been reincarnated, we will never have our happy ending."

"Don't lose hope yet, my rose. Please." He whispers dolefully, and the pain in his eyes stabs her in the heart. His eyes flicker down at her lips. "Kiss me."

A shaky breath leaves her lips before she raises her body just slightly with one hand cradling the side of his jaw, using it to turn his head for her to aim her lips at his awaiting ones. The kiss is bittersweet, with tears trickling down their cheeks. He deepens the kiss, savouring it, as he is uncertain if he will be able to kiss her like this again.

"I love you, Lilith." He whispers against her lips, slowly pulling away. The raw emotion in his voice is palpable, one with so much pain that it elicits a soft sob from her. "I love you, even in death."

"I love you too, Noa." Her soft cries make his heart ache tremendously. With his head facing her, he leans in to rest his forehead against hers while he ceases flying, remaining in the sky with his wings flapping slowly. They flutter their eyes close as soon as they feel the familiar sensation that causes them to depart from each other, perhaps forever.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Perhaps it was the strongest rum she drank last night that caused her to feel a hangover, or it was the ambiguous dream she had, but one thing is for sure: she is lacking sleep. For some reason, her temporary handmaiden had awakened her much earlier as the queen requested her presence in one of the rooms in the library.

Elora releases a small yawn as she walks mindlessly along the hallway, the remnants of somnolence still persist in her body. She takes a brief glance at herself in the reflective window glass. The black corset waist pants feel strangely comfortable despite it being fitting enough to accentuate her curves, with the white long-sleeved blouse tucked inside. Her lilac hair is tied in a lovely side braid, with a few strands of her baby hair decorating her face frame.

"Where are you going?" Jake's abrupt presence beside her doesn't even startle her, probably because everything around her feels slow due to obvious reason.

"To the library. The queen has requested my presence." Elora answers him, yawning for another time. She steals a glance at him, noticing how similar his attire is to hers.

"Why?" Jake presses, causing the female to feel slightly irritated by his questions, especially when it's still early in the morning.

"I don't know." She grumbles, while the prince doesn't conceal the fact that he is pleased by how irritated she clearly is. But a certain question lingers in her mind as she recalls something. "Do you know who carried me back to the room after I nearly passed out?"

Jake's eyes soften at how she appears to be sheepish. The facade she has shown him since last night is different compared to the first time they met. "Why, my brother, of course. Your groom. But he didn't look too pleased that you decided to get drunk."

Elora huffs slightly. "It wasn't even intentional. I had no idea how strong that rum was."

"Lesson learned; it is wise not to indulge in your curiosity." Jake gives her a mirthful grin, sending a peculiar flutter into her heart. "We're here."

Elora shifts her gaze to her surroundings, now realising that they have arrived in the library. Her eyes search for the queen, and in an instant, she spots the queen in the centre of the library along with some of the princes.

As they are nearly reaching them, Elora ignores their gazes and focuses solely on the queen, to whom she bows and greets, "Your highness."

Conflict resides in the queen's gaze. "That is not necessary─" She comes to a halt before recovering her composure after deflating for a good minute upon seeing Elora's face. Her icy demeanour returns as she meets Elora's gaze. "Follow me."

"But we need her for our planning discussion." Sunghoon tells his mother, frowning as he does so.

Elora is caught off guard when the queen places her hand on her lower back. "I won't steal her away for long. Perhaps all of you may begin without her first."

The queen's tone indicates that there is no room for argument. Without waiting for any of their responses, the queen ushers Elora further deeper into the library, where there are private rooms, but instead of heading to one of the rooms, the queen makes a turn where there is a peculiar-looking shelf.

Elora watches in silence as the queen places her palm on the shelf and whispers a spell under her breath. Finally, the shelf slides open, revealing a dim room. When the queen enters, Elora follows suit without any questions. Right after they enter, Elora is startled by the sound of the shelf closing behind her.

"Why did you bring me here?" Elora asks, her voice echoing throughout the fairly large room.

Instead of answering her question, the queen mutters another spell as she uses her magic to light up all the candles in the room, allowing Elora to scan the room clearly. There are antique books that probably haven't been read in a long time arrayed on shelves at every wall, all except for a certain wall that bears canvas hanging on the wall with white cloths draping over it.

The queen ambles towards a unique large canvas in silence, her hand reaching for the edge of the cloth before pulling it down, and what the canvas entails appalled Elora to the point where she feels sick to the stomach.

"Why do you have a painting of me?" Elora asks shakily, her hand is trembling while her heart is experiencing strange palpitations.

Whoever painted that canvas surely did an amazing job, getting her details right with the exception of the colour of her eyes. They're in the same crimson hue as the queen's or any other vampires. Goosebumps arise on her skin while her stomach churns with turmoil.

"Have you ever heard about a tale of demigods and demigoddesses that once reigned supremacy and ruled over kingdoms?" The queen's question throws her off guard, bringing a frown to her face.

"I have not." Elora answers slowly, not understanding where this is going.

"Of course you haven't. No one has except every other sovereign." The queen shoots her a sympathetic smile, surprising Elora with the shift in her demeanour. "It has been a taboo topic for millennia. It is wise for one to remain curious rather than learn of their existence."

"Yet, here you are telling me." Elora remarks with sarcasm lacing her tone.

"I can't help it. Especially when you bear the face of the demigoddess, one of the first monarchs." The queen says in a whisper, shifting her eyes to the canvas. "The resemblance between your face and hers is uncanny. When I saw your face for the first time, I thought you were her."

"But I'm not." Elora retorts, somehow feeling annoyed, but she maintains her collected demeanour. "I don't understand. Why would you even tell me all of this?"

"Because a part of me believes that you're her." The queen moves to the side, where there are compartment drawers. She draws one of them and grabs something before revealing it to Elora. A scarlet pendant. The same pendant that the demigoddess on the canvas is wearing.

The queen ambles towards Elora and stops in front of her. A small smile, one that is filled with uncertainty, appears on the queen's lips before she grabs Elora's hand and places the pendant on her palm. "But another part of me is uncertain. Perhaps you are the demigoddess's doppelgänger, or perhaps you're not. This pendant will prove if you're indeed the demigoddess. It once belonged to her."

Elora stares at the pendant on her palm. As it gleams, she feels an odd sensation, but that's just it. The pendant looks like mere useless jewellery. "So how does it prove if I'm indeed the demigoddess?"

"I can't precisely tell you the details since I wouldn't know how it would happen, but this pendant is as powerful as it was a thousand years ago. It is instilled with magic." The queen smiles faintly. "And it was also a delicate gift from the demigoddess's beloveds."

"Beloveds?" Elora raises her eyebrows, feeling rather intrigued. "As in, like lovers?"

The queen nods her head, but the smile on her face deflates. "I trust that you'll keep this from my sons. The least they need is a distraction that might potentially deviate them from their mandates. Now come. We must leave this room, or else they'll begin to wonder."

"But I have more questions." Elora tells her exasperatedly while clenching the pendant in her palm. "Where is the demigoddess now? And why do I look like her?"

"I can't provide you with the answers you seek, but I can only tell you this." The queen's gaze turns icy serious. "What happened to the demigods and demigoddesses of our world was a terrible tragedy. A tragedy that happened as a consequence of their defiance in violating the deity's rule."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Elora had tucked the pendant securely in the pockets of her pants by the time she nearly arrived at the centre of the library, where all of the princes are presently in a discussion. She spots a large piece of parchment paper on the table, and she squints her eyes just enough to understand that they are plotting on their world's map.

The sound of her footsteps draws attention to her with their heads turned, but she simply ignores them and invites herself to plop down on the single couch. Despite how she is being treated like vampire royalty here, the resentment is still apparent within her, as is the hatred.

Above all, she detests the fact that she will be betraying her people and the mermaidians. She feels helpless, especially when she hasn’t felt a hint of her magic since last night. Instinctively, she touches her bracelet, holding her wrist close to her chest.

"There are six kingdoms we are required to pass through in order to get to Mermaidia." Heeseung resumes after staring at a distressed Elora, who is still zoning out. "We will disembark for Pyrefall first."

"This should be easy since we have Jay." Sunghoon pats Jay's shoulder. "With Jay, I'm sure the dragons won't perceive us as threats."

"Elora will be riding with me." Heeseung's statement pulls her out of her thoughts as she shifts her gaze to him with a quizzical look.

"What's the plan, and why will I be riding with you?" Elora asks with a frown on her face. "Are we not embarking by foot?"

"Unless you want to suffer for a few days to pass through Pyrefall." Sunoo shoots her a lazy grin as he is seated across from her with his leg draped over the other. "Otherwise, we will be flying."

Elora looks at him, confounded. "How?"

"Riki has already summoned his creatures, which the rest of us will be riding on, while you and Heeseung will be with Jay." Jungwon explains to her.

The princes resume the discussion, while Elora proceeds to remain silent, despite the fact that she is still confused by the whole thing. But mainly because of the turmoil churning in her stomach over the fact that she might have to face the consequences of betraying the mermaidians.

"Faehaven will be the last point, followed by our final arrival at Mermaidia."

The kingdom name triggers her as she blinks her eyes before they harden with resentment. She abruptly stands, drawing their attention to her. "Listen, I admire your meticulous planning and bravery, but do you really think that you will come out alive after trying to steal the crystal heart?"

"That's why we have you." Jay says, standing across from her with his arms crossed over his chest. "Since you're obviously not an ordinary citizen of Mermaidia, you will implore the sovereigns to allow the crystal heart to be in our possession."

Her heart begins to pump loudly while dread crawls to her skin. "Or else?"

"Or else you'll have to watch your people suffer." Sunoo smirks, his eyes gleaming delightfully with wickedness. "Trust me, you wouldn’t want that."

Elora scoffs loudly. "The seven of you against my people? I highly doubt that you would prevail, especially with our tight security system. As a matter of fact, you will be facing your demise before you can even steal the crystal heart."

"You really shouldn’t underestimate what we can do, Mia Cara." Heeseung states calmly, and when she meets his eyes, she feels an odd sensation through her body, understanding that he meant what he said. "You haven’t even seen what we can do." 

Elora swallows harshly before composing herself as she glares at her groom. "As for you, do you seriously think that I'll still remain your bride after betraying my people? No. I'll be executed for treachery."

"We'll protect you." Heeseung counters firmly. "For as long as you remain corporative, then rest assured that you'll be protected by us."

"Protect me? From my own people?" Elora releases a derisive laugh before her icy demeanour returns with her eyes going ablaze. "I'd rather die in the hands of my people than to return with you here."

"You should trust us." Sunghoon says sternly. "We've been sworn to protect you at all costs by the monarch's order."

"I don't trust my enemies." Elora retorts coldly. "I'd be a fool to place my trust in all of you."

"You see, that's what we still don't understand." Riki's deep yet cold voice is resonating, intimidating her just slightly, especially with the way he is leering at her. "Why are we your enemies? We haven’t even met until now."

"And for that matter, you still haven’t clarified what your purpose is for being here in the first place." Sunoo adds.

Elora curls her hand into a fist, clenching it while she holds back from revealing the truth. "Since you have your secrets to keep, I have mine." She quips, looking away from their gaze.

"Fine, if that's how you want to play." Heeseung is in front of her just as she blinks. Her breath hitches in her throat at the close proximity between them, as well as his fingers gripping her chin, forcing her to look at him in the eyes. "But know this, you belong to us, and you shall be protected by us, even if it means that you'll be watching your people die in our hands."

A muscle jumps in her jaw. "Screw you." She whispers, her eyes flickering momentarily at his pink lips, before she forces herself to back away from him. "You know what? I hope that you'll meet your demise once we reach Mermaidia."

Elora spins on her heels, trudging her way towards the exit. She clenches her fist hard, hating how she feels compelled to kiss him for a moment and wanting to feel his lips on hers again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

For the next hour or so, they have been gathered in the courtyard, preparing for their departure. Earlier, the king and queen had bid their farewell to their sons before leaving for their duties, whereas Celeste arrived right after.

Elora, who has been entirely silent, is still gobsmacked by the sight of five pegasus with shadowy manes flowing and jet black coats. She has seen pegasus and unicorns back in her kingdom, but she has never seen anything like them. They look terrifying enough to leave her slightly shaken. Their eyes are glowing amber while smoke comes out of their muzzles.

"I wanted mine to be a dragon, though." Sunoo complains to Riki, to which the latter rolls his eyes before heading for his pegasus. The other princes can be seen stroking their assigned pegasus.

"Cool, am I right?" Celeste nudges Elora with her elbow after having seen the latter's reaction, which is rather amusing. "They aren’t exactly real pegasus. Riki created them. It's one of his many abilities."

"More like terrifying." Elora says dryly, shifting her eyes from the pegasus to Celeste. "Will you be joining us as well?"

Celeste adorns a small smile on her face. "As much as I would love to join all of you, I can't. Since I have recently recovered from a coma, my physician strongly advised me to remain in the castle and have ample rest."

Elora can't help but be visibly disappointed. She admits that she has grown a tad fond of the princess, and it would be great to have Celeste join them on their journey since Celeste is more tolerable to be with than the princes.

Celeste catches the disappointment in Elora's eyes. She grabs Elora's hand. "But, as soon as I regain full strength, only then will I be permitted to join all of you." Celeste's gentle smile eases Elora's tension. "Besides, I have a feeling that you might need my assistance."

"We'll send you our location if you ever decide to join us." Heeseung tells his sister as he speaks from behind, startling Elora. She ignores the tingles on her skin when he wraps his arm around her shoulder. "We need to get going."

"Good luck on your journey." Celeste squeezes Elora's hand before releasing it. With one last smile, Celeste turns her back on them before returning into the castle with her gown dragging behind her.

Elora's eyes drift to Heeseung's forearm, noticing a golden vambrace latch around his forearm that is exactly the same as the rest of the princes that are wearing it. "What's that?" The question flies out of her mouth before she can stop herself.

Heeseung looks down at where she is looking before returning his gaze to her curious ones. "It's a magic vambrace, Mia Cara."

"What does it do, and why are you wearing it?" She presses, and instead of finding her incessant questions annoying, he finds himself being endeared by her while suppressing a grin.

"This is a magical device that provides us with some specific aids, such as changing attire, sending our location to Celeste, who also has one in her possession, and granting us the ability to conjure weapons we desire." Heeseung explains.

The fact that he speaks softly almost diverted her from her anger, especially considering that the magical crystals that their ancestors stole from her kingdom were the main component of the invention for this contraption.

"I see." Elora tries her utmost to keep her anger at bay. She decides to distract herself by darting her eyes around, looking for a certain prince. "Where is Jay, anyway?"

This time, Jake speaks up as he approaches her. "You don't know?"

She raises her eyebrow. "Know what?"

"Jay's shifting." Jake answers, adorning that signature yet charming grin of his on his countenance. "But he doesn’t like shifting in front of anyone."

"There he is." Sunghoon's announcement prompts Elora to look at where they are looking, and to say she is shocked is an understatement.

"That dragon!" Elora gasps loudly in disbelief, staring at the enormous dragon with its wings flapping and descending to the ground with a thud. Her mouth is still agape, eliciting chuckles from both Heeseung and Jake.

"Is this your first time seeing Jay's dragon form?" Jake asks with a mirthful grin.

Elora's head starts to spin with the revelation. Not only is that the same dragon who snatched her away just when she was about to plunge her knife into Sunghoon, but the dragon is actually Jay?

"Come on." Heeseung grabs her hand almost tenderly and gives it a squeeze. "We'll be riding him."

Elora allows Heeseung to drag her while she goes numb, still staring at Jay, who is emitting low growls while his face has a tinge of annoyance at the fact that Sunoo and Jungwon have been pestering him since the moment he landed on the ground.

As Heeseung and Elora approach Jay, he turns his head and locks eyes with Elora's widened ones. A huff elicits from him, as does the smoke from his snout. Elora trails her eyes down to his body, marvelling at the beautiful, sleek, opaque black scales that are also translucent.

"Go on." Heeseung's voice snaps her out of the trance, as they are now standing closely beside Jay. Elora has no choice but to comply. She hesitates just as she is about to touch him, but she hears a grunt from Jay himself, as though he is impatiently waiting for her.

Elora rolls her eyes at him before her palms finally come into contact with his scales. She is taken aback to feel how cold his scales are instead of scalding hot. She jumps, attempting to get on his back, but fails miserably as he is bigger than she expected.

"Here." Heeseung stands behind her, placing his hands on her waist firmly enough to assist her in mounting on Jay's back.

Elora ignores her heart, which is pounding wildly at Heeseung's touch. She quickly holds onto Jay's back, stabilising herself. Her heart continues to pound hard against her chest when Heeseung mounts behind her effortlessly. She watches as the other princes mount on their assigned pegasus.

"Let's go." Riki announces loudly, and at once, they begin to depart.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It has been quite some time since they have departed from Mysthaven, but the skies remain a bright, clear blue. Elora has been trying to steady herself, albeit maintaining a cool facade and refusing to let her groom catch a brief glimpse of her meekness.

Elora holds onto Jay's back, but there is sudden turbulence that causes Jay to tilt his body abruptly, eliciting a yelp from her as she finds herself going unstable. Just when she assumes that she will fall, an arm slithers its way around her waist before she feels his chest come into contact with her back.

Warmth weaves across her cheeks at the physical contact, especially with the way his arm tightens around her waist. She can practically feel his abdominal muscles against her back as well as his cold breath hitting the shell of her earlobe.

"You okay?" Heeseung asks lowly beside her ear, evoking a newfound feeling swarming in her tummy. Fucking butterflies.

"Yeah." She tells him with shaky breaths, hating how his touch is making her feel all weird. "You can let go of me now. I'm perfectly fine."

"I highly doubt that, Mia Cara." He says sternly. "Sleep, if you must. It'll take some time to pass through Pyrefall and to find someplace to camp for the night."

Elora doesn’t respond, trying to direct her focus on the view instead. She ignores the way her eyelids feel heavier with each passing second, but eventually she succumbs to the slumber that has been robbed of her earlier. Allowing herself to go limp, she leans her back dependently against Heeseung, who, in return, holds her more securely as he allows her head to rest comfortably on his shoulder.

Elora has no idea how long she has been sleeping, but long enough to be abruptly startled by a deafening roar, causing her body to jolt in Heeseung's oddly tight grip on her waist. Her eyes snap open instantaneously, being greeted by an alarming sight of dragons in distinctively coloured scales flying around them.

Five ferocious dragons.

Elora looks around frantically, noticing the other princes wielding bows and arrows as they direct their attack at those dragons. Her heart nearly drops upon the vibration from Jay's body as he roars out, shooting out fire from his mouth at the incoming green dragon.

"How the hell are we supposed to kill them?!" Sunoo exclaims at his brothers, trying his best to dodge the fire-breathing dragon that is heading towards him.

"We need to create a diversion!" Riki's voice manages to reach their ears while he aims his arrow, which is imbued with his dark magic, at the red dragon who is trying to attack Jake.

"Heeseung!" Elora instinctively calls out for him just as Jay makes a sharp drift, causing her body to sway violently.

"I've got you!" Heeseung grits his teeth, trying his utmost to secure his bride with his arm, despite him going unstable as well.

Jay roars again, aiming his fire at the green dragon again, but another dragon hurls towards him by the side, crashing into him. As Jay's body begins to shake violently, Heeseung and Elora lose the momentum to hold onto Jay, but Heeseung is swift enough to grab Jay's pointed scales. However, that can't be said the same for Elora. At once, she slips off Jay's back.

"Elora!" Heeseung, including the rest of the princes, shouts for her. Jay's ears perk up at the sound of Elora's screaming, and he tries his best to fight against two dragons swiftly with the intention of catching Elora, but soon he feels weakened by their attacks.

Elora's heart is pounding loudly in her ears as gravity seems to be pulling her down rapidly. Her eyes catch sight of Sunghoon and Jungwon, who order their pegasus to fly straight towards her. A glimmer of hope in her eyes as she awaits them to catch her.

A roar approaches her from the side, and before she knows it, claws wrap around her body, capturing her and soaring away. The dragon roars for another time, calling to the other dragons, while panic expands in her chest.

"No." Elora whispers as all colours begin to drain from her face upon seeing Jay unconscious, still in his dragon form, and being carried by the two dragons who had been relentlessly attacking him.

Elora uses her fists to slam down on the dragon's claws that are wrapped around her body. "Return me to them at once!" She screams at the dragon, who, in return, growls ferociously.

Before she knows it, the dragon extends one of his claws to stab her in the stomach, having enough of her tantrum and silencing her. Searing pain shoots up in her body while her lips go partially open, unable to scream or form any coherent words.

The last thing she hears are deafening roars around her before she succumbs to the familiar darkness.

PREV CHAP | NEXT CHAP

[wintaerbaer]

in between (ksj)

summary: It's nights like this that are embedded into your memory—your face fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck, his chin resting on top of your head, your arms and legs thoroughly tangled together.

pairing: Seokjin x Reader

rating: all ages

genre: established relationship au

word count: 1.8k

warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, heavy angst, mentions of traumatic pregnancy/labor if you squint

a/n: this was originally a small piece i wrote for a class about a decade ago, which i then adjusted into a fic for a fandom that's no longer around. since i've never been able to get it out of my head, i figured it'd be fun to revise and re-release it again! dedicated to @btsborahaee who is apparently the angst demon that possessed me when i wrote it <3

MASTERLIST

He never fails to amaze you.

You lean in the doorway, watching as he cradles the baby to his chest and croons soft phrases of love into the girl's ear, trying to get her to fall back asleep. He's shirtless, flannel sleep pants slung low on his hips, bare feet pressed to the hardwood floor.

He's never looked more handsome in his life.

After a couple minutes of the baby's incessant cries, he moves to the rocking chair by the window in surrender. The moon turns his face a silvery white, highlighting the ruffled hair and stubbly shadow of a beard. You’ve never seen him with a considerable amount of facial hair before, and you don’t yet know how you feel about it.

He rocks back and forth gently—the chair creaking under him and the baby still whimpering pitifully in his arms. He doesn't see you as you watch him calm the child, whispering now. His voice is so low that it's hard to hear, but you definitely pick up something that sounds like "So pretty. Just like mommy."

Amazing how he can make you smile even when he doesn't intend to.

His quiet whispers mollify the baby faster than would seem possible, and it's not long before the girl has drifted off to sleep, tiny face pressed into his bare chest. He continues to gently sway in the chair, staring at the wall, and when he shifts his head, you can see that his eyes are shining.

The sight of his tears has you backing out of the doorframe and padding down the hall, feeling sick to your stomach. The walls around you are so horrifyingly blank and merely add to your growing anxiety. You wonder how long they'll stay that way.

You take the stairs down to the living room, not knowing what to do except make yourself scarce. You pace around the room, dodging all sorts of new things for the baby—items that haven't found a place in your home yet and are therefore just sitting in the living room until they do. Somebody really should make an effort to clean it up, but no one has the time.

It's eerily quiet down here. The only sounds are the soft ticking of the clock in the kitchen and the occasional creak from the rocking chair upstairs. Moonlight filters in through the window, casting a glow upon the room that should be calming; instead, it highlights all of the objects haphazardly strewn about the couch and the table and the floor, and the overall effect is nothing short of creepy.

You take a seat on the couch, right next to a stuffed elephant that stares up at you with beady eyes—a gift from one of your aunts or some distant cousin. You run your hands over the tiny thing, wondering what its fate will be. A future favorite of your daughter's perhaps? Or will he be condemned to a life in one of the closets? His melancholy gaze seems to ask you why you even care in the first place, and truth be told, you don’t really know. Maybe you just identify with him at the moment, with a fate so unpredictable and currently feeling as though you’re stuck in some kind of middle ground where you’re neither homeless nor sheltered.

The sound of a door closing startles you from your thoughts. Slipping across the study and into your bedroom, you find Seokjin lying on the bed wide awake, his eyes still glistening. Crawling in next to him, you press yourself into his side, stretching your body over warm skin. It's nights like this that are embedded into your memory—your face fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck, his chin resting on top of your head, your arms and legs thoroughly tangled together. You lie together in near silence, his ragged breathing the only thing disturbing the quiet. You squeeze closer, willing him to sleep just as he had done with your daughter moments ago.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispers as his eyes finally slip shut.

"I know," you tell him. "I know."

You’re sitting in the kitchen when you hear the front door open and shut.

"Honey, I'm home." His voice drifts to you from the foyer, the first lines of a ritual you had created in jest during college when you’d return to your shared apartment after days of classes.

"Hello, dear. How was work today?" is the traditional response you call back.

"Just swell, sweetheart. Just swell." He'd usually laugh after that, unable to contain his boyish amusement over how cheesy it is, but when he delivers the line today, his voice is soft and sober.

He hesitates by the stairs, leaning ever so slightly against the railing and kneading his forehead with the heel of his hand. He takes in the sight of the kitchen with all of the food that is lying around, practically covering every surface. Sighing, he moves to the sink, pressing his hands against the counter.

You stare at him, not knowing what to do, when his legs suddenly buckle and he's sliding down to the floor, shaking with sobs.

You leap to your feet, rushing over to where he's sitting up with his back against the counter and his knees pulled up nearly to his chest. Wrapping your arms around him, you brush your lips against his forehead, his ear, whispering anything and everything and just begging him to stop. Because, dammit, Jungkook and Hobi are right upstairs taking care of the baby and you don't want anyone else to see him like this. Not when he's been doing so well.

It's not long before you find that your own cheeks are wet, tears stinging your eyes. You hate having to see him this broken, hate even more how there's nothing you can do to help, how all you can do is hold him and pray that he'll get better.

Roughly ten minutes pass before his friends come bustling down the stairs to see what the commotion is. Even they can't help crying as they join you on the floor, offering hugs and words of comfort as he continues to break down.

Another half hour passes before he finally manages to compose himself and goes upstairs to see your daughter.

You huddle outside the bedroom door, listening to Seokjin read the girl a bedtime story. Your daughter is so incredibly quiet, soaking up the words like a dry sponge. Occasionally she'll ask a question about the story or one of the characters, but for the most part, she doesn't say a word—she barely even moves.

When the story is over, you hear your husband shifting around, closing the book and putting it back on its shelf in the corner.

"Daddy?" comes your daughter's voice after a moment.

"Yeah, baby girl?"

"Did Snow White and the prince live happily ever after?"

You hear a creak as he sits back down on the side of the bed. "Yeah, sweetie, they lived happily ever after. They got married and had a beautiful little girl just like you." There's a squeal as he leans down to tickle her.

Once your daughter's laughter has subsided, she asks another question, "Daddy, did you and mommy live happily ever after?"

There is a pregnant pause where everything in the world seems to go completely still in anticipation of his answer.

"Yeah," he eventually says, voice cracking ever so slightly. "Yeah, we did."

The sound of rustling sheets fills the void as he properly tucks her in. "You need to get some sleep now. You have a big day tomorrow."

"School!" she squeals.

"That's right, baby. School."

"Is mommy going to visit me tonight since it's a big day tomorrow?"

You hear him take a ragged breath. These questions must be taking their toll on him. "Mommy visits you every night, sweetie."

"Because she loves me?" your daughter asks.

"Yeah, because she loves you."

There's a pause as the girl thinks this over. "I love mommy too, daddy."

"I know, baby. Me too." And he must be crying now because there's a telling catch in his voice.

But that's okay because there are tears streaming down your own face.

You peek your head in the doorway, watching him press a kiss to the girl's forehead before he stands, turning off the light as he leaves the room. When he passes you, you examine his face--dark shadows that weren't there five years ago lurk under his eyes and his cheekbones are more prominent than they used to be. But still, you’re proud of the fact that he hasn't completely let himself go.

Once he's gone down the hall and disappeared down the stairs, you move into your daughter's room and sit on the edge of the bed, just as Seokjin had done only moments before.

The girl is completely buried under the covers with only her head sticking out. She's a tiny little thing, with her father's dark eyes and her mother's smile. And she's smart. She's so incredibly smart, with one hell of an imagination to match.

You run your fingers over your daughter's face, her hair, but not touching—no, never touching. You can't. You simply can't. Can't touch; can't feel. Most days, you don't know if this existence that you’re living is a blessing or a curse. Because you get to see your little girl grow up, but you do this knowing that your child will never know you—she'll never know the mother who died giving her life. And on top of that, you also bear witness to every second of your husband's grief.

But right now, looking down at your daughter, you just can't regret getting to see her grow older.

You brush your lips against the girl's forehead, her nose, her cheek. Then you make yourself pull away, whispering a "Good luck tomorrow, baby" before you stand up, taking note, as you always do, of the plush elephant that's sitting on the nightstand and bathing in moonlight.

And then you leave, taking the familiar trip downstairs and into your bedroom (because no matter what it will always be your bedroom) where your husband is lying on the bed, eyes wide open. This, too, has become a sort of ritual for the two of you, even though he doesn't really know it. And yet, he never seems to be able to sleep until you’re cuddled into his side.

"I love you, Y/N," he always says right before he closes his eyes.

"I know," is your reply. "I know."

a/n: sorry :') please remember to like/reblog!

[tentative-wanderer]

Recently read these manga and manhwa with gay relationships:

☀️ The Summer Hikaru Died: liked it lots, wish it were complete. The creepy art style took some getting used to, I didn’t like how unnerving even normal people looked at first but I ended up loving how the art fits its genre. Mystery + horror + a sort of love I like, occupying the twilight zone between platonic, romantic and goodness knows what*. The theme of grief is executed well, very moving, and thumbs up for the other complicated feelings the characters wrestle with. From the Chinese words/kanji, I can tell that the title is “The Summer the Light Died”, which makes me go ahhhhh. I’d like to have the reassurance that there will be a happy ending, because I feel like there could be a melancholy one.

* I like amorphous kinds of love. Qijiu from the danmei book SVSSS has that too (don’t look this pair up if you haven’t read SVSSS, it’s spoilery). The phrase that comes to mind is 犹抱琵琶半遮面, ie, (a musician) “covering half their face with the pipa in their arms”. The beauty of things only semi-revealed.

🎥 Twilight Out of Focus and its sister series: enjoyed them. My favourite character is the film director with semi-long hair who’s capable, strong-willed, outspoken, and competitive, tempered by a softer side (the thing he’s loud and passionate about besides filmmaking is BL, of all things. But I didn’t know he swung that way until he got his own manga series. Should have seen that coming). That tends to be a winning combination of physical and personality attributes in my book, I always fall for this type of character, but I’d be on edge if I had to deal with such people in real life because their cut-throat attitude would be, well, cutting.

🧼 Ten Count: can relate to the mysophobia. Interesting premise! Enjoyed it. But I feel like it was dragged down a little by the smut. I have mixed feelings about saying that, because on one hand, smut is always welcome, but on the other hand, I wish there was a greater focus on the process of overcoming the ten mysophobic points beyond the romance and smut. Another downside is pretty-boy same-face syndrome.

🪞 The Black Mirror: there are a number of imperfections but I was hooked because I like mystery.

If anyone has recommendations, I’m all ears! BL manga is new to me (previously, I think I’ve only read the comedy about the guy who realised he’s stuck in a BL world, haha).

***

(Not BL)

Read a number of chapters of Liar Game. I don’t know why the author is drawing manga instead of messing with the stock market or committing fraud or financial world domination. Big-brained stuff. I tend to read comics fast/skim-read so I found it challenging to think deeply about the strategies; even following along is tough. (Edited to add: the ending was really, really bad.)

Caught up with the more recent chapters of Spy x Family and Life Lessons with Uramichi Oniisan. Loved both. Regarding Spy x Family, I thought I couldn’t love it more but it turns out I could; the recent arc about the old female soldier is wonderful, overturns some gender norms to an extent hardly seen in media. Also, I really like Yuri and Fiona; they’re both capable, good-looking, and—importantly—very funny. Fiona is amazing in the anime, her voice actress adds a special spark of life to the duality of her character.

[sir-walton-goggins]

The Golden Prison

2,885 words

Arthur Morgan x fem OC

Summary: Arthur and Kris are invited to the party at the Mayor's house, where she finds some interesting secrets about Bronte and his entourage...

Warnings: strong language

The smell of raw vegetables and the vapor from the boiling water prickled at Kris’s nose, her eyes burning and watering as she split another large onion in half. She wiped her eye on her sleeve and kept chopping diligently, turning it horizontally and dicing it into tiny cubes for Pearson’s stew.

She was so absorbed in her kitchen duties, she didn’t hear the heavy footsteps parting the grass behind her and jumped out of her skin as two large hands cupped her waist.

“A-Arthur!” she protested, turning around to see her husband’s usual self-satisfied grin.

He chuckled softly. “A bit jumpy today, are we?” he buried his face in the crook of his wife’s neck and planted a few soft kisses on her naked skin. It was so hot and humid in the swamps, Kris had taken to wearing just her night chemise and a pair of roughed-up jeans around camp, leaving most of her neck and shoulders exposed to the open air. Arthur was as drawn to them as a mosquito to its next, bloody meal, biting the soft flesh gently.

The outlaw awkwardly stepped away from her as he noticed Pearson poking out of the corner, a savvy smile under his long mustache. Arthur blushed and turned his head away, fidgeting with his gun belt.

“Ah, love” the cook sighed dreamily, taking Kris’s cutting board from under her hands and walking to the boiling pot. “You’re free to go, miss. Thanks for the help.” He winked at her, making her smile.

She took her embarrassed husband’s hand, guiding him under the porch of the large plantation house that shielded them from the cruel rays of the midday sun.

“Where were you yesterday? You came in pretty late,” Kris inquired, vaguely remembering Arthur slipping in bed with her as she was deep into her sleep, his reassuring embrace enveloping her as he spooned her, smelling of grass and wet dirt.

Arthur leaned on the outer wall. “I was helping this creepy feller in town build his strange machine” he recounted, mildly amused. Kris exhaled. Somehow this wasn’t the weirdest sentence out of her partner’s mouth. He was always meeting the weirdest people on his journeys.

“What kind of machine?” she wondered, curious to hear yet another one of Arthur’s wacky stories.

“I dunno, some kind of electric… thing” he shook his head. “It apparently requires a whole lot of moonshine” he told Kris about the coach he stole and drove back into Saint Denis to this peculiar inventor.

She didn’t even have the time to process the information, when Dutch marched out of the front door with the most annoying pep in his step. That was always a tell-tale sign there was a scheme afoot.

“Arthur!” he exclaimed theatrically, decisively ignoring Kris. Morgan sighed, already foreseeing the next tedious task he was gonna assign him. Hosea walked over to them, holding the newspaper.

“Folks, ready to mingle with high society?” the older man asked with a malicious smile. Kris and Arthur felt the blood drain from their veins.

“So we’re really doing this?” Arthur asked dejectedly.

“Of course we are!” Dutch ordered, adjusting the collar of his coat as to mimic a rich, wide-bellied oil magnate. “Bronte so kindly invited us, we can’t be impolite guests in his town!” the man highlighted the word “his” with the most contemptuous emphasis, dripping sarcasm from every pore.

“Right, this is a perfect opportunity for us” Hosea echoed, putting a hand on Kris’s shoulder. “You coming with us?

Kris glanced at Arthur to gauge his stance. Usually, he was never too happy to have her out on dangerous missions, but this one seemed tranquil enough. Her husband nodded slightly, a thinly veiled melancholy in his gaze revealing he’d rather do anything than to participate in the Mayor’s party.

“Yeah, why not” Kris locked in her final answer, prompting the two gang leaders to walk to the stagecoach.

“Let’s get you both into your gowns then, Cinderellas!” Dutch laughed, gesturing towards Lenny, who jumped up and on the driving seat of the vehicle. Arthur sighed loudly as he followed along.

Hours later they were bathed, perfumed and dressed to the nines, making their grand entrance at the Mayor’s garden ball. Kris waved at Lenny, who tipped his hat to her. She was already bothered by the many layers of her blue dress, rustling and crinkling loudly in her ears and largely limiting her movements to the point she almost face planted on the cobbled road getting out of the ride. She felt like a stuffed doll.

“Hey, I know you’re miserable” Arthur whispered in her ear, “but you look beautiful tonight”.

Kris smiled. She examined his suit, which was tailor-made just for the occasion and fit him perfectly. “You too. You clean up well, Morgan” she murmured in his direction. Arthur bowed his head, a coy smile on his lips. Kris walked towards him and straightened his tilted bow tie, stealing a quick kiss.

“Hey, lovebirds” Bill’s mocking tone put a huge damper on their mood, “get your asses over here”.

They scrambled to reach the others to the front entrance, where a man named Luca asked them to deposit their weapons. One after the other, the men handed in their guns, while Kris stared at the servant seraphically, envisioning the backup knife safely tucked in her garter, underneath her dress. When she had shown it to Arthur, he had almost passed out from sheer arousal. She felt safer with it.

Once inside the house, they all revised their plan for the night: no stealing nor scheming, just keeping their eyes peeled for new contacts and job opportunities.

The crowd spread out in front of them like a baroque bouquet of expensive, exotic flowers: the women’s elegant gowns sparkled under the fairy lights, bright and colorful and evenly distributed as the dames quietly chatted next to their male companions.

“Lots of chickens to pluck here,” Kris remarked, already overwhelmed. Her ears filled up with classical music as they walked around the musicians playing in the small gazebo, plucking at the cords of their instruments masterfully. Noticing her stress signals, Arthur offered Kris his arm, reminding her he was there for her. She took it and stroked his forearm, grateful, grounding herself in her husband’s warmth and by feeling the fabric of his suit under her fingertips. It was soft and velvety to the touch.

She hated crowds. And gatherings. But she loved her husband more. Besides, the crook was a fellow expatriate from the Mediterranean, so her knowledge of Italian might’ve come in handy.

A butler guided the group to meet Bronte upstairs. The married couple looked around the place in total awe: everywhere there were lush plants from all over the globe, with big, weird shaped flowers and stems, electrical lighting powering the wall sconces, interiors enriched with exquisite decor, arches, paintings and winding corridors all over. That mansion could fit a whole small town in it, with its absurdly tall ceilings and field-wide halls. A faint smell of greenery and perfume lingered in the seemingly empty stairway.

“There they are, the angry cowboys!” the Italian greeted the small group, gesturing at them enthusiastically. Kris cringed internally, her stomach tightening in front of his serpentine smile. He immediately turned to his henchmen and made a demeaning comment on them in Italian, giving Kris the feeling she did good to come along.

The men all shook Bronte’s hand. When it was her turn, Bronte bowed slightly and kissed the back of her hand, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

Kris did her best to appear flattered, but inside she was screaming her head off at the unpleasantness of that snake’s wet lips on her skin. Arthur stood behind her, clenching his fists and biting his lip so hard it almost started bleeding.

The men were each handed a fine cigar, and one of Angelo’s goons offered her one of his premiums cigarettes, which she promptly accepted, desperately needing something to take the edge off. She slipped the cig between her lips, waiting for the feller to light it up in complete silence. The last thing she wanted was to blow her cover by exposing her very Italian accent.

Kris stood in the back side of the balcony, smoking and paying close attention to how Bronte addressed her partners in crime. While the men were talking business, she kept tally of every micro expression, look, gesture and movement that could give her a hint about Bronte’s real intentions. She believed he gave up Jack way too easily and welcomed a gang of country outlaws with a bit more warmth than you would expect from a local boss. The whole affair seemed suspicious.

Kris listened to him insulting the rest of the guests, loudly wishing they would die as he spoke freely and confident that nobody else would understand him, except for his lackeys, who roared in laughter at his every provocation. But when he turned his thinly veiled insults to Dutch, Arthur, Hosea and Bill, every muscle in Kris’s body tensed up, the effort to resist clapping back unbearable. Who the fuck did he think he was?! A goddamned reptile in an Italian suit, that’s what he was.

“So, what was your plan here?” Bronte asked them, a dark cloud falling over his features. Every trace of irony had been wiped from his face. The sudden shift in tone made even the silver-tongued Van Der Linde hesitate.

‘He’s showing his true colors’ Kris noted, witnessing her enemy’s mask slip off momentarily as a cold chill climbed up her spine, making her tremble. Angelo Bronte was a scary man.

Dutch confessed they needed more money. Bronte magnanimously pointed them towards the trolley station, which he said stored ‘tons of money, just what you need’. Kris didn’t like the way a couple of his lapdogs snickered between themselves.

Completely absorbed in their conversation, Kris didn’t notice her cigarette burning out. She winced in pain as it stung her fingers, emitting a hissing sound which made a couple of heads turn towards her. She threw the cigarette butt to the side and acted innocently. Arthur approached her, gently guiding her inside with a hand on the small of her back as the rest of the gang followed. Mocking comments in Italian erupted from the balcony.

“Okay people, time for the mingling” Dutch whispered, giving directions and specific tasks to each and everyone of them, except for Kris. She scoffed as he ignored her for the second time that day, and begrudgingly proposed to guard the second floor and spy on Bronte and his men.

“Sure, it’ll be good to keep an eye on them” he remarked, uninterested, as Arthur brushed his lips on her cheek, telling her to be careful.

“Always” Kris reassured her beau, making her way upstairs as silently as she could with those pesky heels on, while the men scattered and blended into the crowd, each with his own fake name (Albert Danielson? Really, Bill?) and task (Arthur went to chat with Henri Lemieux).

By some divine luck, the second floor hall was still unguarded. Kris shuffled next to the glass door, her back to the wall, peeking outside carefully. Loud screaming and coarse laughter dampened by the reinforced glass: they were still out there.

“Ma li avete visti, quei quattro buffoni!1” a tall, dark skinned man readjusted the many rings on his fingers, all of them made of gold and gemstones. “Quegli zotici non riconoscerebbero le buone maniere se li colpissero in faccia2” followed another one, a bald man as pale as sheet of paper.

‘I’m lucky Italians are so damn loud, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to hear anything through this glass’ Kris remarked, grateful that her evening was going according to plan.

“Bella trovata boss, quella di mandarli alla stazione del tram!3” one of Bronte’s personal guards sneered, patting him on the back. Kris’s heart skipped a beat and she froze against the wall.

Bronte shook his head, waving the comment off. “Ah, non ci vuole nulla con questi idioti. Ho preso in giro uomini ben più pericolosi…4 ” he snobbishly sipped his glass of red wine, unperturbed. He gestured for one of his lackeys to come closer and murmured something Kris couldn’t quite catch. She just about managed to make out “police” and “station”, but that was enough.

She needed to go downstairs. Now. Unfortunately, two sets of footsteps approached the glass door very fast and the staircase was way too far to make it.

‘Oh god, what do I do?’

The men entered the hall before she could finish the thought, footsteps booming in Kris’s ears to match her speeding heartbeat, a torturous cacophony of beating drums. She prayed to every god on earth that the curtain was covering her gown, or that they wouldn’t glance at it.

She peeked through the heavy, red fabric and when she saw the back of Bronte and his guard’s heads disappearing down the staircase, Kris exhaled in relief.

‘That was too damn close’ she reprimanded herself, trying to calm down. But it wasn’t over.

“Quella ragazza con loro… che ne pensate?5”

“Sembrava familiare, aveva tratti mediterranei...6”

Every muscle chained her into place and panic started seeping back into her soul.

Sounds of glasses clinking. Matches striking, cigars sizzling.

“Come mi piacerebbe farmela…7” said one of them who hadn’t spoken before, voice so putridly filled with lust it made Kris recoil in disgust. The remark was followed by a heap of obscene laughter.

“No davvero, secondo voi è italiana?8” asked baldy. A general buzz took ahold of the group.

“Diciamo a Bronte di rapirla? Potrebbe farci comodo una donna nella famiglia.9”

Horrified, Kris stumbled towards the stairs, tripping over her dress, losing her balance on the heels and almost falling over. God, why couldn’t she had worn a suit?

By some devilish misfortune, a guard was happening to come upstairs just as Kris was coming down, and he caught her right at the top of the stairs.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” the guard inquired, suspicious.

“I-I…” she stuttered, desperately thinking of a plan. She then loosened her legs and brought a hand to her forehead. “I’m not feeling well…” she mustered the weakest, girliest pitch of voice she could, and fell straight into the confused guard’s arms, pretending to faint.

The man called the servants, shouting for them to bring smelling salts and water as Kris bounced limply in his arms. She really hoped the gown hadn’t lifted to reveal her stashed knife, but her heart was completely stable, her pulse weak as a testament to what a good actress she was.

They laid her down on a sofa, putting a few cushions under her legs and the salts underneath her nose. She slowly opened her eyes, feigning disorientation.

“Oh, where am I?” she whined, touching her forehead.

“How are you feeling, ma’am?” the young girl servant asked her, scared beyond her mind and almost shaking. She must’ve been new there.

Kris slowly rose up, sitting on the fancy velvet couch, blinking lazily. “A bit better I think, thank you.”

“Marco went to fetch you some water, please stay seated, ma’am” she replied weakly, taking the pillows and scrambling back to the chambers.

As she waited for this Marco, the words she last heard the Bronte boys say made her head spin so violently, she thought she might faint for real this time. She had to warn Dutch and Arthur she could be in danger, and the gang was too. They had to act fast and, luckily, because of her, they now had the advantage.

“Here you go, ma’am” the guard handed her a glass of water. She thanked him warmly, and then threw the liquid behind the couch when he wasn’t looking. She wasn’t as stupid as to risk being drugged after what she had heard. Assuring Marco she was fine now, she marched outside searching for her companions.

She found them at the buffet table, quietly chatting about what they found. Arthur lit up when he saw her. Kris could see the worry in his eyes gradually dissipate as she came closer.

“Kris! We was about to start looking for you…” he hugged his wife tight, a weight lifted off his chest.

“You look so pale” he noticed, cupping her cheek and examining her from head to toe.

“I’m fine, Arthur” Kris brushed him off, still rattled by the last events. She turned towards Dutch:

“We need to talk.”

Dutch caught wind of the gravity in the young woman’s voice and nodded severely.

“We’re leaving, we’ll talk on the ride home.”

Notes (translation)

1 Get a load of those four buffoons!

2 Those oafs wouldn’t know good manners if they slapped them in the face.

3 Great idea boss, to send them over to the trolley station!

4 Ah, it’s too easy with these fools. I tricked much more dangerous men…

5 That girl with them… what do you think?

6 She looked familiar, she had Mediterranean traits…

7 How I would love to fuck her…

8 No really, do you think she’s Italian?

9 Should we ask Bronte to kidnap her? It could be useful to have a woman in our family.

[gillianthecat]

Kind of Like Liveblogging: Pit Babe

* Thank you for listening to me, Pit Babe, and giving at least a hint of Charlie and Babe conspiring. I still have no idea what their plot is, but I feel more confident we'll find out in a timely manner (and what little they say could arguably fit my revenge-on-Tony theory).

* Pete & Way!! I'm so excited.

* yes. This interaction was so good. So sexy. I love all of Way's smiles, including his melancholy ones. I love how they hardly even look at each other. I feel like good scenes of hitting on someone in bars are rare in BL. I like how grown up this one feels. (Subtitles were slightly confusing though, was Pete trying to imply that he was or that he wasn't hitting on Way?) I can't wait to see where these two go.

* Oh there's more of them!

* Oh, I am all in on PeteWay. That's it, cancel everything else, I just want to follow their story. I was excited about this pairing, but I didn't expect it to be this good. The way Pete just looks at him. They way he leaned his head on the sofa as Way clutched at his hand. The note! "If you need a drinking buddy..." This is melancholy and grownup in a way that is catnip for me. And the actors are adult enough to handle it.

* Kim! *happy little wiggle dance* So far this episode is tailer-made for me. He's so effortlessly powerful. Winner keeps getting brattier and brattier, hoping each time he can finally push Kim into holding him down and fucking him into submission.

* Plot tidbits revealed. I guess Tony is trying to kidnap or otherwise possess Babe so he can sell him to someone? I'm assuming for his special alpha senses? And it looks like he just fired Kim, although the subtitles were confusing.

* Someone in the tags mentioned a possible KimKenta pairing and god I hope we get it. When Tony mentioned punishing Kenta I had a beautiful vision of him whipping Kenta in front of Ken, setting off their omegaverse darkfic journey to love and healing through BDSM.

* Omg, it's the second coming of Kimlock Holmes! Bless.

* This show is starting to give me answers. It's like they read my wishlist. So Charlie is another of Tony's kids (as I guessed), Tony raises them to sell (not surprising), Charlie keeps secrets from Tony about Jeff (good, and could fit my theory). And that's all we learn cause Babe is too busy yelling and Charlie too busy gaping like a fish. Babe's reaction makes sense for the character, but since I already knew I want to move on and get some more information about the why of it all.

* But also Babe you are kinda dumb and have to get better at subterfuge. And uh oh, Tony sees them.

* And now a toothpaste commercial :-/ The product placement is often jarring. At least it's mainly a chance to stare at Way.

* Oh Babe, I'm so sorry. I think I find him the least interesting character, just because he's the most transparent and obvious about who he is and what he wants, but I sympathize with his heartbreak. You finally fell in love and it turns out (it seems like) it was all fake.

* Way used his special persuasive powers again, looking heartbroken and ambivalent about it all. It seems like he can't tolerate the man he loves hurting, and will resort to mind control to "fix" the feeling bad, instead of just holding his pain with him. Nut is really conveying that he believes he's helping Babe by manipulating his mind.

* When Babe grabbed Way's hand I was really expecting a rebound hookup that would simultaneously make Way's wildest dreams come true and ruin his life. And Babe's life too. At least for a few episodes. (But also it would be extremely hot.)

* I'm glad that now Charlie's secret is out we'll get to see more of his real self, whoever that is. Less creepy smiling for now (of which I approve).

* I'm not sure what I think of the use of the these distorting wide angle lenses. Part of it is I can't always tell if they're an artistic choice or just a practical solution to filming in close spaces. But they're also using lots of hand held camerawork and Dutch angles to create moods, so maybe it's intentional.

* The parallels to Pete and Way in the same exact positions on this sofa, with Way now in Pete's spot, looking at the beautiful, heartbroken boy!

* And now Charlie reveals what his plot had been! Apparently he found out that this unknown Alpha was in danger and decided to insinuate himself into his life in order to be a sort of bodyguard, and then genuinely falling in love with him. Which is fine, that's good, it fits all of Charlie's actions we've seen before, and makes their love story as easy as possible. It's minimum levels of betrayal. But it's kinda boring, no? It turns Charlie into a player in Babe's life, without his own goals. I would have preferred my theory of Charlie using Babe to somehow get revenge on Tony. It would make Charlie and his love much richer and more complicated.

* Unless of course Charlie is lying again about his intentions but I really don't think so. It's not that sort of show (I'm pretty sure), and I don't think think their relationship could survive that.

* Along with that reveal we also get more Tony's Alpha Farm lore. A breeding program! Details about enigmas that get confused by the subtitles. (I'm still unclear whether Babe or the enigma would be the one getting mpregnant. And since this is the mpreg racing car BL, that is the most crucial detail of all.) Alphas whose powers never develop, left abandoned in solitary confinement. And we finally learn Charlie's special skill, or rather that he doesn't have one. (Although I would not be at all surprised to find he develops a power just in time to save Babe from Tony in the big climactic showdown.)

* Who is the enigma Tony wants to breed with Babe? Is it someone we know (Winner perhaps? or Jeff? Jeff would make the most sense, for the emotionality and drama) or someone irrelevant offstage. I've decided my money is on Jeff.

* I'm not entirely clear why Tony didn't just kidnap Babe already. His airbnb mansion seems to have minimal security. I'm also unclear on what Charlie thought his presence was doing in terms of protection but either the answers will be revealed in time (I'm not holding my breath) or it's because It Makes the Plot Go (I'll accept it).

* Hmm, and Kenta is (almost definitely) lying to Tony about Charlie. That's good, I like Kenta (and still dream of KimKenta).

* So what's Way's deal? Is he also a runaway from Tony, or did he develop his powers on his own? I don't remember hearing anything either way. (I just had a horrible thought—what if he's Tony's mole and manipulating Babe because of that. But it doesn't fit the evidence so far so I'm hopeful this thought is wrong.)

* Ooohhhhhh. Charlie does have a secret special power after all, and it's Absorption, and he absorbed Babe's heightened senses through all that touching they did. (I appreciate the sex scene montage to remind us about all the touching they did.) AND the only way to transfer the power back is for Charlie to die! "I'm willing to die for you if you want, Babe," he claims! This is a complicated enough twist to satisfy me. Did Charlie do it on purpose? Did he know it was happening? He definitely never tried to stop touching Babe. Does he feel guilty? He doesn't look like he feels guilty. Is he really telling the complete truth? Is he evil after all, even if he's not working for Tony? Maybe he really is the Talented Mr. Ripley. I am Intrigued.

* I was worried when Charlie first arrived and was pleading for Babe's forgiveness, that his old submissive persona wasn't just a persona but who he actually was. Boring. But I should know by now to trust the show more about these sort of things. As soon as Babe accepted him, and settled enough to listen. Dominant Charlie came out, and submissive Babe fell right into line, without even realizing it. The casual authority in the way he told Babe to give him the whiskey glass, and Babe's instant compliance. Delicious. This is so obviously what their dynamic naturally is, and I'm glad the show isn't pretending otherwise.

* And the man who has staked his whole identity on being champion has lost the special powers that got him there. He says he doesn't need them, he can do without, but can he? Some beautiful angst is coming my way.

* The way Charlie slides his arms around Babe's waist is so... just slightly disturbing and I love it. I guess now that he's won he's rewarding(?) Babe by pretending to be all cute and submissive again, but you can't fool me, Charlie Dom.

* I do believe that Charlie genuinely loves Babe. Just that there are a lot of other things going on.

* Oh 😢 I got distracted and forgot about way, and now he's showing up to his dinner with Babe with red roses looking so hopeful. Oh sweetheart.

* Babe riding Charlie in his tiny convertible -> hot.

* But he forgot all about Way, who sat at that table with his roses for hours. The heartbreak on his face at Babe's text. You know what you need, Way? A drinking buddy.

* Of course Alan is the first one to say, we need to bring this evil man to justice and save all the kidnapped children. I love you Alan, you beautiful, kind hearted leader.

* Mostly the bad subtitles are annoying but inconsequential, but WHAT IS BABE SAYING ABOUT KIM?! Does he thing Kim is a danger to him and his crew, or does he think Kim is in danger from Tony? Because it makes a difference. I had assumed Babe realized Kim was on their side, but the translation is off and sometimes Babe's an idiot.

* Dumb and dumber are so oblivious. Who in their garage thinks Tony's a kindhearted guy? I thought they all hated him already. That was weird. (When are these two going to finally hook up? My bet is in the last half of the final episode, right before the coda with the main couples.)

* And as we all knew, it was Kim in danger from Tony. I had seen this screenshot in a post tagged Kim and Kenta, but I didn't look closely, and in my previous imaginings I was picturing Kenta as the one on his knees. But a captured Kim makes more sense plot wise. Kenta holds a knife to a kneeling Kim's throat, which is our second breadcrumb of the day, but this one has some weight to it. (And is delicious, though obviously in their actual dynamic Kim will be the dom. But this is a good starting point :-))

* And it ends! Noooo. I want to know what's next. Way needs to find his beautiful drinking buddy again!

* I'm not going to watch the previews because I like seeing each moment unfold as the happen. Although I'll probably end up spoiled by tumblr anyway. But I'm doing my best to minimize it.

* I like how this show devotes several scenes at a time to each relationship or event, rather than cutting back and forth between characters.

* Well that's it. I've officially fallen for this show. Especially now that all sorts of interesting things are getting revealed and complicated. I am actually a reader of omegaverse fanfic, because I love how the good ones explore gender roles and power dynamics in fascinating ways. And I think this show is doing at least a little of that.

* Oh no, we haven't seen Jeff since the opening scene! I'm worried about him. I think it's only been two and a half days in universe, but I feel like every other episode we got more of Jeff which is making me suspicious that something happened to him. He gave his ambiguous warning and then disappeared. Stay safe, Alan's nu.

[annalexstarlightstorm]

Halbrand’s theme - Bear McCreary

Hey ppl, as somebody who’s always had special attachment to soundtracks, I’ve been doing, though a lay person, some cute lil research into the themes of the individual characters of Rings of power, which are SO INGENIOUSLY and SENSITIVELY composed by Bear McCreary. These are some of my notes, supposing of course that you are interested. It’s quite lengthy.

I’ve been, for obvious reasons, especially interested in Halbrand’s theme. First of all, its development throughout the soundtrack copies the development of the character most wonderfully, and I encourage you to pay attention to it. 

- From a humble beginning, just a medieval-like, simple instrumentation, almost sad, melancholy, appearing subtly and sometimes paired with other themes like Galadriel’s and Numenor’s (”Halbrand”, “Sundering sea”, “On the raft”, “the Successor”, “Both our bloodlines”), 

- across the bright tones when he leaves Numenor already dressed in armor (”Sailing into the dawn”), 

- to the steady knightly version when he saves Elendil (”Cavalry”), 

- all the way to the most majestic and heroic reprise as he leaves the Sounthlanders, injured, and rides to the elves (”the Veil of smoke” / “A Leaf burns”), 

- down to the almost uneasy, distorted, sort of “creepy” version in the last episode (”Power over flesh”) 

What I have noticed next is that the second part of Galadriel’s theme is actually quite similar to the beginning of Halbrand’s. I’ve attempted (in an amateur way) to put this into notation. This is Hal’s theme in Gal’s key and then Gal’s theme alone. Hal’s three bars are almost identical to Gal’s last three bars (save the last note).

Subsequently, when hearing Sauron’s theme, I’ve noticed similarities in the distances between individual tones in it and Hal’s theme, and it seems that my hypothesis was somewhat correct. In this notation, I’ve put together Hal’s theme (notes with their stem facing upwards) with Sauron’s theme (stems downwards) in Hal’s key. The steps are identical, but mirrored (as if on the surface of water).

I don’t presume I’ve uncovered some scheme of McCreary’s, but I’d like to think that there was some design behind these “coincidences”, in which case - even more bravo to him, though it’s perfect regardless. So thankful for this soundtrack. I’m currently hyper-fixating on the show, its cast and soundtrack, Hal/Sauron etc., so this over-analyzing is a part of it.

I hope this might be interesting to someone, but even if it isn’t, I’ve had a great time digging into it and I’ve had some of these sudden-realization moments when your jaw drops and brain starts whirling and shining like a revved up engine. I hope you’re enjoying the show as well.

Byeeee, love ya

[kevinsreviewcatalogue]

Review: I Saw the TV Glow (2024)

I Saw the TV Glow (2024)

Rated PG-13 for violent content, some sexual material, thematic elements and teen smoking

<Originally posted at https://kevinsreviewcatalogue.blogspot.com/2024/06/review-i-saw-tv-glow-2024.html>

Score: 4 out of 5

I Saw the TV Glow is a movie that's probably gonna stick with me for a while. Even as somebody who didn't necessarily have the queer lens that writer/director Jane Schoenbrun brought to the film, it still hit me like a sack of bricks, a fusion of nostalgia for the kids' and teen horror shows of the '90s, a deconstruction of that nostalgia and of our relationship with the media we love, a coming-of-age tale about not fitting in and living in a miserable world, and modern creepypasta and analog horror influences, all building to an ending where the anticlimactic note it wrapped up on wound up serving as a very grim and appropriate coda suggesting that nothing good will happen after. It's a film where I was able to put together the pieces of the story and figure out where it was headed after a certain point, but the journey was a lot more important than the destination here, serving up a moody, weird tale that felt like something pulled out of both my childhood and my adulthood in equal measure. If you're expecting a simple horror tale with big frights and easy answers, this will probably leave you scratching your head at the end, but if you want a movie with a smart and wrenching plot, compelling characters, and a hell of a sense of style that's quietly chilling without really being in-your-face scary, this is one you probably won't soon forget.

The film starts out in the late '90s in an anonymous middle-class suburb that, while it was never explicitly stated where it's supposed to be, I figured out was New Jersey right away even before the credits rolled and I saw that, sure enough, this was filmed in Verona and Cedar Grove, such was the familiarity of the scenery from my own childhood. Our protagonists Owen and Maddy are a pair of awkward teenagers who slowly bond over their shared fandom of The Pink Opaque, a kids' horror series that airs on the Young Adult Network (a fairly obvious pastiche of Nickelodeon) and is inspired by shows like Are You Afraid of the Dark? and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The protagonists of The Pink Opaque, Isabel and Tara, are a pair of teenage girls who developed a psychic connection at summer camp that they use to fight various monsters, as well as an overarching villain named Mr. Melancholy. For Maddy, the show is an escape from her abusive home life, while for Owen, it's a guilty pleasure that he has to watch by way of Maddy taping it every Saturday night at 10:30 and giving him the tape the following week, as not only does it air past his bedtime but his father looks askance at it for being a "girly" show. Things start to get weird once the show is canceled on a cliffhanger at the end of its fifth season -- and shortly after, Maddy mysteriously disappears, leaving only a burning TV set in her backyard.

I can't say anything more about the plot without spoilers other than the broadest strokes. On the surface, a lot of the story that transpires here, that of a creepy kids' show that may be more than it seems, is reminiscent of Candle Cove, only drawing less of its inspiration from '70s local television than from '90s Nickelodeon, Fox Kids, and The WB. But while Candle Cove was a brisk, one-off campfire tale that you can probably read in five to ten minutes (which you should, by the way), this is something with a lot more on its mind. It's a film about a life wasted, one where the real horror is psychological and emotional as Owen realizes that he's trapped in a life he shouldn't be trapped in, and it would not have worked without Justice Smith's performance as the film's central dramatic anchor. From everything I've seen him in, Smith is a guy who specializes in playing awkward nerds like Jesse Eisenberg or Michael Cera, and here, he takes that in a distinctly Lynchian direction as somebody who can't shake the feeling that he's living a lie but is either unable or unwilling to say precisely what it is. After the first act, this becomes a film about a man who's spinning his wheels in life, and not even checking off the boxes expected of a man like him to be considered "successful" seems to solve it. He narrates the film at various points, and as it goes on, it becomes hard not to wonder if even he believes what he's saying. Watching him, I saw traces of myself living in Florida until last year, spinning my own wheels in either school, menial jobs, or just sitting at home doing nothing. He's somebody whose arc struck close to home, and I imagine that, even if one discounts the fairly overt "closeted trans person" metaphors his character is wrapped in, a lot of viewers will probably get bigger chills seeing themselves in him than they will from the sight of Mr. Melancholy. Brigette Lundy-Paine, meanwhile, plays Maddie as either the one person who understands what's going on or somebody who's let her devotion to an old TV show completely consume her and drive her to madness, and while I won't say what direction the film leans in, I will say that it was still a highly compelling performance that forced me to question everything I witnessed on screen.

And beyond just the events of the story, the biggest thing the film had me questioning was nostalgia. In many ways, this is a movie about our relationship with the past, especially the things we loved as children. In many ways, it can be ridiculous the attachment we have to childhood ephemera, holding up old shows, books, movies, and games as masterpieces of storytelling only to go back to them years later and realize that they do not hold up outside of our memories of better times. It fully gets the appeal of wanting to pretend otherwise, but it is also honest about the fact that a lot of stuff we adored as kids was pretty bad. There are several scenes in this movie that show us scenes from The Pink Opaque, and Schoenbrun faithfully recreated the low-budget, 4:3 standard-definition TV look of many of those shows -- warts and all, as Owen realizes later in the film when we see one of the cheesiest things I've ever seen passed off as children's entertainment. There are many ways to read the story here and how it plays out, but one thing at its core that is unmistakable is that nostalgia is a liar.

It doesn't hurt, either, that this is a beautiful film to watch. It may be about how the main reason we're nostalgic for the past is because they were simpler times when we had lower standards, but Schoenbrun still makes the late '90s and '00s look magical, even if it comes paired with a sort of bleakness in the atmosphere that never lets up. The constant feeling of overcast moodiness is not only visually gripping, it serves the film's themes remarkably well, creating the feeling that, even during the protagonists' wondrous childhoods, there's something lurking just out of frame that isn't right and is going to make their lives miserable. The monster design, much of it first seen on The Pink Opaque, was an odd mix of cheesy and genuinely creepy that not only served as a loving homage to the '90s kids'/teen horror shows that this movie was referencing, but still managed to work in the story, especially once shit gets real and those dumb-looking monsters suddenly become the scariest damn things your 12-year-old self ever watched. There aren't a lot of big jump scares here; rather, this is a movie powered by themes and performances, with Maddy's third-act speech in particular suddenly having me take another look at shows like Buffy and Angel that I grew up with in a completely different light. (Damn it, why did Lost have to be so mind-screwy and reality-fiddling that I could suddenly draw all manner of disquieting conclusions about it?)

The Bottom Line

I Saw the TV Glow isn't for everyone, but it's still a highly potent tale of nostalgia and growing up that wears its affection for its inspirations on its sleeve and has a very solid, engaging, and chilling core to it. Whether you're a child of the '90s and '00s, non-heteronormative, or simply in the mood for an offbeat teen horror movie, this is one to check out, and one I'll probably be thinking about for a long time.

[henriiiii-1001old]

Dream Sweet AU (inspired by miracle musical's "Dream Sweet In Sea Major")

smth ive mentioned before but im finally gonna ramble abt it bc why tf not <3

im just gonna copy paste from discord hold on

(quick warning for somewhat dissociation as well as implied character death)

its basically supposed to be like. dreamcore but like not as creepy as it usually is. at first at least. bunch of angels too LMAO

the au begins in vol 333 after thatcher makes it to the police station from the murray's. as he hears "amazing grace" get closer to his office, he turns behind him and sees a door in the wall where it shouldnt be. he decides to check it out.

the scene he's greeted with is beautiful. pink, orange, and yellow clouds filling a sky of the same color, blending with dark blues and purples like a beautiful sunset. he is greeted by ruth, who now has three halos above her head and a glorious pair of wings, fading from white to yellow. she welcomes thatcher and makes him notice his own wings. sure they're small which means he can't fly, but he's always had those.

right?

he ignores that because ruth quickly takes him into her arms and flies him across this dreamlike scenery. they eventually appear at a familiar house: the heathcliff residence. contrasting to its once disturbing, melancholy vibe, it is colored in a beautiful baby blue and looks brand spanking new almost! a family can be seen hanging out just near the front porch, one being a very familiar mark heathcliff. his wings are slightly smaller than ruth's and he has a small ring for a halo of his own! his wings fade from a light blue to a darker blue but not like. dark blue DFVGBHNJM. mark greets the pair and he thanks thatcher for "saving him" from the alternate outside his door.

thatcher immediately knew something was wrong just from that statement alone. he took the thanks anyway and just ignored it for the time being. he also did see sarah still playing in the cloudy grass of the front lawn, her wings yet to grow and her halo yet to form.

cesar had just come by to visit as well!!! his wings faded from a bright orange to a scarlet red, and he had a halo surrounding his neck and one around the back of his head. he also thanks thatcher and ruth for "saving him and his mother back at the house". thatcher once again takes this as a red flag and decides he'll ask ruth about it later.

ruth and thatcher soon leave to let the family relax more, thatcher asking ruth about the heathcliffs in particular. ruth completely ignores him and drops him into a fast-moving cloud, almost like a river. the scene turns more blue but it was still somehow peaceful. he ends up at another familiar residence: the murrays.

he sees lynn and jude- having their own pairs of wings and joint halos, acting as two rings connecting to each other to symbolize marriage- enjoying a romantic moment, seemingly not even divorced as jonah suddenly third wheels the couple. they all greet thatcher and also thank him for "saving them during a great time of need". the thing was, he got there after lynn had died, so how is she alive? he ignored his own questions for the time being as he saw adam come up from behind them and roughhousing jonah for a small amount of time.

he looks different.

he has a halo as well as small devil horns poking out from his messy blonde hair. his wings face from white to pure black. he had a tail that wagged behind him, and his eyes just look so wrong too… jonah was just a regular human too- no halos, no wings, no nothing. it just seemed so odd…

ruth had finally joined thatcher and said their goodbyes to the murrays and jonah before going to this world's version of the police station. ruth begins to cough harshly, and thatcher notices she's coughing up blood. her eyes begin to gloss over, and her features are beginning to decay. her neck seems to have markings on it too. he of course is panicking and asking her what the hell is going on.

she ends up telling thatcher that she's dead, and she wanted to be able to stop the fate that awaited thatcher in the tunnels below mandela county. she thought she'd be able to keep thatcher safe, have him live in a world where she was still there for him, where everyone could be happy.

she says her goodbyes and fades in thatcher's arms as he screams for her to come back, knowing she never will…

...

thatcher wakes up in the station, his head slumped on his desk. the music had been gone for some time now, but he quickly decided to see what awaited him down in the tunnels since ruth mentioned them.

you know what happens from there

...

i am kinda thinking that right before thatcher wakes up in catalyst, he somehow ends up back there but in dream form. everything's distorted, everyone's talking really weirdly, and even the ending is different. he seems himself with wings bigger than he could have imagined.

and he knew exactly who it was.

but before he could see his own face, he wakes up to bitch ass gabe going "YO WAKEY WAKEY ITS TIME FOR SCHOO"

he probably has also somewhat zoned out back to that place a few times too, but he could never stay for long. everything's blurry and fuzzy, sounds are muffled, and it all just feels wrong. it's better than looking at that thing in his closet though.

watching.

knowing what it did to ruth.

ok thats all the iscord rambles. i am also going to add dave as foreshadowing in his revisit to the weird world in the dream before catalyst bc heehoo funny angst :)c

i also have some concept art for this au!!!

hope you guys enjoy!!!!!

[finniestoncrane]

Hi!!! I know I sent in a bunch of requests already so let me know if it's too many!! I know R asked for no.9 already too so feel free to ignore this but, obviously I know who I like to see myself with but im super curious as to who you'd choose for me??

So request for no.9 from me as well ♡♡♡ like R ill say a bit about myself too!!

Hi!! I'm latina, an artist and dancer in a very jack-of-all-trades amateur kinda way. It's very hard dedicating myself to any one craft!! Whether it's stripping, doll-making or embroidery I'm always trying something new. I love reading as well, fantastique is my genre of choice ♡ I love to cook and bake (mostly bake). I love being active!! I try to go to the gym whenever I can, if I can find time for it I like rollerskating, beach volleyball and swimming are my favorites. I like samurai movies and anything with a sad story, it feels v good to cry. I like soft music mostly, things like oldies or shoegaze, lots of indie pop. I like a lot of traditional romantic gestures like getting roses and things like that. I'm a big girl and I like it, I really want a partner to not just accept me """"even though""""" I'm fat, I want them to love my body and show it love ^^♡ nnnnd I like feeling like I can take care of my partner!! Make their life a little easier, vocal reassurances go a long way with me.

Again I know we technically already asked but yeah ><

- E.F.

🎀 No.9: Ever Fallen In Love With Someone 🎀

tell me a little bit about yourself and i'll give you a rogue pairing a/n: lmao as if you didn't know AS IF YOU DIDN'T KNOW EFFY but i am about to drop all my reasons anyway 💚 1k milestone info! 🔞minors dni🔞 • kofi • tag: finnie1k

ok come on you knew this was coming, but get on board with it

i absolutely know that he deserves someone as soft and beautiful as you

he's got a bit of a frenetic mind, similar to you! he'll try his hand at everything, puzzles, detective work, engineering... murder traps, bomb... making, sniper... practice... ok maybe his hobbies are a bit darker than yours but my god would he love to watch you strip for him while he plans his next target or sit beside you, writing in his journals while you do some embroidery. it would make him feel so normal and domestic, which is nice because he's never really had a domestic life or a family

i've hc'd this for the longest time, but man is weak for baked goods and would find that to be the most sincere gesture of love. filling someone up with a homecooked meal, made perfectly, with flavours added that you know he'll enjoy? it's so personal and so loving

he's not really a sporty guy, but he'd be more than happy to chum you to the gym, even if he's just watching you swimming, or supporting you in a game of volleyball. and if you get him in the right mood, he'd find something so freeing about night swimming at the beach, maybe even skinnydipping...

he loves wallowing in sorrow and melancholy, it's the emotion he's most used to, so a sad movie that lets him cry in a controlled way, while he snuggles up to someone for comfort, would be a really good way for him to healthily express those feelings

when it comes to bodies, he has a mommy!kink and needs someone soft and warm and squishy to hold on to, and it might border on fetishisation sometimes, though he wouldn't ever mean it to, it's just that he'd go hard on the body worship when the time came to it and he'd be so grateful to have yours next to him

romantic gestures are his forte. albeit slightly creepy, which isn't the intention, it's just that he's very intense in his love and adoration. he'll bombard you with love, like love bombing but not in a manipulative way, he just doesn't know how to stop telling the person he loves how much he loves them because he's desperate not to lose that kind of connection again

so a slow dance to some old music while you two try and cook something together, or kissing your hand when he leaves you in the morning or evening, those are all traits he'd love to have appreciated by someone