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queer-ragnelle · 1 month

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Why do you hate the Once and Future Knight? I decided not to pick up the book because of personal preference but I’d love to hear your rant on it

Hi anon!

I’m assuming you mean The Once and Future King by TH White?

There’s nothing I could say that hasn’t already been said before I’m sure. But I didn’t read the series until I had already read many other Arthurian tales and I really don’t understand the love the series gets. The negatives don’t outweigh the positives, and worse, the lasting impact of TH White’s characterization choices on subsequent retellings is a stain on the literary tradition that set us back too far to comprehend. Putting my rant below a cut because I went off and the subject matter is disgusting.

First and foremost, the bigotry is astounding. The racism, the misogyny, the ableism and every other prejudice and cruelty you can think of are staggering in their variety and magnitude. It’s vile. It’s inexcusable. I don’t read modern Arthurian retellings to be bombarded with that in every single chapter. TOAFK is not “a product of its time.” It’s a product of a deeply unhappy and hateful man. Plenty of earlier writing is vastly kinder to Palomides and Guinevere and Morgause and Mordred and Lancelot or any other character unlucky enough to be depicted by TH White. Literally the Medieval source material is more nuanced than that. Morgause get behind me.

Secondly, the anachronism is an annoying stylistic choice at best and yet another tool for bigotry at worst. Why are Mordred and Agravaine likened to Nazis? Like seriously what the hell? It’s not enough for them to be antagonists, the text has to invoke the Holocaust? It’s so extreme it rips the reader right out of the story and calls to mind the most horrific parts of history for no narrative benefit whatsoever. Baffling and bad.

Thirdly, the prose just kinda sucks. It’s rambling and TH White will pause the narrative to stand on a soap box to talk at the reader about his views. He’s anti-war. Fine. But of all characters to use as a mouthpiece—King Arthur? The warlord King Arthur? Make it make sense.

Fourth, most tragically of all, so much of what TH White did in his series is reflected in stories told to this day. Every other retelling has a cover quote comparing it to TOAFK. (It’s supposed to be a compliment!) To put it in perspective…

You ever read a retelling with evil neglectful parent and rapist Morgause/Morgan? TH White’s fault.

How about added incest between one of the Orkney bros and their mother (which sometimes results in someone other than Gaheris killing her, say, Agravaine or Mordred)? Thanks, TH White, that’s just what Arthurian Legend was missing, more incest.

Ever see disabled, crippled, bad seed Mordred? TH White started that trend.

What about Guinevere assaulting Lancelot when she learns about Elaine getting him drunk and raping him? TH White really said “Lol what if Guinevere hits Lancelot and spits in his face while he’s crying?”

And the racism! TH White walked so Thomas Berger could run (derogatory). Discussions of race are so intense and so frequent and so random like one minute the narrator has paused the plot to talk about how war is bad and now it’s slandering Native Americans? Brother this is Medieval England what is even happening right now? Oh, look, another N bomb. The antisemitism! Weren’t you just comparing Mordred to Hitler? What do you mean the Orcadian/Scottish characters are evil because of *checks notes* “the incalculable miasma which is the leading feature of the Gaelic brain?” [Queen of Air and Darkness chapter 5] Thanks TH White for stripping Lot, Morgause, Gawain, Agravaine, Gaheris, Gareth, and Mordred of all nuance, a condition from which they have, literally, never recovered. Of course there are some retellings since that write one or two of them with a crumb of nuance, but they’ll never be like they were in the Vulgate. Not all at the same time. I feel sick.

It goes on and on. I have to stop listing examples or I’ll get pissed off. But frankly, more people should be pissed off about it! I’m tired of seeing five star reviews on storygraph and goodreads accompanied by a review excusing the most bigoted garbage I have ever read in a children’s book. It’s vile and everyone should feel bad about defending it. It’s inexcusable. This wasn’t a case of good-intentioned inclusion with dated language, this was an author going out of his way to be hateful. Period.

Big names in the fantasy book community like Daniel Greene should not be awarding five stars and leaving an uncritical review.

Far too many readers acknowledge the racism and then rate it five stars anyway. Go to Hell, Spencer.

Here’s some from storygraph with, of course, praise for Marion Zimmer-Bradley’s pedophilic power fantasy Mists of Avalon, another piece of hot festering sludge everyone should stop talking about. Kill the legacy already. The real life victims have suffered enough.

There also seems to be a trend in these reviews that excuse the texts bigotry by referring to how “old” it is. Which is crazy to me for many reasons. TOAFK in its final form was published in 1958. That wasn’t that long ago. Also racism has always been racism, misogyny has always been misogyny, ableism has ways been ableism. Plenty of authors came before this and really make TH White look like a clown.

Let’s promote them. In reverse!

John Steinbeck wrote The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights in 1956 (published posthumously in the 70s, don’t go by that date). His depictions of Morgan and Guinevere are nuanced and fascinating, not to mention some original characters including an old granny who teaches Owain to be a warrior! This book also has a morally gray sun-powered Gawain without insulting his heritage, an emotional and thought-provoking Lancelot without marking his sin with a facial deformity, and a really sweet Marhalt who doesn’t often get much spotlight!

John Erskine wrote Restoring Palamede in 1932. He does exactly what the cover says, and writes a story about the Muslim knight Palomides beginning in his own country, living with his parents whom are both named, and follows him as he learns the ways of the world and finds an ally in his friend Brangaine! Tristan and Isolde are compelling here and while Tristan can still be a jerk to Palomides, it’s not the mask-off bigotry we’ve seen…elsewhere.

Howard Pyle wrote one, two, three, four books between 1903-1910. Two thumbs up from me. No notes. He drank his respect women juice, drew them with loving care, named so many previously unknown, and gave them voices. He was kind in his portrayal to Palomides and even some other knights of color from India. Morgause survives the narrative! We love to see it!!!

Henry Newbolt wrote Mordred: A Tragedy in 1895. A fascinating examination of family ties, all five Orkney brothers here AND their wives Lyonors, Lynette, and Laurel! (Minus Ragnelle bc life is unfair.) Guinevere and Lancelot are tragic and heart wrenching. Arthur struggles against his son Mordred and their destiny in a way that doesn’t outright demonize either side. It will rewire your brain.

Richard Hovey wrote his poetry between 1891-1900. A complex and interesting Guinevere and Elaine who are not enemies, Lancelot close with Galehaut during the war, destroyed by his torn loyalties between Arthur and Guinevere, Gawain who loves his friend Lancelot with all his heart, and so much more without tearing anyone down!

Oscar Fay Adams wrote his poetry between 1886-1906. Here we get a wide variety of character focus, with title-featured names from King Lot to Dagonet to Lamorak to Lionel. Each one is more fascinating and nuanced and fresh than the last, from a tour of Lot’s castle and meeting each inhabitant to Lamorak on Grail Quest learning to forgive himself from “sweet” Sagramore.

William Morris wrote his poetry between 1856-1910. All of it is on the Camelot Project but I also have this scanned book. Here we delve into Guinevere’s trial as she calls out those who have wronged her, lonely Galahad on Grail Quest relating to his father Lancelot and praising Palomides in his steadfast hunt of the Questing Beast, there’s even a poem named for Palomides himself!!!

Anonymous wrote Moriaen in the 13th century. It follows Aglovale’s illegitimate son Moriaen, who is of African descent. As he travels around Britain looking for his father, Moriaen meets many people who are afraid of his dark skin. BUT! All the Knights of the Round Table leap to his defense, even threatening townsfolk who try to demonize Moriaen for the way he looks and refuse him service. It is, essentially, an anti-racism story from the Medieval era. Not to mention healer Gawain’s care and attention given to the sick and disabled. That’s not even the moral/focus of the story so much as Moriaen’s journey, but it’s there and worth mentioning.

So here we are with a whole list of stuff to read that predates TOAFK and surpasses it. The last one is only sort of a joke. But it’s there to make a point about how inexcusable TH White’s racism really is. If Anonymous could give a black knight like Moriaen the narrative respect he’s entitled to for existing as a representation of real human beings that look like him, then TH White was capable of it too. Progress is not linear. This is not to say Medieval times were “better” than society today. But to write off any problematic story of the recent past as “a product of its time” as an excuse to make oneself feel better about liking it, well, I don’t know what to say. Maybe reflect on that. And while that marinates, read something else.

#arthuriana #arthurian legend #arthurian mythology #arthurian literature #ask #anonymous

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undreaming-fanfiction · 1 year

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Sorry for being gone for so long, I haven't been feeling great both physically and mentally, so that was awesome...anyway:

Look, Eddie wasn't that picky when it came to companions. He wasn't much of a catch either - as a bard, it was already expected of him to cause chaos, but with his choice of songs, the result was less of a bardic inspiration and more of a "turn everyone against each other" or "make everyone extremely horny". Which...actually worked when they needed to avoid combat, but by ancient gods, he didn't need to see that group of orcs going at it.

Anyways. Eddie wasn't picky, but Steven Harrington was becoming a bit too much for him.

First: he was a rich kid. Eddie was a proud trash raised in a cottage that barely held together and he had no patience for people who never washed their own laundry (not that Eddie did, well, not too often, but still).

Second: he was effortlessly handsome. Annoyingly handsome. Bad hair day? Steven fucking Harrington didn't know those. His moles were placed in perfect places. Eddie had nearly invisible freckles and his only moles were - embarrassingly enough - near his groin and if you squinted hard enough, looked like a daisy petal. So uncool. But uncool was a word Steven Harrington apparently lacked in his vocabulary.

And third...this. Just...all of this.

Eddie didn't want to think of himself as a prejudiced person, he really didn't. But there were two things he didn't like in this world: lawyers and necromancers.

And Steven somehow managed to blend both of those into a horrible combination that just. Fucking. Worked.

Eddie was strumming on his lute and watched Steven open a bag full of old bones, yet another unlucky trader, adventurer or whoever had died in the woods before them. He placed them carefully on the ground, arranging them - admirable knowledge of anatomy, Eddie would give him that - and muttered an incantation. Green light, weird whooshing, some sparkles, yadda yadda and the skeleton reassembled itself. It sat in front of Steven and they started working in hushed tones over a pre-prepared contract. Eddie could only make out phrases as "a work opportunity," "being dead must be boring," "do you have any family that could use a percentage of the spoils from this quest" and the best of all, "no pressure, if you'd rather be left alone, just say the word." From what Eddie had seen in last few weeks, very few of them did say the word, and if they did, Steven would honor his word and bury their remains where they desired.

It was a really decent thing to do and Eddie hated himself for even admitting it.

One discussion about details ("do you want to be only reassembled when needed or would you like to accompany us the whole time?") and a bony signature later, Steven carefully stuffed the newest party helper (Arthur, Steven made sure to remember all of their names, another fucking decent thing!) in the bag and stretched himself next to the fire.

Eddie couldn't help but glare. That fucking guy. Built like a fighter from carrying half of a cemetery on his back, pretty, rich and for some reason also awfully nice and moral. Eddie wanted to barf.

"You know," smiled Steven and Eddie's traitorous stomach did a triple flip with a botched landing, "I love seeing you like this. Calm. Strumming those slow melodies. You look really pretty, too." He laughed to himself and turned onto his back, staring at the stars. "Well, you look really pretty all the time, especially when you're trying not to be bitchy, but these times you look the prettiest."

Eddie almost dropped the lute. Almost swallowed his own tongue as well. "Are you trying to kill me, Harrington?" he sputtered. "Don't you have enough to resurrect?"

Steven just shook his head, smirking. "That's a thought. But no. Breach of ethics - I'm pretty sure killing someone to resurrect them wouldn't make them want to join me. Plus, I was thinking less of a "fight for me" and more like "fuck me, possibly date me" - interested?"

Eddie stared at him with large eyes, moving his lips without any sound. "Uh...well, sounds good to me," he said, not very intelligently, but his brain was chanting kiss those moles pull that hair shut him up kiss him like right now maybe. "Do you...have a contract for that?"

Grinning, Steven - no, Steve, he asked to be called that several times and maybe this was the right time to give in to his wish - pulled Eddie to the ground with him. "For you? I'm sure I can draft something."

When Gareth, Robin and Chrissy arrived back from their supply run the next morning, they found Eddie and Steve curled against each other, fully clothed but very obviously satisfied. Robin just snickered and whispered to Steve that she wanted details, all the dirty, sticky and scandalous details, but Gareth just rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you disliked the guy when you said "Fuck him," he nudged Eddie as he unpacked healing potions.

Eddie closed his eyes and hummed a new melody that came to him with Steve's touches and gentle words. "It was open for interpretation," he laughed and reached for his lute.

#steddie #steddie au #steddie drabble #steve harrington #eddie munson #fantasy au #fantasy drabble #chrissy cunningham #gareth emerson #robin buckley #stranger things #stranger things drabble #not proofread we die like my will to exist

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absentcigarettes · 8 months

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Whiskey Through Anger

Relationship: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith

Word Count: 6751

Summary: Arthur near pitied the women who'd slept with Charles. He confused pity for envy. charles is mad bcs of the poachers who killed the bison, Arthur cheers him up by lending him his ass

Note: was my first time writing smut so it may be cringe. also it's completely un-beta'd so it might have mistakes

read on ao3

I need a drink.

That was the first thing Charles had thought after leaving the hunter bastards' camp. It was likely the only thing that would take his mind off of the merciless cruelty imposed upon those poor bison. It would also distract him from the unneglectable urge within him to hunt down the man who'd paid those poachers himself. That- and a quick fuck. Preferably with one of the saloon girls. The prostitutes would work, but most of them weren't as appealing to Charles; most looking for rich men rather than a good time. And it did well for Charles's ego whenever he successfully wooed the women into sleeping with him. On the way to Valentine, he'd suddenly remembered Taima's need to be brushed and fed. So with the most miniscule amount of sense left in his mind that had thankfully not been overtaken by the rumbling rage travelling through his veins, he turned back and rode towards camp.

He leaned against a tree, beside the horse's hitching posts, awaiting Taima's return from the lakeside. Earlier, he'd decided to settle for a quick shave. If he was gonna fuck, may as well be presentable. He shaved frequently but not daily; he wasn't into the scraggly, unkempt beards most men in the gang had. Except Arthur. That man could make anything Charles found revolting to be absolutely alluring.

Taima had returned, as he knew she would. "Here, girl.." He reached his hand out, to which she happily nestled her head in the palm of his hand. He felt his fury dissipate.

Until Micah came.

"Darkie!" The rough shrill of his voice called, "Where's your boyfriend?" Boyfriend. A nickname begun by Dutch to tease Arthur as he'd been seen frequently hanging around Charles more often. It ain't helped that they'd barely ever spoken up 'til Colter and that Charles rarely hung out with people. At best, he drank with Javier and John. Any other interaction with the gang members weren't personal. He didn't mind the nickname. But Arthur sure did, and that stung somehow.

"Excuse me?" His fury returned.

Micah leaned nearer, "You deaf, redskin?" He snarled, shoving him back. Charles could smell the nauseating toxins released from his mouth; Micah's breath was worse than a pile of rotting corpses.

Charles shoved Micah back. Harder. Micah fell back, knocking over the wooden crates behind him, as well as everything on them. The sound of the gang's belongings clattering on the dirt caused heads to turn in their direction. With the tip of his boot, he'd kicked Micah hard in the stomach, "Fuck." Another kick, "You." One final blow.

He considered spitting on him, but decided against it. He wouldn't resort to such feeble means to take his anger out.

"Let's go, girl," He said to Taima, jumping on his horse, who neighed in agreement before galloping away.

"Gimme a whiskey." He'd barged into the saloon and sat at the counter. The bartender was often friendly with Charles; despite the short time they'd been there, Charles had frequented going there to drink with Javier and at times, uninvited imbeciles such as Bill and when really unlucky- Uncle. Instead of striking up a conversation, as Charles usually would to pass the time, he stared at the bartender with dark eyes, expectantly awaiting his drink. It was evident that he was in a sour mood, so a glass was poured and served swiftly and without a word.

He took the sip, taking pleasure in how the burn in his throat so effectively distracted him from the seething wrath consuming him. Stirring the clear bronze liquid with his finger, he couldn't help but remember how he'd confronted those poachers. The anger that had overtaken him in that moment. The loud blast of the gunshot he'd heard after subconsciously shooting a dent in the man's face. He didn't regret it.

Suddenly, he remembered the cowardly pleas of the second poacher. How much he took pleasure in watching the man squirm. And suddenly- Arthur stepped in.

Arthur.

Oh, how his heart softened for that man.

He'd regretted yelling at him for letting the pathetic bastard go. He was always much more of a better man than Charles could ever be. Through his blind hatred, he couldn't think right, but there Arthur was. Returning to him his sight and helping him retrieve his mind- though, simultaneously overtaking his heart. After having first laid eyes on him back in Blackwater, the snarky cowboy with wits as well as beauty- he could never stop looking at him. For him. Whenever he'd leave Charles's line of sight, his eyes would instinctually begin to search for the man once more. He remembered wandering around the area for no particular reason but to catch a glimpse of him. At the time, he wasn't the kind to drink often, but whenever he was asked to tag along and told that Arthur would follow, he accepted immediately.

Pathetic. He thought. How delusional.

The man would never love him. He knew this. If by some miracle Arthur Morgan, the Van der Linde gang's best shot and toughest member, somehow held interest for the male sex, there was absolutely no way in hell he'd choose Charles.

It was enough for him that he could be considered a friend to Arthur. He was satisfied.

His solution to escape from his anger led him to wallowing in self-pitiful sorrow. Far worse than anger.

When the whiskey reduced to drops, he requested a second glass. Feeling his temper cooling, he sighed. Maybe time for that fuck.

A rough voice came, one he'd recognise anywhere: "I knew I'd find you here!" A slap on the back.

"Arthur." He near smiled.

The cowboy took a seat beside him and requested a beer. Charles took a sip, placing the glass down with a thud, "What are you doing here?"

His drink was served and Arthur took a sip. A smile played on his lips, "Heard a friend of mine were here. Unfortunately, it was you."

Though he knew Arthur joked often, he couldn't help the thought that lingered telling him it wasn't a joke. "Come on. Really."

"Well," Another sip, "I'd been searchin' for you."

"Hm?" He felt his cheeks heat up.

"Yeah, after I'd looted them bastards' camp, I rode back home. Thought you'd be there but all I'd seen were a very mad Micah." Arthur grinned, knowing damn well who caused Micah's well-deserved fury, "Second place I'd thought you'd be was here. Drownin' your anger in whiskey."

"You know me well." Charles smiled, taking a sip of whiskey.

"'Course i do."

Arthur accompanied him throughout the evening, 'til the sun had set and the customers increased. He provided a very welcome distraction for Charles from his foul mind and Charles was grateful.

The words they spoke became slurred and he couldn't help but notice how Arthur's lips turned more pink and how visible the flush on his cheeks were. They were both drunk. He knew that.

He hadn't drunken enough to puke his guts out or haze his vision 'til all he saw were distorting waves. But he was drunk enough for his lust to take over. Something that always happened when he drank and it certainly didn't help that right beside him was the man he oh so desperately craved for. They sat close. Too close. Charles could smell the wooden scent of his soap as well as the smell of cigarette smoke that lingered within his clothes. The whiff of whiskey on his breath, as he'd purchased a bottle for both him and Charles.

It didn't help the erection growing in his pants that their knees kept touching. And it certainly didn't help that Arthur was one touchy fella. Every few minutes a hand was placed on his thigh, shoulder or knee. It lingered a few seconds longer than natural that Charles nearly would've thought it was intentional if he didn't know any better.

When intoxicated he spoke his mind. It took a mighty amount of effort with the little composure he had left to prevent himself from yelling out his desire to fuck his closest friend. Instead he said, "I need a fuck."

Arthur stopped, "Don't wanna drink no more?"

"Mm.. not really."

"Really. Not enjoying my company?" He teased. God, of course he was.

"I always enjoy your company, Arthur," He said, slurring slightly. "But unless I can fuck you, I don't think I can sit here much longer. I'm still mad about this afternoon. Can't be sittin' here anymore- shit- I'd probably fuck you if I did." Fuck. Why would he say that. Why did he say that. Fuck fuck fuck.

The words Charles had uttered sent a spark down the pit of Arthur's stomach. Surely he didn't mean it like that. He was drunk. But then- so was Arthur. So he swallowed, "I wouldn't mind." The words come out before Arthur can stop them.

That had to be the alcohol talking, right? There would be no way in hell, that Arthur Morgan would ever say such a thing. Even if Charles was lucky enough to be blessed with the chance of even touching Arthur's bare torso- he wouldn't even dare to in fear of causing Arthur even the slightest bit of discomfort.

But.. Then again, he may never get such an opportunity again. Was Arthur bluffing? Or was it the whiskey. God, he couldn't think straight.

Finally he spoke, "What.." A pause, "What do you mean?"

He didn't dare look at Arthur.

Despite the bustle and laughter of the drunkards behind them and the sound of drinks being poured into glasses continuously, all that surrounded them was the awkward noise of silence. He looked at Arthur, surprised to find a prominent flush painted upon his cheeks, intentionally avoiding Charles's gaze, "I-" He cleared his throat, "A..As long as it'll help you."

Silence.

"Help me?"

A nod.

"You know what that means, Arthur?"

He swallowed. Another nod.

They sat in silence for a bit before Charles spoke, "Okay."

"..." Arthur chugged down his whiskey, "Okay."

Suddenly they were upstairs. In a room they'd rented, with Charles's large frame pressed up against Arthur's, pinning him against the door. With their mouths pressed together, moving messily in terrible synergy. Wet and sloppy as saliva ran down their chins. Their hands running across eachothers' bodice in desperation, eager for the most meager amount of contact. Charles's hands running down Arthur's sides and Arthur intertwining his own hands into Charles's hair, tangling the once straight strands and tugging at the scalp.

Immediately after renting a room they'd headed upstair, uncaring of the eyes that may have followed them nor the whispers that could've trailed behind. Once in said room, the door slammed and Arthur was shoved up against the door, Charles's lips crashing into his with drunken desire. Catching Arthur by surprise, taken aback by his aggressive passion. He didn't know what to do except melt into the sensation and oh. Oh, how good it felt. The way Charles kissed him was- he'd never been kissed like that before. Charles kissed him with hunger. With need. As if he were a man who'd starved for so very long and it was only Arthur who could satiate that hunger.

Charles placed a knee in between Arthur's thigh causing the man to break the kiss, eliciting a moan from him, "F-Fuc...k," He whispered. God, the sound was heaven. He couldn't believe this moment was real. That Arthur Morgan himself was so near. Pressed up against him in such a vulnerable position. He connected their lips once more, pushing his tongue into the man's open mouth causing Arthur to groan into the kiss. God, he was perfect.

Charles broke the kiss and stared at Arthur. His lips reddened and lustrous, slightly parted as Arthur panted heavily. Beautiful.

Leaning in once more, Charles pressed his lips upon his jaw. Trailing his jawline with kisses a small nips, down to his neck and collarbone. Arthur whimpered from receiving Charles's not so gentle bites and sucks. He wanted more.

"Arthur.." He hummed, leaving marks upon his collarbone.

"Y-yeah?"

"You're doing this to help me.. right?" He sucked another mark onto his terribly sunkissed skin.

He swallowed, "Y..es.

"Good.." He whispered, his voice low and sweet, dripping of luscious, sweetened syrup, it made Arthur feel something he hadn't felt before and he absolutely loved it. "Get on your knees."

"What?"

Charles caught a hint of doubt hidden among his words. He kissed his jaw, "You sure about this.. right?" He whispered, "You can still back out.." It was the last sober part of himself that spoke. He knew once they'd gone farther he would've been far too intoxicated by Arthur to stop.

"Yes." Arthur whispered, low and breathy.

"Good.. On your knees, Arthur." Arthur did as told.

He ran a hand through Arthur's hair in admiration, taking in every bit of the man. His eyes peering up to stare at Charles, his cheeks so very flushed and his lips. God. His lips. "Good boy.." He spoke. The praise sent a terribly satisfying warmth down the pit of Arthur's stomach.

Charles could feel his erection hardening at the sight of the man. Arthur watched as the man undid his belt, unbuttoning his pants, his eyes widening when they caught sight of the beast of Charles's cock. The length was slightly over average, nothing special but fuck, the girth. He near pitied the women who'd slept with Charles. He confused pity for envy.

He flushed. Beginning to understand what Charles wanted. "Charles.."

"Yes, Arthur?" Charles traced his jaw, tilting his head further upwards.

"I.. I ain't ever done this before.."

A force tugged upon Charles's lips. He smiled, "Don't worry, I'll guide you.."

A nod from Arthur.

"Use your mouth, love. Hands too. Just lick it, suck it.. yeah.. like that." Love. He'd never called him that before.

Arthur placed a hand at the base of the cock. Fuck, it was huge. He could barely wrap his hand around it. He swirled his tongue around the tip, flicking at it once in a while, simultaneously pumping at the base. He mouthed the sides of the prick before enclosing his lips around the head of his cock. A groan escaped Charles's lips, encouraging Arthur to continue. He tried hard to remember how women he'd been with in his past did it to him but it was so long ago he'd forgotten.

Pushing his head down further he felt the tip of the cock hit the back of his throat, he fought hard not to gag, pushing the cock down his throat 'till his nose was buried in the man's pubes.

"God, you're so beautiful.." Charles whispered. Arthur felt his own erection growing as he pulled his head back and forth, gagging on his cock each time. It felt so good. He never would've thought he could get off on choking on another man's cock but Charles made it feel so good. The hand tangled in his hair began to grip harder, taking control of Arthur's motions as it forced Arthur's head up and and down. The cock hitting the back of his throat repeatedly made him gag. Arthur choked. Tried to pull back but Charles wouldn't let him, thrusting into his mouth as if he was nothing but a hole to relieve himself in.

Fuck, the thought made him harder.

His eyes rolled back as he choked on the cock, allowing Charles to take complete control as he relished in the his groans. "Fuck, fuck.. fuck, You're so good Arthur, so good for me. I'm gonna cum Arthur. Stay put for me, sweet thing.." Charles pushed his head down hard on his cock, not releasing the vigorous grip he had on Arthur. The man moaned, sending vibrations across his cock as he felt the hot, sticky liquid spill down his throat. Finally Charles let go, Arthur pulling back, panting hard as Charles's spend dripped down his chin. His lips reddened from the friction and his tongue stuck out with drool hanging off of it. His eyes glassy and face flushed. The sight was obscene. It nearly made Charles hard again.

"Arthur.." Charles sighed, his heart near implosion from the bliss of this moment. He pulled him up, pressing their lips together as they moved messily in poor attempts of synchronised rhythm. Through sloppily sensuous movements, Arthur panting in-between each slow motion. They stumbled towards the bed, Charles pushing Arthur not so gently down on the thin, old mattress. Finally he pulled away. Arthur panted, "D.. Did I do well?" His voice rasped.

God.. How adorable, "Yes, Arthur," He smiled, pressing a kiss upon his nose, "You were so good Arthur.. So good for me.."

The words unleashed a whine from Arthur, his cock pressing so hard against the fabric of his pants he feared the cloth would tear. Suddenly a palm rubbed at his groin. The moan Arthur let out was more than shameful. He covered his mouth with both hands, embarrassed of the volume of the sound.

"Don't cover your mouth," Charles whispered, palming harder between his thighs, "C'mon.. you made me feel so good, Arthur.. Tell me what I can do for you."

Arthur flushed, he didn't expect to receive any pleasure from this- though, in truth being this intimate with Charles was already far more pleasuring than anything he could ever have in his sad life. But he'd expected to help Charles release stress, doing anything Charles wanted, and once done he'd shamefully jerk off in silence with the thought of Charles's body above his (however far they'd go,) to help him relieve himself.

"I-It's fine Charles. I'm helpin' you get off, you don't gotta worry 'bout me."

"Yeah, but what if getting you off is what gets me off?" He spoke, pressing kisses across his clothed thighs.

"Then.. go ahead."

"Take off your clothes, sweetheart." Fuck, these pet names were getting out of hand. Arthur was enjoying them far too much.

He did as Charles said. With the cold air hitting his freckled skin, he couldn't help but feel so ashamed. Of his body and how turned off Charles might be. He felt too exposed. Charles just stared at him, his eyes never leaving, his gaze never faltering. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Did he just fuck it up? Was Charles so disgusted by his body he couldn't even utter a measly syllable out of his soft, soft lips? Fuck. Of course. He's such an ugly fuckin' bastard, no wonder-

"You're beautiful, Arthur."

"Huh?" He must've misheard him.

"God, Arthur.." He spoke as if breathless, "You're so perfect." He kissed him. Slow and steady, as if trying to take in all of Arthur. As if this moment was going to end if he didnt do so. God, he hoped it'd never end. "You're so beautiful." He whispered, leaving a trail of kisses down to his throbbing, weeping cock as he whispered bits of praise and words of affections. Arthur nearly believed it.

"Have you ever done before, Arthur?" He spoke lowly against his unclothed thighs, sending scalding reverberations across his lightly haired skin.

"Not.. Not with a man, no." He slurred, the effects of the whiskey still weighing heavily upon him, stirring his mind into a hazed blur as it rushed all the blood from there to his cock.

"You do this frequently, then? With women?"

"No, not- not in a long while now."

Arthur gazed blearily at the man whose face had been positioned between his thighs, aware of how vulnerable this position was for himself- as well as how it was so terribly tantalising.

"You," He broke the silence, "You done this before? With men?"

"Yeah. Not too often but it isn't anything too rare."

"I ain't thought you were the kind."

"What kind?"

"Y'know, the-"

"Cocksucking kind?"

Arthur flushed at his bluntness, "Well.. Yeah."

"I don't mind sucking cock. Don't mind fucking anyone with one too. As long as the holes attached to a warm body, I don't mind."

"So I'm just another warm body to you?" Arthur teased, though his heart near cracked open at the thought.

You're so much more than that, Arthur. Charles thought to himself. And his drunk self said exactly that as he pressed more kisses along his jawline, Arthur flushing at the words.

"So- how does this work? Sex with two men."

"One of 'em takes it up the ass."

Arthur's eyes went so wide, Charles feared it'd remain that way.

"And you.." Arthur muttered, "You took it up the ass before?" He asked in hopes of there being a chance he wouldn't have to take Charles's horse cock up his ass.

"Never. The other guys always just happened to want me to do them."

"Oh.." He didn't really like thinking of Charles and other men. Other people.

He opened his mouth to speak before Charles did so, "You don't have to take it up the ass. You already made me feel good, I just want to do the same, Arthur."

In truth he did want to take Arthur in the ass. He wanted to fuck the man so hard he begged for more. He wanted to fuck him into the bed. Hard enough that the rusted springs of the lumpy mattress no longer worked. He wanted the man to forget his own name and for the only thing left, engraved in his mind would be how good Charles made him feel. Oh, how he wanted to ruin the man.

The last sober part of himself had fought every other terribly, drunkenly lusted part of his body saying those few words. Though in truth he did want to pleasure Arthur. It was just that he wanted to fuck him while doing so.

"Will it hurt?" Arthur's raspy voice came.

"What?"

"If I.. took it.. there. Would it hurt?"

"Not if I do it right."

"Okay."

"Okay..?"

"Lord, Charles- Are y'gon'make me say it?"

A smile drew upon his lips, "I wasn't. But now I am."

"You're a bastard, Mr. Smith."

"Bold choice of words for the man who holds your precious orgasm in the palm of his hand."

"You make it sound like a threat. I don't need you to get me off." He spat.

"Really.." Charles leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of Arthur's ear, "You really think I can't just tie you up? Leave you here, splayed out on the bed for whoever comes next. Your lassos right on the ground, at my disposal." The words sent all the blood to his cock, it cried for release as it leaked precum upon Arthur's belly. Charles reached a hand down, rubbing a calloused thumb over the head of the cock, "You like that, Arthur? If I tied you up with your own lasso. While your cock's begging to be touched. Weeping for release. You like that? If I left you here for someone else to find. Someone else to fuck." Charles was bluffing, anyone else who tried to fuck Arthur- let alone touch him wouldn't still be alive to try anything.

"Christ, Charles." He breathed. Each word had sent a shiver that travelled down to his cock, "I want you to fuck me."

"Really. Where are your manners?"

"Please." He gritted out, "Please fuck me, Charles."

"So sweet, aren't you, Arthur?"

Arthur merely rolled his eyes in response.

Charles travelled downwards. Trailing kisses down his neck. Down his torso and up to his ass. Purposefully avoiding the man's terribly hardened cock as he whined for friction. He pressed kisses around the man's puckered hole, earning sweet, sweet moans that'd leaked out of the man's sweet, sweet lips.

Suddenly, his tongue begun to stretch the man's tight ring of muscle, earning a sharp gasp from Arthur. He was invading uncharted territory, savouring the sounds Arthur made and how beautifully his body reacted each time his tongue moved around within him.

Finally he'd pulled away, earning a loud whine from the man writhing beneath him. Grabbing the back of his knees, spreading them further open, he spat on his hole, making a mess as he coated the spit around the hole with his fingers. A finger doused in spit pressed up against his hole, "I'm putting a finger in, Arthur."

Arthur nodded before feeling something stretch him out. The burning sensation was not enough for the man to tell him to stop. It didn't hurt, but it sure as hell hadn't felt good. Why any man would willingly want this was completely unfathomable. But then- if the man was doing it with Charles Smith, he wouldn't mind.

"Does it hurt?" He whispered, pushing the digit in and out of the hole in slow, unhurried motions, taking care not to hurt the man.

Arthur hated being treated so- kindly. So properly taken care of, as if he were something fragile- something worthy of care. It made him feel so pathetic. "No. Put another finger in."

Charles merely hummed in response, slipping out the digit before swiftly pushing two fingers deep within him. Thrusting inwards and out, he kept wondering whether the men who enjoyed taking it up the ass were delusional. No way in hell could this have felt good-

Oh. Oh.

This was good.

"A-Ah.. More- there, Charles." He whined, it felt too good for him to be ashamed of the near ludicrous sounds he let out. Curling his thick fingers upwards, Charles massaged the man's sweet spot, splitting both fingers apart, scissoring him from within as he stretched him apart.

Briskly, he pulled out both fingers and pushed them back in, along with an additional digit as he spread them all out, stretching him out so well the uncomfortably pleasurable burn had morphed into a terribly intensified pleasure. He wasn't aware of the sounds he'd made, all he could focus on was how much Charles's perfect fingers stretched him out.

It wasn't enough. He wanted more.

"Fuck me Charles. P-Please, I need you."

"So polite now, Arthur.." He could hear the smile in Charles's tone as he felt him press more kisses around his collarbone.

"Please, Charles.."

"Since you asked so nicely."

He pulled his fingers out, soaked and wet with his own fluids. Swiftly, he pulled off his shirt and spat on his own cock, aligning its length in-between Arthur's flawlessly imperfect ass cheeks. It rubbed against his hole, he couldn't wait anymore- he felt so empty. So- So-

Full.

Fuck..

Charles had pushed all the way in, from the head to base, he took it all in. He forgot the girth of the man's cock, how thick and heavy it'd laid on his tongue earlier. Fuck. It stretched him out. His cock rubbed at the walls of his ass, just grazing upon his prostate. "Fuck, you're tight.." Charles groaned, placing a hand under his knee, rubbing circles upon the skin with the pad of his thumb in attempts of comfort, "Relax, love.. Just tell me to stop and I will." Arthur nodded.

Despite feeling Arthur relax around his cock, the warmth enveloping him still felt as if it was clenching around him. Threatening him to stay, restraining him from pulling out.

"I'm going to move now, Arthur." Another nod.

Slowly, he pulled out and slowly, he pushed in. Repeating these motions 'till he felt the man completely relax around him. He picked up the pace, thrusting in faster. Harder. Arthur began to whine loudly. Too loud.

Charles moved his legs which had previously wrapped loosely around his hips, upwards. His shoulders just beneath Arthur's knees. The position allowed Charles to hit deeper within him. Every brutal thrust inwards inflicted such terrible abuse upon Arthur's bruised prostate. Arthur loved every bit of it.

Pushing Arthur's knees against his chest, near folding him half, he whispered to the man, "Quiet down, Arthur. We can't have people hearing your sweet noises, now can we?"

Arthur merely babbled incoherent syllables before clamping his hands over his mouth. Adorable.

He hadn't assumed Arthur to take him so literally.

"You're so beautiful, Arthur.." He repeated for likely the millionth time during their encounter. Taking in Arthur's beautifully flushed and freckled face along with his beautifully glassy eyes as tears spilled out of them. He pressed kisses along those tears, tasting the salt on his lips, "So, so beautiful.." He whispered, burying his face in the crook of the man's neck, sucking and biting at his neck, leaving bruises and marks, that he was sure wouldn't leave for at least a week.

Arthur unclasped his hands from his mouth, "Ch-Charles, I-I'm- I'm gonna-"

"Go ahead, sweetheart.." He mumbled into his skin.

Arthur's moans grew louder and far more risqué as he wrapped his arms around the back of Charles's neck. "A-Ah! More, more, Charles! Pl..ease- There! Right there!"

As his pleas grew needier, his whines grew more lubricious. His intensifying grip around his neck reminding Charles of his strength. Despite how strong the man was, he submitted so willingly to Charles. Oh, how he loves the man.

Nearing his release, he let out louder cries that practically flooded the enclosed space, he didn't bother to silence Arthur, now uncaring of the possibility of them both being hanged if someone were to discover the intimacy of the position the were in. Instead, he revelled in the sweet symphony of his whines, his cries and his moans. He relished in the scent of sweat coating Arthur's olive skin and the sweet scent of sex as he fucked faster and harder into Arthur.

Hot, white cum spurted in-between their bodies. Onto Arthur's abdomen and Charles's toned belly. Dazing through Arthur's post-orgasm haze, he didn't feel Charles stop. Instead he fucked him harder. Faster. Arthur felt like he was going to burst from such overstimulation, "C-Charles, a-ahh, stop! Stop, stop, stop please- it's, it's too much!" But he didn't stop. Instead, a hand wrapped around his worn out cock, pumping it hard as his erection reformed.

"You can take it, Arthur.. You promised to make me feel good, didn't you?" He continued fucking him, rubbing hard on the terribly sensitive crown of his cock.

"Yes- Yes, Charles.." He moaned, "A-Ahh- I can't cum no more, Charles! Please-"

"You can, love.. C'mon.."

Arthur merely whined in response, squirming powerlessly beneath him. It was all too much. Everything felt like too much. Arthur soon felt his orgasm bubbling up as Charles fisted his once-again hardened cock. Feeling Charles pounding harshly within him whilst pumping his cock was too much- He was gonna- gonna-

"I-I'm gonna cum, Arthur.." He heard the low pitch of Charles's voice.

"M-Me too." He forced out, lacking the mundane ability to string together proper sentences due to having his brains fucked out by the man above him.

He let out the loudest moan known to man. It near shook the entire saloon but he was far too fucked out to be embarrassed of the noise. The man was utterly debauched.

The warmth of Charles nearly depleted as he felt the man about to pull out before he wrapped his legs tighter around him, "Cum- inside.."

The sight of Arthur was enough to make Charles heed his plea without a thought. He hummed, fucking him harder as he chased his release.

Finally- through his own orgasm, he felt a warm, viscous liquid released inside him. It felt so good. His load felt never ending, it continued to spurt out all over his ass after Charles pulled out. Such a position should've made him feel degraded, pathetic, instead- he felt completely raptured. The feeling of Charles's semen all over him nearly made him hard again.

Staring at his own thick cum spilling out of Arthur's so very reddened and swollened asshole, the white droplets sliding the bruised skin of both his inner and outer thighs that pressed so tightly together. He couldn't help but admire the work he'd done.

His eyes trailed upwards from Arthur's terribly abused hole to his wonderfully rubescent face; taking in how his eyes brimmed with saltwater as they so gracefully fell down his rosy, freckled cheeks. As if he'd lost himself in the mere sight on Arthur. In his red, swollened lips; glistening and nitid, wet from their shared , sloppy kisses. They parted slightly, taking in shallow breaths, panting from the sex mere moments before.

"Why're you lookin' at me like that?" Arthur spoke, his voice raspy, never-changing.

"Like what?" Charles responded breathlessly.

"Like you wanna goddam' eat me." A chuckle from Charles.

"Maybe I do." He pushed apart Arthur's bruised thighs and leaned into him, pressing more kisses at his already purpling jaw. "Charles Smith." He whispered, his tone meaning to be teasing but coming out broken and breathy.

"Arthur Morgan." He said in response at the shell of the man's ear.

Charles rolled off of Arthur, laying at his side. "I can't believe that just happened." Charles sighed ever-so blissfully, as if all his troubles had just been washed away and the sex they just had had granted him the secrets of eternal life.

"Y'mean- the fuckin'? Or the fact that it was with a man."

"The fact that it was with you."

"Oh." Arthur's eyes began to avoid his gaze, his cheeks beginning to redden as he muttered several minor words, "I can't believe it too well either."

"Y'know.." Charles turned to him, a hand reaching out to trace his cheekbone with his knuckles, "I've been wantin' this for so long now."

"You're kiddin'"

"Not at all." He swallowed, the alcohol that continued to coarse through his veins gave him courage to utter these pathetically buried feelings. Feelings he'd never admit to if well and sober. It was now or never. "I.. I've been interested in you for a while now."

"Since Colter?"

"Since Blackwater."

"You- Charles.." He stammered, unable to find the words to say, Charles merely chuckled at his bashfulness.

"It's alright Arthur. I knew those feelings would go nowhere," He'd uttered, Arthur missed the hint of sadness within his words, "The moment I heard you speak- your quick wit as well as your sarcastic quips, they immediately charmed me. You were just so oddly charismatic, and your beauty- Arthur. Your beauty. You were breathtaking. You are breathtaking."

Arthur couldn't utter a single word, his face merely continued to overheat as his mouth stood agape. "In Colter, when Mr. Pearson asked you to go hunting with me- My heart absolutely flipped. I jumped at the chance."

"Yeah, it was weird that you wanted to help me out. Y'know 'cause o' your hand an' whatnot."

"You wanna know how I injured my hand, Arthur?"

"Been wonderin' for a while now."

"In Blackwater, durin' the heist- when you came to the boat, I saw a fella'. Probably a Pinkerton, wasn't sure. But he aimed his gun at you, I didn't think- I just put my hand at the barrel then knocked 'im out after."

A pause. His eyes traced the apple at Arthur's throat, watching how it bobbed as he swallowed. Watching how he took Charles's hand off his face and held it so very gently. Arthur Morgan. The Van der Linde gang's toughest, most intimidating member. The man he'd just fucked. That same man held him so, so softly. Tracing the grooves and bumps of his dark knuckles as well as the veins behind his terribly calloused hand. Then he spoke, looking up to reach his eyes, "Shoulda let me get shot."

Charles merely smiled, "I know. I'm a fool."

They laid beside each other, bathing it the afterglow of their previous activities. The only thing on both of their minds being the unknown mutual hope that it wouldn't be the last time they were so intimate. So Arthur broke the silence. "You tired, Charles?"

"Not.. in particular."

"Think you can go another round?"

An imperceptible smile, quirked upon Charles's lips, "I could go for several more rounds."

With those words, Arthur got up and straddled the man all in one swift motion. He leaned downwards, pressing their lips together for the millionth time.

His hands reached down to Charles's pants, "You gotta get these off though."

"No rush. We have all night.

The thought of Charles's fucking him into the mattress all the way 'till morning made his dick twitch. He kissed Charles once more, whispering through the kiss, "I wanna have our whole life."

He took a breath. "Let's have that then."

When the sun rose, casting it's amber hues across the rented lodging of their room and bathing the town with its slight warmth, Arthur's eyes fluttered open, wandering blearily around the foreign room before landing on the sleeping face of Charles.

Charles.

Charles?

He stared at the man beside him, the strong, sculpted arms wrapped around him. He couldn't move if he tried. The memories of the night before blurred through his mind, a flush crawling up his neck. Untrusting of his own intoxicated mind, he looked beneath the thin, cream blanket that barely covered them as it was clearly meant for merely a single person. As if their naked bodies pressed together and the near dried cum spilling out of his ass wasn't enough proof, the sight of Charles's bare cock underneath the blanket surely was.

Attempting to shuffle within Charles's death gripping bear hug, still processing the knowledge of getting fucked by the man the night before. Multiple times. The memory of Charles's cum in his mouth still lingered. The taste of salt and texture of slime that would've made him puke if it was anyone else but last night- was absolutely intoxicating.

With curious eyes he looked at Charles, taking in every curve and crevice on his face. Seeing things he'd never seen before. Every pore was visible, as was every spot of hair that trailed from his chin to his jaw. The memory of Charles's words to him as he laid beside him upon the white, dirtied mattress sheets made Arthur's heart absolutely dance. In truth, he'd felt the same. Ever since speaking to him at Colter, all that lingered within his mind was the faint thought of Charles. If the night before hadn't happened he'd never admit the fact he felt this way about another man. He didn't even know how he felt.

Suddenly Charles's eyes opened, blinking a few times as he looked at Arthur with half-lidded eyes. A lopsided smile bloomed upon his face, "G'morning, Arthur." He leaned nearer, pressing a kiss on his lips. The action made his heart thud so hard upon his ribcage he feared it'd explode. "Mornin'.." He forced out.

He didn't know how to act, considering the fact that they'd fucked continuously throughout dusk, passing out just before dawn. He hadn't had sex in years. Not since Eliza's death.

Charles merely continued to run a hand through Arthur's sandy, uncut locks, long overdue for a haircut. "I still can't believe last night." He heard Charles murmur.

"Neither can I."

A smile from Charles. "Thank you, Arthur." He looked at Charles, into his eyes, noticing the slightest bit a sorrow within them. As if unwillingly acceptant of the fact that last night was and inevitably would be nothing more than a one night stand. Charles parted his lips, as if wanting to say more. But the words never left those soft lips.

"What for?"

"Last night. Helping me blow off steam."

Oh.

Was that all it was to Charles? Were all the sweet nothings said the night before just a result of too much whiskey?

"Arthur?" Charles's voice, "You alright?"

Before he could stop it, the words ran out of his mouth, "I don't want last night to be the last."

"What?"

"I-" Fuck. He'd already said all that. Might as well. "I wanna do it again. With you. "

"Right now?"

"No- Charles. I mean-" He was never one for words. He wasn't even that good at English himself. "Arthur."

He looked up. Charles smiled.

He spoke.

"I'd like that."

"Yeah?" Arthur had never been the emotional kind but fuck. The knowledge that it wouldn't be the end made him near tear up. Or maybe getting fucked in the ass had shredded up his masculinity.

Nah.

"Yeah." Charles couldn't stop smiling. Fuck, the man was handsome.

"But- ignoring what I just said, you ain't too tired for another fuck, are you?"

Charles only laughed, crawling on top of Arthur and smashing their lips together through the laughter that bubbled throughout.

#rdr2 #rdr #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #rdr fanfiction #charthur #charles smith #arthur morgan #just cowboys fuckin #charles smith x arthur morgan #arthur morgan x charles smith

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

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From Blood We'll Grow || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Prompt: You don’t understand the kind of love you’re getting yourself in

Words: 1.1K

TW: references to murder and crimes, hurt/comfort, I tried something a bit different from what we are used to reading about Arthur

Notes:

✞ Written for the celebration of @runnning-outof-time's 3K revolving around the theme of a flower garden. Flower used: Red Poppies, which are said to grow best in blood-fertilized soil.

✞ This work is a part of the Heaven in Your Eyes universe, but it can be read as a stand-alone. Consequently, Reader is Heaven, OP's original character (Moodboard here). Feel free to check this ongoing series if you wanna know more. Newest chapter of the series HERE.

“Talk to me, please.”

The soft breeze of Birmingham’s spring caressed his skin and carried the words away. Even though Arthur’s piercing blue eyes were watching the sky, all his attention was focused on you. His hand, large and calloused, was covering the palm of yours, frail and perpetually cold. Sometimes he wondered if blood was actually flowing through your veins or if you were made of frostbite and stardust.

“Tell me everything’s awful you did and let me love you anyway.”

The melody of his beating heart echoed in his chest at the same pace as yours. Two souls yearning for each other. Arthur’s fingers tightened their protective grip around you, afraid you would vanish if he did not constantly keep physical contact with you. Moreover, your ice always managed to calm the raging fire he was made of.

“I’ve killed people.”

These three little words hurt as they were spoken. They felt like razor cuts on the tongue, blades coated with caustic acid. And yet, an intense feeling of relief followed soon after. Arthur’s body relaxed.

“I already knew that.”

“No, you didn’t. You suspected it but you still had the choice not to believe it.”

“Does that make a difference?”

“It does for me. Until now you were free to genuinely tell yourself I was a good person, even though you suspected it was not the case. But now that you are aware of my wicked nature you’ll come to realize I might not be as good as you think for you.”

“Bullshit. It doesn’t change anything for me. You’re the creature I love with all my heart. No matter what you’ve done, and no matter what you’ll do, my soul and yours are entangled.”

Arthur, who was laying with his head on your lap abandoned the horizon and looked up to stare at your enchanting doll face. Your long ivory mane danced at the wind’s discretion, the pale and orange hue of the sunset forming a glowing halo on the top of your head. A soothing silence lulled you, only disrupted by the blowing wind and the nearby stream’s murmur. He could not help but smile at your mesmerizing beauty, whose presence embellished the bucolic landscape.

“But I’ve got blood on my hands.”

“So do I, Heaven.”

You looked down at him, the jewels of your iris drowning in the ocean of his, and stopped petting his hair.

“Trust me, angel, I know the best. Each time I enter in a room I see the face of all the people I’ve murdered. Those who deserved it share the place with the innocents who were just unlucky enough to cross paths with the brute I am. Sometimes I see that young lad from the boxing ring sipping on a coffee with the many soldiers I’ve killed… My hands still tingle with the sensation of my fists tightening around their necks or bashing their brains out. But still, you are, kissing the scars on my knuckles and allowing these dirty, murderous hands to touch you when we make love,” Arthur paused and, with his head leaving your lap, he sat next to you in the middle of the vast wild field you loved exploring together, “that’s how I love you. Perfectly imperfect. Because even angels have their own demons…” He said, bringing his free hand on your cheek to stroke it with indescribable softness no one suspected he was capable of, not even himself, “ And Maybe, if you believe in it just a little bit, the ghosts that follow you will find peace in mine eh.”

Like magical balm on a sucking wound, the gravel in his voice soothed the pain of your heart. Admittedly you had been scared to tell him the truth about you for fear he stopped considering you like an Angel — but the truth was you didn’t understand the kind of love you got yourself into. It was the kind of love so intoxicating that you’d physically suffer if you parted from each other for too long. In him you did not find only love, but also understanding and acceptance. Arthur’s way of handling you, with indescribable care and softness, had become a necessity in your life. Were you really his angel? Or was he yours? A violent, twisted seraph with wings as black as cold, but a heart as sweet as honey. He was keeping you safe, wrapped in the dark feather of his wings, ready to take the pain for you — he did not matter, your well-being did.

Without uttering a single word, you almost tackled him with a hug. An embrace so fierce he fell backward, his back gently hitting the ground. Both surprised and endeared, Arthur could not help but chuckle before welcoming you in his arms.

“I am so lucky to have you…” You whispered, burying your nose in his neck. His perfume, musky and manly, lulled your insecurities and wrapped you in a blissful haze.

“I promise you’ll have me forever, love.”

Arthur was caressing your back, and sometimes he laid a kiss on your head as if his lips could not stay away from you for too long. Which was certainly the case. After a while, he caught sight of a red flower at the corner of his eye. The only flower that had grown here, among the weed and the fallen leaves.

“Look, Angel.”

You raised your head at his voice, curiously gazing at what he wanted to show you. When you noticed it was a red poppy, you looked at Arthur with a slightly confused gleam in your eyes. After all, poppies were not scarce flowers. Yet, Arthur’s iris shone with fascination and unexplainable joy. His lips had stretched in an innocent and almost childish smile, the first since years. The kind of smile Miss Changretta had been talking about. The way his face enlightened and his traits relaxed made you sink a little deeper for him. With the tips of his fingers, Arthur picked up the poppy and shifted his full attention back to you.

“In Flander fields, the poppies blow…”

He started, slipping the flower in your hair. Its blood-red petals, exposing the poppy’s black heart, contrasted with the whiteness of your hair just like a drop of blood in a desert of snow.

“Between the crosses, row and row,

That mark our place, and in the sky

The larks still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the gun below.”

You closed your eyes, your soul carried away by Arthur’s low and hoarse voice as well as the steady melody of his heart beating. He let his long and thin fingers lose themselves in your hair as he kept reciting the poem he liked so much.

“We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

In Flanders fields.”

With your free hand, you brushed the flower’s petals. Their soft texture awaked your sense. While you did so, Arthur’s free hand pressed on your lower back to bring your hips closer to his. He did not want to leave any space between your two bodies.

“Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.”

When he finished the last line, Arthur reached for your chin and raised your head until your lips grazed against each other, “From blood, we will grow love.” He whispered, his warm breath melting in yours.

“From blood, we will grow.” You repeated.

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

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web-novel-polls · 8 months

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Best (Web Novel) Hater Tournament

Last Updated: July 27th, 2024 - Please check the original post for updates

Submissions Closed - Masterpost here

[Plain Text: Submissions Closed /end pt]

Rules:

Must be from a web novel or adaptation

Can be a hater of any kind or just have the hater soul

Please submit one character per response (no limit overall)

Tournament Tag: #best hater tournament

Arthur Galvhan from Unlucky Clover

Submission: Legitimately nominating him because he's such a hateful piece of shit that his irrational hatred causes the apocalypse. That is simply an impressive amount of being an absolute asshole.

Han Sooyoung from Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint

Submission: She spent years hating on a web novel similar to her own through an anonymous account and hate reading the comments it's sole reader posted. Even after the novel came to life, she still kept criticizing its horrible writing and protagonist.

Hua Cheng from Heaven Official’s Blessing

Submission: Treats nearly everyone that isn't Xie Lian with derision

Wiki Link

Jiang Cheng from Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation

Submission 1: Hates Wangxian's relationship.

Submission 2: Dude devoted more than a decade of his life to hating on his dead kind-of-brother (it's complicated) how has he not been submitted already? bonus points for his actor's many faces of utter disgust in The Untamed

Mod Propaganda: Haterism so bad you can start fandom discourse just by name-dropping him.

Wiki Link

Jun Wu from Heaven Official’s Blessing

Submission:

(Spoilers) Tossing his old pals into lava and then destroying an entire generation of gods wasn't enough! He also ground the old generation of gods up and made them into the foundation of the new Heavenly Realm, so everyone steps all over them whenever they're walking around. Also an over simplified explanation of the entire plot is basically Jun Wu hears one phrase that sets him off and decides to be a giant hater because of it, destroying a whole kingdom within like three to four years in the process. This guy is the epitome of "...and I took that personally."

Wiki Link

Lan Jingyi from Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation

Submission: jingyi hates su she so much even though they've never interacted before and then absolutely obliterates him verbally in front of almost every sect leader, what a legend

Lan Wangji from Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation / MDZS

Submission: Just because he's quiet doesn't mean he's not a hater. He gets his hate across economically. Jin Guangyao? Hated. Su She? Hated. Jiang Cheng? Don't even ask. Loathed entirely. Anyone else not in his immediate family (including problematic cancelled husband Wei Wuxian)? Not even worth his time. Bro even hates himself (sometimes)

Mu Qing from Heaven Official’s Blessing

Submission: https://www.tumblr.com/bonesblubs/708661194148511744/inspiration

Mod Propaganda: Mu Qing can split a tower bell in two yet can’t admit he wanted to be friends with someone he’s known for 800+ years without trying to immediately kill himself. Randomly started reciting a poem about his least favorite coworker’s dick just to fuck with him (Feng Xin). Said he’d kill a bride like Xie Lian if she was sent to him.

Wiki Link

Shen Jiu / Original Shen Qingqiu from The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving

"Even if all of this could be redone from the beginning, in the end, the conclusion would remain the same. My heart is full of malice, my insides hatred and resentment. Today, Luo Binghe wishes for me to die horribly, and I only have myself to blame." - Shen Jiu, The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System, Volume 4: Chapter 24 (Reddit 1, 2)

Submission: Both the Shen Qingqius are haters just in very different ways

Mod Propaganda: The Scum Villain that beefed with a 14-year-old out of jealousy & tried to kill him.

Wiki Link

Shen Yuan/Qingqiu from The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System

Submission 1: He was an anti fan that literally got so mad at a novel he was reading that he died and then was transmigrated into the novel he hated (besides the main character) as the villain. The author of said novel also transmigrated and they formed a love/hate broship.

Submission 2:

My man is the hater-est hater to ever hate, except like Kendrick Lamar. He hate-read a webnovel with over 20 million words, and left scathing commentary on every single chapter. Even the author Shang Qinghua, of the webnovel PIDW, which by subtext was very very popular, knew Shen Yuan (Peerless Cucumber) as the legendary anti-fan. He hated it (everything except the protagonist Luo Binghe) so much that after reading the last chapter, he choked and died (...slight exaggeration). Shen Yuan also proceeded to transmigrate into the novel, make everyone fall in love with him, use the power of headpats and 'a smile from the cold beauty' to overturn the genre from harem-esqe to danmei, bending the protagonist. Tldr, the power of Shen Yuan's haterism turned Cool Edgy Awesomely Powerful Protagonist Luo Binghe to soggy wet clingy white lotus bing-bong Bingmei, and it's honestly better off this way <3

Submission 3: he's an internet hater screenname Peerless Cucumber who hates this webnovel so much he dies and transmigrates into it to fix the entire plot and also he's left so many hate comments the author (fellow transmigrator) knows and remembers who he is after being in the webnovel world for decades. Dedication.

Su She from Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation / MDZS

“Stop thinking so highly of yourself. Who told you I cursed Jin Zixuan in order to frame you? Back then, I wasn’t working for Sect Leader at all. I cursed him simply because I wanted to!” ….Su She, “Those as arrogant as him--I’ll kill every single one who comes my way!” - Su She to Wei Wuxian, Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, EXR, Chapter 104

No propaganda submitted

Mod Propaganda: Haterism so bad he straight up made a new sect. Cursed Jin Zixun. Has beef with a guy who barely knows he exists.

Wiki Link

Yin Hanjiang from Devil Venerable Also Wants to Know

Submission: Second half of the novel YHJ in particular, hater energy unmatched! Righteous sects? fuck them up. His own sect? on eggshells. His best effort at not murdering someone is to start wiping his weapon with their clothes. General vibe of 'if anything happened to Venerable i'd kill everyone in this room and then myself AND SOMETHING JUST HAPPENED TO VENERABLE'. Anyway get their asses babe <3

Yu Ziyuan from Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation

Submission: I would not blame anyone who went through the first half of the story believing that Yu Ziyuan hated every single person she ever met because she talks shit about her husband, her son, her adopted son, and her daughter whenever she gets the chance to. Sometimes all at the same time. She projects so much raw hater energy that she psychologically scarred her son for life.

Dealer's Choice

Qi Rong from Heaven Official’s Blessing

“Obviously, those things weren't within the realm of consideration for Qi Rong. He swore like there wasn't a single person in the Three Realms he didn't want cursed to death. He called Pei Ming a rotten manwhore, Little Pei a kiss-ass, Jun Wu a faker, Ling Wen a damned bitch, Lang Qianqiu a moron, Quan Yizhen dog shit, the Water Master blackhearted, the Wind Master a tramp–he probably didn't know Shi Qingxuan was actually a man.” - Heaven Official’s Blessing (Tumblr)

#not a poll #best hater tournament #submissions #my submissions

22 notes · View notes

shatcey · 6 months

Text

Alternative prologue IkeVamp

Picture

This is absolutely not canonical. MC is for sure. And I'm not entirely sure about some of the guys. Either I played their routes long time ago, or I don't really understand them. But I did my best.

At first, I start rewriting the entire prologue from the beginning. I don't like it for so many reasons… and finally find where to put this lovely thought of mine.

I turned around and saw a very unique looking man. Golden hair, golden eyes, golden clothes. I've never seen anything even remotely like this. It's like he's made entirely of gold… His name must be Mr. Gold!

But the more I did it, the more I realized that this is not what I wanna do. I had two small (were small at the beginning) scenes in my head, why should I write the rest?

So… here is my very odd version of the prologue after the introduction of the main characters. Everyone will be there except Jean. He didn't show up. What a shy boy!

It was supposed to be a joke. That's why I'm posting this on April 1st. I hope I'm not the only one who finds it funny. Enjoy.

Aproximatly 4500 words. Jeez how did it ended up that long?..

- So... Are you saying that you are all historical figures?

Comte smile one of his signature smile.

- That's correct.

- And how did you all end up in the same time period? I'm not a historian, but even I know that you are all from different times, even centuries?

- That's a really good question, Luv.

Arthur, sitting next to me, put his arm around my shoulders. I push his hand away.

- Mister, could you not touch me? I don't like strangers in my personal space.

The man blinked a couple of times, clearly pouting.

- But I'm not a stranger… I just introduced myself.

He smiles very charmingly, but that didn't change my opinion on the matter.

- That's right! We just met. So, you are a stranger to me.

Very naughty laugh from another side of the table.

- This Hondje is quite feisty.

I look at the smiling man and hold my gaze on him.

- I don't know what you call me, but something tells me that wasn't nice. So please refrain from that in the future.

Very gentle cough caught my attention.

- I have to apologize for my brother. He doesn't know how to behave with women.

I look at the angelic-looking man, and a smile somehow appears on my face.

- You don't have to apologize for him. He's not a child.

Vincent looked at Theo.

- Theo��

- No, no, no! You’ve got me wrong. I don't need he's apologies. I'd rather never talk to him.

-Ouch... that was harsh, Toshiko-san. You may have brought Theo-san to tears.…

The man sitting on the same side of the table as me... Dazai his name. I lean down to meet his gaze.

- Is this a local joke that I'm not aware of? Calling a new person by different names?

- I must apologize for my children. They are quite... unique…

I look at Comte and slowly observe all the people at the table.

- No offense, but how can they be your children if you all look the same age?

- That's another good question, Luv…

Arthur held out his hand to me, but stopped and took it away.

- Don't you like the food?

I thought my heart would definitely jump out of my chest. The voice came from right behind me. I turn around and meet Sebastian's gray eyes.

- Jeez... where did you come from?

- I've been standing behind you all this time... and you haven't even tried to eat...

- I’m… you are right…

I take a deep breath, calming my poor heart, and take a bite. Either I was very hungry, or it was the most delicious meal I've ever eaten.

A proud smile appears on the Conte's face

- Sebastian is the best cook. I still can't believe how lucky I was to get him.

- To get?

- He's just like you... human.

I was very unlucky that I took a bigger piece at that exact moment. But it instantly stuck in my throat. Don't try to think about it.… Just chew… I did as my brain said. I take a glass, presumably of water, and take a long sip before answering.

- That means... The rest of you are not human?

- Exactly.

I take another sip.

- Assuming it's possible… Who are you when?

- Vampires.

- Hmm.…

Ok. It's definitely not possible. I finally felt confident enough to look up, and realized that everyone was looking at me with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

- What?

- You're taking it better than we expected.

- Because it's an obvious lie.

- I assure you, it is not.

- Real vampires… I mean really existing vampires like bats or mosquitoes...they need a lot of blood. Like much more than their own weight.

- Really?

I bend down to meet a very surprised pink gaze. Isaac?

- You were so quiet, I even forgot you were here, cutie. But yes, it's true. Check on Google…

A very strange pause and suddenly...

- Did I hear her right? Did she just call Ai-san a cutie?

- Issak, you are blushing. Oh, she made old boy blush...

- Theo, what is Google?

- I don’t know. Most likely, something that we don't need.

- Who gave it its name? Goo goo... what is that?

- I guess you don't like the sound of it, Wolfie.

- Don't call me that! It's disgusting coming from you.

- So, in other words... you don't mind if someone else calls you that?

- Hahaha…

The last one was from Napoleon. I didn't hear him talking to anyone, but his laugh was something....

- I probably shouldn't have said that... - I mumble to myself.

Suddenly, the door opened and another man entered.

- I can't remember the last time we had such a lively dinner…

- Leonardo! - Comte exclaims.

- Oh, we have a guest… Sorry for being late. Leonardo, Leonardo da Vinci.

- Aaaaaah. Another historical figure…

- …She didn't sound impressed...

- No offense, but I'm already meet a musician whose music increase brain activity.

- Wha?

- My favorite painter of all times.

- She just called…

- At least she has taste…

- And my childhood crush.

- What is “crush" mean? - It was said in such a low voice that I couldn't make out who said it.

- Brief, but very strong, even obsessive love. Usually to a person who is out of reach.

- Thank you, Sebastian. That was very informative.

- Childhood? It could have been any of us. Well, probably not you, Dazai. No offense.

- He-he. Not taken. I would be very surprised if it was me.

- So... - I raise my voice - My point is... it's really hard to beat.

The man smiles and sits down next to Comte.

- She's very unusual…

- Actually, while my brain is still working... it's pretty noisy here… Before everything... started, I was trying to ask, who is donating blood to you?

- Oh, it's all legal. We have…

- No! I don't really care! I was asking, why is someone voluntarily giving you so much blood?

- But we don't need much.

- This is absurd!

- I like her more and more... Comte, why didn't you wake me up earlier?

- I was as mesmerised as you are right now…

- Stop it! Don't try to distract me!

- Am I really your favorite painter?

- What is the brain activity you were talking about?

- Who were your childhood crush? It's me, isn't it, Luv?

- Oh... I think I have a headache…

- Would it be better if we continued in my office?

- I don't know? Does this mean there will be less people?

- Absolutely!

The Comte gave me his usual encouraging smile, and I nodded.

(***)

Only Comte and Leonardo came with me to the office. At the very moment when we sit down at the table, Sebastian appears seemingly out of nowhere with a tray of tea.

- How does he do it?

- What are you talking about, ma chère?

- Don't mind me. This guy gets on my nerves.

- Just him? I thought all of us...

- All the others are just noisy, but this one is… creepy.

- Oh, poor Sebas, she really doesn't like you.

- I don't care what she thinks.

I'm glad to know that our dislike is mutual. A very noble cough attracts my attention.

- I know that all this information can be quite overwhelming.… Maybe you need some time…

- You said that I was stuck in this time for a month. What options do I have?

- Cara mia...

- Don't use other languages. I think I'm very lucky to have learned one, and I'm pretty sure I'm not capable of more.

- You underestimate yourself.

- Maybe so. But just... don't do it!

- If you say so…

- Well, you can stay here with us, or I can rent you a house in the city. If it suits your tastes better.

- It's a little too much for a stranger. Maybe you have another house where there are less people?

- Don't you want to live with us? Why?

That voice was coming from outside the door. And it probably belonged to Vince.

- Perhaps they are children in secret?..

- I have my suspicions about this... - behind my back. I don't flinch this time. But it's still pretty scary when he does it…

- I have another house... but my eldest lives there…

- And who is this?

- William Shakespeare.

(pause)

- He probably writes all the time. He didn't even notice me there.…

- If you like writers... why don't you stay with me. I can please you much better than he can.

- What was the point of leaving the dining room at all?..

- Ahem... But you didn't say why you didn't want to stay with us, Cara...oh, sorry... old habits die hard.

- Well... unmarried women living with... how many of you are here... 9.. 10 men… It's really bad for my reputation. Not that it matters what people think of me at this time period, I will definitely leave this place in a month. But I still don't wanna feel hostile stares at me.

- There are 11 of us.

- What?

- You haven't met Jean yet.

- Whatever… And the second... which should probably be the first… You're vampires. So... Having a bag of warm, fresh blood nearby will be too tempting to ignore.

- Sebastian has been with us for a while, and no one has ever tried to bite him.

- No offense, Sebastian, but I don't want to bite you either.

- Do you have such desires often?

Pause…

- I don't want to answer that question.

- I understood your point. So... Let's go to William. I'll ask if he doesn't mind.…

(I cannot even read Old English, let alone write. So William will speak mostly normally)

We arrived at a very nice cottage a slightly outside the city. I was surprised to see a lot of flowers in the garden. Does he even have time to take care of them? I thought this guy couldn't think of anything but writing…

Comte knocked on the door, and a few moments later the door opened. We were met by a very strange man in obviously out of time clothes. His mismatched eyes widened in obvious surprise.

- Good Comte!

- Will, I apologize for the unannounced intrusion.

- Come in.

We entered the house, and I was immediately surprised to see how neatly it was decorated. So many details. Everything sparkles and shines like a jewelry shop, no less.

- Will… I know it's a little sudden.… But could this lady stay with you for a month?

The mismatched eyes look at me as if I'm not even a person, but an object. Maybe it was a bad idea to leave the mansion after all.

- If this is that my sire wants.... I will gladly grant his wish.

- Thank you very much. I feel responsible for her well-being.

- It's not your fault, you know…

- Maybe so. But you ended up in this situation because I wasn't careful enough.

- Could you please explain to me what you are talking about.

- Oh, yes. This young lady is from the future. She noticed the door and went through it to this time.

- I thought it was impossible...

- Yes... me too… So... she will stay in this time for a month until the door opens next time.

- I see.

- Don't worry. We'll just be roommates.

- I believe he has a separate room for you…

- That's not what I meant. I mean people who live together but don't interact at all. We probably wouldn't even see each other.

- Why is that?

- I don't like to stay indoors. Taking pictures, wandering around, making small talk with random strangers… It's kind of my thing. But I also like to read books. I'm sure you have at least some…

- Hmm.…

- Wonderful. At least you don't have a headache here.

I smile radiantly and begin to look around.

- Is there anything here that I'm not allowed to touch? I don't wanna invade your privacy, so tell me in advance.

- Hmm…

- Yes, she is quite overwhelming… You get used to it.

(Some time later)

- Don't touch it!

- Why? You didn't mention it when I asked.

- Woman! What's gotten into you? Why do you need to touch everything you see?

- I don't know… I'm curious… And I didn't touch you, so not everything.

- I can't believe he just dumped you on my head!

- For a person who works with creative people, you are quite short-tempered.

- I've never met such an irritating person in my life...

- No one has ever told me that... I think we're just incompatible.

- Obviously. You said you don't like being indoors.

- I am. But I don't know this place yet and I don't wanna get lost.

- What a wonderful idea…

- What did you say?

- Nothing. Come on. I'll show you around. And you need a dress.

- Why? What's wrong with my dress?

- First of all... it's shamingly short.

- I don't think so!

- In 19th century it's too short.

- Oh... right… I forgot.

After the incredibly awkward process of buying a dress. Why do they need so many people to take measurements? I finally got outside. I need to keep reminding myself... Don't even try to breathe, it's an unattainable desire. This is not a dress, but an instrument of torture.

- Maybe I should stay indoors... - I muttering to myself

- What now?

- I cannot breathe in this...

- You'll get used to it.

- I don't want to get used to it!

Some people turn around to look at me disapprovingly. I probably don't have the right to show emotions either... Wonderful!

- So... This is the main street with lots of shops. If you turn right, you will find yourself in front of my house after a while.

- That's right… We came here this way…

- So that's it... enjoy.

- Hey! Are you seriously going to leave me here alone?

- You said…

- Right, right, I said… Sorry... See you at home…

He takes a long exasperated sigh and instantly disappears into the crowd.

- But the problem is… I don't speak French...

I take a long exhale…

- Okay. I'll figure something out...

I move with the crowd in one direction, then in another… And somehow ended up in an alley with very beautiful trees. I look around. Nobody. This is my only chance. I take out my phone and take a couple of pictures. Perfect. Well, at least I'd have something to prove that I'm not crazy. But... It's just trees, I need something more.… Oh, such a lovely church…

(This part already seems like the beginning of the route. I just cannot imagine NOT falling for him. I'm doomed)

I opened a very heavy door and entered a dimly lit church. It's empty… Interesting… I look around, enjoying the way the stained glass window casts multicolored light into the room... I walk slowly down the hall, finally find the right angle and take a shot. The echo of footsteps makes me turn around, and I hurriedly hide the phone.

Two men approached from the other side of the church. One of them had very odd white hair. Not gray, but white. I've never seen anything like that. And the other was in the priest's clothes. Right… I'm in the church, not museum. They said something, probably to me, but I didn't understand. I smiled shyly and decided to leave. I clearly shouldn't be here. But the moment I touched the handle, the door opened and the young man almost bumped into me.

- Pardon... - he said and, without slowing down, ran inside the church.

He said something swiftly in French. I didn't understand a word, but something caught my attention and I looked around. My eyes met the priest's and my heart skiped a bit. How did I not notice this before? He's gorgeous… Tall and undoubtedly muscular frame, fluffy dark hair, sharp gaze… I cannot even look away.

- Hello… Do you perhaps speak English?

I look in the direction of the voice. It was a man with white hair.

- Actually, I do.

- What brings you here? - A deep vibrating voice, and my brain just stopped working.

- Huh? - I stare at the priest, dumbfounded.

- You look so cute.… Can we play? - The guy with pink hair who had just arrived suddenly came close to me and whispered in my ear.

- Could you not invade someone else's personal space…

- What are you talking about? – A completely innocent look of confusion on his face.

- I'm talking about my personal space. And I don't like strangers in it.

- Right, we didn't introduced.

- She came to us. She has to introduce herself first.

- Huh? – And again... What is this man doing to me?

The absolutely sincere laughter sounded especially loud in the empty church.

- I didn't expect that... - The white-haired guy. Up close, I noticed that his eyes were red. Is he sick or something?

- Why are you looking at me? She probably has hearing problems…

- Right… I wouldn't expect anything less from you…

- I'm Charles. Nice to meet you! – Guy with pink hair smiled brightly.

- I'm Vlad. And this grumpy priest is Faust.

- An unusual name.

- It's not a name. But he prefers to be called that.

- I see. I'm Jane.

- Really?

I look at Vlad and feel uncomfortable for no reason.

- I have a pretty ordinary name…

- I think it's beautiful. Just like you! - Charles ones again has come too close to me, and I look at him disapprovingly.

- I just told you…

- It's pointless. He only hears what he wants to hear. - I look at Faust and somehow manage to nod. Oh, progress! I'm not as hopeless as I feared.

- So, what brings you here? – This time the question was from Vlad, and I managed to answer.

- I think… I got lost... - I allowed myself an ironic laugh.

- It doesn't seem to bother you in the slightest...

- Oh......It's been a very long and eventful day, and I just cannot bring myself to feel something anymore... I guess...

- I've never heard of this.... Docteur you?

- No. But somehow I understand what she meant...

- Lovely... - Vlad smiles and happily claps his hands.

- If she got lost… Maybe we could take her home?

- I'm not a stray kitten!

- Huh? I think you're cuter than a kitten.…

- ...I have a headache again…

- Really? I can look for a medicine for you…

- No... that's not what she meant...

- Charles, we cannot keep her, but we definitely have to feed her.

- Once again, I'm not a stray kitten!

- Welcome to my world…

I look at him, and for the first time, something like real emotion shows in his eyes. Oh... whey are green... Pretty...

There was a mountain path behind the church. I was sure I was going to die before we got up that damn mountain. It seems that this ascent will never end. But I was the only one who was out of breath. Right. They probably do this all the time…

As soon as we got to the top, Charles said something about food and disappeared. My head was spinning and my lungs were on fire, I fell to the ground, unable to stand any longer.

- You have so little stamina...

"Really? You noticed?" - I wanted to say ironically. But at the moment the top of my abilities were probably not as scary as I hoped gaze. He smirked and disappeared into the... What is it? A Castle? I just noticed...

- You shouldn't be sitting on the ground. You'll catch a cold…

After several attempts, I finally managed to stand on shaky legs. Vlad holds my hand. My breathing still resembles asthmatic in the worst possible stages. I need to practice. Walking is not enough exercise!

- Come on… I'll show you the garden. Charles needs some time to prepare the food.

He pulls at my hand, but I stop in my tracks.

-Really?

- Excuse me?

- Why all people at this time period... are so desperately trying to feed me? Do I look that hungry?

The man's eyes seem to open a little wider than usual.

- This time period?

- Don't mind me… The garden, you say.

We bend the castle, and behind it opens the most beautiful garden I have ever seen. I thought William's garden was cute, but this…

- So beautiful…

- I'm glad you like it. This is my garden…

- You mean... You planted, tended and... everything else?

- Yes.

- But it's huge! It's like... a mile long. And there are a lot of flowers… How can one person do this?

- I have all the time in the world…

Ring the bell!

- Don't tell me…

- Do you have a question?

- I have, but... what the hell, I have nothing to lose! I mean, even if I don't ask, you'll probably kill me.

His eyes widened ones again.

- Are you a vampire?

He blinks. The pause seemed to take forever.

- And what exactly gave you that idea?

I turn at the sound of oh so much familiar voice and meet with green eyes. He seemed to be much closer than I expected… How did he manage to sneak up on me unnoticed? And somehow that thought allowed me to finally talk to him.

- I don't know.… The same vibe…

- Vibe…

I take a deep breath. Don't tell me they don't have that word as well.

- I don't know... he just seems different.

- How so? People don't even suspect me.

- Well... if you don't expect something different, you won't notice a thing.

- And you expect it... So you knew…

I look at Faust questioningly.

- Charles said there was a girl in the mansion…

Wonderful. So, I got the confirmation I was asked for.

- Why do vampires find me? Does my blood smell good or something?

- You found us. So you tell. Do we smell nice?

Faust! What the hell are you doing? How can you ask this so bluntly? And my voice, which has just returned to me, disappears again.

The charming laugh attracts my attention... Vlad seems to be enjoying my suffering. Suddenly Charles jumps out into the garden and points an accusing finger at Faust.

- How could you make her fall for you in my absence? It's so sneaky of you...

- I'm not in love with him!

- Really? It's very hard to believe…

I'm looking at Vlad seriously.

- It's called crush. And I'll get over it in no time, as soon as I realize that he has nothing but good looks.

- You sound so sure…

- I have experience.

Yes. Experience. The first was a scientist who died before I was even born. Then a couple of actors. And finally, my college teammate. The last one was the worst. He knew and only exploited my feelings. I hate him. I hate him so much! But that's all in the past. And now... the priest. At least my addiction to unreachable guys hasn't changed…

- Did I miss something?

- You obviously did. But let's go inside. The food is waiting…

Carefully avoiding looking at Faust, I follow Vlad and Charles, who is bouncing at every step.

(***)

After an extremely delicious dinner, I finally felt relaxed. So... What should I do? I looked around and chose a victim.

- So… I have a question…

- Of course. What would you like to know?

- Do you dye your hair?

- W-w-what?

- I have never seen such a shade of hair.… You probably killed them when you did it.… Can I touch it?

- No... no! Stop it!

I begin to pursue Vlad, who is dissatisfied with my desire to touch his hair. Have know idea why.

- Voïvode? Do you need a help?

We ran around the table a couple of times before he finally realized that he was taller than me and his hair was completely safe. I got tired of running and fell down on the couch. What's next? I look at Charles.

- You can do whatever you want with me.

- No.

- Aww. Why?

- I don't know. Probably because you agree so easily.…

Charles looked at Faust very sadly.

- What? She completely ignores me.

- Lucky you!

- Vlad! What's there?

I pointed to a door that didn't seem to have been used for a long time…

- I don't know…

- Good! Let's explore…

I jump up and try to open the door, but it won't budge.

- Owww.… It's closed. Vlad!!!

- Where does she get so much energy from?

- Maybe she's 5 years old?

Oh… good idea! Thanks Faust.

(Several days later)

- Oh, candy!

- No! You cannot give her sweets! – Vlad is almost crying.

- Sorry... sorry... She was smiling so radiantly that I forgot.

I think it's time to slow down a bit. I'm desperately trying to keep a smile from spreading. I feel someone's gaze on me and meet Faust's eyes first time for a very long time. Damn, he noticed. I raise an eyebrow questioningly. But he just smirked and didn't say a word. Didn't expect that...

I'm going back to my room in the castle. I have no idea why they still want me to stay with them. I'm constantly harassing both of them. I'm too clingy and overly emotional with Vlad and, on the contrary, very cold and distant with Charles. They're really weird.

William must be overjoyed because I got lost. I haven't heard from him since the first and the last day we saw each other. It's probably for the best. Charles regularly tells me about what's going on in the mansion. I don't know who is providing him with information, and I don't really care. According to him, all the residents are very worried about me. I have no idea why. I was pretty rude to them. Vampires are certainly strange creatures…

But my biggest problem is… Faust. I lie down on the bed and cover my face with a pillow to muffle the scream.

- How can he be so damn perfect?!?

This crush has a very high probability of developing into true love.

I'm doomed.

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🔝 Start page 🔝

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15 notes · View notes

gogobootz1 · 2 years

Text

Act II: No. 14a, Pas de deux

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Since you're generally unlucky in love, it hardly comes as a surprise that your boyfriend cheats on you before Christmas. But if there's one thing Hangman loves, it's saving the day.

8k words

Christmas had rolled around once again. Every year you looked forward to it, and this year was no exception. Your expectations had been higher than ever before, considering this year had been one of your best.

As the lead engineer on the Darkstar project, you had been overjoyed to see your work come to fruition. When Maverick crashed your prototype a little over two years ago, you thought the project was done for. That all the time you spent on it had been flushed down the drain. Only you were proved wrong when the old bastard had somehow proved to the Navy higher-ups that piloted jets were still a necessity. The details of the mission he'd been pulled away on were never made clear to you, but you were happy to see the pilot make a safe return. You were even happier to see that he was returning to his position as your test pilot.

So over the past two years, the two of you had worked closely to rebuild. Every so often he would be called away again to offer expert advice on new missions, but he always found someone to take his place. Maverick was a good friend to you, and you became well acquainted with the younger pilots he mentored. The ones you didn't already know, at least.

In November you finished the project, with the help of Maverick and a considerable number of incredibly skilled individuals. The Darkstar pushed beyond Mach 10, and the Navy couldn't be prouder. Nor could the President, a former Naval officer, himself. As a celebration of your achievement, you received an invitation to the White House Christmas Party.

You could not wait to finally bask in the glory of all of your hard work. The sleepless nights and endless hours dedicated to the notion of creating the fastest plane in the skies. You'd done it, and now you got to celebrate.

Holding the open card in your hand, you could not wait to tell your boyfriend. You'd met him a few months ago when Admiral Caine came by to assess the progress that had been made on the Darkstar. As the man's personal assistant, he could only tell you how amazed he was by your work in a whisper as he left. But the two of you soon started dating. In the minimal time you chose to spend away from your project, he was a pretty good boyfriend, and you could not wait to reward him for sticking by your side with a ticket to the White House Christmas Party.

You entered his apartment with the spare key he'd given you. Having told him you had paperwork to finish this weekend, you knew this would make for an extra pleasant surprise.

"Artie, guess what?!" You called out, excitedly. You raced to tug your shoes off and find him in his apartment. When he wasn't in your line of sight you headed toward his bedroom, thinking he turned in early. You figured his lovely girlfriend waking him up with a prestigious invitation would make it worth it for him.

"Hey Art," you swung the door open, the letter held up high in your hand, only to be greeted with the sight of your boyfriend in his bed with a naked woman. The two of them scrambled apart when they saw you.

In an instant, you blinked and turned around. It would be a cold day in hell before you dealt with this bullshit. He called out after you.

"It's not what it looks like," he pleaded from behind you. You'd already made it to the doorway and were pulling your shoes back on.

"I'm not blind, nor am I a fool, Arthur. Don't treat me like one." You pulled open the door, but he caught it before you could slip out.

"It didn't mean anything," he assured you, and you glared. "No really! But you're working all the time and I... needed an outlet."

You scoffed at his words, "really, Arthur?"

"Yes! You're always gone and when you're here you're... boring."

Finally, your eyes started to fill with tears. "You're actually blaming your indiscretions on me? On the fact that after I've worked a fourteen-hour day I don't always want to have disappointing sex with you?!" You forced the door open wide enough so you could get yourself out of there.

"Baby," he cried after you.

You whirled around and looked him dead in the eye, "we're done." The words came out with more venom than you'd used your whole life. You'd had lackluster boyfriends, granted they were few and far between, but none of them had been so pompous as to think they could do better than you.

You should've known better than to set your expectations so high. Every year Christmas disappointed you. It could never live up to the Hallmark holiday fantasy you created in your head, no matter what you did. This one was no exception.

Three glasses of wine later, you were sitting on your couch. You stared at the invitation in your hand. It was on thick paper. It even had a wax seal. It made you sad. You weren't sure if you could accept it. Four hours ago you'd had a boyfriend as a plus one. Two hours ago you called Maverick to see if he would come with you, only for your hopes to be dashed. Penny's mother would be hosting a Christmas party the same evening. You couldn't blame him for prioritizing his fiancee over you.

But now you were alone. You were practically a fucking Wright brother, and you were alone.

After your third Christmas cookie (you started holiday baking the day after Halloween), your sadness started morphing into anger. Why the hell should you be moping? You were a bonafide genius- Arthur was the one who should be wallowing in his own misery.

And why were you considering rejecting your invitation? You didn't have to have a plus one to have fun. What was so wrong with being alone anyways? It's not like having Arthur around would've been better than being by yourself. If he thought you were boring, he really needed to stop and listen to himself.

So in your mildly tipsy state, you went online and booked a first-class seat on a flight to Washington D.C. You'd be damned if you let someone else ruin your experience. You earned this- and you were going to act like it.

To your luck, the next day was a Saturday, and you were determined to find a dress suitable for the event. But when you got in your car, it wouldn't start. Just your luck. So you called the one person in your contact list who you assumed would have jumper cables, or something to that extent.

Jake didn't look very happy as he pulled up in his pickup truck. The thing was sparkling, of course, a brand-new model he'd rewarded himself with after a particularly grueling mission. He rolled his window down and glared at you.

"Do you not know anyone else?" He asked. The bags below his eyes were heavy- he'd clearly been out the prior night.

"Not well enough to feel comfortable inconveniencing them." You told him innocently.

"Well thank you so much for that high honor." He said, sarcasm dripping off of every word.

You grinned at him, "you're very welcome, Jacob." You hopped up into the passenger seat of his truck.

"I thought you said you needed a jump?" He questioned you.

"We can do that later. First, you should take me dress shopping." You said assuredly. His tired eyes stared at you blankly. "I'll treat you to lunch?" You offered, hoping to sweeten the deal.

He rolled his eyes at you and started to pull away, too tired to argue. "To the mall?"

"Are you kidding?!"

He hesitated, "no?"

"Jacob I cannot find a black tie dress at JC Penny, we're going to a boutique."

"Jesus, fine. What do you need a black tie dress for, anyways? You hardly leave the house."

"Okay first of all, rude,"

"True," he interrupted.

"Second of all," you barreled on, "I was invited to the very prestigious White House Christmas Party," you flaunted.

"Oh, no way me too." He nodded casually.

"What?!" You turned completely in your seat to face him.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"For what?" You asked.

"You do recall I'm a highly skilled fighter pilot, yes?"

"Shut up, Jake," you snap at him.

"I've got a flight out on the 15th," he said, ignoring your attitude.

"So do I," you say suspiciously.

He let out a chuckle, "Wouldn't it be funny if we were on the same plane?"

"Oh, I'm sure we are." You rolled your eyes. Ever since the Academy the two of you had been constantly bumping into each other. From group projects to stopping in the same coffee shops on weekends, the universe threw you together so many times you gave up and became friends. It was easier that way.

"That is just our luck, huh?"

"Oh! Turn here," you told him, pointing to your right.

"Where?" He asked.

"Here! Turn!!" You shout, and he suddenly swerves down the correct street.

"You couldn't have warned me?!?! Christ!" He panted.

You let out a guilty sort of chuckle, "the dress shop is on the right."

He rolled his eyes as he pulled into the parking lot, "the things I do for you, Einstein."

"I appreciate them all, Seresin," you assured him as he pulled into a space. You hopped out and quickly made your way into the shop. Jake trailed behind you reluctantly.

"Welcome to Magnolia Dress Shop!" A woman greeted you both cheerfully from behind the counter, "how can we help you blossom?"

You could feel disdain radiate off of the man next to you. "I can't do this." He said under his breath. You gave him credit for the five seconds he tried.

"Why don't you sit at the Starbucks across the street? I'll text you when I'm done and then we can go to lunch."

He sighed in relief, "I'll get you a croissant." He told you, and you recognized it as a thank you. You gave him a fond smile and nodded him off.

The woman behind the counter let out a light chuckle as the bell jingled behind him. "Don't worry, I've seen some boyfriends never even make it in."

"Oh, he's... not my boyfriend," you corrected her.

Her eyebrows shot up, "have you looked at him lately? Maybe you should reconsider."

You let out a chuckle. You couldn't blame her, after years of knowing him sometimes you were still struck by Jake's Hollywood good looks. "Believe me, if that man wants something he gets it. If he was interested there'd already be a ring on my finger- that's how long I've known him."

She sighed, "if you say so." Suddenly she remembered her job, "Anyways, what are we shopping for today?" She asked you excitedly.

"Something to wear to the White House," you replied confidently.

Her eyes widened, "then let's get started."

Two hours later, you and Natalie, who gave you her name soon after you started shopping, were at a standstill. Nothing had stood out, at least not enough to make it "White House worthy" as she put it.

"Wait!" She shouted, startling you. "We just got a shipment in. I almost forgot."

You perk up at this. Natalie rushes through a door a few feet away to the shop's storage room. "You're gonna love it! I'm pretty sure it's Givenchy." You heard her call from a few feet away. Whatever she was grabbing was sure to be expensive, but you hardly ever splurged. Just once it would be worth it.

Natalie came back holding one of the most exquisite things you'd ever seen. The dress was a gorgeous champagne shade due to the extensive embroidery that covered nearly the entire thing.

"It's beautiful," you told her.

"It's going on you right this instant," she insisted. You weren't one to argue, and when she zipped you in you knew. You turned and looked in the mirror, awestruck. You thought the dress looked good by itself, but it positively sparkled when it was on. You looked radiant.

'Wow." Natalie breathed.

"I'll take it." You practically whispered. She simply nodded.

After you paid enough money to make a pit settle in your stomach, you sent Jake a text.

all done :)

thank god- it was lunchtime an hour ago

don't get your panties in a twist, I'm on my way

I hope this was worth my gas money

you'll see

You thanked Natalie and met Jake outside with your giant garment bag. He exchanged the dress for your croissant and hung it up in the backseat and you enjoyed your snack.

"As an added bonus I will let you choose where we eat."

"How very generous," Jake mocked you.

"Aren't I just?" You joked.

Ten minutes later he pulled into the parking lot of a Texas Roadhouse.

"Are you that homesick?" You asked, a teasing smile gracing your face.

"I like their bread," he said defensively.

"I thought you subsisted on raw eggs and protein shakes nowadays."

"What can I say? I'm generous around the holidays." His words made you chuckle, and you followed him into the restaurant.

The two of you had made it halfway through the bread basket when he asked what you had hoped he wouldn't, "are you okay?"

Your mouthful of bread gave you a moment to consider your reply, "as a matter of fact, I think we could use more cinnamon butter."

"That's not what I mean." He insisted.

"Well, staring at the garland against the wooden walls might give me a headache." You started, but he cut you off with a serious call of your name.

"What's wrong?" Jake asked, gentler this time. You cursed him for his keen observational sense. Then again, you had a similar radar for when something was bothering him. You just knew each other too well.

You sighed, "he cheated on me."

He grew tense, staring at you in disbelief, "you're joking."

"No joke," you confirmed, "apparently, I just wasn't entertaining enough for him."

"What are you, a circus animal? It's not your fucking job to entertain him." Jake said, anger painting his face. "I never liked him anyways."

"You always made that clear." You said, mildly annoyed at his comment. The last thing you needed was an I told you so.

"And you never listened," he pressed.

You let out a huff, "look, Seresin, when I settle it bites me in the ass, and when I don't I get no ass." He tried not to chuckle at your comment. "I. Can't. Win. But excuse me for trying." You leaned back against the seat of the booth and crossed your arms.

"...Is this a bad time?" Your waitress asked, holding two plates in her hands. And just like that, Hangman was back.

"Not at all," he reassured her with a winning smile. "If there's one thing that'll cheer my friend here up, it's her lunch." Just when you thought that Jake was yours, he reminded you all over again he wasn't. It happened every time, and each time it was painful. But each time it was necessary. Although, you weren't sure just how necessary it was to invite the waitress to sit down with you both. And to get her number right in front of you. At that point, you threw a fifty down on the table and told him to take you home because you weren't feeling well.

You didn't see him again until three weeks later. For someone who literally built planes, you didn't get to the airport much. But when you did, you actually enjoyed it. Except when; you had to wake up at four AM for your flight, you dropped your favorite mug in your rush to get ready, security randomly chose you for a pat down, and you ran into old friends who had newly pissed you off.

As you boarded your flight to Washington D.C., you caught a glimpse of golden hair. In an instant, you knew who it was. Of course, the gods had once again thrown your hand in with Jacob Seresin's. When did they not? It was, after all, this sort of luck that had led to your friendship in the first place.

Already settled into first class, naturally, Jake only pulled the sleeping mask from his eyes when he heard your voice. He didn't seem all that surprised.

"What can I do you for, Einstein?" He asked jauntily.

"You can fix your unseemly posture so that I can get to my seat." You snapped quietly at him.

"You? First class? Huh, I never thought I'd see the day," he said, pulling his feet in so you could get to your window seat.

"I figured I'd treat myself," you spoke, sourly.

"And a treat it will be," Jake smirked.

You hummed and nodded sarcastically. It took him a second to figure it out.

His face fell a bit, "what are you pissed at me for?"

"I don't know, Jake, perhaps some might consider it rude to blatantly flirt with a stranger in front of your friend who had just been cheated on." You spat.

His shoulders sagged, "okay-"

"You know what?" You asked, plucking the sleeping mask out of his hand, "save it."

"What are you-"

"Save it," you reiterated, slipping it over your eyes, "I don't want to hear another peep from you until we land." You leaned back in your seat and determined yourself to ignore him for the next five or so hours.

You heard him sigh, "whatever you want, darling." He said, quietly resigned. He made it extremely hard to be angry with him.

After takeoff, you actually did fall asleep. You weren't sure how long you'd been out when you heard voices.

"Is that the Mrs.?" A flight attendant asked Jake. You decided it would be less awkward to simply feign sleep.

You heard him take in a sharp breath, "we're in a bit of a tiff." He told the older woman instead of correcting her. Your chest tightened at his words.

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing a handsome couple like you can't resolve," you heard the woman say. A warm smile accompanied it, you were sure. The kind people always gave Jake, it was almost hard not to.

"Thank you," he said, keeping quiet. Clearly, he thought you were still asleep. "Can I get a pack of cookies and a bottle of water? She's bound to be hungry later." Internally you groaned, Jake knew exactly how to earn your forgiveness- always had.

You went back to sleep soon after that. True to his word, Jake didn't disturb you until the plane was safely on the ground.

"Hey, we're here," he gently shook your shoulder. You pulled the sleeping mask off your face and saw him try to hide an amused grin.

"What is it now?" You asked, annoyed.

"You've got..." he trailed off, but drew a line around his eyes, indicating the mask had left an impression on your face. You practically glowered at him.

"Thank you so very much, Seresin," your words dripped with sarcasm.

"Eh, don't worry about it," he said, "you can thank me after I grab your bag." The chivalry absolutely killed you. How were you supposed to stay mad at him?

"Okay I can take it now," you made to grab your duffel. The two of you had stopped after you got off the plain. He pulled back the shoulder that your bag rested on.

"No can do," he shook his head, "I won't have the guest of honor damage her beautiful shoulder before the party."

"I'm hardly the guest of honor," you insisted, still reaching for it, "besides, I have to go get my checked bag."

"How much luggage did you bring?" He asked, judgement clear on his face.

"You think I shoved a designer gown inside of a duffel?" You asked with disdain.

He put his hands up in surrender, "fine, luggage claim it is." He said, starting to walk in the direction the sign pointed. You huffed but ultimately gave up on trying to get your bag away from him.

"Which one is it?" He asked when you finally got to the luggage carousel.

"It's navy blue with a silver luggage tag," you told him, not expecting him to push throw the crowd and retrieve your bag for you once he spotted it. You shouldn't have been surprised, though, Jake hardly shied away from making a scene or performing a grand gesture.

"Your bag, M'lady," he offered it to you, dramatically, and you snatched it from his grasp. You moved to take the duffel back from him, but he still managed to keep it away. "How are you getting to the hotel?"

You rolled your eyes at him, "you've heard of Uber?"

"Nope, I rented a car," he shook his head and started walking off in the other direction with your bag. You stood there, momentarily stunned, then jogged to catch up with him.

"And how do you know it won't be out of your way?" You asked, suspiciously.

"Where are you staying?" He asked.

"The Jefferson," you said its name just as he did. You threw your head back and groaned, "how do we keep doing this?" You asked.

"It is genuinely beyond me," he supplied, walking you towards the Herz. When you arrive he insisted on grabbing the door for you. You rolled your eyes at him before walking in.

As Jake approached the man at the counter, you looked around. You were happy to see the small Christmas tree on the corner of the desk. A bulb was out, though, and soon you were fixated on it. You walked over and examined the thing. It was an easy fix, as all you had to do was screw the bulb back in.

"Come on, MacGyver," Jake said teasingly, jingling the car keys he'd just gotten. You released your grip on the tree and followed him to the sports car he rented.

"Really?" You asked after taking one look at the thing.

"Did you expect anything less?" He questioned you. You shook your head, choosing to just get into the car.

Jake was more than happy to throw the keys to the valet as he rounded the car to pop the trunk. In a flash, he'd gotten both yours and his luggage out of the car.

"See you soon, darling," he called over his shoulder as he wheeled his bag in towards the front desk. You rolled your eyes at him and heaved your duffel bag onto your shoulder as you followed him inside.

You made your way to one of the check-in counters, steering clear of Jake and his attempts at charming the desk attendant. Getting your room key proved to be quick and painless, and soon enough you were on your way to your suite on one of the top floors. Did you need to splurge on a suite? Probably not. But when you're too busy building a military-grade jet to go spend money and you find out your boyfriend's been cheating on you, fiscal responsibility isn't at the top of your list.

Scanning your room key, you push open the heavy door to be greeted by a luxurious room and a gorgeous view. The Washington Monument peaked through your window and looked striking against the clear blue sky.

"Damn! I guess you always did have expensive taste, even back at the academy." You jumped about four feet in the air at the voice over your shoulder. Turning around, you weren't surprised to look up into the smarmy face of your accidental travel companion. Of course, the two of you had ended up on the same floor.

"Oh don't pretend like you don't Mr. "my family isn't wealthy- we're comfortable"." You snapped once you recovered from your momentary fright.

"We are!" He defended.

"Yeah anyone with a backyard the size of Vermont would be." You sassed back, walking into your room and putting your bags down by the luxe-looking sofa in the middle of your suite.

"It's really closer to Rhode Island," Jake called from the doorway.

"Shut up, and besides, anyone who uses the word wealthy is wealthy." You asserted, flopping back over the arm of the couch onto the cushions below.

"Really?" He asked, skeptically.

"Yeah," you sass him, "the rest of us just say rich."

"Okay, I'm not Jeff Bezos. You don't have to group me in with the one percent."

You sat up, "what are you doing in my doorway again?"

"I'm on my way to the gym," he started, "but I saw you admiring the view and I figured I'd say hi."

"Well that's very kind of you," you told him, getting up so you could push him out of your doorway, "enjoy your workout!" You waved as you closed the door on him.

"See you later," came his muffled voice through the door.

A few hours later, you heard the knock on your door you'd been expecting. Thank God your dinner had finally come. After a long flight and the long day you were bound to have tomorrow, you didn't really feel like putting something nice on to go to dinner. So after having a nice long shower, you settled into your pajamas to eat a (hopefully delicious) hotel meal.

You swung the door open and an older hotel employee rolled a cart with your meal in. He placed your tray on the table and thanked him.

"A lot of orders, tonight?" You asked, trying to make conversation with the nice man.

"Actually no," he told you, "just you and another gentleman on this floor."

You sighed at that, "let me guess, Mr. Seresin?"

He looked shocked you got it right, "yes, room 717." You nodded fondly.

"Well, thanks again, Ralph. Have a nice night," you told him as he wheeled the cart out. You sat down on the couch to start eating your meal but stared at it for a minute before coming to a decision you might regret.

You let out a huff and grabbed your room key, walking down the hall to where the hotel employee told you Jake was staying. Knocking on the door, you waited impatiently for him to open it.

He had clearly already dug into his burger as he opened the door. "What's up?" Jake asked, mouth full. Judging by the sweatpants, he'd had the same feeling about staying in that you did.

"Want to eat in my room?" You asked as he swallowed his bite.

"Sure," he shrugged, "hold on a minute." The door closed in your face as he went to grab his tray.

"How'd you even know I was getting room service?" Jake asked as you led him down the hallway toward your room.

"Ralph told me," you replied, unlocking the door and holding it open for him.

He turned and looked at you like you were crazy, "Ralph?"

"Yeah! The room service guy," you defended.

Jake made a face as he set his tray down across from yours on the coffee table. He settled on the floor right in front of it and you did the same in front of your food.

"What'd you get?" He asked, picking up his burger again.

"The salmon," you said, cutting into your dinner. He nodded in acknowledgment. "You excited for tomorrow?" You asked, taking a bite of asparagus.

He hummed a yes, swallowing his bite of hamburger, "if there's one thing they know how to do at the White House- it's make eggnog."

"Wait- you've been to this before?" You asked, brows furrowed.

"Yeah, they love me there," Jake said, shrugging like it should be common knowledge. You supposed it probably was, there weren't many places where he didn't make friends.

"Of course they do." You shook your head.

"Oh, hey, you know what we should do?" He asked.

"What?" You replied, taking a sip of water.

"Put on a Christmas movie- I bet they have all the streaming services here," he waggled his eyebrows.

"You say that like you don't." You told him, raising a brow.

"Oh come on," he whined, "don't be a grinch."

"I'm not," you said defensively, "I'm just afraid of your poor taste."

"I have great taste in everything, and that's a fact," Jake said.

You rolled your eyes, "fine then, what would you have us watch?"

"National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation." He said, proudly. You cursed, internally, that was one of your favorites.

"You just like that scene where that hot girl takes off her bathing suit."

"You don't?!" He asked.

"I never said that," you shrugged.

"That settles it, then. I'm putting it on." He said, swiping the remote and sitting down on the couch.

You rolled your eyes but got up anyways, grabbing your dessert off of the table. After grabbing a fork, you settled in next to him.

Jake side-eyed your dish. "What is that?"

"Fancy chocolate cake," you told him, offering your fork for him try it.

He took a bite, and his eyes widened, grabbing himself some more.

"Jesus! Save some for me," you snapped, snatching your fork back. He gave you an innocent-looking smile as he pressed play on the movie.

Somewhere over the course of high-speed sledding, non-functioning Christmas lights, and difficult Griswold family relatives, you must have fallen asleep. You awoke to the phone on your nightstand ringing. Thanking your lucky stars that you scheduled a wake-up call earlier in the evening, you answered the phone. As you did, you noticed a note left on the fancy hotel stationery.

You fell asleep, loser. I moved you so you wouldn't complain about your back hurting. Also, I ate the rest of your chocolate cake- it was delicious.

You rolled your eyes at the lovely message Jake had written you. However, you were thankful he hadn't let you just sleep on the couch, even if it came at the cost of the rest of your slice of cake.

You rolled out of bed and quickly got dressed. You had a hair appointment at noon followed by makeup at three. Being back at the hotel by 4:30 would give you enough time to grab a little something to eat and put on your gown.

After eating in the hotel lobby, you grabbed the elevator back up to the seventh floor to get your coat and your purse before leaving. The doors opened up only to reveal the man you couldn't seem to avoid.

"Are you really going to the gym again?" You asked after looking at what he was wearing.

"Hey, these abs don't build themselves, Einstein," he said. As you stepped out of the elevator he traded places with you, "what are you up to this morning?"

"Just about to head to my hair appointment," you told him. "See you tonight!" You said as the doors shut.

After a long day of beauty prep, you were finally ready to put on the dress. You had a surprisingly delicious salad from the restaurant in the lobby and were ready to finish the look for the evening.

Both you and Nicole had agreed a few weeks earlier that you should wear matching gloves with the dress. She'd ordered a pair for you from a shop in DC and had them delivered to your hotel this morning.

After donning the gown, you pulled on the black opera gloves to accompany it. You sat down at the vanity in your room to put in your pearl earrings, and just like that, you were done. You weren't sure you'd ever felt more beautiful.

"Hey, I don't know if you're still getting ready, but I'm leaving for the party soon, and I'm happy to drive you." Came Jake's voice through the door. Originally you were planning on hiring a car to take you, but you'd sort of forgotten about that. "I know we didn't talk about-"

You cut him off by swinging the door open. The words died in his mouth as soon as he saw you. After a moment he regained control of his smart mouth.

"I've never been so glad to have spent gas money," Jake murmured softly.

You shook your head, goodnaturedly, "I just have to grab my purse." You told him. He only nodded, still admiring the view.

As you walked back toward him you couldn't help but admire how he looked in his naval formal dress. "You clean up nice," you told him, adjusting his bow tie.

"So do you," he complimented, smiling.

You couldn't help but give him one back, "then let's go be the two hottest people at the White House."

"I thought you'd never ask," he teased, offering you his arm.

No one could say that Jake Seresin wasn't a gentleman. He could be an insufferable flirt, yes, but his Southern upbringing shined through when it counted. He opened the car door for you twice, both when entering and exiting, and insisted on offering you his arm. That- you weren't complaining about. Designing high-speed jets didn't give you that much practice walking in heels. You knew Jake wouldn't let you fall. On a normal day he probably actually would, but he knew how much this Christmas party meant to you. He would be damned if it wasn't the best night of your whole fucking life.

You couldn't say he was bad company, either. After knowing each other for so long, you were more than comfortable in his presence. In fact, there were times he made you laugh like no other. You were sure tonight would be one of those occasions. With all the politicians and stuffy old people you already saw milling around, Jake would definitely start making cracks at the expense of his fellow party-goers.

The two of you had barely stepped through the door when you heard someone calling your name. You turned to see a young man.

"Hi, the President asked me to come grab you," he told you kindly- like he'd said something casual. Your eyes widened and you didn't move for a minute until Jake nudged you.

"Right!" You said, finally, "yes of course." You looked to Jake for support and found him giving you an encouraging nod.

"I'll find you later," he promised, as the young man started leading you toward where you assumed the President was. You still couldn't believe this was happening.

Finally, you came to where the man was standing with the First Lady. In an instant, the man excused himself from his conversation and walked right up to you. He greeted you by your first name, immediately shaking your hand. He acted as if he'd known you for years.

"I've been told you've done amazing work for the Navy. It sounds to me like you've brought us into the 21st century. I can't thank you enough." He gave you a show-stopping smile. Meeting him in person, it was even clearer why more than half the country had voted for him.

"Thank you so much, sir. It's an honor to meet you." You replied, a little starstruck.

"Believe me," he said, "the honor's all mine. Let me introduce you to some people." He guided you toward the conversation his wife was still taking part in.

Your conversation with the President had left you decidedly starstruck. You'd had no idea just how charming the man was in person. Frankly, it made you think Jake could run for office. With all his charm and godly good looks, he could probably make it pretty far.

Unfortunately, the President had to cut the brief tour he decided to take you on short- apparently, he'd received an important phone call. You were sure whatever it definitely took priority over your walkabout. He wished you a lovely evening and assured you you'd be on the guest list for all of his White House Christmas parties to come. And now you were trying to find Jake. Only you couldn't seem to track him down.

Walking into the main room of the party, you did a scan around. Peering over the couples dancing to the live band, you couldn't seem to spot him. However, you spotted someone you had hoped not to see for a long time. Your ex.

How on Earth did that lying, cheating, son of a bitch get an invite to this? He was a glorified secretary. And you were practically a fucking genius. Despite how much Jake teased you for it, your brilliance was indisputable. Not only that, but you'd spent the last few years busting your balls on the Darkstar project. This was your victory celebration, and now he was taking this from you too.

Tears swelled in your eyes, not because you were sad, but because you were furious. You hated when that happened, and you hated it even more when you had your eye makeup done. Before your ex-boyfriend could see you, you turned away to grab a drink. Almost instantly, you bumped into the man you had been looking for. Two strong hands steadied you from your elbows.

"Hey," Jake started with a smile that soon disappeared, "what's wrong?" His brow furrowed with concern.

"He's here," you said simply. Your shoulders were tense, and you were still trying to keep tears from spilling.

Jake's head whipped around the room. Instantly he spotted the person who'd made you so upset. His jaw clenched in anger, but he dismissed it to ensure you were alright.

"Come on," he guided you away. As a waiter passed he grabbed a glass of champagne off the tray. "Drink this," he said once you were in relative private.

You started shaking your head. You'd been having such a good night, but one glimpse at the man who'd cheated on you and your self esteem practically washed down the drain.

"Jake, what am I even doing here?" You said, face hot with embarrassment. "I really don't know why I thought this was a good idea- I'm just gonna call a cab and go back to the hotel." Your words came out in a rush.

"Woah, Woah, Woah," he said, "slow down, okay?" You shook your head again, but he grabbed your face in his hands and gently forced you to look at him.

He said your name softly, "you deserve to be here." He assured you.

You lightly grabbed his wrists, "Jake."

"No," he said firmly, "you have been looking forward to this for weeks. You work harder than anyone I know. You have more than earned a beautiful fucking evening at a fancy-ass Christmas party." You let out a halfhearted chuckle at that. "You look beautiful, you deserve to be here, and you don't have to worry about him. Trust me." You closed your eyes, relaxing into his hands.

"Hell, the President himself spent half an hour talking to you." You giggled at that. "Speaking of which, what'd you think of Jed?"

That gave you pause, "you and the President are on a first-name basis?"

He smirked, and all of a sudden you felt normal again. You let out a loud laugh.

"You just can't help but show me up, huh, hot shot?" You asked him, grinning impossibly wide.

"It's how I roll, darlin'."

"Well, you can dance with me to make up for it," you said, grabbing his hand and leading him back to where the band was playing.

Jake stopped in his tracks, "you sure?" You heard his underlying question of will you be ok if your ex is watching?

"Positive," you assured him, "Why? Are you not a Tchaikovsky fan?"

"I never said that," he said, "who wouldn't want to waltz to Waltz of the Flowers?" You smiled at his small joke as he led you onto the floor.

"How'd you know I could dance?" He asked you after a few turns around the floor.

"Did you not parade some lucky southern belle around her cotillion?" You asked innocently.

He snorted, "you caught me." To your surprise, Jake was an even better dancer than you thought. Although you shouldn't have been shocked, you doubted there was anything he couldn't do if he really wanted to.

"Do you remember that other time we danced?" He asked softly in your ear.

You wracked your brain for a moment before it came to you, "do you mean when we were drunk and did the Dirty Dancing lift?"

"Yeah," he grinned, "you think that would impress these folks who were around to see the White House built in the 1700s?"

"Actually Jake, the White House was rebuilt after it was burned down during the War of 1812. The President just told me so."

He gave you an unamused look, "fine, then I'll just dip you when you least expect it."

True to his word, just as the song came to an end he enacted his plan. He extended his arm out, then pulled you back in by the hand, instantly dropping you into a low dip. He kept you there for a moment, before slowly pulling you back up by the waist. The band had moved on to the next song, but you didn't know if anyone was dancing to it. You couldn't tear your gaze from his eyes.

A throat cleared from behind him, "may I cut in?" Of course, Artie thought you owed him a dance. Why wouldn't he- the pompous ass? Even after cheating on you he felt entitled to your time.

The look on Jake's face told you he was about to cause a problem, and the last thing you needed was to cause a scene at a respectable event. Letting out a huff, you took yourself as physically far from your ex as you could go.

Despite being able to see the snow from inside, you underestimated just how cold it would be out on the terrace. The breath that escaped you was visible in the brisk night air.

"You'll freeze to death you know," came a familiar voice from behind you. You turned just as Jake shut the glass door behind him, muffling the sounds of the party. The music carried, though, and made the cold a bit more bearable.

"I'd take that over dancing with Arthur," you scoffed. He made his way to where you looked out over the frosty railing.

"You didn't have to rush off. I would've taken care of him." His words made you sigh.

"You can't always take care of everything for me, Jake." Your chest ached. Every time you spent a few days with him, you somehow re-convinced yourself that he'd always be around for you. That, eventually, his role in your life would be more permanent and more than that of a friend. This time had been no different.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed. His expression changed when he saw how cold you were. "Come here, you're shivering," he said, shrugging his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders.

"This is what I'm talking about." You shook your head, backing away a little.

"Really, Einstein, what-?"

You cut him off, "I can't keep letting you take care of me like this."

"Why not?"

You screwed your eyes shut, "because I'm fooling myself into thinking it's not temporary."

He blinked a few times, "it's not-"

"No, Jake, it really is," you said, tears welling in your eyes for the second time that evening. "Because you don't want to spend the rest of your life doing this. You don't want to spend a thousand more nights eating on the floor with me and watching movies and taking me out."

"And what if I do? What if I want to spend the whole rest of my life taking care of you. God knows you don't take good enough care of yourself." Jake said firmly, looking at you in disbelief. Your fists curled in frustration at his words.

"How can you say things like that when you don't really mean them?"

"I do!" He practically shouted.

"You can't say things like that," you begged. "You can't do things like this," your voice grew louder, gesturing to the jacket he'd given you. "Because I can't help but think that you're in love with me."

"I am." Jake said simply.

"What?" Your face fell in surprise, not quite understanding.

"I'm in love with you," he said so earnestly you thought you'd melt. You blinked and he had bridged the gap between you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulled you into a firm kiss that left no room to deny his feelings for you.

It took you a moment to recover from the shock, but soon enough, your arms snaked up to wrap around Jake's neck. He held you there for a long moment, and you reveled in the feeling. How his strong arms kept you close, and his soft lips met yours. You basked in the warmth that radiated from his chest. In that moment, you were sure there had never been a more perfect kiss.

He pulled away but rested his forehead against yours. "Took you long enough to figure it out. I thought you were supposed to be a genius." His eyes shined with mirth as he spoke softly, smiling down at you teasingly.

"Not when it comes to feelings," you whispered, suddenly bashful.

"I think I made it pretty obvious," he laughed.

"Jake," you groaned, burying your head in his chest.

You felt his body shake as he chuckled, "that's okay, in your defense it took me a while to tell you outright."

"Well then, I'll spare you that trouble," you said, lifting your head confidently. "It's always been you or bust for me, Seresin."

He snorted, "how romantic."

"Wait, wait, let me have a do-over."

Jake rolled his eyes at you, shaking his head amusedly. You grabbed his face between both hands, and practically touched your nose to his.

"I love you," you breathed out, staring deep into his eyes. The words fell out of your lips with ease like none had before. Saying them felt good and right.

"Apparently you loved the gourmet onion rings too," he joked.

You reeled back and smacked him on the arm. "Jacob Seresin," you scoffed.

"Kidding, kidding," he assured you. You rolled your eyes but were unable to keep a grin off of your face. "What do you say we head back to the hotel?"

"Already?"

"You got the tour, met the president, and confessed your undying love- what more were you looking to do?" He asked.

"touché," you nodded, taking his hand and letting him lead you out of the party.

The next morning you awoke a lot warmer than you'd been the night before. You let out a yawn and stretched a little, rolling over only to run into Jake. Oh. Oh. Your eyes widened. And of course, he was still shirtless. You couldn't help but admire how the light that peaked out from behind the curtain graced his features.

"Go back to bed," he grumbled, voice raspy from sleep. And how could you argue with that?

"Room service later?" You asked him in a whisper.

With eyes still closed, he hummed in agreement. He then wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him. A grin grew on your face- it was going to be a very merry Christmas.

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

here is the link to the dress I'm picturing btw

MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS I have been working on this bitch since literally the middle of October. Christmas is really fucking for me this year (in a great way)- hope you all enjoy. Also, I wrote- like- half of this while listening to a ten-hour loop of that jazz song from the Incredibles.

(and happy Top Gun Maverick rerelease :D)

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #hangman x you

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jokeringcutio · 2 years

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Ok more angst 😈 Arthur and joker reacting to their injured partner ending up in the hospital. Maybe it was an unlucky car crash or maybe his enemies hurt them, up to you on how they got hurt 😈

"It happened way too fast. In hindsight, you should have seen it coming. He should have. But now, standing at the end of your bed, looking down at your pale form, he regretted that he hadn’t acted more accurately, more swiftly. That he had not been as aptly as he thought himself to be. You seemed so small and helpless beneath the white sheets, the hospital gown making your cheeks look even paler.

He grunted and tweaked the unlit cigarette from between his lips, folding his fingers around it tightly till they had formed a fist, the cigarette crushed inside. He’d get those bastards. He get them, and no revenge had ever been as sweet as this."

[ Headcanons below ]

Hi Anon, mun here, your local Jokeringcutio. This makes for so many great drabbles! I encourage any and all clown-loving readers to send me situation prompts to write a little drabble about. [ example: Arthur As Carnival arrives at the hospital to find his s/o injured. ] My hands are itching. Of course, I have a drabble in mind for Arthur needing to rescue the reader, as in one of the previous asks. But I would love to be given one of these scenarios and write a bit more about it. (Same goes for any of the filled-in headcanons ). Now without further ado:

Headcanons Joker/Arthur reacting to their s/o injured and in the hospital

Now, there are many scenarios for this:

Unlucky Car Crash:

Arthur Fleck: Let’s start nice and dramatic sweet. When it happens, there is nothing you can do to prevent it. The news reaches Arthur on the job. He has just finished performing and is in the process of taking his makeup off when he hears the devastating news. You are in critical condition, they say, and he doesn’t even take the time to wipe everything off his face. He just runs, hails a cab, and spends his last few bucks to reach you – clown paint smudged and still half on.

Seeing you in the bed is devastating to him, yet another confirmation that he isn’t allowed to have good things happen to him. He will hold your hand, and, when you regain consciousness, he will try his hardest to make you feel loved and comfortable, to make sure you know he is there for you, always. He will smile kindly at you, encouragingly, and talk in a soft and gentle voice.

He’ll bring you books, and sweets, and remains at your side up to the point where he'll fall asleep in the chair next to your bed, exhausted.

This man doesn't leave you. But the experience will not leave just you with scars. He’ll be traumatized by it for the rest of his life, always worried about losing you, always reminded of this one time. He’d stick close and try to be your guardian angel forever. And if he can’t and can’t arrange for something to put his mind at ease to ensure your safety – honestly, it’s becoming a little suffocating to always have him watch you – and something does go wrong – even if it is just a papercut to your finger – he’ll flip and blame himself. He wasn’t there to protect you. Arthur’s fragile like that, and this would be another heavy blemish upon his fragile mind.

Joker: Now, he'll cause havoc. Doesn’t matter if it is just an accident, he’ll be on it. The one initiating the accident? He’ll find that person. And you’ll find out later on that this person is dead. Probably after Joker has managed to threaten, frighten and steal money (emotional compensation etc) from them. He’s not leaving any stone unturned.

At the same time, he’ll still be doing his Arthur moves. He’ll be devastated, sit at your bedside and plot. He’ll forever be worried about losing you after the accident, holding your hands more and more often, gently rubbing his thumb in comforting circles as he holds your hand, hug you more, hold you close, try and keep you in safe locations.

And of course, he will not lose sight of you. Even if he isn’t with you, one of his men is shadowing you to make sure no harm will befall on you again.

Enemies Involved:

Arthur does not have the backbone to react properly to this threat. If someone hurts you because of him, he’ll try and tell them off, but he wouldn’t get away with it. He will not be the one ending victoriously on top. He probably will end up with a bloody broken nose and enough bruises to ensure he can’t sit and walk properly for days.

Such enemies are most likely to be youth harassing him while he is as Carnival – and you step in between to shush them.

Or perhaps Wayne’s men, because he cornered Wayne about the man actually being his father. Wayne knows this is true, and has Arthur shadowed. To intimidate him, he has his men send after you.

Arthur might not win this, might not properly take his revenge for you and punish those who hurt you – but if he gains just a little more confidence, his revenge will be all the sweeter. Seeing you in the hospital will tip him over and bring out the Joker in him. Now, the Joker, on the other hand, he will be victorious.

Joker. If his enemies aim at you it is purely by accident that they found out about you. You are supposed to be Joker’s little dirty secret. And he will be unforgiving when it happens. Especially as the attack will probably be made in front of his eyes.

As the Joker – do I really need to write this out again? – he will hunt down the culprits and make sure their deaths are slow and agonizing. Some kind of twisted torture might be applied. And as is natural for him, he will not let you know the full details about what he has done. Just tells you they have been taken care of. And if you are the curious type, you can find out on your own later what their fates have been. That is, if you want to dive back into the newspaper archives to find out about it.

He’ll send out a sign to any of his opponents that his s/o is not to be touched or toyed with. It is a clear warning. You are his. One wrong move, and they will pay with their lives.

He hurt you:

On the rare occasion that you end up in the hospital because he got too rough with you, he will be in a state of disbelief. Because, you are here, because of him?

It might have been an accident, part of a game between the two of you that went wrong? Practice with fighting or weapons that he has been teaching you how to use? Him being angry, perhaps not even at you, and you stepping in between and taking the brunt of it.

He will be repenting. He’ll sit with you in the hospital, seated next to your bed, elbows on his knees and head hanging. His hands folded in front of him like a prayer of forgiveness. He’ll whisper words, begging for your forgiveness. His makeup will be smudged by the tears spent and his eyes red because of all the crying.

He’ll be like this as well if you are in there because of having to give birth (if you are a s/o who can carry), and there have been complications, or a c-section has to be performed. Because dang, he blames himself for having you go through all of that.

And he’d be pretty much the same as in any other of these scenarios. Except there is no one but him to blame. And he’d be trying to gain your forgiveness for years to come – even if you actually told him everything was okay. AN: Hope you liked, feel free to send in scenarios for drabbles or imagines. To the anons who have sent in prompts: This is a busy week, but I will be on them. I have a few for Mr. Gold and for Arthur Fleck/Joker, and a personal prompt or two about Arthur Harrow for @nicktremblaywayfu and one for Albert Shaw especially for @myers-meadow. Now I just need the time to write them all. Have you seen my recent Captain Hook x Reader HC? I am over the moon someone suggested it <3

#I am on it #prompt fills #open for prompts #open for requests #Arthur Fleck x Reader #Arthur Fleck headcanons #Joker headcanons #Joker x you #Joker x reader

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benwvatt · 4 months

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DIANEEEEEE director's cut on "little rocking, sailing moon, do you hear me shout?" PLEASE AND THANK YOU XOXOXO Moon!Alex and Sun!Henry my BELOVEDS

ROOP I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!

yes! so my fic was written in like 3 days because I had Many Many Feelings about stars + celestial vibes + firstprince, and it was written for the prompt "written in the stars." Slightly inspired by the whole Orion Henry thing with his dad, I really wanted to write a story surrounding Henry's grief in a world where his dad isn't dead but has been reincarnated... and his family just hasn't found his dad yet.

(insert something something here about how I want to write sequels to all my stories but then i'm tired and I don't actually write sequels to any of my stories)

I had so much fun writing about moon!alex and sun!henry because i am always so emotional about princess diana (insert my rant here about the greatest podcast ever, You're Wrong About, and their coverage of princess di.)

I am also ALWAYS emotional about jacqueline bouvier kennedy onassis, better known as Jackie O, and the way that jackie and diana are both sort of like Henry. They have these rich, blessed childhoods that have tinges of emotional loneliness (okay, in diana's case, lots of loneliness once her dad got custody of her and her brother), and through marriage, both of them are thrown into institutionally respected, semi-cold, semi-loveless marriages fraught with diamond necklaces as birthday gifts and whispers of infidelity in newspapers.

OKAY MAYBE I AM OFF-TOPIC BUT LIKE -- sun!henry is so scared of ending up like that. He doesn't want to be like Mary, queen of Helios; he wants to be like his father, the god of music and love and laughing. For now, he doesn't have Arthur around, and he's just a scared child in a very large, very frigid palace. So much of my writing is inspired by languishing and lonesomeness, as well as my own experiences of suburban malaise and religious grief. It's, like, A THING.

Henry and Alex are both in these unlucky-but-lucky positions. Alex SEETHES with jealousy because Henry has this larger, fancier role as a sun god and Alex is just the moon, coming up short. It often feels like POC just exist to reflect the light of their white bosses and friends and family members, and I think Alex has so deeply absorbed that sadness. and he's MAD about it. And Henry is just lonely and misses his dad ;-;

(damn it, roop, now I want to write a sequel about the boys cuddling in the stars and Henry talking about missing his dad and them going on cute celestial dates at, like, a starlight cafe.)

also, I think I'm so attracted to writing pining stories as an ace/shy/introverted person, so I find it more comforting to write the pining part and the love confession than the actual established relationship. Part of it is also that I adore writing AUs, and it can feel a bit odd to start an AU with the characters already in a relationship, so that's why so many of my stories (such as this) are AUs and involve pining and friends to lovers. It's just very soft and vulnerable and nice, which is the headspace I thrive in.

okay! byeeeeeee i'm gonna go write smut <3 feel free to talk to me about fic anytime!

#rwrb #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry fox #benwvatt #rwrb fic

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gonkwrites · 7 months

Text

Elite the Spanish Netflix show is a true tragedy

If you were around during 2018 and early 2020 on YouTube, you have seen the edits and potentially had been equally obsessed as I was with the Spanish Netflix show Elite. Which centres around Spain’s most wealthy high schoolers who experience murder as 3 scholarship students enter their school Las Encinas. A lot of the character arcs and plots directly mirror Shakespeare. While I’m unsure whether or not this is intentional I wanted to point out some solid comparisons between the show and Shakespeare’s body of work. Additionally, I’m vaguely aware of the ideology that almost all modern literature and media throughout the ages follow classics like Shakespeare because we as humans can’t help but draw inspiration from everything and anything we see, read and listen to. However, I find it interesting that each season (the later ones not as much) follows a similar structure and loosely follows a Shakespearean tragic storyline. I would also like to point out that I will only be covering seasons 1-3 because after that the show essentially recycles the same storylines. Therefore I will only be covering the original characters’ story arcs throughout those seasons, characters like Patrick, Ari, Mencía and more will not be covered.

The iconic structure of Elite

The structure of Elite follows a similar one to that of Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller. While being a tenuous connection, both flash between the present and the past through the perspective of the central characters. That comparison has no relevance except for pointing out the show structure which I’m aware isn’t unique just to Elite and Death of a Salesman. The season starts with, of course, a crime needing solving. In season one it was Marina’s murder, then in the second Samuel’s fake abduction and finally in the third Polo’s death. As I stated before, each episode delves into the outlooks of different characters, the first ever episode being from the standpoint of the new scholarship students- Samuel, Nadia and Christian. Each is interviewed by ‘Inspectora’ or the inspector in the present and flashing back to the leading up events. What makes this structure so intriguing is the fact that the different perspectives make the entire suspect list unreliable narrators as they all have different versions of their own stories. While the facts are laid out, a lot of the information is withheld from the viewer. Again, I’m aware this is a common trait for all murder mysteries but it’s the combination of tragic features and murder mystery features that is interesting to me. My favourite season, the third, makes a direct reference to this by naming each episode with the character that it is in the perspective of. Allowing every character to become the protagonist of their story, even if they are the killer like Polo. This is because Polo wasn’t the villain, he was just unlucky enough to be another wealthy and entitled Las Encinas student who was never questioned by the adults around him for his violent or malevolent behaviour and lashed out towards Marina. Like how Guzman almost killed the scholarship student who gave Marina HIV. Polo became a victim of his environment and that led to his tragic fall. The point I’m trying to make is that through the structure, each character can play out their Shakespearean tragedies. Some even recreate multiple.

Tragedy and Elite

The most tragic part of Elite is watching the protagonist Samuel Garcia, a naive, loyal and noble character turn into the person he most resents. Marina’s killer. Samuel the show's tragic hero, becomes corrupt with power. As he falls deeper and deeper into high society Spain he takes on Polo’s role as Carla’s boyfriend. In that way, Samuel becomes Macbeth and therefore Marina’s killer. Carla is both a tragic victim and a villain in the same way Polo is a villain. She committed the crime and is therefore a villain yet she still appears as a victim. Though Polo appears to be Macbeth and Carla Lady Macbeth at the surface level, the show structure allows viewers to humanise them in a way that we wouldn’t usually. We’ve grown such a close relationship with everyone that it is hard to see one character as evil and the other as good. This is because we’ve seen every character’s point of humanity and point of inhumanity. Marina is through and through a tragic victim, she is an admirable woman and character, uncorrupt even though she is surrounded by power and she is resilient despite all her misfortunes. Despite all this, she dies from it. Dying from the competitive circumstances wealthy parents put their children in. Regardless, she was two-timing and drove a wedge between two brothers. Now I’m not saying she deserved to die, but in tragedy typically the tragic victim is an entirely innocent woman or character who is collateral damage of the hero’s tragic fall. The fact that Marina is presented as separated from that corrupted part of society she’s so closely connected with but still is in some ways equally evil makes it in my opinion even more tragic. However, perhaps Marina is the modern-day tragic victim who is the manic pixie dream girl. We get to know these characters so intimately that knowing the factual events right at the end makes us question our morals. Learning Marina dies halfway through season 1 begs the question of whether her death makes her past actions excusable. Does that make it right that Samuel later dates Carla? Does that make her a tragic hero if she is flawed? Having every character be flawed takes away from Elite’s classical and traditional aspects of tragedy but in that way creates a modern and personal tragedy that the public can relate to. Arthur Miller wrote on the topic of tragedy in his essay called ‘Tragedy and the Common Man’, “That the tragic mode is archaic, fit only for the very highly placed, kings or the kingly… I believe that the common man is apt a subject for tragedy in its highest sense as kings were”. So to combine that idea with the supposed elites of Spain, humanising them further contributes to this idea. Making tragedy relatable, is the modern version of Shakespearean and Greek tragedy. Additionally, the protagonist of the tragedy Samuel, is a common man who is noble but corrupted by power leading to his tragic demise later on in the series when he dies. Just like Macbeth. However, Polo is the one who follows Macbeth’s arc scripturally and mentally.

Elite and Romeo and Juliet

It is given that multiple characters in a show about the working class meeting the disgustingly rich in their cushy private school will follow the Romeo and Juliet tale. The ones that come to mind first are Samuel and Marina, Guzman acting as Marina’s overbearing bitter father- Capulet. The two struggle through forbidden love, Marina a child of wealthy and influential parents and Samuel a poor scholarship student. Their love is similarly kept secret like Romeo and Juliet when they get married in secret and their love causes their tragic demise. Marina dies in part because of their love- or more her love for his brother as she steals Carla’s father’s watch to run away with Nano. When Marina dies, a part of Samuel dies. That part of him that is oblivious to the black hole that is wealth and the consequences that come from it and being surrounded by it. By season two, Samuel is a far more angry and vengeful person, rid of the passive and kind person he once was. Evident in his later relationship with Carla. You could also argue that Nano is Marina’s Romeo too in a similar way to Samuel but represents a darker and more complicated love that further escalates Samuel’s transformation. He loses not only a part of himself but also a section of his support system- his brother Nano.

Another example is Ander and Omar who share more of a similar conflicting worlds to Romeo and Juliet. Omar’s religious parents cannot accept his sexuality and Ander’s father cannot accept that through his love for Omar, he mustered up the courage to tell him he doesn’t like tennis and additionally does not fit the hyper-masculine jock perspective that his father has of him. What’s interesting about their relationship is that Ander isn’t from a wealthy family like the other Las Encinas kids- his mother is just the principal. That being said he is certainly meant to be wealthier than the scholarship kids however this makes it so that the conflict within Omar and Ander’s relationship is not about wider social status disparities but because of conflicting families. Mirroring Romeo and Juliet’s tragic circumstances. Through Omar’s parents, a more nuanced and complex version of Romeo and Juliet is explored through homosexuality and what that factor means to people like sportsmen and the elite.

Being Omar’s sister, Nadia shares an equal problem with him. Except Nadia and Guzman are truly two conflicting families and two conflicting worlds. They are emblematic of the Romeo and Juliet story in Elite. Guzman is immediately not accepted by Nadia’s father as a white and entitled man and Nadia is immediately not accepted by Guzman’s world as she is forced to conform to it to be with him as a Muslim woman. Though the show rather ignorantly presents her transformation of losing her faith as being rather liberating I see it more as her being sucked into the vacuum of wealth just like Samuel. Losing the true, good and noble aspects of themselves. In letting go of her religion, she lets go of herself and her identity and morphs into the one expected of Guzman’s white and cutthroat world. Guzman however does not die metaphorically or literally at the hands of their love, perhaps he loses a part of himself through his sister's death. The only thing their love does for him is humble him, and make him more of a likeable and grounded person. Possibly in this way, the arrogant and entitled element of him dies for his benefit.

Elite and Othello

The writers of 'Elite' exhibit a disturbing and almost perverse obsession with threesomes and throuples as a continuous plot point. It is unsurprising, then, that the homoerotic trio of Othello is mirrored in multiple characters. That trio is Desdemona, Othello and Iago. The most obvious being Carla, Polo and Christian. Polo early on in season 1 takes on the role of Iago, controlling and almost obsessing over this pornographic image of the fair lady being dominated by the rougher and more oppressed male ‘soldier’. Though Polo and Carla start as the initial relationship, Carla and Christian form a far more emotional and true relationship within their trio. Whereas Polo seems more sexually obsessed with the two, in a similarly confused homosocial way Iago had towards Othello and an equal obsession with the Madonna being adulterated into the whore like Desdemona. Both Christian and Carla are brought to their tragic falls by Polo’s corruption, Carla being made accomplice albeit by her own choice and Christian again losing that same part Samuel lost when he joined Las Encinas. Additionally falling further by trying to speak up and gain his lost self back but is hospitalised by Carla’s father and bribed into silence by offering to pay for his surgery in Switzerland. Further succumbing to the power of wealth which he can no longer escape. Additionally both of them through their tragic blindness fall because of Polo’s corruption just as Othello and Desdemona fall because of Iago’s Machiavellianism.

To take Iago out of the equation, the Garcia brothers and Marina share a similar story to Cassio, Desdemona and Othello. Marina and Samuel act as Othello and Desdemona, both infatuated with each other or rather the stereotype they represent. Samuel represents the opposite of Elite society Marina is trying to escape and Marina represents the world Samuel is trying to enter and be accepted by. Therefore their relationship shares the same superficiality as Desdemona and Othello’s relationship as Othello values Desdemona as a prize of being a desirable and pure white woman and she values Othello as a masculine and dominating black general. This equal fetishisation is reflected in Marina and Samuel. Nano comes in as Cassio almost, another working-class man infatuated by Marina’s wild spirit and wealth just as Cassio is another nobleman mesmerised by Desdemona’s beauty and purity. However, he differs from Cassio’s character as he genuinely did have an affair with the other guy’s woman. Either way, they all cause each other's tragic demise: Marina’s death, Samuel’s metamorphosis and Nano’s banishment (being accused of killing Marina and then fleeing the country).

Lu takes control of her ‘play’ in a similar way to Iago. Manipulating Guzman into trying to seduce Nadia and take her virginity- she does this out of pure jealousy and maliciousness just like Iago. What’s more, as I stated before Iago has a perverse obsession with the virtuous woman becoming ‘tainted’ and Lu finding intrigue in the Muslim woman going against her faith and acting out of pure lust echoes this. Perhaps she even shares the same homoerotic obsession with Iago. She therefore exploits those around her to try and cause Nadia’s demise, in this way Nadia is Othello and Guzman Desdemona. She is an outsider because of her race and religion and Lu’s obsession with that fact is reminiscent of Iago’s fixation with Othello’s race. She also discards her Muslim values to fit in with the predominantly white environment of Las Encinas. Just as Othello denounces his Ottoman heritage and religion and takes on the image of a model Christian man.

Elite and Macbeth

Perhaps the writers were aiming for more of a Bonnie and Clyde feel for Polo and Carla but what I see more is Macbeth and Lady Macbeth. This parallel is drawn because Polo kills Marina, and Carla helps cover it up for him before she is consumed by guilt and edges towards letting herself become an accessory to murder and telling the police the truth. When Christian’s pre- Las Encinas self is consumed by the corruption of the wealthy he is similar to Banquo’s ghost haunting the school hallways and Carla and Polo. As they watch him become a shell of the enthusiastic and lively person he once was. This is the main drive for Carla to want to confess, she wants to be free of her guilt towards Christian. Not because she killed him directly but because they formed such a personal relationship within their three-man couple she feels a responsibility for Christian’s corruption of becoming an accessory to their crime. This feeling is solidified further when Carla’s father hospitalises and bribes Christian and directly hobbles him both mentally and physically permanently. The guilt Polo feels towards Marina is also a similar personal responsibility to Duncan and Macbeth as Marina is his best friend's sister. Therefore Polo is Macbeth, Carla Lady Macbeth and Marina Duncan.

A less obvious version of this tragedy would be Samuel and Carla as I said before when stepping into Carla’s bed he steps into Polo’s role of Macbeth. I think this idea is confirmed in season 3 when Polo dies, and in that way, Polo sort of becomes Duncan for Samuel in a more tenuous and complicated way. Samuel takes his kingly position as the sexual partner of the wealthy and beautiful Marquise. While Lu is Polo’s killer I think Samuel is the one who truly finishes off Polo as he leads the plot to collectively cover up his murder. Therefore not allowing him justice because of Polo’s past crimes and taking his girlfriend he kills Polo and steals his throne. Additionally, Marina is presented as Banquo in Samuel and Carla’s relationship as her ghost haunts him, especially at the beginning of his pursuit of Carla. Though initially he intended to find justice for her he ended up being just as bad as the rest of them. He initially is consumed by guilt with his infatuation for Carla but kind of has an opposite transformation to Macbeth because he changes from being extremely weak-minded to being very strong-willed. His transgression is him having the confidence and power of a wealthy man while still being working-class. That being said Carla and Samuel are my favourite relationships in the show because of how complex yet passionate their relationship truly is.

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