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bonefall · 8 months

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If you flip the spade upside down and put it on Gorseclaw’s neck, it could kind of look like a tie

Hello anon with the most convenient ask in my inbox, you have been selected to receive a FLOOD OF SKETCHES

I had only drawn Gorseclaw and Ripplestar before, and I'm about to do a redesign of Larkstripe so that she has the "hearts" motif that her son gets. I did a bunch of sketches just to try and figure stuff out so, messy post

Glossary:

Ripplestar

Gorseclaw and Spottedpelt

Larkstripe

Birdflight, Marshscar

After I post this I'm gonna jump back into Clip to play with Cloudstar next

RIPPLESTAR

[ID: A sketch of BB!Ripplestar. The text points out his major features and reads, "Heterochromia: Amber + Brown." Smooth scruff, with an arrow that points out the shape. Ginger on 1 side. Deer-eared. 3 layers with an arrow that points out the three stacks of fur on his chest. Wooly, kinda like a half-shorn sheep.]

I've actually drawn Ripplestar a lot in the margins of my notes and such, so this design's pretty solid.

I change the side the hearts are on, plus the number of hearts, literally every single time I've ever drawn him lmao. It dozen madder.

What DOES matter though is that there's a HEART over his BRIGHTER eye. I use it as a bit of a visual metaphor, if he's trying to size you up or negotiate with you, he keeps you in the bright eye. When he trusts you or becomes comfortable with you in some way, he turns the brown eye on you.

So in most scenes where he's not talking to family I imagine he's not fully looking at his conversational partner. Especially on the Highrock as leader of ShadowClan, because the layout makes the leaders sit side-by-side. Might as well play with that simple logistic fact, y'know?

He does this because I imagine this marking kind of intimidates people. It's like the ginger of his eye socket has set his iris ablaze with fire, while the other is as cold as rain-soaked peat.

The ear on the "colorful" side is also orange. All of his orange is on one side, except for his tail-tip.

He's actually distantly related to Nightcloud-- his Honor Sire (who was known but not involved) went on to have a mate. So he's the half-brother of one of her ancestors, and Nightcloud has inherited this thick, wooly fur texture.

Again, I draw him a lot so this was the easiest one. I didn't have to decide anything besides that I made his nose into a cute lil carebear heart.

The drawing I did for this synopsis of Ripplestar's Rot was actually the first time I drew him, for comparison! It's fun to see what's been streamlined.

GORSECLAW AND SPOTTEDPELT

FIRST sketches didn't feel right.

[ID: BB!Gorseclaw and BB!Spottedpelt. They have long, curly tails, long claws, and bell-shaped heads. Gorseclaw has a sharp 'tie' on his chest, and Spottedpelt has a heart]

I feel like Gorseclaw's spades look too much like diamonds in this one, but I was really going for a tie.

I've been giving him those sideburns for months, so, they don't really fit the "shape theory" but I'm having a hard time removing them lmao.

And this is the first time I drew Spots which is a shame. I love a bad bitch.

If you look at my designs, you can notice that I have a few traits that cats from each Clan "tend" to have. They're all pretty genetically similar actually and there's a lot of crossings between the groups, secret or otherwise, but some traits just get selected for more than others, and StarClan is likely to toss them into kits. SkyClan has saggy skin (like a bear) and really bendy tails.

Don't think it's come through well here, though. In future drafts I'm going to try and make them saggier.

(Why? It actually helps them against insect stings and impact damage, like falling from trees and being hit by branches)

Then I went on to draft 2,

[ID: Second draft of the characters above. Spottedpelt is fatter, with "dapples" on her back which are actually spades, and a distinctive spade-shaped mask. The ears of both siblings are now spade-shaped, and Gorseclaw's tie is different, along with Spottedpelt's heart with is now more of a medal.]

I like Spottedpelt a LOT more in this draft. That's probably going to be close to the final design I do, I'm really vibing with the dapple-spades.

I DON'T like Gorseclaw in this one though, the face shape reminds me waaay too much of Dustpelt's familial face-plate. Absolutely going to revise that, probably making it more mask-like akin to Spots'.

Also very proud of myself for the spade-shaped ears.

Hate Gorse's tie here though, that's not a tie that is a stinkhorn mushroom.

But Spots' medal is excellent. Absolutely keeping that. She is a distinguished little war crime kitty

Still not fat and saggy enough. Coming back to this. I need to learn how to draw a primordial pouch.

LARKSTRIPE

I'm trying to redesign her and I'm losing :/

[ID: BB!Larkstripe. She's a very plain cat with a string of hearts from her eye down to her leg, with a heart-shaped nose, cutie marks, and a heart-shaped tail tip]

This was the FIRST first draft of the redesign and that heart chain is underwhelming.

It felt like too much of a downgrade from the diamond-pattern Larkstripe I did, and I'm worried that maybe it's because diamonds just look so much nicer in a "chain"

I feel like I see too many perfect hearts on chests in WC designs, so when I do them, I try to do something weird with them like what I did to Heartstar

So I turned hers into a little fur tuft splash. I like the idea tbh, I might repurpose it for another design.

[ID: A version of the above sketch with bigger hearts on the chain and a single heart on the flank, followed by another sketch attempting to make the stripe more "blobbish"]

I'm beginning to think that maybe I don't like the sketches because Larkstripe is sad :( I like when I can draw her angry, before the strikebreaking broke her

And unfortunately she is the absolute most tragic character in BB. They took the fight out of her. I figure it would be symbolically fitting for the heart shape on her chest to "break" after Dalestar's decree.

For those asking questions, no, she never joins Skypelt. She is convinced she did the wrong thing and ended up unleashing an era of suffering on the Clans by having Ripplestar follow in her footsteps, though she had no control over him.

She's a character who would offer her life as an example during trials involving the Cleric's Vow, especially since I've gutted Moth Flight in BB. She argues about how important it is to avoid birthing cats who will claim their conquest is holy in the name of their parents.

She would also have something to say to Mudfur, admonishing him for breaking his Vow so openly, even saying that he's responsible for Leopardstar and all of her choices.

Basically, Larkstripe is beaten. She is a very tired, shameful spirit who repeats exactly what Silverpelt told her, during her own trial. She's so grateful to be here that she acts with devotion towards it.

Hurt people hurt people and all

But anyway, I still feel like it's a bit of a downgrade from the older design for Larkstripe, so I'm probably going to keep playing with it.

BIRDFLIGHT AND MARSHSCAR

[ID: BB!Birdflight. She's a tabby with the spades motif, long bases stretching up into hears on her shoulder, side, and flank.]

I want her to look old and tired. She's got that Leafpoolyness about her.

She's technically the very first member of the Tigerkin family, and has those characteristic long-claws.

I imagine in Clanmew her name is actually Yassgafba, "Raptor preparing to take flight." I have this really sad mental image of a majestic hawk that keeps spreading its wings, as if to take off and fly away, but never does.

Fitting, because she waited her whole life for Cloudstar to send word they'd found a new home, to come and fetch her and their children, but never did.

While I'm at the trivia, yes, Ripplestar and her were very close. Larkstripe argues in StarClan that Ripplestar started his war because of her, but it's not true. It was Birdflight who made him believe that Cloudstar would never abandon his family; if they hadn't heard from him, something was very wrong.

She died before he became leader, probably of a sickness outbreak. She likely didn't take the journey because she's immunocompromised in some way, plus the two newborns.

She was given a place in StarClan, but I'm not sure if she followed Ripplestar and Birdflight into the Dark Forest. She DID vote to accept them though.

I think she's practical about this. Leave for the Dark Forest, and you loose your voting power in StarClan.

She sees that there are very few SkyClan ancestors left here, hears Skystar scoff that the others are fools for leaving, that if more had remained then the rebels would not have been damned... and understands the value in his words.

If there's any reason for the Tigerkin Curse (which I hadn't really been working with until now, tbh, I just chalked it up to Bad Mojo on the night of Ripplestar's last stand), it's probably related to Birdflight in some way. Which is why no one knows what's causing it.

I don't know why, yet, though. Maybe it's an accident on her part. She could be crafting their litters, but every time she finishes a set, she can't help but cry about how much the fresh souls remind her of the newborns that stopped her from joining her mate, and her kits in the Dark Forest.

It's probably why the PROPER curse might stop abruptly after SkyClan's return. She joins Skypelt as soon as it's an option.

[ID: BB!Marshscar. He's a scrawny, battle-scarred old tabby with a diamond motif.]

He doesn't have any markings in-canon so I tried to just make all of his scars diamond-shaped. I don't think it works, I'm going to give him some markings.

I like the ears though, that's staying. I might also borrow from the old Larkstripe design, give him those funky diamond-spikes on his chest.

I have barely talked about him, but he is actually very important to Ripplestar. They've been mates since they were young warriors.

I kinda want to make it so that Spottedpelt was Ripplestar's deputy before being killed that night, but it was always implicit that if something happened to them, Marshscar was next in charge.

This drawing is definitely when he's older and more worn-out, he lives a long life without Ripplestar, ruling ShadowClan reluctantly, half-heartedly doing the bare minimum.

It's a downer story, and I think it really fits the theme here that Clan Culture is about to get a whole lot worse before it gets better... but still I love the fact that Ripplestar's Rot just ends with the entire cast like

[ID: Spongebob sits at a diner with his hands folded, frowning slightly, disquieted and deep in thought]

Like there really isn't a happy camper in this one lmao. Nobody wins. Alexa play 'That's Not How The Story Goes'

#The ONLY sketch that's REALLY smiling is Spottedpelt lmaoooo #The rest of the cast: 'nothing in life matters'#Spottedpelt: 'NOTHING IN LIFE MATTERS <3'#better bones au #Sketch requests #Ripplestar's Rot #BB!Ripplestar #BB!Marshscar #BB!Marshstar #BB!Spottedpelt #BB!Birdflight #BB!Larkstripe

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ruthlesslistener · 1 year

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...okay now I'm haunted by "what if the planet in Subnautica is in the process of developing its own indigenous sapient life after the Sea Emperors' deaths... and it's the reaper leviathans"

like the scanner calls them basically all brawn no brains but the fate of the Degasi suggests they recognize 'one of their own' and react to avenge/defend it, and their circling behavior means they're basically taking their sweet time sizing you up before they attack. They have dexterous appendages that could be easily adapted to tool use.

...And now I have a stray plot bunny because this thought is running into "if the warpers talk to each other using sophisticated protocols the radios can pick up, they're undeniably sapient themselves and their behavior patterns attacking you reflect this" and just imagining like. a reaper leviathan beginning to develop telepathic communication, trying to eat a disoriented warper who's lost their connection to the others, warper cuts reaper's mouth to get it to back off, and they end up in a standoff that ends up a conversation.

I mean just imagining a reaper leviathan as an early-sapience protagonist is very funny to me. My mental image constructs a teenager who lucked out genetically and got big faster than her neighbors so she thinks she's hot shit but is understimulated due to lack of a challenge, but whose primary emotional cope for basically anything she can't rip to pieces is to just Yell At It until it realizes how big and scary she is and backs down.

Oh my god you have no idea how much I'd adore an au like this. While I love the Architects as dearly as anyone, one of my biggest disappointments with Subnautica was that the intelligent species native to the planet got kind of left to the endgame/shuttled to the side, and then cut from the sequel when the main writer for Below Zero left. Like, I kind of get it, they wanted to have it be a big lead up in the og story and they had troubles in the next, but I want!!! More intelligent fish aliens!!! ESPECIALLY since the Sea Emperor has a concept of reincarnation, implying a philosophy and belief system that is unique to their species and doesn't require hands to maintain.

Though honestly, I think there's a solid enough baseline for that plotbunny already- Planet 4546B has recently undergone/was in the grips of a mass extinction event due to the bacteria plague, which means that there is not only a good deal of resource scarcity compared to the bountiful sea life that the ancestors of the current-day Reapers experience. Paired with that, the Sea Dragon Leviathans- known predators of the Reaper- have dwindled in number to only about three active individuals, which means that there's a lot more Reapers around to compete with. Assuming that intelligence is tied to adaptability, and that the Sea Emperors and Reapers share a common ancestor with the trait that formed into telepathy in the Emperor species, and you have a setup where natural selection is prioritizing Reaper leviathans who are not only mature strong enough and fast enough to outclass the other Reapers, but are also intelligent enough to outwit them. Size and quick maturity might have been a confounding factor in human evolution, but in terms of an egg-laying species, we can perhaps have them experience a longer incubation time, which results in a bigger hatchling. The increased size allows the baby to outcompete other juveniles, which in turn gives it the calories needed to help build that big brain that becomes a necessary tool once it becomes large enough to be seen as competition by adult Reapers. And as for the telepathy, being able to potentially settle territorial disputes and gather huntsmates, leading to less energy and risk wasted on members of the same species, and more being aimed at taking down more prey. It's a totally feasible fictitious evolution path, especially since the leviathans themselves are so mysterious

(Also, animals always tend to be more intelligent than people expect them to be. If the PDA was scanning for brain size in relation to muscle mass for the Reapers, its very well likely that it assumed intelligence based off of that, which we know from birds is not an accurate judgement.)

BUT ANYWAYS I'm also incredibly fond of this concept because ngl it also reminds me of how I write young dragons (especially from a specific tribe) where young female adolescents go through this big period of teenage badasseryhood where they essentially try to act like they're hot shit to try to intimidate potential rivals and test the waters to see which of the older females are starting to go soft so that they can go on ahead with their territory-claiming. For this specific Reaper, I can easily imagine a scenario where she's got an advantageous new mutation that lead to her outclassing her peers, but being in that awkward spot where she's just not quite big enough yet to challenge any of the older reapers, so she instead spends a good deal of time mucking about trying to work on looking Big and Scary, which involves a lot of tearing shit apart with her mandibles, roaring, and trying to stun prey into silence with her telepathy, which makes her Very Loud but also Very Good at Being Loud with her thoughts.

It would also be interesting to delve a little into Warper telepathy- the Architects bioengineered them into what they are now out of a probably-extinct species, and are thus likely responsible for giving them the ability to interact with computers and teleport, but since telepathy already existed in at least the Sea Emperors, the ability to communicate could either be natural to the species they modified, or implemented because they themselves did not think that they would be capable without being networked. What makes this so interesting, however, is that the Sea Emperor mentions that the Architects were incapable of hearing her (most likely because they were all networked; Al-an makes a very big deal about that, so they were probably closed off to outsiders and attuned only to other Architects), so it could be that the Warpers were ignoring this very loud new baby up until one got disconnected from the rest (perhaps due to mechanical failure?) and thus ONLY has Large Screaming Teenager to talk to. Which sets up a very interesting potential partnership between a very old, very exasperated, and very aware-of-vulnerability-Warper, and a very bored teenage Reaper who only knows violence and yelling, but is letting this particular Warper live because she's so bored out of her skull that the intrigue of helping them is better than tearing up the reef and getting tail-smacked by her elders for the nth time. Maybe the Warper can teach her how to use her telepathy better, and talk to her about the Architects and their purpose while they travel to find new parts to fix them with.

Fuck, that's a really good story prompt actually. I'm weak for accidental mentorship or adoption stories, doubly weak for inhuman apex predators being dumbass teenagers, and the potential language differences between two types of telepathy could be really fun to play with. Plus there's the advantage of getting to write about intelligent aliens that don't craft like us or built societies like we do, which is something that I personally think is severely underrated in sci-fi

#like my seawalker species was specifically inspired by me wanting an intelligent tribe indigenous to subnauticas world #that just kinda got outta hand #subnautica #ganymedesclock #but seriously i dont think i can reiterate just how interesting of a concept and a story dynamic this is #like holy shit this is really really fucking good #gonna be chewing on this one for weeks #reply

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saintmachina · 2 years

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Have you done any Isaac and Rebecca ficlets in the past?

Isaac spends an hour in the marketplace, scouring the jeweler's stands for the perfect dowry gift. In the end he settles on a golden sunburst nose ring and beaten bangles as silver as the moon. He will give his wife the heavens, he decides, to wear as her adornments.

He can barely sleep those long weeks his father's servant is away, scouring the land of his ancestors for the right bride. He takes to wandering the fields in the blue-light just before dawn, kicking up rocks and conversing with the Lord. He is 37, well past the age of sweaty palms and ruddy blushes, but still he is nervous.

What if the girl doesn't want to come live in with him? What bitterness and enmity is sown between them? What if the marriage bed is frigid?

He imagines what she may be like, dark or fair, curvaceous of slim, somber or smiling.

He decides, he tells the Lord, that he will be grateful with a kind spirit and a pair of lovely eyes.

When the caravan finally reappears on the horizon one blazing hot summer day, it's nearly doubled in size. The new bride has brought her nurse with her, and household servants, and all her worldly possessions.

Isaac drops the scythe from his hand as the caravan comes to a stop next to the field where he labors. A woman dismounts her camel and strides across the parched earth to meet him. He can make out the glint of his bracelets on her wrist, the glimpse of a lovely brown ankle under her skirts, but her face and hair is veiled.

She stops directly in front of him, holding her chin high. Her khol-lined eyes are dark and lovely as a night without stars.

Will you not let me look at you? He asks.

You procured me for your wife sight unseen, she shoots back, raising a thick eyebrow. Perhaps I shall hide my face from you until the wedding night.

A smile tugs at his lips.

She's testing him. His mother would be proud.

Isaac takes her hand, rubbing a little circle into her palm with his thumb. She softens under his touch, her muscles giving way. She does not expect his gentleness, he realizes.

Then we will learn to love each other by touch and smell and sound, he says. Although I should hope someday to earn the privilege of gazing upon you.

She pauses for a moment, then reaches us and pulls the veil from her head. Black waves tumble over her shoulders, framing a ruggedly beautiful face with a full mouth, square jaw, and strong nose.

I am no great beauty, she teases. Perhaps you'd like to send me back and order another bride?

You are the very promise of God made flesh, he says, then cups her face and kisses her.

#i've never written these two before thank you for the request!#bible fic #bible poetry #christianity #progressive christianity #christian mysticism #catholicism #saints #answered asks #writing #politicalmamaduck

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jabberingdragon · 1 year

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So, this past January, I was down in Florida. For the first time in my life on earth for 26 years, I was able to encounter the ocean.

Her beauty left me absolutely thunderstruck. The first time I stood at the sandy shore, I was agasht of the fine grain of softness the sand was on my feet. I'm used to sand be coarse and harsh, but not here. The sandy beach traced the emerald green shoreline as far as I could see, such a pure ivory white that glowed beneath the sun, yet somehow, was soft on the eyes, unlike snow when it reflects sunlight. I watched the ocean roll, observed the absolute vastness of it, I listened to it, took in the smell of the air. Yankee candle has tried to capture the smell of ocean air in the past, but it pales in comparison to the real thing. Aromatic, pleasantly salty, with a note of sweet. Someone may call me crazy, but I swear the fragrance was a pleasant savory aroma, not one that induces hunger, but melts away your worries. Just by taking a deep breath, you can tell the air is alive. A candle company can never replicate the air itself, for they miss one key ingredient: Life. the first time, I allowed the sultry waves to overwash my bare feet, it connected me to a special kind of energy that surged over me and took me to a state of mind I've never felt before, at least, not to this degree. I remember feeling my eyes begin to swell and tears fighting to drip over my widened eyes as the waves crashed like thunder and rolled gently over my feet. I could never imagine how beautiful my first time was, and I am glad to have experienced it.

As the week went by, I encountered some lovely creatures, chatted with some friendly locals, and even met an internet friend who was just as lovely as they always are when we converse.

May I add, I adore how cheeky pelicans are. They're hilarious looking, and surprisingly large in person, but this particular fella I photographed was pretty used to people, of course did a light hiss and polite beak-snap if he felt you were too close, and to my surprise, he was quite intelligent. He definitely impressed me when he was using his long beak to point us to the food dispenser machine to feed him, but sadly, it was broken. He may not have gotten his free lunch, but he did win my heart. Nothing like the hardcore Canada Geese encounter, who will definitely not hesitate to shank me in the deepest darkest alleyways if I so much as look at them funny. Don't worry, I still love my foul fowls.

As for the cat? This lovely lady is Atticus, and she's a beloved Pier Cat that frequents the restaurant I happened to be by. She was stunning, and extremely friendly!

Now swimming in the ocean? I didn't get to do until near the end, as the riptide was rough during the week. The surf was a touch rough, but I didn't mind. I gotta admit, it was definitely intimidating. The ocean is absolutely nothing like the great lakes. There's a power to it that makes the ocean terrifyingly beautiful. What really left me speechless was the absolute vastness. No matter how far you look out into the sea underwater, you're staring down towards an infinite space that holds so many secrets that man has yet to even discover, let alone fathom. It's terrifying, but humbling. It made me realize how small my problems are....and understand and appreciate my roots as a multicellular organism, thinking about how far I have come to be into the existence I live in now VS my long since dead single-celled, archiac ancestors that lived in the primordial sea billions of years prior to me. In a way, it makes me proud of how far I've come in life, and reminds me of how little my problems are, because there is greater, more magnificent things out there that are worth my time and energy to ponder and engage with.

As much as I regret never experiencing the ocean at a young age, I am glad I did now as a fledged adult, because I wouldn't be able to string together words to perfectly illustrate to you my first hand experience, and how it made me feel.

#ocean waves #ocean #first time #ocean first time #beautiful birds #ocean birds #pier cat #poetic #poetic experience #ocean pictures #beautiful ocean #ocean sunset #sunset #dragon's jabber #caw! caw! *puff!*

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thewhitefluffyhat · 2 years

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Day Four

[This is the fifth part of a collected liveblog/analysis of Nona the Ninth! See here for the other parts.]

A short day for Nona means a shorter liveblog from me as well. Have some mid-book general opinions to make up for it!

Chapter 17

-Another new chapter image - a leaf or flower of some sort. I still don’t have any idea what that could mean, other than these symbols of life contrasting with the deathly skulls and barren Tomb.

-p231 Of course CamPal use the recorder to talk to each other. It’s still asynchronous, but must at least be better than text. Especially for difficult conversations, since it preserves facial expressions…

Another conversation of what the meaning of love and freedom are. Themes, ahoy!

And again bringing up the idea of Nona as a true gestalt. But even a gestalt couldn’t understand an RB’s speech, I imagine. Unless Nona is actually a THREE way gestalt…

-p240 Ah, so Angel isn’t House, just formerly shepherded. And as expected, she’s not a human doctor. I was thinking vet, I wasn’t expecting zoos to still be around!

-p246 Hmhm, so what did Nona draw that scared the Angel so badly? Noodle’s skeleton, maybe? Wake’s portrait?

-p246 As the narrative becomes more serious with Ianthe’s arrival, we deprioritize the comedy characters. In this case, that means gently escorting the kids offscreen. …Or in other words, the Knight of Cerberus has appeared, so it’s time to Shoo Out the Clowns. Because even after all these years TV Tropes has still ruined my vocabulary.

-Speaking of Ianthe - did the Babs fusion make her immune to Herald madness? That seems to be what was implied.

Or perhaps - hm. We know that either the wrong body or the wrong soul can protect a person. The person sounds like Ianthe, but has Babs’ hair… therefore, Ianthe possessing Babs’ body to be able to get to the planet with her sister on it despite the RB?

Also on the subject of Ianthe, I’m really curious how Corona is taking all of this!

-p248 D’aww, it wouldn’t be this series without a little bit of gay romance implied! Beautiful Ruby together with Born in the Morning, good for them. Is this the first M/M pairing aside from Augustine/John and Cam’s two dads?

-p249 Hoo boy when Hot Sauce finds out what Nona and her family are, things will not be pretty…

Chapter 18

-p250 So that was definitely Pal checking Angel for something. I wonder what…

-p251 Ahh, Nona was drawing an Earth animal. Or even an ancient Earth animal? I’m not familiar with the term “cradle creature,” but it sounds like an early ancestor that other species in a group are descended from.

Alternatively: If the trillionaires didn’t just populate the galaxy with humans, but also other animals, perhaps this is one of those original animals they brought with them?

-Also, more planet names! First New Rho, now Lemuria and Miró.

[Later me: Lemuria is a mythical/hypothesized lost continent, and Miró might be a reference to an artist? There doesn’t seem to be any particular pattern or connection between planetary names that I can see. I wonder who named them? Settlers descended from the trillionaires?]

-p256 hmhm? Difficult to make out, but it seems like the Angel had a House implant, but was working for Eden and did know about the “Troia experiment” - Nona being a semi-Lyctor?

-p260 Ahh. So it’s inter-BOE fighting. And hey, we finally get to see Pash’s face! Fanart should have fun with the electric blue hair.

-Kind of hilarious/sad that no matter who they are or where they go, Gideon and Harrow and now Nona still end up being someone’s dubiously ethical science project baby.

-p262 Finally, someone does the obvious thing and calls the Lyctor a lich.

Now here’s a silly question: which is more of an accurate term, zombie or lich? As blatantly incorrect as zombie sounds, for BOE’s purposes it probably is more accurate - after all, to kill a Lyctor you want to target the brain, not waste time searching for a hidden soul container to break!

-p265 Okay, wow. Speaking of brains, it was suggested with the thumbs in HtN that Gideon-in-Harrow had healing powers beyond even normal Lyctors, but this is full confirmation. Lyctors can’t heal from a bullet to the brain, and Nona just did.

-p269 OOF. I thought Hot Sauce learning the truth of Nona would be bad, I didn’t think the kid would actually try to kill her! These books sure love making things as dramatic and tragic as possible!

John 5:1

-p252 The name being “Pan-Euro” rather than the “European Union” is yet another way the old Earth of these books is implied to be slightly to the left and/or slightly into the future compared to real life. (The most obvious difference being the presence of trillionaires instead of billionaires, of course.)

I’d be interested to see a compilation of all these differences that don’t just stem from John’s actions.

-p273 I do find it hard to believe anyone would really care about the cows that much. I think it would be more likely that everyone would harp on about the farmers who lost money because of losing so many cows, or about whoever’s bodies John has been using in his experiments. (Where DID he get all of those?) But then again, real life media fixations can get plenty strange…

-p274 Wonder which nation it was who wanted to puppet around their dead leader? The United States or Russia (or maybe even China?) all seem very plausible. Or maybe the big nuclear powers on this Earth are somewhat different from reality!

Also in light of this plot point, the fact that Nona came out right when the British queen having died is dominating the news cycles is just. Morbidly hilarious.

Also², this is now the third time corpse puppeting to hide an inconvenient death has been a major plot point. I wonder what John would have thought if he knew Harrow had been puppeting her parents since she was ten? …He would just have been even more “aw, she could have been my daughter :)” about it, wouldn’t he?

Chapter 19

-p276 Nona’s brain just got scrambled and she’s having a terrifying tantrum but what jumps out to me here is that she just thought of Crown as Corona in the narration.

I don’t think Nona even knew the name Corona. Are Nona’s memories coming back?

-p278 And now Nona is talking with not her own voice. Wonder who that was? Given how cold it sounds, if I had to say, I would guess Harrow. But Harrow being aware of all the Nona shenanigans and sitting passively by… that doesn’t seem right.

And who is the voice talking to? Harrow to Nona about Gideon? Gideon to Nona about Harrow’s body?

John 3:20

-p282 So John already had a necromancy cult in the old world. Pretty wild!

Also as usual we only have John’s word that the FTL guys were lying. I imagine that they will turn out to be lying, but again… John. Unreliable Narrator extraordinaire.

Quick Thoughts

-This seems as good a place as any to pause and do a few more general thoughts on the book so far.

-Hot Sauce just exited the narrative rather dramatically. Will she be back, or nah? I could see that going either way. On the one hand, she’s quite significant to Nona. On the other hand, so were characters like Aiglamene and Crux to Gideon and Harrow, and they exited from the narrative completely after the first act of GtN. In this space opera, the bit parts have rarely mattered… yet.

-Come to think of it, this book has fewer dogs than I expected. Noodle doesn’t even belong to Nona and we never see her interact with the other dogs on the guest list!

0/10 Not Enough Dogs (Joking)

-On second thought, my current bet is that Harrow is still AWOL and that moment of Nona talking to herself was Gideon to Nona re:Harrowbod.

But if both Gideon and Harrow were present, that brings up another weird possibility: what if Nona’s dreams were Gideon and Harrow talking with each other in the River? I doubt that the narrative would have those two have their long-awaited meet up offpage, but it sure would be a bold choice!

HtN Redux?

Structurally, this book is very similar to HtN. Perhaps too similar. We’ve got a confused, amnesiatic protagonist. We’ve got dream interludes that recount past events spaced between the normal chapters, with the implication that these sections occur literally as the protagonist is sleeping.

And that moment of Nona hearing a second voice seems almost identical - in both placement and I suspect foreshadowing - to the HtN moment of Pal seeing Gideon in the River bubble, and the narration briefly going first-person. Given Gideon’s corpse showing up in the broadcast, I think it’s quite likely that we might also get Gideon herself making a surprise appearance in Act 5 as well.

All in all, it feels like NtN has the same shape as HtN but executed with less… sharpness? Impact? Unless the end of those John interludes can match the absolutely delightful sequence of AUs and then the Nonius vs the Sleeper duel (which would be very hard), then I suspect I’ll wind up feeling that NtN is a little bit like HtN’s less ambitious cousin.

I also absolutely loved HtN’s POV shenanigans, and I’m now far enough into NtN to regretfully conclude that it isn’t doing anything on nearly the same level at that. Ah well.

Which is not to say I’m not excited for NtN’s conclusion. On the contrary, I’m very invested!

Day Five, Part 1 >>

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth #harrow the ninth #ntn spoilers #tlt analysis #my ramblings #my tlt stuff #read more #thoughts on ntn

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dfroza · 19 days

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Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for may 23 of 2024 with Proverbs 23 and Psalm 23, accompanied by Psalm 66 for the 66th day of Astronomical Spring, and Psalm 144 for day 144 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 1st revolution this year)

[Proverbs 23]

When sitting down to eat with a ruler,

take a moment to think about who you are with and what you are doing.

If you are the type who eats too much too fast,

do whatever is necessary to curb your enthusiasm for food.

Also, do not eye the ruler’s delicacies,

for the food may not be what it seems.

Do not overwork yourself just to become wealthy;

have enough sense to know when to quit.

As soon as you become fixed on riches, they vanish.

For suddenly they sprout wings

and become like a soaring eagle flying high in the sky.

Do not sit down and eat the bread of a tight-fisted fellow

or desire any of his delicacies,

For deep down he’s keeping track of the cost.

He may say, “Eat up! Drink your fill!”

but he does not mean a word of it.

You’ll be sick and lose what little you did eat,

and you’ll waste your breath carrying on a pleasant conversation.

Do not waste your wisdom on a fool,

for he doesn’t care for anything you have to say.

Do not shift the property line by moving the boundary markers your ancestors established

or try to steal property from orphans

Because their Redeemer is strong,

and He will plead their case against you.

Develop a disciplined life.

Be attentive so you can be well informed.

Do not withhold discipline from children,

since corporal punishment will not kill them.

In fact, it may be that kind of punishment

that will save them from an early grave.

My son, if you live wisely,

then my life will be fulfilled.

My very soul will jump for joy

when you speak what is true and right.

Don’t be envious of those wrapped up in sin,

but always maintain a healthy respect for the Eternal.

Your future with Him will be certain,

and you will not have hoped in vain.

Listen, my son, be wise,

and steer your life on the right course.

Do not spend time with heavy wine drinkers

or those who gorge themselves on meat.

For both the drunk and the glutton will end up broke,

sleeping life away, and clothed in rags.

Pay attention to your father—after all, he gave you life—

and don’t ignore your mother in her old age.

Invest in truth, sock it away!

Never cash in wisdom, guidance, or insight.

The parents of the right-living will celebrate;

yes, parents of children who make wise choices are happy.

So make your parents happy;

delight your mother—after all, she brought you into this world.

My son, devote yourself to me fully.

Observe my ways, and follow my directions:

Being drawn to a prostitute is like falling down into a deep well,

and being involved with a wicked woman is like descending into a narrow well.

You may never get out alive.

She waits for you, ready to ambush you like a thief

and ready to multiply unfaithfulness among men.

Who is wallowing in anguish? Who is full of sorrow?

Who has conflicts? Who has complaints?

Who has bruises and can’t remember where they came from?

Who has bloodshot eyes?

You know who: those who stay up late finishing off the wine,

those who can’t stop savoring spiced wines.

Look away from the enticing beauty of wine, the deep red hue;

ignore how it shimmers in the cup

and glides down your throat.

Eventually, when you least expect it, it strikes like a snake;

it stings like viper venom.

Your vision will blur, and you’ll imagine strange things;

you will say crazy, hurtful things and regret it later.

You will reel and stagger as if caught on a wave of seasickness,

as a sailor who holds on to a mast for dear life.

You will say, “They slapped me, but it didn’t hurt.

They beat me, and I didn’t feel a thing!

Whenever I wake up from this stupor,

I’ll have another drink!”

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 23 (The Voice)

[Psalm 23]

The Lord the Shepherd

A psalm of David.

The Lord is my shepherd;

I have everything I need.

He lets me rest in green pastures.

He leads me to calm water.

He gives me new strength.

He leads me on paths that are right

for the good of his name.

Even if I walk through a very dark valley,

I will not be afraid,

because you are with me.

Your rod and your shepherd’s staff comfort me.

You prepare a meal for me

in front of my enemies.

You pour oil of blessing on my head;

you fill my cup to overflowing.

Surely your goodness and love will be with me

all my life,

and I will live in the house of the Lord forever.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 23 (New Century Version)

[Psalm 66]

For the worship leader. A song.

Shout out to God, all the earth.

Erupt with joy to the one True God!

Sing of the glory due His name!

Offer Him the most magnificent praises!

Say to God, “All You have done is wondrous and causes fear!

Your power is mighty, and Your enemies pretend to submit to You.

The entire earth will bow down to worship You

and will sing glory-songs to You;

they will sing praises to Your name!

[pause]

Come and witness the True God’s endless works.

His miraculous deeds done on behalf of humanity inspire fear.

He transformed the sea into dry land;

our people passed through the river on foot!

Rejoice in Him; celebrate what He did there!

By His great might, He rules forever;

His eyes watch over all the nations,

so no one should go up against Him.

[pause]

Everyone, bless our True God!

Let praise-filled voices be heard near and far—at home and on foreign soil!

Praise the One who gives us life and keeps us safe,

who does not allow us to stumble in the darkness.

For You have put us to the test, O God;

You have refined us as silver is refined.

You trapped us with a snare;

You have laid upon our backs a heavy burden.

You allowed us to be conquered and let our enemies run over us.

We journeyed through dangers, through fire and flood,

But You led us finally to a safe place, a land rich and abundant.

I will come into Your temple with burnt offerings;

I will fulfill my promises to You—

The oaths that parted my lips

and were promises my mouth freely made when I was suffering and in anguish.

I will bring You my sacrifices—plump beasts

and the sweet smoke of consecrated rams—

I will also offer You bulls and goats.

[pause]

Come and listen, everyone who reveres the True God,

and I will tell you what He has done for me.

I cried out to Him with my mouth,

and I praised Him with my tongue.

If I entertain evil in my heart,

the Lord will not hear me.

But surely God has heard me;

He has paid attention to the urgency of my request.

May the True God be blessed,

for He did not turn away from my prayer

nor did He hold back His loyal love from me.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 66 (The Voice)

[Psalm 144]

A song of David.

Blessed be the Eternal, my rock.

He trains my hands for war, gives me the skills I need for battle.

He is my unfailing love and my citadel.

He is my tower of strength and my deliverer.

He is my shield of protection and my shelter;

He holds my people in check under me.

O Eternal One, what is man, that You even care to know him?

or the son of man, that You are mindful of him?

Humans are like a passing breath;

their time on earth is like a shadow that passes over us during the day and soon is gone.

Eternal One, stretch out an opening in the heavens, and descend.

Touch the mountains, and make them smoke.

Send forth bolts of lightning, and scatter my enemies.

Shoot Your fiery arrows, and rout the enemy.

Reach down from Your high place;

save me out of the great waters;

rescue me from the grasp of these foreigners

Who speak only lies

and don’t have truth in their deeds.

To You, my God, I will sing a new song;

I will sing Your sweet praises to the sound of a ten-stringed harp,

For You deliver kings from their enemies

and You rescue Your servant, David, from the sword of evil.

Rescue me,

and save me from the grasp of these foreigners

Who speak only lies

and don’t have truth in their deeds.

May our sons be like healthy plants

as they grow and mature,

And may our daughters be like the corner pillars

that decorate a palace.

May our storehouses be full

with abundant supplies of every crop,

And may the flocks of our fields

multiply into thousands and tens of thousands!

May our cattle be strong and productive,

without miscarriage, without loss,

and may there be no riots or protests in our streets!

Happy are the people for whom all this is true;

happy are the people whose God is the Eternal!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 144 (The Voice)

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uwuwriting · 3 years

Text

A little early for that w/ Todoroki, Shinsou and Bakugou

Request: hii can i req a hc of todo, shinsou, and bakugou seeing y/n taking care of eri then they’ll be like “i want a baby with you” :D - anonymous

Don’t get me started on the latest BNHA chapter. I just don’t want to talk about it. I’ll try to make a double upload today so maybe expect a song fic after this one Love ya.💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: fluff

Todoroki Shoto

-It was during Eri’s visit during christmas that it hit Todo.

-You were dressed in a Santa costume just like everyone else with Eri gripping your hand as you took her around the room explaining all about Christmas celebrations.

-It was a very mundane moment if you think about it.

-You were being kind and caring to a child who had suffered immensely at the hands of Overhaul and you wanted to show her what the holiday was all about.

-Now that he thinks of it, it shouldn’t have struck him like it did.

-His chest became warm and fuzzy, his cheeks heating up a bit as he stared at you and Eri.

-Then you kneeled down and brought Eri into a hug, raising her into the air so she could place an ornament on the class’s tree and it was game over for him.

-He prides himself in being a rather collected person but at that moment he lost all sense of control over his emotions.

-His mouth hung open and his chest started to squeeze, knocking the breath out of him.

-He couldn’t help the thoughts of the both of you owning a house somewhere not very far from Tokyo, waking up to you every morning , making breakfast with you and enjoying all the moments you shared.

-Then other images flooded his mind.

-Sitting in the living room as you steadied your toddler, a perfect mix of the two of you, helping them waddle towards him.

-Him helping them place the ornament at the very top of your Christmas tree every time you decorated.

-He could see your smile so vividly he almost thought it was real.

-It was a ridiculous thought for a 16 year old to have and he knew it but in that moment he let himself imagine it.

-Before he knew it you were standing next to him, Eri running off to Aizawa excited to share what she just learned about christmas, arms crossed over your chest as you let out a happy sigh.

- “My santa work is done for the day.”

- “You would make a great mom”

- *pikachu meme*

-He sensed your confusion *and so did your dead ancestors*

- “I want to be next to you when that happens.”

-Girl you got whiplash from this whole conversation.

-You couldn’t decide if you were soft and giddy since he basically said that he wants to start a family with you or if you were terrified because he said he wants to start A FAMILY WITH YOU WHEN YOU’RE BARELY 16.

-In his defense he didn’t say he wanted to start now.

-So you kinda calmed down.

- “I-um thank you Sho. I think you would make a great father too.”

-Blushy blushy baby after that one.

-Some denial sprinkled on top because trauma but blushy blushy boy.

Shinsou Hitoshi

-Okay now third year Shinsou is a stressed Shinsou.

-A third year you is a stressed you.

-And a field day with your now ten year old somewhat trauma free adopted by your homeroom teacher child was what you both needed.

-Shinsou is like a big brother to Eri at this point.

-He has babysat her one too many times to not be considered at least a stable figure in her life.

-You had decided to take a stroll in the park, the autumn air and all the pretty leaves making it a sight to behold.

-Plus it had a pond with ducks.

-And you love ducks.

-Shinsou had brought some bread crumbs so you could feed them and that’s what you were doing when it hit him.

-That weird domesticity.

-You were crouched down on Eri’s height, one arm wrapped securely around her small waist so she wouldn’t fall into the pond and the other was outstretched with a piece of bread, motioning to the ducks to approach you.

-It was a nice scene, picture perfect if you asked him and it did something to his heart strings.

-Just like Todo he imagined walking home with you after a tiring day at your agency, your hands intertwined, matching golden bands circling your ring fingers.

-He imagined a little Y/N being next to you and not Eri.

-Vibrant purple hair sticking out at every which direction as they would throw bread at the ducks maybe even calling him over when one got too close.

-He was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed you standing in front of him, waving your hand over his eyes so you could get his attention.

- “Earth to Toshi!”

-You giggled when he shook his head, his eyes wide as he stared at your smiling features.

- “Eri is hungry-” “You are hungry Y/N-chan!!!” “- and she wanted to go get some good old onigiri from that new shop that opened down the street.” “Lies…”

-You side-eyed the little girl who outed you, her own eyes staring right back in accusation as you let out a sigh saying under your breath “I’m hungry”

-He couldn’t control his laughter as it bubbled from his lips, ruffling Eri’s hair while giving you a kiss on the lips as he circled his arm around your waist and took Eri’s with his other one.

- “Can’t say no to my girls now, can I?”

-It was later that night when he voiced his thoughts.

-You were asleep in his dorm, laying basically on him with your head tucked in his neck as you breathed evenly.

- “It’s a little early to think of kids but I can’t wait to have one with you.”

-And with that he fell asleep his dreams being filled with images of you.

Bakugou Katsuki

-You managed to get him to say that???

-Mister tough as balls?

-Mister imma roundhouse kick you if you look at me with affection in your eyes?

-Someone get this girl a medal.

-But in all seriousness it was a very motherly move.

-You were in your second year, the events of the war with the villains still haunting all of you so everyone was keeping an eye on their loved ones and their classmates.

-Bakugou was no exception .

-Seeing people getting hurt severely, seeing himself so defeated and hurt during those battles had rattled him and he would always linger close to you, a slight paranoia having taken his place in his heart the past few months.

-You understood why he did it, why he hovered next to you most of the time and if you were being honest it didn’t really bother you * except from that one time you went to the bathroom and he called you three times in a row bc he couldn’t see you and panicked*

-Eri was running around with Kaminari and Sero, the three of them playing tag with the one brain cell they all shared at the moment.

-Suddenly, Eri tripped and fell, scraping her knee on the pavement, small tears forming in her eyes but she didn’t let them fall.

-In a flash you were next to her, a hand massaging her knee around the area of the wound while the other one was cupping her cheek, your thumb making small circles on the girl’s cheekbones.

- “It’s just a scratch. See? It’s not that bad.”

-Bakugou was just staring at the scene unfolding in front of him, his immediate thoughts being that you looked so motherly in that moment.

-The concern and the reassurance reminded him of his mother when she would calm him down after he got hurt, before she became a pain in the ass *as he likes to say*.

-Without him even realizing it he made a mental image of your shared family.

-A house in the outskirts, with a yard, maybe a dog running around.

-But most importantly a little demon that looked like you, climbing onto your shared bed on his day off, nestling in between you two as it went back asleep.

-You making breakfast while having them in your arms.

-He really wished he could see that now.

-But he’s a little young and you wouldn’t really like having a baby before finishing high school sooo he kinda buried it.

-He told you about it when you both were in his dorm getting ready for a movie night.

-It was a more aggressive approach but you got the point of his little rant.

- “I want to spend my life with you too Katsu.”

- “SHUT UP SHITTY WOMAN!”

- “OI!”

TAG TEAM AY:

@the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez @storage11037 @wolfkid22 @letscheereachotheron @ezoyscorner @luluwiie @threeamwriting @dark-thoughts-and-red-roses

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makeste · 3 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 310: A Tale of Two Kacchans

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Deku was all, “hey, you know what sounds like a good decision? Abandoning my studies at the safest place in the country so that the bad guy who wants to find me and kill me has literally nothing standing in his way of doing that.” All Might was all, “I fucking knew you were going to say some bullshit like that so whatever, but I’M COMING WITH YOU and I’m also going to invite the Hawksquad to come with us, mostly so that I can steal Jeanist’s car.” Jeanist was all, “okay fine you can borrow my car, All Might, but only if you wear jeans.” All Might was all, “okay sure” and he wore jeans and also sunglasses and a leather jacket and it was pretty rad. Anyway so now they’re out there fighting crime and hunting down the LoV and stuff, and absolutely none of it is going to end well, I’m just letting you know now. But I guess we’ll let them enjoy it while it lasts.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “happy belated Kacchan’s Birthday makeste, here’s the flashback you really wanted at long last,” and proceeds to pull the old vestige flashback out of the kitchen drawer and upend its contents all over my Friday afternoon without the slightest bit of warning. OFA III is all “WHAT’S UP I’M JUST SOME GUY, HELLO,” and okay?? Hello yourself. OFA II, on the other hand, is all, “okay yeah I have different hair and stuff, but I’m like 98% sure I’m either Bakugou or his goddamn twin, I mean look at me.” Which, yeah. I looked, and he really is though you guys. Anyway though, so he and OFA II basically just showed up in the First (who goes by Yoichi now)’s prison cell one day all “HEY THERE, WE’RE HERE TO SAVE YOU, APPARENTLY, ALTHOUGH WE SEEM REAL CONFUSED ABOUT IT TBH BUT HEY.” And so they saved him, and Yoichi was all “hey nice to meet you do you want to join my super-exclusive Saving The World Club”, and so they did, and then the chapter ended lol. I would have said yes too.

oh my sweet lord?? I didn’t realize we were getting a color page this week, but LOOK AT THIS

this could have been a fucking volume cover. I’m almost mad that it wasn’t, lol but I mean fkldjslklk just look at it??! Horikoshi out here spoiling us and making sure we’re well fed since next week the manga is on break for Golden Week. well this will certainly help to tide me over. hot damn look at those colors

so now it’s raining on some dumb building in the middle of somewhere

is this where the Hawksquad has set up camp for the night? or are we actually cutting back to the League? that’d be unexpected (but not unwelcome)

ffff nevermind dammit it’s just more random citizens under attack

feels like this is the third or fourth scene we’ve had of civilians being Under Attack since this arc started. I mean no offense, but I think we get it by this point. it’s the end times, etc. etc. we’re well aware that things have gone to shit

so apparently these two guys are facing off against a girl with a mutant quirk. and she’s telling them that she’s not a monster and she was just scared, oh shit. I believe her btw, you can see it in her face

but these assholes don’t believe her at all and they’re pointing what looks to be some type of support item gun at her

you know what’s interesting, is that this kind of random quirk discrimination is the exact kind of thing PLF and the like were swearing up and down they’d put a stop to with their glorious revolution. it’s almost like those guys were completely full of shit. huh

so yeah, fortunately for this woman someone is stepping in and intervening before she can be blasted to bits by this trigger-happy asshole for absolutely no fucking reason

looks like a hero actually stepped in and saved her?? but no that can’t be, heroes are the ones that ruin everything and make everything worse, or so I understand. lol where did all of this sarcasm come from out of nowhere dlkdsjlk I’m sorry guys I just suddenly got swept up in the hypocrisy of certain people’s philosophies out of the blue idek

anyway so it is of course Deku saving her, and now he’s trying to talk thess jerks down all diplomatically instead of just kicking their asses, which is certainly a choice

MOTHERFUCKER I’M

fucking impossible to miss the real world parallels here. shit. this woman nearly died for her crime of Walking While Having A Mutant Quirk huh. and meanwhile Deku is just letting this guy scurry away and even letting him keep that fucking bazooka of his, like, ????

fucking hell she’s crying!!

lmao this chapter is actively trying to make me mad now huh. that’s some genuine righteous anger I’m feeling on behalf of this fictional ferret lady whom I only met two minutes ago. girl you are not the one who needs to explain herself here!! you didn’t do anything wrong holy fuck. everything about this situation sucks so much

fkKJKLMMMHFGH

“I’m sorry I made you upset, please enjoy this panel of tiny!floating!Deku hefting this lady’s massive beach umbrella up for her like the fucking gentleman he is” well okay then thank you sir

and JUST LIKE THAT the tension is broken and I’m entirely incapable of taking the rest of this conversation seriously because Deku’s trying to be all calming and authoritative, but now the illusion has been broken because I know he only comes up to like her knees

“well thanks again for saving me young man. I’ll leave you to it, I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do like protecting your Lucky Charms cereal from all those greedy children”

oh hey All Might

you wouldn’t have just let that guy with the bazooka just walk away to commit more attempted murders would you?? man

OH MY GOD DEKU IS IMMEDIATELY DITCHING HIM AGAIN

I ~CANNOT STAY HERE~ oh, well, sorry to keep you detained I know you’re busy

dfslkjlk oh my god

fucking told you Deku didn’t pack any food lol. it’s literally all notebooks in that bag you guys. he couldn’t just leave them all in his dorm room when he left, because what if someone tried to read them and came across one of the pages where he absentmindedly doodled Kacchan’s name surrounded by little tiny hearts oh gosh

AWWWWW

I needed this Horikoshi. thank you for this wholesome soul-cleansing interaction after all of that bullshit earlier

so now Deku’s climbing up this tall building to eat his lunchbox more dramatically. Tokoyami would be proud

and Banjou is saying that society right now is just like in The Good Old Days (read: bad old days) when quirk society was even more of a mess than it is now

which is exactly how AFO likes it, no doubt

so now Deku’s having a whole conversation with Banjou seemingly out loud lol, weird. and he’s basically saying that they don’t have any clues as to where TomurAFO and the League are hiding right now, and none of the Tartarus escapees they’ve found knew anything either

mmmmmfmhm, marge simpson noises

but you think you can?? you, alone, by yourself?? you think you stand a chance?? I just need you to think this all through a bit more kid

Deku it is NOT JUST YOUR RESPONSIBILITY ALONE, PLEASE REALIZE THIS ALREADY. YOU MAY BE THE CHOSEN ONE, BUT EVEN THE CHOSEN ONE NEEDS HIS FRIENDS BY HIS SIDE GODDAMMIT

and of course my pleading is all in vain, because he’s a fictional character who can’t fucking hear me, and also because I’m pretty sure there’s only one character who is going to actually be able to get him to hear reason here. I’ve been saying it, and I’ll keep saying it lol. so until then I guess I’ll just have to be patient

anyway so it appears we’re segueing into another flashback??? HORIKOSHI PLEASE GIVE ME SOME BAKUCRUMBS BEFORE THE TWO WEEK BREAK, I BEG YOU

dlKSDJLFKWJELKGHSLGKLEKJLFKHLGK

YES, THANK YOU, I KNOW WHERE THIS FUCKING IS LOL, IT’S NOT LIKE I’VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH FINDING OUT WHAT HAPPENS IN THE REST OF THIS SCENE OR ANYTHING LMAO. BUT ANYWAYS DON’T MIND ME, YOU WERE SAYING??

oh my god oh my god I’m not readyyyyy, but also FUCK YEAH I AM SO FUCKING READY LOL LET’S DO THIS

YOU GUYS

I’M ABOUT TO STEP IN THAT ROOM AND YEET ONE OF THOSE FUCKING CHAIRS AT YOU ALL

NOOOOO

I’M ABOUT TO GRAB BANJOU’S GOGGLES AND STRETCH THEM OUT AND SNAP THEM BACK SO THEY SMACK THE SHIT OUT OF HIS FOREHEAD!!! IT’S WHAT HE DESERVES!!! I’M ABOUT TO MOVE TO JAPAN AND GET A JOB WITH DOORDASH AND FIND OUT WHAT HORIKOSHI LIKES TO ORDER FOR LUNCH SO I CAN BE THE ONE TO DELIVER IT SO THAT WHEN HE OPENS THE DOOR I CAN FINALLY ASK HIM “HEY WHAT THE FUCK” IN PERSON

AHHH NO EVERYBODY SHHHHH STOP TALKING!!!!

SOMEONE PLEASE TELL THAT PERSON SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS IN THE BACKGROUND TO SHUT THE FUCK UP, OH WAIT, THAT’S ME

(」゜ロ゜)」 щ(゜ロ゜щ)

LOL THIS FUCKING ASSHOLE!!! LOOK AT YOU!!! YOU’RE NOT KIRISHIMA OR SHINSOU OR IIDA IN A WIG OR ANYBODY LOL. YOU’RE JUST A DUDE. BROOOOO ABOUT FUCKING TIME, WHAT’S GOOD

I CAN’T SCROLL DOWN AHHHH BUT I HAVE TO BUT IT’S TOO INTENSE AHHHHHHH

I CAN SEE THE TOP OF HIS SPIKY HEAD, IT’S FINALLY THAT TIME AHHHHHHHH OKAY I’M GONNA DO IT HERE GOES

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

IT’S HIM. IT FUCKING REALLY FUCKIGN IS HIM OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. WHY AM I SO SHOCKED LMAO I’M THE ONE WHO’S BEEN SAYING THIS THE WHOLE DAMN TIME LMAO. OH GOD. O H MY FUCKING GOD

well okay then sir. so are you an ~ancestor~ or a Kacchan from another timeline or so what’s your deal then

YOICHI WHO IS YOICHI

YOICHI ALWAYS KNOWS WHAT’S UP. LMAO WHO IS YOICHI

(ETA: I’m going to punch myself in the face lmao. he’s Yoichi. he, the First. that’s his name. name reveal at long last what what!!)

MORE IMPORTANTLY SHOULD I BE IMAGINING NOBU’S VOICE RIGHT NOW BECAUSE LMAO I AM ANYWAY BUT YEAH

(ETA: I actually think he’s going to end up being voiced by Nobuhiko whether he ends up being Kacchan or not, just because it fits right in with the general “identical in almost every way” aesthetic he’s got going on.)

TUMBLR HOW WE LIKING OUR ANGSTY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE KACCHAN?? EVERYONE HATED YOU SO MUCH BEFORE THEY EVEN MET YOU, BUT THEY FORGOT TO CONSIDER THE POSSIBILITY THAT YOU MIGHT BE HOT LMAO WHAT A TWIST

“some bright-eyed brat” oh come on. IT’S GOTTA BE HIM LOL

oh my god you all are probably TIRED AS FUCK of all my screaming but I’M SORRY IMMA HAVE TO DO IT ONE LAST TIME BECAUSE...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

that face. that expression!! THE FACT THAT HE’S OUT HERE OPENING DOORS WITH HIS FEET, LIKE HOLY SHIT!! JUST ADMIT THE JIG IS UP ALREADY

and so they really are the ones who busted First out of his jail cell huh

so how did they know you were in the room?? why did they come and break you out?? and how, pray tell, did they know to get you to transfer OFA to them?? hmmmMMMMMMMM

oh MY GOD

you guys. oh my god. it’s too much. every last bit of it lines up exactly with the Bakuverse theory sdkjfj I’m short-circuiting. it’s really fucking happening oh my lord

HELLO SEXY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE KACCHAN WITH HIS SEXY FUCKING SCAR, FUCK YEAH WE REALLY ARE EATING GOOD THIS CHAPTER

HELL YEAH WE’RE GOING. WE’RE GOING FULL SPEED YOU GUYS. LMAO I’M SO FUCKING HYPED RIGHT NOW I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF WEFKJLDKFFFF

SO, EVERYONE, LET’S RECAP. -- ACTUALLY NO, I STARTED TO WRITE UP A LIST, BUT I IMMEDIATELY REALIZED IT REALLY JUST NEEDS TO GO IN ITS OWN THREAD. SO I MADE IT AND POSTED IT, AND NOW I’M FINISHING UP THIS HOT MESS OF A RECAP POST. SO NOW WE’RE BACK TO THIS ONE FINAL PANEL OF DEKU EATING HIS KATSU ALL SERIOUS

YES SIR. YES SIR, WE GOING, FULL SPEED AHEAD, WHATEVER, IDK WTF IS HAPPENING BUT YES!!

lol, anyways so as I said in my other post, mysterious sexy guys with tragic pasts are what bring us together as a fandom, so whatever your thoughts are on the rest of it, let’s just rejoice in that. it’s what we deserve

#bnha 310 #midoriya izuku #ofa prime #ofa ii #bakugou katsuki #MAYBE???#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

last call | jjk x reader

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: 18+

word count: 4.4K

synopsis: jeon jungkook is the hottest bartender in the city. everyone has their sights set on him, but it seems he has his sights set on you.

warnings: oral (female receiving), protected sex, jungkook thirst, excessive jungkook thirst, hello we’re talking about jungkook here -- there is a jungkook-sized amount of thirst, unsanitary use of a space designated for food and beverage

A/N: this fic is a commission for the @ficswithluv special project “Changes with Luv”. The awesome @dee-ehn made a donation to BLM for this fic and she asked for sexy times with long-haired JK with tattoos and dammit that’s what she’s gonna get. Thanks so much for making the donation, this is a cool way for authors like me to pitch in for an important cause!

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

Jeon Jungkook is the sexiest man in this city.

That’s not a matter of opinion, that’s an actual fact -- voted into law by you and the rest of the Council of The Thirsty after a night of downing shots at The Black Swan. The four of you piled into the bar’s single-stall restroom to check lipstick and chat shit and it was decided, that was that.

The Black Swan is open long after the other nearby bars and restaurants have locked up for the night. After the tables have been cleared and the tips have been counted, it’s where just about everyone who works in the service industry in this part of town ends up for a post-shift nightcap. They’re drawn by the late hours and the strong drinks and, well --

Jeon Jungkook.

On any given night, his bar is packed with flirts -- men and women alike -- all hoping for just a taste of his attention. You can’t blame them, really. It’s far too easy to get lost in Jungkook’s massive, dark eyes, or that slow, confident smile. And it’s far too hard to look away when he tucks an errant strand of inky hair behind his ear or when he rolls his sleeves up to reveal those toned forearms covered with tattoos.

Jungkook works his bar with the confidence of a man who understands his magnetism, a man who understands why people get sucked into his orbit and never want to leave.

Suckers just like you.

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

Jägermeister is totally fucking disgusting and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

You’ve just bellied up to the bar to grab a drink when Jeon Jungkook drops a shot of the foul shit right in front of you. The look you give him is equal parts confused and revolted.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, come on,” he teases with a smile, “You work at a bar. Don’t tell me you don’t recognize a shot of Jäger.”

“Oh, I recognize it,” you tease back. “I just refuse to acknowledge it. Who sent this to me?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes playfully, pulls another shot glass from under the bar and pours himself a shot of the dark, thick liqueur.

He holds it up in the air and waits for you to do the same.

“I did.”

Your eyebrows shoot sky-high in surprise. Jeon Jungkook buying you a shot?

You’re probably just in the right place at the right time, you reason. The lucky recipient of a free drink because he’s in the mood to get one, too.

Or unlucky, you correct yourself -- looking down at the glass. But one more look at Jungkook and you know there’s no way you’re going to refuse the offering.

You’re picky, but you’re damned sure not stupid.

You raise your shot glass in the air and Jungkook looks pleased.

“Bottoms up,” he says, eyes twinkling.

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

Something strange happens a few nights later.

You’re seated at a high-top near the bar with your girlfriends when you hear Jungkook call something out across the room. Your friends freeze, wide eyes and shocked stares focused on you for one awkward moment.

He says it again, this time louder -- and there’s no mistaking it.

It’s your name.

You ignore the frantic whispering of your girlfriends and stand up from your seat at the high-top to approach Jungkook’s bar. He’s leaned over it, hands bracing the dark wood -- pen tucked neatly behind his ear. His long dark hair is pulled back into a glossy knot, but one lock has fallen into his eyes.

He looks insanely good -- but honestly, what’s new?

You clear your throat before you approach so you don’t croak your way through whatever comes next. Spine straight, you get close, slide into a barstool and do your best to appear casual.

“What’s up?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna threaten you with any more shots of Jäger,” he laughs, flashing his million-watt smile. You smile back, hoping he can’t hear the holy shits and what the fucks flying at the table behind you. “I’ve got something else for you tonight.”

“Okay,” you breathe, dazzled by the personal attention he’s bestowing on you. “What’s on the menu?”

Jungkook reaches for two fresh shot glasses and pulls a heavy amber bottle from the well behind his bar.

“Grand Marnier,” you answer for him, watching as he pours you both a shot. “An upgrade from Jäger, that’s for sure,” you tease.

He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the most goddamned adorable way possible. “I figured this might be more your speed.”

Figured how? As far as you know, he doesn’t know a thing about you -- apart from the fact that you usually drink a vodka tonic.

And your name, apparently. How does he know your name, anyway?

“Cheers,” he says in that low, sexy voice, and you shiver.

“Cheers,” you agree, tongue swiping at the taste of the sweet liqueur on your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes darken for a split-second and heat creeps up your neck.

“So, um -- how do you know my name?”

You can thank the alcohol for giving you the courage to ask. Sober you wouldn’t be nearly so forward.

Jungkook shrugs. “I’ve seen it on your credit card.”

“Ah,” you smile. “Well, thanks, again. Next time, I’ll be the one buying, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” he grins.

But as you’re walking back to your table something dawns on you.

You turn and head back to the bar.

“Hold on a second,” you say, eyes narrowed at Jungkook. “I’ve never paid with a credit card here. I always pay my tab in cash.”

“Hmmm,” he murmurs -- and fuck if the slow smile that spreads across his features doesn’t make your panties wet right then and there.

“Is that right?”

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

“Jeon Jungkook wants to fuck you.”

“For the love of God, Tifa,” you hiss, ducking your head. “Keep your voice down. Jungkook and every last one of his ancestors can hear you when you’re talking that loud.”

Tifa shrugs, unbothered.

“I said what I said,” she sniffs, checking for non-existent dirt under her nails. “You see any of us getting free shots from The Golden One? Or any of the other women in here, for that matter?”

Well, she’s kind of got a point there, doesn’t she?

You have no idea why you seem to have captured Jeon Jungkook’s attention, but you’re not going to question it, that’s for sure. You’re going to enjoy your good fortune while it lasts.

“He’s being nice,” you argue, and even you aren’t buying it the second the lame deflection comes out of your mouth. Tifa rolls her eyes.

“You know what else would be nice? Getting dicked down by the hottest man in town. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

You sigh.

It would be, actually. The part of your brain that entertains such outlandish fantasies has been working overtime these days, imagining exactly what that would be like. Imagining the body that lies underneath that sinfully fitted shirt and the almost-too-tight-but-not-quite jeans.

Jungkook certainly walks and talks and moves like a man who knows exactly what he’s doing in bed. You’d love nothing more than to know if there’s any truth to that theory.

You chance a glance over your shoulder, back to the bar -- and Jungkook is deep in conversation with a patron. She’s leaning over the bar, practically throwing herself at the man, but he looks away from her to catch sight of you. His picture-perfect face breaks into a wide smile and you break into a sweat.

“See what I mean?” Tifa asks, brow raised when you turn back to face her. “The man is trying to fuck you. I’ll be right here after he does, waiting to say I told you so.”

You sputter a laugh into the rim of your glass.

“We’ll see about that, T.”

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

Nothing ruins the end of a night of drinking quite like last call.

All the fun screeches to a halt when the house lights come on. No one looks good under the harsh fluorescents that hum to life as tabs are being paid and drinks are being slammed and tables are being wiped -- no one.

Well, no one except for Jeon Jungkook, of course.

He’s in the weeds tonight -- trying to settle tabs for at least twenty people all trying to cash out at the same time. He nods in your direction to confirm he’s seen you, that he’ll get to you -- that eventually you’ll get your chance to pay.

So you wait. And wait.

The crowd starts to thin as Jungkook closes tabs at top speed -- tip jar flush with obscene amounts of cash. No one tips better than people who make a living on them -- and tonight is no exception. From what you can tell it’s been a good night for Jungkook.

Hell, every night is probably a good night when you’re Jeon Jungkook.

You sip what’s left of your vodka tonic and scroll through your phone while you patiently wait for your turn -- then promptly lose track of time.

How long have you been sitting here?

It’s only when your ears pick up on the echo in this place that you look up from the screen. Jungkook is cashing some guy out -- and as you take a look around you realize this guy must be the last person in this place.

Correction -- you are the last person in this place, or at least you will be in about thirty seconds.

Your pulse picks up as Jungkook wraps the transaction and sends the guy out the door with a friendly wave. You’re definitely the only two people left in The Black Swan now, no doubt.

“So uh -- ” you drag the sound out on a nervous breath, “ -- I still need to pay my tab.”

Jungkook flips the house lights back off before sauntering to your end of the bar, wearing his most dangerous smile. He dries his hands with the towel at his waist then sets it aside.

“Your tab was paid hours ago.”

Oh.

“Because you paid it,” you say slowly, forcing yourself to drag your eyes from the man’s muscled thighs and trim waist to his flawless face. Your heart stops a bit at the smirk you find when you finally get there.

“Yup.”

You grab for what’s left of your vodka tonic and slug it down.

Jungkook laughs.

“You want me,” he says, fingers working the top buttons of his fitted shirt open. You watch with wide eyes, so distracted by the action that you barely process what he’s said.

“Wait, what?” you ask in a daze.

“You want me,” he repeats casually, like it’s no big deal. His fingers stop only a few buttons down, the tease -- but he chooses that same moment to pull his hair out of the loose knot he’s been wearing all night. The dark strands fall into his face and you stare like a moron.

“What makes you say that?” you ask, weakly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jungkook teases. “My vision is 20/20. My hearing is pretty good, too -- though it would be pretty hard not to overhear the things you and your friends say about me.”

Dammit, Tifa, I told you to keep your voice down.

“Yikes,” you murmur on a shaky laugh. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” he says with no hesitation. “‘Cause I want you, too.”

You pull back from the bar so far, your stool nearly tips over. Jungkook waits for you to right yourself in amused silence. Then he waits for you to speak.

“I’m, I -- “ you sputter, searching for things like words and thoughts. Jungkook’s brows lift as he awaits whatever is on the other end of that sentence. “ -- I think I need another drink.”

Jungkook winks before reaching down to pull glasses from under the bar. He sets a brown bottle with a familiar orange label down beside them. You hold your breath when you see him walk out from behind the bar to slide into the stool next to yours.

“Fireball,” you say thickly, watching him pour the cinnamon liqueur into the shot glasses. He nods, handing you your glass.

“Think this will help?” he asks, smiling wickedly.

“No way to know but to do it,” you smile back.

You clink the glasses together before draining them.

You can almost feel the alcohol working its way through your veins. The warm burn of it starts in your throat, slides low into your belly and spreads out through your arms and legs.

“Think that did the trick?” he asks in a low voice, dark eyes fixed on your every move. He leans closer.

“I don’t know,” you admit. He’s close enough now you can smell the warm cinnamon on his breath. Between the booze and the hormones, you’re starting to feel a little reckless. “That depends. Are you trying to fuck me in this bar?”

“Absolutely,” Jungkook deadpans. You suck in a breath.

“Then I think we’ll probably need one more.”

Jungkook chuckles as he refills your glasses. His eyes glint with unconcealed mischief when you knock the second round back. This time, the warmth that spreads down your throat seems to pool between your thighs.

You dip the pad of one finger into the remnants left in the shotglass, emboldened by the buzz you can feel coming on. Jungkook watches rapt as you slip it between your lips. You are weightless and shameless by now, more than prepared for the moment he slips two fingers under your jaw to tip your mouth up towards his.

He tastes like the pleasant spice in the alcohol and he smells like sweat and bodywash and your senses are overwhelmed. Your fingers dive right into his hair, desperate to feel the silky strands between your fingertips.

“Fireball was a good idea,” Jungkook groans between kisses, hands going to your back to pull you close. You stand out of your barstool to position yourself between his thighs. “I like the way you think.”

He pulls away to tug at the hem of your shirt.

“Take this off,” he orders with a quiet authority that makes you desperate to comply. His eyes are heavy-lidded; glued to the nipples pebbling underneath the thin cotton. You cross your arms across your body and lift the shirt over your head.

Jungkook doesn’t bother to take your bra off. You jolt with surprise when he surges forward, mouth seeking the skin peeking out of the soft cups. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses across the heated flesh before leaning low to graze the outline of one nipple. You jerk at the sensation -- at the way his lips and tongue and teeth make the fabric rub against the straining buds.

“Oh, God,” you hiss, “That feels good.”

Jungkook pushes the straps of your bra off your shoulders, eyes dark and focused when your breasts spill out of the cups and your nipples are exposed to the cool air in the bar. You shudder.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, touching his tongue to your nipples now without a barrier. You allow yourself to run your fingers through his hair again, anchoring yourself to him to keep steady in the onslaught.

It’s bad manners that you haven’t pulled yourself together enough to thank him for the compliment, but how can you be expected to think straight when his teeth are scraping against your nipples?

Jungkook pauses to look up at you -- eyes smoldering, lips swollen with use -- and you squirm in his hold. “You should take these jeans off,” he whispers, fingers slipping into the belt loops. He tugs at them gently. “I wouldn’t want them to get wet.”

Oh honey -- that ship has sailed.

You nod slowly and Jungkook leans back in his stool, eyes hooded as you unbutton the denim, slide it down your legs and step out of it.

“You gonna take any clothes off, or am I the only one stripping tonight?” you tease, shivering at the loss of his body heat.

A slow smile spreads over his face. “We’re getting to that, I promise.”

He reaches across the bar for the bottle of Fireball and your mouth falls open in surprise.

“Wait, are you gonna -- “

“Yeah,” he cuts in, dripping the cool liquid onto your breast. His lips swipe at the liqueur that spills over your nipple and you groan out loud. “I own this bar,” he teases, his warm tongue a stark contrast to the cold alcohol. “I can do whatever I want in here.”

You certainly can.

He drips more of the liquid onto a nipple and watches with satisfaction as it slides down your skin. He laps at the cinnamon taste as his hands roam the sensitive skin of your stomach and down to the band of your panties. Your breath hitches in your chest.

“I can do whatever I want on here, too,” he smirks, nodding at the bar. You laugh.

“You’re the boss, right?”

“Exactly,” Jungkook winks, before his hands drop to your waist. His grip is firm as he helps lift you on to the bartop.

You brace your hands against the wood and watch as he slips his fingers under the satin seam of your panties. In this position, you have a front-row seat to what is sure to be the hottest sexual experience of your life. Jungkook’s brows knit in concentration and his tongue swipes across his lips as he pulls your soaking panties away from your legs. The sight of him preparing to debauch you on top of his bar alone could make you come.

He steadies you with firm hands to either side of your hips before dipping his head down to test your taste with a light flick of his tongue. You buck in his grasp and he muffles his laughter against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “You’re not allowed to fall off of my bar,” he teases. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you laugh, fingertips gripping the bartop for dear life.

Jungkook pulls his mouth away from your aching center and you damned near whine at the loss of his warmth. But in a split-second he’s back, and so is the Fireball.

“Just a little,” he rasps, tipping the bottle to the side. You hiss as the frigid liquid seeps down into the crux of your thighs. Jungkook purses his lips and blows a puff of air against you, sparking an intense tingling sensation and earning a loud whimper. He’s satisfied with your response, if the look on his face is any indication -- but his wicked smile disappears from view when he lowers his mouth to your center again.

“Fuck,” you gasp, head dropping back between your shoulders. “God, that feels good.”

“Tell me what it feels like,” he whispers, slipping one long, calloused finger into your channel. The added sensation makes you whine when he swipes his tongue against your clit.

“Like --,” you gasp and try again to formulate a thought. “Like fire and ice.”

He hums his approval of that assessment right into your cunt and you nearly break your promise not to fall off his bar. Your arms are shaking with the same tension that is building between your legs. Jungkook pulls back to drip more of the Fireball onto your sensitive center and you shudder.

The alcohol burns a bit, a pleasant pain that is somehow heightened by Jungkook’s warm, wet mouth. He doesn’t rush, seemingly content to take his time as you slowly come undone.

“I’m so close,” you whimper, elbows threatening to buckle underneath you. Jungkook finally picks up the pace, tonguing you deep as your thighs tighten in anticipation.

“I can feel how bad you want to come, sweetheart,” he goads, finger crooking inside of you, stimulating that spot that makes you feel like you can’t see straight. “Do it.”

The moans Jungkook pulls from you in those final seconds are made all the more obscene by the echoing inside this empty bar. Every muscle in your body tightens and then melts as your orgasm hits with the intensity of a freight train. Jungkook seals his mouth over your cunt to capture the wetness he’s earned, prolonging the sensations, prolonging your moans.

It takes a moment for the roar in your ears to subside, for your ability to focus to return. When you can hear and see and think again, you look back down to the space between your thighs and find Jungkook wearing a look of utter satisfaction.

“Believe it or not, that’s the first time I’ve eaten pussy on top of my bar,” he teases, dimples emerging as his lips quirk into a smile. “How has your service been tonight?”

“Pretty good,” you taunt, a lot ballsier with a few shots and an orgasm under your belt. “Would be a hell of a lot better if my bartender would take his clothes off.”

Jungkook feigns a wounded look as his fingers work the rest of the buttons on his shirt open to reveal a tight white tank underneath. He pulls that overhead and reveals the body you’ve been fantasizing about for so long. Whatever you’d imagined was lying underneath those clothes pales in comparison to the real thing. His body looks cut from stone, his smooth skin the perfect canvas for the tattoos that run across his arms and onto his chest.

“Better now?” he chuckles.

“Not yet,” you say, savoring the power of your position on the bar. You watch his one-woman striptease with the hint of a smile on your lips. “The jeans have to go.”

“Bossy,” he mocks, fingers unbuttoning the dark denim. Your jaw drops about the same time the jeans do.

“Well,” you laugh, slipping down off of the bar to stand in front of him. “Your review has just improved.”

He smiles into the kiss you plant on him as your fingers snake between you to wrap around his cock. He thrusts firmly into the tight grasp of your fingers as his tongue delves deep into your mouth. He sucks in a breath when your thumb teases as the moisture gathered at the tip of his cock.

“My cock is gonna explode if I don’t bury it between those thighs,” Jungkook groans and you shudder from head to toe. “Turn around for me.”

You do as you're told, turning away from him to brace your weight against the bartop. You can see Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror that lines the back wall of the bar. You watch as he grabs a condom from the back pocket of his jeans and makes quick work of rolling it down his thick length.

He presses the length of his warm body against yours, and you tense when the blunt head of his cock teases your entrance. One hand lines up his cock and the other grips the soft skin of your hip. He looks at you in the reflection of the mirror and your knees almost give out when he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Let me in, sweetheart.”

You arch back just as he sinks inside -- going to the hilt in one firm stroke.

“Shit,” he groans between gritted teeth. “Fuck, that’s a tight fit.”

“Oh, God --” you gasp as he begins to rock against you. After a few languid strokes he sets a steady rhythm, hips smacking against your ass with the force of his thrusts.

He leans over you, bracketing you in with one arm braced on the bar while the other helps guide your hip. Your eyes fall closed and your head drops forward as you push back against him, rendered boneless by the thick slide of his cock. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoes loud in the empty bar.

Jungkook leans down to take your earlobe between his teeth and you whimper.

“Look at me,” he orders in a whisper. “Open your eyes.”

Your eyes snap open to find Jungkook’s reflection and the sight nearly makes you come undone for a second time. His damp hair is falling into his face, body covered in a sheen of sweat and his mouth is curled into a dangerous smile.

“That’s it,” he murmurs when your eyes meet in the mirror. “I want you to see how good you’re getting fucked.”

Your rhythm falters at his provocation but Jungkook refuses to let either of you get off track. He drops both hands to your hips and begins pounding into you with relentless strokes, huffing a laugh when you squeak in response.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he groans, thrusts going frantic. “Can you come for me again?”

You nod -- completely out of words -- reaching one hand down to the aching button between your thighs. Jungkook pulls your body back against his, angling deeper into your aching cunt at the same time your shaking fingers manage to apply a light pressure to your clit.

That’s all it takes.

You come apart a second later and Jungkook pulls your hair back to expose the column of your throat as he rides you through it. His teeth scrape against the sensitive skin of your neck as his own orgasm starts to ignite.

His fingers grip your hips so hard you’re certain there will be bruises in the morning. But it’s worth it -- so damned worth it when you get to watch Jeon Jungkook come undone for you. You’ve never seen anything sexier than Jungkook with brows knit in utter concentration, mouth slack with pleasure and coming for you. Inside of you.

You lean against the bar, legs like noodles as he comes down from his high and seconds later, he’s slumped over you, body lax against yours.

“Hey,” he says after a moment of silence, as you’re catching your breath. He leans his chin against your shoulder.

“Yeah?” you manage, craning your head to face him.

“Come back tomorrow and we can break open my bottle of Goldschläger.”

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

You wake with an ache between your temples and an ache between your legs.

The pounding in your head is your punishment for drinking way more than you should have last night.

The pleasant soreness lingering between your thighs is an entirely different story. That’s the only souvenir you get to keep to commemorate the best sex of your life. And it’s not going to stick around.

You roll over in bed and reach for your phone.

Tifa picks up on the first ring.

“I’m not even going to play the game with you, girl,” she says, in lieu of a proper greeting. “I just wanna know how it was.”

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

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #ficswithluv #changeswithluv

3K notes · View notes

redrobin-detective · 3 years

Text

Starlit Vigil

Dannymay Day 4: Stars _____________________________

Everything has a story to it, a tale interwoven into it’s very being from it’s birth to it’s death. Sometimes the mystery of the story is as much a story in and of itself.

Scientists and researchers can’t say when the constellation first appeared in the night sky. It could be seen above Antarctica, near where the edge of the continent meets the Indian Ocean. It confounded a great many people as stars simply didn’t appear out of nowhere. But these did, slowly over the course of several decades sometimes years apart but two appeared within hours of each other. Each new star, eight in total, had a glistening, almost unnatural twinkle to them. The constellation was named Mnemosyne after the Grecian goddess of memory and the stars eight of her nine daughters, better known as the Muses.

You’ve always had your eyes turned towards the stars and Mnemosyne in particular had always captured your attention. You can’t really explain what it is about those stars that speak to you. Maybe it’s sheer impossibility of their existence. Perhaps it’s the particular beauty of these stars, sometimes appearing to shift in shape and change colors. Or it could be the story behind the stars, the mystery that couldn’t be solved and so imagination filled in the holes left behind.

They say there was a great king, hundreds of years ago. A king who was powerful and kind and helped create the world as we know it. The land of the dead exists and certain people can interact with those beyond it. Technology and understanding have advanced dramatically and, while no life would ever be perfect, there was a general sense of peace that could felt in this world and the next. This king loved our world so much it’s said he plucked the greatest jewels he could find and placed them in the stars where he could watch over and cherish them forever. It’s a sentiment you can understand.

You study astronomy in school and when you’re given a chance to travel to the Antarctic Circle to study Mnemosyne, you can’t say yes fast enough. The bitter cold and isolation is a small price to pay to see your favorite constellation up close. Maybe when you see it with your own eyes, you can unravel some of the questions people have been asking over the years. Why the goddess of Memory? Why are the stars named after the Muses but missing the muse of astronomy, Urania? What is the true story behind the supernaturally bright stars that appeared out of nowhere?

It’s hard to sleep during the day, partially because it goes against your normal circadian rhythm but you’re also too excited for night to come. For the stars to come out. You bundle up in the warmest clothes, pack your cameras and notebooks and throw the highest quality telescope you can carry over your shoulder. Arriving at the best site for star gazing, you are so delighted by the clear skies and sparkling stars that it takes you an extra moment to realize that you’re not alone.

At first, you think it’s one of the many researchers conducting studies at the pole but it’s soon apparent that this is someone new. Their hair is stark white, almost appearing one with the blustering wind as it’s blown around. You can’t see what they’re wearing because a thick white cape covers them entirely; it has the consistency of freshly fallen snow. Atop their head floats a crown made of pure, crystalline ice. Your eyes widen behind your protective goggles. The existence of ghosts was common knowledge by now but it’s another thing to see one up close. You turn to leave, before the spirit notices you.

“Don’t leave,” he says quietly but despite the roaring of the wind, you can hear him perfectly clear. “You came to watch the stars too, I don’t mind. Mnemosyne is my favorite.”

“Mine too,” you say back without even thinking. “I would love to know their stories.” The ghost turns to smile at you and his eyes are a bright, glowing green without any pupils or sclera.

“Come, I’ll tell you about them.” You know you shouldn’t. While most spirits aren’t malicious, this one exudes a power you can’t even imagine. But you find yourself stepping closer anyway. You want to hear the stories of the stars and his smile is the warmest thing you’ll find for miles. Somehow you know this ghost won’t harm you. He points up at Mnemosyne and your twin gazes stare up in wonder.

“They say souls and stars are made of the same ingredients. When I was a boy, I loved this thought. There was something comforting in knowing that, no matter where I went, that I could carry the stars within me,” the ghost explains, looking at you joyfully.

“But unlike stars, souls are mortal, impermanent,” he says, his smile turning sad. “So I thought, why not put a soul into a star? Then it could last for eons.” He turns back to the stars with a melancholic expression. “Danielle was the first, my little sister. She was always fragile and after only a decade of life, one day she just broke. Her core was too damaged to become a full ghost so I offered her another way to live on. I took the brightness of her smile and made it into a star, into Euterpe. She was the muse of lyrics and poetry, they say she was the ‘bringer of delight’. It suited Danielle.”

“My enemy died next,” the ghost continues. “He hurt me and, moreover, hurt the ones I loved. But he was the only one who truly understood me. His existence comforted me no matter how much bad blood existed between us. His life was full of misfortune, most of it self-inflicted but his fear of death pulled on my heart. My last move in our battle was to make him a star as well, Melpomene, the muse of tragedy. I put him far away from Danielle, I think he’d hurt her.”

“My parents passed a few decades later,” the ghost whispers. “Mom went first, in her sleep. Dad always followed her example so it wasn’t a surprise when Dad followed her in death before the day was done. They were scientists, I think but they loved me very much. Things were tense, I remember being afraid for some reason but their deaths pained me. They were too fulfilled to become ghosts. I grabbed bits of their essence before it dissipated and made the stars Polyhymnia and Terpsichore, the muses of hymns and dance respectively. They were a perfect couple, partners in everything. A song and a dance, always in time with each other.”

The wind rustles the ghost’s cape, he clutches it as if he is cold. You cannot tear your eyes from the the soft grief on his face.

“Valerie went next, some sort of illness; I can’t remember the details,” the ghost frowned. “She had no desire to become a ghost, no matter how much I asked her to stay. I am King of All Ghosts and yet I got on my knees and begged for some part of her to keep with me. In the end, I stole a bit of her fading spirit and crafted Calliope, the assertive muse, the author of epic poetry. She shines so brightly up there like she had in life.”

“Jasmine died peacefully in her sleep like our mother. She was always protecting me, even in death. Her devotion to knowledge and my wellbeing kept her by my side for many years but it wasn’t enough to last forever. When her spirit was nothing more than wisps, I took her core and placed Clio with the rest of our family. The muse of history, the proclaimer of great deeds fit my older sister well.”

“Tucker and Sam stayed with me the longest. Tucker went first, a quick death from an aged body followed by years as the playful spirit I always knew him as. Sam, my life and my love, passed the same and was my queen in death as she’d been in life. But love can delay death but not deny it and their spirits needed to move on. I kissed them both, my soulmates and made them into stars. Thalia, the muse of comedy and idyllic poems for the light Tucker brought to me. Erato for Sam, muse of love and its poetry for all that she inspired and gave me.”

You see glowing tears running down his face, he holds his hands out to the night sky. His fingers are curved as if wanting to reach and tenderly brush the faces of people long gone. Only they’re not gone completely. You look at the stars with a newfound appreciation. They are no longer pinpricks of long dead light but people who lived and died and yet still lived on in such beauty. If you look closely, you can almost see them. Brushes of red hair, dark rugged skin, the glint of glasses, a flash of amethyst eyes.

“There’s no Urania,” you say quietly, the wind tossing them.

“Not yet,” he says longingly, “but soon. The Zone and the Earth are at peace, they won’t need my protection for much longer. When that happens, my spirit will leave this world and join my loved ones in the stars as Urania.” This ghost has been dead for longer than you’ve been alive, longer than many of your most recent ancestors. But his love can still be felt, still burns high above in the sky for everyone to see. What better eternity is there?

“May I tell their story?” You ask and he only nods in response, not taking his eyes off Mnemosyne. You get the feeling he has forgotten about you, caught up in the light of his loved ones shining down on him, waiting. All at once, you realize how late it is, how cold. You leave to return to the research shelter, to write the history of the miracle constellation.

The stars made out of souls, crafted by love.

Twelve years later, you are not surprised when you look up and see a ninth star in the constellation of Mnemosyne. It glows brightly, twinkling with the other muses as if in conversation. You can only smile through your tears, so profoundly happy that Urania’s lonely vigil is finally over and they have assumed their rightful place among the stars.

#dannymay2021 #danny phantom #i'm not crying you're crying #this came to me last night in the bath #the idea that Danny takes pieces of his loved ones soul and made them into stars #so that they can stay with him while he finishes his duty as Ghost King #I want to stress they all DID move on #these are just pieces of them #stars are echoes of light long gone and same for these stars #they're the memory of friends and family and enemies #people who meant so much to Danny that he blazed their souls across the sky so they could watch over him #while he finished he duty and waited to join them #Danny Fenton never went to the stars #but because of Phantom he was able to finally walk among them #arm and arm with the family of his soul #thats not a bad afterlife shining in the sky softly watching over the earth you spent so long protecting #dont fucking touch me #wanted to play with second person pov lmk if it sux #its danny fucking may now open up and eat your soft tender angst

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nat-20s · 3 years

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what’s poppin everyone please have this fun lil writing warmup/short story inspired by me thinking “Dancing in the Moonlight” was definitely 100% about werewolves

~*~

“So, this your first transformation?”

The counselor? Leader? Tour guide? Asked this with a perfectly jovial tone, as if the typical social mores surrounding, ugh, lycanthropy, didn’t apply to her. They didn’t know what exact title to call her, and her name tag just said “Luna”, which, reflecting on it, either was a joke on her part or a reflection of her parents’ sense of humor.

Picking at the scabs from last month, they cringed and replied, “No. Uh. Second.”

Luna lets out a low whistle. “Oof. That sucks. Guessing you got bitten rather than inherited the ol’ wolfman gene?”

“That’s...kind of personal?”

Unlocking the front door of the log cabin that served as King Harvest’s Headquarters, Luna shrugs and says, “Shit, sorry. Forgot the whole weird stigma around your source of the once monthly nightmare, as if it fuckin matters. Also, I know, I know, ass out of you and me. Hey, you got any dietary restrictions? Gluten, peanut allergies, the like?”

Voice flat, they tell her, “I’m vegetarian,” and waits for the obvious response.

As they wander through the cabin towards the kitchen, Luna flipping on the light switches, generic club music starts to filter in. Instead of the obvious response, Luna asks, “You like veggie burgers? Or maybe pasta? I’d offer salad, but that’s really not gonna cut it for tonight.”

“I ate before I came.”

With a snort, she tells them, “Oh yeah? Did you have about 4000 calories?”

“No? Why would I have?”

Sweeping out her arm, she gestures at the food laying out on the counter and tells them, “Then eat up! 4000 is really a minimum for the night if you don’t want to feel like someone physically beat out all of your energy in the morning. 6000 is more the target area, but we got, hmm, about 15 minutes before things get uncomfortable, and half an hour max before things get dire.”

They glance down to the food, and, admittedly, the broccoli alfredo does look pretty appealing. Still, they have to ask, “Is this a cult?”

Luna lets out a bark of a laugh that has nothing to do with her (maybe) being a werewolf. “Okay, first of all, what kind of cult is like ‘fuck yeah, we’re a cult’? Secondly, despite the first thing, I can say that we’re not a cult. I know how “King Harvest: Center for Movement Therapy” sounds, both clinical and vague enough to be suspicious as hell, but I didn’t come up with the title, blame my long deceased dad for that one. Plus, ‘King Harvest: Bitchin’ Wolf Dance House’ probably wouldn’t look good on the grant applications.”

“Grants?”

“Oh yeah. This bad boy’s been publicly funded since its opening in 1972. Hence no membership fees.”

“Is that why animal control is giving out your business card? Are they one of your sponsors?”

“Nah, that’s just Jack. Me ‘n’ him go way back, hell, to his park ranger days. I mean, yeah, I think he’ll campaign for us, but mostly I think he just hates capturing a wolf in the night only to have a naked, trembling human in the morning, and he knows that our program significantly reduces the odds of that happening, at least in this neck of the woods.”

They let out a hum, then glance back down to the food. As appealing as it down look, they’re still about..30% convinced this is an elaborate organ harvesting operation. Or sketchy sex thing.

Apparently sensing their hesitation, Luna says, “You got a favorite chip?”

“Salt and vinegar.”

Grabbing a sealed family sized bag from the overhead cabinets, Luna tosses it to them. “If you come back next full moon, either eat enough in advance or have a real meal here. That being said, excuse the turn of phrase, you should wolf that down. It’s sure as hell better than nothing.”

They catch it, and the bag opens with a puff of air that speaks to a reassuring lack of tampering. As they toss a chip into their mouth, Luna grabs a water bottle from the fridge and places it down next to them. “So? Any questions for me? We’ve still got about ten minutes before we have to go out there.”

Rolling their eyes, they tell her, “No. None at all.”

“Great! Soon as you’re done eating we’ll get you started.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“Yeah, no shit, smart-ass. Seriously, what are your, we haven’t got much time.”

“I don’t know? The whole..thing? I mean, how is it supposed to..work? Like? At all?”

“You ever see Amok Time?”

“Is that relevant?”

“It’s a yes or no question babe.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then the explanation is going to be a lot more technical and take a lot longer, ultimately to likely make less sense.”

“...I’ve seen it.”

“Great! So, Pon Farr is basically this chemical blood imbalance that results in fuck or die disorder, yeah? But then Spock neither fucks nor dies, and eventually the vulcans get their shit together and find out that an intense fight can serve the same function, and the blood fever chills out. Lycanthropy operates on a similar enough basis for comparison. You’re compelled to act out on energetically heavy base instincts, returning to the ways of the wolf or whatever. Traditionally, that’s done through running and hunting, which has, historically, been a crapshoot at best. Theoretically, sex can also get the job done, but I’m sure you can imagine how that gets extremely dicey extremely quickly. Either restraints or isolation has been implemented for a while, but, c’mon, they’re bandaid solutions, and they’re far from foolproof. Luckily for us all, my grandmother decided to connect back with her ancestors, and there was a handful of stories having huge festivals to deal with ‘moon violence’. She tried it out, and, yeah, dancing works.”

“That sounds…”

They don’t know how that sounds. Made up, mostly.

“Like a bunch of hippie bullshit? Yeah, it kind of is, Grandma Josephine was a huge hippie, but it’s hippie bullshit that works. In fact, let’s go see the others, it almost always makes things clearer.”

Figuring that whatever they’re about to see can’t be worse than their transformation last month. They head through the sliding glass door out the back, the thump of the music suddenly loud enough to be felt in their chest. The sight that awaits them makes them drop their chips and let out a gasp. Barely able to speak, they exhale out, “None of them...they’re not wolves. How..how??”

Indeed, the roughly forty people jumping to the pulse of whatever they’re listening to (some to the in house DJ, some, apparently, to what’s playing over the large headphones they have adorned), resemble the image of a wolfman much more accurately. They bare claws, fangs, elongated snouts, upright ears, and serious amounts of hair, but they’re on two legs, and moving like humans. Some of them are even singing along to the lyrics, which really shouldn’t be possible.

Luna grins, making it obvious that she’s used to this level of shell shocks. “Ultimately, you do have to give into some damn rigorous instincts. But dancing is a human instinct, not a canine one, so you end up, well, humanoid. Pretty nifty, huh?”

“And they all..they all keep their minds? I didn’t...they don’t blackout?”

“Not since we banned alcohol in the 90s! Here, watch this.”

Luna nods her head at the DJ, and the DJ, obligingly, turns down the music for a moment. The members of the crowd not listening to their own music pause, then look towards the door. She cries out, “Hey gang! HOW WE ALL DOIN’ TONIGHT?”, and gets a mix between a howl and “WOO!” cried back. The DJ then turns the music back up, and the general movement of the crowd resumes.

They should be more skeptical. They want to be more skeptical, they were just minutes before, but it’s hard to disagree with something right in front of you. “This will work for me? I just..have to dance?”

“Well, it’s not guaranteed. Few things are. But we have yet to have someone turn violent on us. If you start to fell yourself slipping from consciousness, though, I do ask that you start heading further into the woods, as to not hurt other guest. If you find yourself just getting tired, there’s beds inside, and a fair amount of pillows around the edge of the quote unquote dance floor, if you end up in more of a nesting mood. Also, I recommend taking off your shoes before you start.”

“What? Why?”

Luna gives a pointed glance at the dancers’ feet, which, ah. They’re about twice as large as normal and at least twice as sharp. The converse on their feet would be no match. “Ah.”

“Ready?”

They shove off their shoes and place the remainder of their chips aside. “As I’ll ever be.”

Good thing, too, as they’re starting to feel an uncomfortable pressure in their chest that was the prelude to disaster last month.

Luna strides to the center of the dance floor, which is really a plush lawn surrounded by forest. The crowd naturally moves around her, and she yells out, “Aiyana! Play my song!”

Aiyana gives a nod, and the opening notes of “Dancing in the Moonlight” start to sound out. “Seriously?”

Luna shrugs, grinning like a fool, and says, “It’s a classic!”

“It’s cliché at best.”

Luna shrugs, and then begins dancing. She’s hardly elegant, but she is dazzlingly joyful in her uncoordinated movements. As the song reaches the first chorus, she gives a twirl, and in the split second it takes, she’s transformed. They blink in shock, not knowing you could transform that seamlessly, that quickly, that painlessly. Luna in half wolf form is just as expressive as the human Luna, and she gives a nod over her shoulder as if to say Come on.

Feeling somewhat foolish, they start to bop their head to the tune. Luna lets out a huff and grabs their hands, spinning them around and forcing them to get moving. At first, it’s them indulging Luna, but as they let themselves get lost in rhythm, they feel a stretching sensation in their face and limbs. It’s not unpleasant, more like when you wake up and work out the tension in your spine. They open their eyes and look down at their hands, now covered in fur in and made for slashing. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt, and they’re still themselves, and they had no idea that full moons could be like this, maybe for the rest of their lives.

They turn their head to the night sky, and their body can’t help but continue to dance. Despite all their fear, all their dread, “movement therapy” worked, and they can admit, at least to themselves, that they feel warm and bright.

#my writing #nats journey into writing short stories based on 70s songs continues lmao

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vavuska · 3 years

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CRUELLA, THE STORY OF A PUPPY SLAUGHTER (Part 2)

Here for part 1:

Part 1 - Summary:

In the previous part we saw how was originally described Cruella de Vil in Dodie Smith's 101 Dalmatians: a rich heiress, bossy, cruel toward animals, obsessed with fancy jewls, luxury and also fur coats. Cruella met Anita at school, they were in friendly terms, even if Anita described Cruella as a menacing student, expelled from school for drinking ink. Dodie Smith wrote that Cruella comes from a troublesome family: her ancestor was a serial killer, with the supernatural ability to summon storms and a tail (reference to Bram Stoker's Dracula and the devil). Cruella has strange eating habits (uses a lot of pepper, the Devil's spice) and is usually cold (as a corpse or a vampire). Cruella was so obsessed with fur to marry a furrier not for love but only for his job. Cruella's husband is weak and she is the dominant element in the couple, she also forced him to take her surname after their marriage.

We saw also the rapresentation of Cruella in 1961 cartoon version of 101 Dalmatians. Cruella is still a old friend of Anita. Her main colors are red (her loudy red car is the fist thing we see of Cruella) — expressing blood, anger, determination and passion — and green (she is always surrounded by nasty green smoke that comes from her cigarette) that rapresents envy, sickness and greed.

Her appearance is very particular, because she looks like a skeleton and her skin is very white - pale, very different from the healthy pink one of the other characters. She looks like a corpse, she looks sick in this 1961 version of 101 Dalmatians.

Her entrance is accompanied by a song, written by Roger, in which he anticipates the evil intention of Cruella and underlight the disturbing connotations of her surname (Count de Ville is one of Dracula's alias; Cruella de Vil is a pun name on “cruel devil”).

3 - Cruella in 1996

The 1996 live action of 101 Dalmatians the entrance of Cruella is anticipated by a sequence in which we heard a news London Zoo discovered the excoriated carcass of its prized 3-year-old female Siberian tiger, then the news reporter says that according to animal protection groups that monitor the international trade that a white Siberian tiger's fur is so rare that the offer of a pelt would surely draw the attention in contraband. And then the journalist ask “Who cold do something so horrible?”

Then enters Cruella. She wears veiled garment complete with Balenciaga-inspired extreme shoulders and floor-length black and white fur cape.

We saw this mysterious woman with veiled face and a long fur coat - we doesn't know she is Cruella yet - , exiting from her black and white 1974 Panther Deville, license plate “De Vil”. This version of the car is more closed to the book's one.

In Dodie Smith's book, Cruella's chauffeur-driven car is black-and-white striped, which Mr. Dearly describes as “a moving zebra crossing”, and Cruella boasts that it has the loudest horn in London, which she insists on sounding for the Dearly couple.

We saw Cruella shaking the ashes of her cigarette on the shiny and impeccable shoes of her vallet Alzonzo, while he tries to not look bothered by this lack of respect, and then we saw Cruella entering in a luxurious place called “House of De Vil”. Her red cigarette holder — switching from the turquoise the 1966 animated version favored — matched with her brilliant red lipstick, makes a great contrast to her black and white attire and also underlight the psychology of color typical of Disney villains: red is associated with malice, evil (hell and the devil), blood, danger, strength, power, determination and passion.

Now we have a sight of this long railway-like white hallway surrounded by exotic fur-clothes. Now we know she is a stylist and that she is maybe the one who cold be interested in the fur of the dead Siberian tiger.

A crowd of terrified / adoring employees hurry to greet the woman: “Good morning, Miss De Vil”.

Finally Cruella enters in her office and takes off her hat with veil, reveling her double-colored hair. She is Cruella De Vil in all her glory.

This sequence recalls openly the Devil Wears Prada.

This version of Cruella played by Glenn Close is much more human that the 1961 version. She is more charismatic too and also more fashionable. Her entrance is not as scary as the 1961 version, but shows her obsession for fur, her violation of the law and abuse on animals (also at those at risk of extinction) and her high level stylist house of fashion.

She isn't Anita's friend anymore, she is Anita's boss.

youtube

While walking to her office, Cruella meets Anita, played by Joely Richardson. She spots that Anita is working on a new model (no more white tiger stripes, but dalmatian's spots). Anita's design catches her eyes and interest, as well as Anita's dog, Perdi: they had a strange chat about Perdi's fur. That, knowing already the plot of the movie and the news details Roger and Pongo were hearing in the previous scene, well, this conversation sounds a lot disturbing.

Cruella: “Anita, darling.”

Anita: “Good morning, Cruella.”

Cruella: “What a charming dog.”

Anita: “Thank you.”

Cruella: “Spots?”

Anita: “Yes, she’s dalmatian.”

Cruella: “lnspiration?”

Anita: “Yes.”

Cruella: “Long hair or short?”

Anita: “Short.”

Cruella: “Coarse or fine?”

Anita: “l’m afraid it is a little coarse.”

Cruella: “Pity!”

Anita: “But it was very fine when she was a puppy.”

Cruella: “Redemption! We need to have a little girl talk. Come to my office. Bring the drawing.”

youtube

Ok. The next scene contains a very popular quote from this movie.

We are in Cruella's office: she has just invited Anita to talk about her design. Cruella wants a new coat and would love to wear the one that has just see at Anita's desk. Let's remeber she doesn't want to wear Anita's puppies already, for now is just an abstract idea about someone else's puppies, but they are still talking about Dalmatians' spots, compared with leopard ones and Anita seems to be perfectly fine. I don't think she knows already of Cruella's criminal way to obtain fur from animals at risk of extinction that her henchmen steal from Zoos, but Anita works for a woman who loves to wear REAL fur. I just can't imagine Cruella wearing any faux fur coat. This is not a crime, because it's legal wear fur coats made of mink, sable and ermine and such, but I found very weird that Anita is not having any suspect about Cruella's intention, because she is working on a model of striped tiger fur and Cruella lives for fur, worship fur. She just could not accept to wear faux fur.

However, Anita doesn't seem bothered at all by this strange talk about her dog's fur (yes, dog are not coats), but as a woman who works for fashion/fur industry and loves dogs she should know that in some parts of the world it is legal using cat and dogs to make clothes. I simply can't understand why she is not having any reaction at Cruella's strage interest about Perdi's fur.

Cruella and Anita talk about their work and Cruella makes lovely appreciation for Anita's drawings: she says she is talented and she doesn't want to risk to lose her pen.

That's now that Anita says she would not left Cruella's House for another job, she would left only if she decided to be a stay-at-home mother and wife. Well, no, she talks more genericly of "plans" with a hypothetical, for now, husband/boyfriend, and this could means everything, for example moving to another city, the assumption about marriage is an association made by Cruella that told us a lot of things about how producers would she looks, compared with the family-oriented Disney business plan. This is a very relevant issue we was also in her 1961 version: the losing comparison between Anita's family's oriented live choice and Cruella's — who is sigle, rich and indipendent — one. Cruella loves only her fur coats, while Anita have an husband, a simple house and also a lot of dogs. Cruella is alone, evil, ugly, wears a lot of make up, and not happy, while Anita is married, preatty but in a natural way and happy of her simple lifestyle with her husband and their dogs.

Cruella: “Now, darling, tell me more about these spots. l did leopard spots in the ‘80s. Well, dalmatian spots are a little different, aren’t they? Cozy. Classic.”

Anita: “Cuddly. Less trashy.”

Cruella: “Exactly! Do you like spots, Frederick?”

Frederick: “Oh, l don’t believe so, Madame. l thought we liked stripes this year.”

Cruella: “What kind of sycophant are you?”

Frederick: “Um, what kind of sycophant would you like me to be?”

Cruella: “Frederick… l’m beginning to see spots. What would it cost us to start again on next year’s line?”

Frederick: “Millions.”

Cruella: “Can we afford it?”

Frederick: “Well, yes--”

Cruella: “Pay it, darling. Now go away. l have to talk to Anita.”

(...)

Cruella: “Sit down, please. How long have you been working for me?”

Anita: “Uh, two years last August.”

Cruella: “And you’ve done wonderful work in that time.”

Anita: “Thank you.”

Cruella: “l don’t see you socially, do l?”

Anita: No.

Cruella: “And you’re not very well-known, despite your obvious talent.”

Anita: “Well, notoriety doesn’t mean very much to me.”

Cruella: “Your work is fresh and clean, unfettered, unpretentious. lt sells. And one of these days… my competitors are going to suss out who you are… and they’re going to try to steal you away.”

Anita: “Oh, no. lf l left, it wouldn’t be for another job.”

Cruella: “Oh, really?bWhat would it be for?”

Anita: “Well, l don’t know. Um, if l met someone, if working here didn’t fit in with our plans.”

Cruella: “Marriage.”

Anita: “Perhaps.”

Cruella: “More good women have been lost to marriage… than to war, famine, disease and disaster. You have talent, darling. Don’t squander it.”

Anita: “Well, l don’t think that it’s something we have to worry about. l don’t have any prospects.”

Cruella: “Thank God.”

Cruella makes a very cynical — but historically appropriate and also very sharable — critic about marriage. She was right, expecially because of what we saw about her 1960s version and how she is rooted in anti-feminism and in an open condamn of women's growing emancipation from the “traditional family role” imposed by media in the 1950s and 1960s, rapresented by 1961's Anita. However, Cruella is a cruel, evil villaness, so what she says to Anita is just a condamn made by Disney on women who choose career over family and love.

But, here, Cruella is not a friend of Anita who gives her a kind and appreciable life advice (if we ignore that Cruella is evil), Cruella is Anita's boss and doesn't want to lose a valuable and talented employee, so from this point of view her statement sounds a lot more controversial: women in the 50s lost their job if they got married, they were fired because most of the time bosses made them sign a contract with a marriage bar that allow employers to withdraw from the contract, so their contract would terminate on marriage, or said in a simple way: employers used to fire the soon-to-be wife, because it was clear for them that a wife should focus more on family and house care than on a career (that's because the soon-to-be wife is going to have an husband, the bread-giver of the family).

Nowdays, it's a bitter different, but women that want to have also a family are discriminated in workplaces: employers ask constantly in job interviews of they plan to have a family, if they have some relationships or if they are single. That's because employers would lose money paying for maternity leaves to their female employees that cannot work for some month. A young woman in fertile age with a stable relationship is a risk for a employer more than a young man in fertile age with a stable relationship. A newly mom is more closed to chose a lesser paid job or a part time one compatible to her family then a newly dad.

And also this quote, remember we are talking about the 90s, gives a clear flashback on women's unstable careers back then, but also puts in highlines some stereotypes about women who menage to balance both work and family: their quility of work is lower than before (this is said by Cruella to the new-mom Anita, we will see it below), they are not productive enough, they makes employers lose money, ecc. Nowadays, unlike in the 90s there is a constant svalutation of women who chose to put family first: they have no free time, they have no a social life (well, some shy single woman like Anita doesn't have a frizzy social life too), some kind of lifes are better than others (luxury and exotics vacation are better than reading books, dancing and going to bars with friends is better than playing sports or painting, ecc.) and if they dare to go out with their friends or take time for themselves and their hobbies, society is still ready to shame them for “not being good mothers”. That's not right: everyone should be able to live their life as they want, to have a frizzy social life or just enjoying a little time for themselves, without receiving criticism of any sort.

In the US the marriage bar, the practice of restricting the employment of married women was never explicitly eliminated by federal laws. Marriage bars were widely relaxed in wartime, during World War I and World War II due to an increase in the demand for labor in the assistance of war efforts (mostly because men were at the front).

Since the 1960s, the practice has widely been regarded as employment inequality and sexual discrimination, and has been either discontinued or outlawed by anti-discrimination laws. For example, in Italy marriage bar is declared illegal with law nr. 7 of 1963, that establishes the prohibition of dismissal of female workers for reasons of marriage (later extended also to male workers), and law nr. 1204 of 1971 prohibited dismissal of the working mother within the first year of the child's age (maternity bar).

The main reason of the bar is that married women were supported by their husbands, therefore they did not need jobs. However, marriage bars provided more opportunity for those whom proponents viewed as "actually" needing employment, such as single women or married men (needed to support the family).

Discrimination against married female teachers in the US was not terminated until 1964 with the passing of the Civil Rights Act.

Marriage bars generally affected educated, middle-class married women, particularly native-born white women. Their occupations were that of teaching and clerical work. Lower class women and women of color who took jobs in manufacturing, waitressing, and domestic servants were often unaffected by marriage bars.

However, some State law provides protection for people discriminated for their marital status. For example, in California, discrimination in employment based on marital status is against the law. Under the California Fair Employment and Housing Act (FEHA), it is illegal for an employer to discriminate based on an applicant’s marital status or perceived marital status.

Under the FEHA, it is an unlawful employment practice for an employer to treat an applicant or employee differently based on the employee’s marital status. This includes: Refusing to hire or employ, Refusing to select a person for a training program, Firing, bearing, or discharging an employee, Discriminating against a person in compensation or in terms, conditions, or privileges of employment.

Marital status could refer to whether an individual is married or not, has been married, or plans to get married. This includes: Currently married, Divorced, Married to a same-sex partner or opposite-sex partner, Engaged to be married, Married but separated, Married but seeking a divorce, Widowed, Annulled marriage, Plans to get married someday, Plans to never get married, Other marital states.

Forty years ago, on October 31, 1978, the Pregnancy Discrimination Act (PDA) was signed into law to prohibit discrimination in the workplace on the basis of pregnancy, childbirth, or related medical conditions. Since its passage, more women have been able to continue working while pregnant; they have also been able to work further into their pregnancies without being forced to leave their jobs.

Pregnancy discrimination involves treating a woman (an applicant or employee) unfavorably because of pregnancy, childbirth or a medical condition related to pregnancy or childbirth. The Pregnancy Discrimination Act (PDA) forbids discrimination based on pregnancy when it comes to any aspect of employment, including hiring, firing, pay, job assignments, promotions, layoff, training, fringe benefits, such as leave and health insurance and any other term or condition of employment. Pregnancy discrimination also includes perceived bias when expectant employees experience subtly hostile behaviors such as social isolation, negative stereotyping and negative or rude interpersonal treatment such as lower performance expectations, transferring the pregnant employee to less-desirable shifts or assignments or inappropriate jokes and intrusive comments.

Claims of pregnancy discrimination filed with the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC) increased sharply in the 1990s and 2000s, and pregnancy discrimination remains a widespread problem across all industries and regions of the United States. Yet statistics show that in the last 10 years, more than 50,000 pregnancy discrimination claims were filed with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission and Fair Employment Practices Agencies in the United States.

So, yes. Disney here touched a lot of points in about two levels:

Family is more important than a career (successful, unmarried stylist Cruella is the evil one) and if you, a working woman, put career over family you are wrong. Nowday, we know that there isn't anything wrong about putting career first, but also we know that there isn't anything wrong also on putting family first or find a balance between the two. The important thing we should remember is that if we have not equality in working places, we should have not real free choices about our dream life;

It's perfectly fine excluding women in stable relationships or women with children from workplaces, because their work would not be at the level of a single woman, that can sacrifice her free time working late (employers exploitation logic deny free time);

Only child-free single women should be allowed to work, but only until they meet a soul mate (reminiscent of the old Disney penchant for old traditional gender roles).

However, returning at the plot, after that Anita reassures Cruella that she has no marriage prospects on the horizon, Cruella asked to Alonzo to bring Anita's drawings to her and the two women start to discuss about Anita's work, because Cruella want to add a long fur stole to Anita's original model: “I look wonderful in spots”, says Cruella,“we could do this in linen. It would be stunning in fur”. Then Anita remarks that would not be appropriate wearing fur in April, so Cruella give her famous lines: “But it’s my only true love, darling. l live for fur. l worship fur. After all, is there a woman in all this wretched world who doesn’t?” and then makes a joke that anticipates what she will plan to Anita's puppies more over in the movie: “lt is rather amusing, isn’t it? (...) If we make this coat... it would be as if l were wearing your dog.”

Then Anita and Perdi meet Roger (Jeff Daniels) and his dog Pongo, they fall in love and get married. Cruella doesn't like this. Obviously. We see a very enraged Cruella, wearing a black cellophane velvet with black and white coque feather trim, screaming against Anita's “betrayal”, when she read Anita and Roger's wedding publication on a newspaper.

Her anger toward Roger for stealing her best employee, maybe envy for Anita's love (well, it’s Disney), are promptly consoled, when her two henchmen bring her a little present from Mr. Skinner (Nomen omen, this surname fits perfectly creepy scared guy that work as furrier): it's the Siberian tiger found dead and excoriated in the London Zoo at the beginning of the movie. It was Cruella that wanted her fur and at the end she obtained it.

This Mr. Skinner (John Shrapnel) is a sadic taxidermist that enjoys killing and skinning animals alive, just like he did to the female white tiger at the London Zoo. He doesn't speak beacause when he was young, a dog attacked him by tearing open his throat and ripping out his vocal cords in the process, leaving him with a bad scar on his neck and is a little based on Mr. de Vil, Cruella's husband in Dodie Smith's book, but with the difference that Mr. Skinner has a more strong and menacing personality, while Mr. de Vil was weak and totally dependent by Cruella's desires.

Near the end of the movie, we will see in a crescendo of more explicit references to animal abuse, this charming version of Cruella de Vill ordering Cruella De Vil to Mr. Skinner to kill the dogs, because she fells that the police's suspicion are mounting against her: “poison them,” says Cruella “drown them, bash them on the head. Got any chloroform? I don't care how you kill the little beasts, just do it, and do it now!”

(See here for references: X and X)

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In second relevant scene, Roger and Anita are out, walking the dogs, when Anita spots Cruella's car. In fact, as happen at the beginning the black and white 1974 Panther Deville is the first element we see in this scene and anticipate the entrance of Cruella. Recognizing the car, Anita runs to home and there she found Cruella. She welcomes in a very lovely way Anita in her own home, but she is very rude with Roger, who tries his best to be polite during the whole scene. Cruella then mocks Roger about his job (he is a videogame designer, a well paid job nowadays, but that in the 90s can just make snobbish people like Cruella turn up their noses, it's not the classical respectable professions “to make money”). Anita and Roger are just returned from their honeymoon and Creulla acts very nicely toward Anita, she says she missed her and their exchange of ideas, but she isn't happy when Roger announce they are going to have a baby, but Cruella remarks that “she has no use for children”, but she is very interested in Pongo and Perdi's puppies.

Unlike her cartoon version Cruella during the movie shows a lot of different, hiconic and fashionable outfits: at her visit at Anita and Roger's house, she wears a zebra coat dress with mink sleeves with matching Russian-inspired hat, red PVC boots that match with gloves in the same color and material (long fake red nails on each finger) and her red cigarette holder. Her dress also features a practical detail: a cigarette case paired with ammo cartridges as if they are military medals. The zebra stripes also give off the impression of bones or a rib cage for that extra goth vibe. Her lips are permanently stained the color of crimson, while her winged eyeliner adds to her high drama aesthetic.

Despite being set in contemporary London, everything about Cruella's closet defies a specific time period. It is as if she stepped in from the '60s of the original story combined with a century's worth of high fashion references. This is very logic: people have a lot of clothes and is natural for a very fashionable stylist to have and wear a lot of haute couture outfits.

Cruella: “And you must be Rufus.”

Roger: “No, it’s-- it’s Roger. And it’s a pleasure, Miss De Vil.”

Cruella: “What’s a pleasure?”

Roger: “Uh, making your acquaintance.”

Cruella: “Such a sweet thought. l wish l could reciprocate. Tell me, darling, you married him for his dog. Oh, darling, l’ve missed you so. l hate that you’ve taken leave.”

Anita: “But l’m still working. Um, you’ve been getting my sketches?”

Cruella: “Well, it’s not the same thing. l miss the interaction-- And what is it that you do… that allows you to support Anita in such… splendor?”

Roger: “l design video games.”

Cruella: “Video games? ls he having me on?”

Anita: “Oh, no, he’s very good at it. Um, and it’s a growing business.”

Cruella: “Those horrible noisy things that children play with on their televisions?Someone designs them? What a senseless thing to do with your life.”

Roger: “Oh, did Anita tell you the news? She’s going to have a baby.”

Cruella: “ls this true?”

Anita: “Yes.”

Cruella: “Oh, you poor thing! l’m so sorry.”

Anita: “We’re very excited about it, Cruella.”

Cruella: “You can’t be serious.”

Roger: “She is!”

Cruella: “Well, what can l say? Accidents will happen.”

Anita: “We’re having puppies, too!”

Cruella: “Puppies! You have been a busy boy. Well, l must say, that’s somewhat better news. l adore puppies! l’ll expect a decline in your work product.”

Anita: “Oh, l shouldn’t think so.”

Cruella: “Be sure to let me know when the blessed event occurs.”

Anita: “Oh, well, it won’t be for another eight months.”

Cruella: “The puppies, darling. l’ve no use for babies.”

Again here we have a remark of how horrible is Cruella as boss (she says to Anita she expect a decline in her work, and this would make her useless and less precious for Cruella's House) and as person: according to Disney people who doesn't like children are horrible and cruel, but there is a double meaning in Cruella's word: “Iʼve no use for babies” could mean both that she is not interested in maternity (that's perfectly legit, not all like children, are comfortable with them or just dream to have children someday) but also that she couldn't find any material use of babies, while for puppies we know she knows well how to use them: as material for a new fur coat.

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The next scene is a classical recall to the original Disney cartoon of 1961: it's a stormy night and during the lightning flash for a few frames only, we see Cruella as a complete silhouette while few second after she opens the door and enters in Anita and Roger's house, with a big menacing smile on her face.

Pattern clashing will not only stand, but it is also encouraged, as the tiger cape with a leopard lining reveals. Paired with a leather skirt and tiger bodice featuring claw clasps

Again there is the recurring joke about Cruella misnaming Roger (Rufus, Rupert, Roland), if it's intentional (and this version of Cruella doesn't seem to left anything casual) it's a clear remark about how she dislikes Roger, the guy that stole her best designer, if it's not intentional, shows how Cruella find him irrelevant for her purpose at the point she doesn't even bother to rember his name to flatter him. Cruella is not polite or kind to Roger as she is with Anita. She doesn't need Roger, she need Anita and hates Roger for turning down Anita's value for her interests.

In this scene Cruella uses the same words she uses in the 1961 version (“How marvelous. How marvelous! How perfect... Oh, the devil take it! They’re mongrels! No spots! No spots at all! What horrible little white rats!”), but with something new that shows her uncaring nature (“All right, put them in a bag. l’ll take them with me now.”) and again mocks Roger for his “strange” and not prestigious job, when he firstly deny her offer for the puppies (“Oh? You’ve come into some money, have you? Did you design some silly game… that will drive the delinquent kiddies into frenzies of video delight?”).

However, compared to her 1961 alter ego, this Anita is more assertive and talks for herself, saying a determinated “no” to Cruella. Anita also starts to be a bit suspicious about Cruella's intentions (“But, Cruella, what would you do with 15 puppies?”). Roger and Anita this time seems to be equally determinated to refuse Cruella's business proposals.

Cruella crescent rage is underlight by the sounds effects of thunderclaps and it is Anita who says the final “no”.

“All right, keep the little beasts. Do what you like with them. Drown them, for all l care! You’re a fool, Anita! l’ve no use for fools. You’re fired! You’re finished! You’ll never work in fashion again! l’m through with all of you! l’ll get even! Just wait! You’ll be sorry, you fools! You idiots!”

When Roger and Anita refused to sell the puppies, Cruella's rage exploded as happened in the cartoon version (she screams and insults Roger and Anita, she tears the check into a thousand pieces and throws them in Roger's face), but let's remeber she is Anita's boss now: she uses her power and fired Anita's too, now that Anita and Roger refused to Cruella what she want, Anita become immediately useless. In fact Cruella has yet the design for her new outfit, from Anita needed only the puppies and if she cannot obtain them with good manner, well, as happened in the cartoon version, she will steal them.

In the previous part we saw how in the 101 Dalmatians of 1961, the car was the alter ego of Cruella, well, in this 1996 live action, her personality and her obsession is channeled into her outfits. Before it all goes to hell for the fashion maven, her rotation of zebra, leopard, and tiger print reveal she wasn't bluffing when she exclaimed of her fur obsession.

The costumes as designed by three-time Oscar winner Anthony Powell (co-designed with Rosemary Burrows) take Cruella's love of all things animal print to the extreme, delivering jaw-dropping results.

Cruella's entire life is a performance supported by her wardrobe, makeup, and hair. Cruella increases the level of red (it's the outburst of her bloody determination to obtain what se want, it's her mad passion for furs that determinated her end) during the climax with her fur coat of choice, which will soon be ruined by some farm animals. That smell is going to be hard to get rid of, and there aren’t any dry cleaners in prison.

As we saw in the previous part, Cruella's change of luck is well rapresented by her ruined clothes: she is going to jail, her life and career are over, her clothes aren't perfect and fancy anymore.

This happens also in the 102 Dalmatians live action of 2000: red clothing anticipates Cruella's criminal climax, while her ruined clothes are the sign of her defeat.

Nearly at the end of the movie, when her plans are finally reveled, Cruella wears a very unique red “flames” dress: the bodice is organza and silk satin beaded, sequined with a beaded net collar. The skirt is silk satin and nylon net beaded and sequined, lines in ostrich feathers. The headdress is tiered flames made of mirror, metal and painted glass. While her attire during her final metch with the Dalmatian is a black dress with large shoulders that recall Balenciaga, a black lather waist belt and a Gothic necklace with rubies, pearls and diamonds. The fur coat is floor-length black and red, while her headdress is a little hat with black and red feathers.

(See here for references: X and X)

4 - Cruella in Once Upon A Time

More recent version of Cruella can be founded in the ABC TV show Once Upon A Time. I will not make a summary of the themes of the TV because it has a very complex plot and that is not relevant for our comparison. So, let's say only that is a show who feature the adventure of Emma Swan, Snow White (Ginnifer Goodwin) and Prince Charming (Josh Dallas)'s daughter, and her biological son Henry (who was adopted by Regina Mills, the Evil Queen, now mayor of Story Brook) to break the magic curse that turned Enchanted Forest to a modern day Maine town called Storybrook, in which live all the characters from the popular fairy tales we know from Disney adaptations, unaware of their true identities.

Cruella is introduced in Season 4. The evil Rumpelstinskin (Robert Carlyle) recruited her and some other evil lady to regain his Dark Lord magic powers and take his revenge on the people of Storybrook as well as his happy ending.

The first we saw Cruella is at her ungodly hour: she is divorcing from a guy called Mr. Feinberg, strongly in debt and FBI is repossessing her husband's belongings, including her fancy fur coats, her big mansion in Long Island, New York, and her other goods. (See here for references: X)

Cruella plays little importance in the plot, until the Author is released from the book; unable to kill him herself, she pretends to threaten Henry Mills's (Jared S. Gilmore) life to force Emma (Jennifer Morrison) and Regina/Evil Queen (Lana Parrilla) to do so. However, Emma confronts her, not knowing the restriction the Author placed on Cruella, and magically blasts her off a cliff to her death.

The actress chosed to play Cruella de Vil is Victoria Smurfit and her appearance recalls more the 1961 version than Glenn Close. She wears a black night gown with paillettes or little pearls, long red PVC gloves and a white fur coat, but drives her black and white 1974 Panther Deville. However, during the show she is seen also wearing leather black pants, red boots matching with her gloves and several different types of fur coats. Cruella's phone case has dalmatian spot patterns.

Rumplestiltskin/Mr. Gold snarkily remarks that he recognized Cruella's scent as “desperation and gin”, somewhat suggesting or implying that Cruella is an alcoholic of sorts. Cruella later confirms this, having blamed her misfortunes on “bad judgment and gin”.

Unlike her other version, this Cruella has some a very limited magic powers, and has only been known to accomplish a few specific spells. Her most remarkable power is the ability to control any animal, whether it be a Dalmatian or a Dragon. The green smoke that comes out of Cruella's mouth when she uses persuasion magic on animals is designed to reflect Cruella's green and yellow cigarette smoke in Disney's 101 Dalmatians.

Her other main power is a very limited telekinesis: Cruella is able to enchant her car to drive itself around.

In the 5 Season, after her death, Cruella ends up in the Underworld, a purgatory run by the deity Hades (Gregory Germann). She makes a deal with Hades, who offer her to rule Underworld in his absence and help trap the heroes there. Delighted with the idea of getting to torment souls for eternity, Cruella agrees to the deal. This makes even more evident the similarities with the goddess Hela from Norse Mythology, as both ruled the underworld and have half-black half-white hair.

However, the most important episode about Cruella is “Sympathy for the Devil”, in which we learn about her true story.

"Sympathy for the De Vil" Season 04, Episode 18

In 1920s England, a young and blonde Cruella De Vil (played by Milli Wilkinson as child and Victoria Smurfit as adult) is being mistreated by her mother Madeline (Anna Galvin) as she instructs her Dalmatians to chase her daughter, and is locked in the attic in the same setting that resembles the 1979 Gothic novel Flowers in the Attic by V. C. Andrews. The room where Cruella is locked up is filled with her mother's dog statuettes and dog show trophies. Fast forward to several years later, and that a reporter, who is revealed to be the Author (Patrick Fischler) but is using an alias by the name of Isaac Heller, is paying a visit to the home pretending to seek out a story after having seen Cruella from the attic, only to have Madeline warning him to stay away. Isaac returns and helps Cruella escape from the attic. He then takes Cruella out for a date that includes dinner and dancing. Cruella reveals to Isaac that the reason she was kept in the attic was that she witnessed her mother kill her father and her succeeding husbands; Isaac then reveals to Cruella that he was more than just a reporter and has the ability to use his pen and ink to create magical stories. Isaac proposes that they run away together, and uses his quill and ink to give Cruella her persuasion powers to control animals.

(See here for references: X, X, X and X)

However, for Isaac, his future with Cruella would later take a unique twist that will put his future in danger. When Madeline pays a visit to see him, she tells him that Cruella had lied to him about what actually happened to her husbands: as child Cruella killed her own father, Madeline's first husband, by putting a poisonous flower in his tea. Cruella was a troubled child and her parents had hoped she would grow out of her disturbing behavior. But after Cruella murders her father, her mother fears that Cruella's murderous tendencies will get worse and will become a full fledged serial killer. Not wanting anyone else to get hurt or killed by Cruella and not wanting her daughter to go to prison, Madeline had no choice but to lock her Cruella away from the outside world and keep her close to try to snap Cruella out of her disturbed mind. However Madeline's intentions were in vain as Cruella ended up poisoning her next two husbands. Terrified that Isaac will set her daughter free and start killing more people, Madeline warns Issac to stay away from her, because she is dangerous and can not be saved, while Isaac doesn't believe her, Madeline tells Isaac that Cruella takes everything someone loves and destroys it and tells him to stay away from her or he will suffer the same fate as her two husbands and lose all he holds dear.

(See here for references: X)

When Madeline returns home, Cruella was ready for her, and eventually kills her mother by controlling her Dalmatians and commanding them to attack her.

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Afterwards, Isaac discovers that Cruella has stolen his pen, and goes back to her house to find out that Cruella used her ability to control animals to make her mother's pet Dalmatians turn against her and rip her to shreds, before Cruella herself slaughtered the Dalmatians and made a fur coat out of them.

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«Some people struggle not to be drawn into the darkness. But ever since I was a little girl, I've said... "Why not splash in and have fun?"», says Cruella to an astonished Isaac.

Horrified, Isaac makes a dash for the pen to stop her, but during a struggle the magic ink is spilled onto Cruella. She accidentally ingests some and the ink shows her true colors. As Cruella is about to kill him, Issac uses his powers as the Author to make it so that Cruella can never kill anyone ever again by writing it down on a piece of paper "Cruella De Vil can no longer take away the life of another." As he leaves, Cruella tells him she's not done.

Cruella kept this secret, as intimidation would still work for her needs.

This episode have a lot of Disney reference to the old 1961 version of 101 Dalmatians:

Madeline's car is similar in design and color to Cruella's car from One Hundred and One Dalmatians.

The song that Cruella hears on the radio is a jazz instrumental version of the song "Cruella De Vil", from One Hundred and One Dalmatians.

Ink spills on Cruella, just like Cruella spilled ink on Roger Radcliffe and Pongo in the movie. (One Hundred and One Dalmatians, 1961)

When Cruella uses persuasion magic, the magic comes out of her mouth in the form of green smoke, which is designed to reflect the green and yellow cigarette smoke that Cruella puffs in the movie. (One Hundred and One Dalmatians, 1961)

This 1920s version of Cruella de Vil we see in Once Upon a Time is inspired by Zelda Fitzgerald, the wife of writer F. Scott Fitzgerald. Interestingly, in "Sympathy for the De Vil", Isaac can be seen reading F. Scott Fitzgerald's novel The Great Gatsby. While he is captive in Mr. Gold's cabin, Isaac reads F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. And largely recall what we already saw of Cruella's original version in the book by Dodie Smith: Cruella is a cruel serial killer. She is smart and manipulative, shows no empathy and emotions and uses people for her own needs. She uses Dalmatians as her own weapons to take her revenge on her mother: she turned her own dogs against her and finally removes the last obstacle to her own freedom. Is important to notice that Cruella slaughters and skins the Dalmatians to create a new dalmatian fur coat for her own, that wears victoriously under Isaac horrified eyes. The Dalmatian fur coat is her trophy. Killers like to take trophies and souvenirs from their victims. Keeping some memento — a lock of hair, jewelry, piece of clothing, newspaper clips of the crime — helps prolong, even nourish, their fantasy of the crime or to relive the crime over and over in their minds. Cruella at the end fully reveals herself as the serial killer she is.

When Cruella drinks accidentally Author's ink that transforms her hair black and white, is another reference to the novel The Hundred and One Dalmatians by Dodie Smith, in which is said that Cruella used to drink ink as a child. The dress Cruella is wearing at the jazz club is the dress Bérénice Bajo wears in the the famous 2011 comedy-drama film The Artist. Also the dancing scene between Cruella and Isaac recalls the one between Bérénice Bajo and Jean Dujardin, when play the role of actors Peppy Miller and George Valentin filming a ball scene for a mute movie.

Conclusion

As we saw, all the version of Cruella that were developed time by time, still share the characteristics of a sadic, cruel villaness.

Glenn Close version of Cruella doesn't care about animals' lifes, doesn't care about workers rights or other person's life projects. She uses creepy hanchmen to obtain what she wants, she steals and plot the death of even rare animals for their fur. She uses and manipulates people.

Victoria Smurfit's Cruella is a real serial killer. She is selfish, cunning, manipulative and the violence against animals is just a moment on her murderous revenge on her mother: she used Madeline's pretious dogs to kill her and then kept their skins as souvenir, as serial killers do.

There's no doubt that all those versions of Cruella are evil and Disney simply can not create any positive emotional connection with a woman who murders dogs. It's simply impossible to explain why Cruella hates dog in a way that can justify abuse toward animals. That is why this Cruella movie with Emma Stone is a huge mistake.

As conclusion, I will borrow again the words of composer Bill Lee from the 60s animated version of 101 Dalmatians to say what I think of trailer with Emma Stone as Cruella:

This vampire bat, this inhuman beast

The world was such a wholesome place until

She ought to be locked up and never released

Cruella, Cruella de Vil

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lostysworld · 3 years

Text

My dar(k) ling – The Darkling × reader

Part 13

Masterlist

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Warnings: none?

Summary: Another fete, another challenge for you and Aleksander. Another person between you and the man you love.

– What the hell is that?

You step on the training ground that you usually keep during archery trainings with young grisha. But seems this time your today's training started without you. Instead of empty space on your usual place a tall young woman is standing next to the line of targets with children not far from them.

Unfortunately, Baghra is here too.

– I found a replacement for you for this day, - the old woman waves her hand and a dark-haired woman sends a suspicious glance towards your side.

– Once it's for a day, and then for a life.

Baghra only rolls her eyes on your barely audible mumbling. When she brings you closer to that woman, you realize you've seen her before during trainings.

– It's Zoya, one of the best grisha in the Second Army.

You trace her slim figure in navy blue kefta with critical glance, waiting patiently for her any reaction. Not that you are against new people, but definitely not today, the day after your latest conversation with the general.

– Zoya Nazyalensky. A Squaller, - she extends her arm for a handshake, and you notice familiar pattern on her sleeve and smirk.

– Yes, I can see that.

Nevertheless, you extend yours in response, with a blank expression.

– She will train them, - Baghra nods towards kids. – While I am dealing with you, young lady.

– What else? - you grit your teeth in annoyance. You still have some lessons with Baghra, but usually they are about one and the same.

– I'm not done abusing you. Not yet.

– I am done.

– What? - the woman raises her brow and stops, turning to you.

– I don't need your lessons anymore. Though I'm grateful for the things you taught me, Baghra.

– Did my son brainwashed you with his teary puppy eyes-

– He has nothing to do with it. I just learned everything I wanted.

You already turn to leave her on the gardens' line, but the old witch doesn't intend to let you go.

– Your ancestors could do incredible things, and you only learned how to summon two elements and think, that you can outdo those grisha, who are here from the childhood.

You freeze on one spot, slowly exhaling and inhaling to calm yourself down. With one swift movement you are standing in front of her again.

– Air I can summon is still in your lungs, so be careful with your words, Baghra.

The corner of her lips twitches, as if she's waiting for a reaction like this. When the first wave of rage passes you relax a bit and you step back.

–And I still think that you are wasting your time here.

– What should I do? - you throw a glance to her, throwing arms to the sides in grim surprise. – To destroy the Fold with my hands?

– It's time for youto decide whose side you are on, girl. Are you with Aleksander, or you are helping to destroy him from the inside.

Your blood turns cold. No wonder, Aleksander became so impulsive with a mother like that.

– As far as I know, the boy still trusts you, Y/N.

– It is the perfect reason for me not to trust you.

The woman shakes her head, seeing the girl in front of her as a lost one for her to save. Worse that her son's influence is her own stubbornness and youth.

– What was Aleksander like? - you draw her attention. – Before the Fold.

– He laughed... A lot.

– Well, he seemed to do this with me either.

– That's what I am talking about, - she comes closer to you making you flinch. – You may bring some light to his life, but you won't change him.

Nonsense. You shake your head. Every new conversation with Baghra leads both of you to her attempts to turn you against the general. Every time. Always.

– I would never ask him to change-

– But it doesn't mean you won't want him to, Y/N. He is used to ruin people who are dear to him.

You lower your gaze, observing the ground. Loud noises from the training ground reach your hearing. Seems Zoya entertains young grisha more than you.

– Well, - you take a step back to show the woman, that your conversation is over. – Seems, my life has been already ruined before I met Aleksander.

The woman scans you with a mixture of judgment and motherly adoration in her eyes.

– There will be no happiness between you, if you are so alike on this point.

– Be that as it may, - with only one sentence Baghra gets to set your mood up and down.

As soon as she nods towards your side, you turn away, heading to the palace, passing by the training ground. Your head is full of useless information and whirlwind of emotions, so you at least can be used as a bad example of a trainer now.

When you get closer to your room, where Genya should meet you to try the fete dress on, you notice a familiar figure behind you. Even not turning your head, you know who it is.

– That's what the general meant, when was talking about constant pressure.

Ivan smirks smugly to himself.

– Oh, shut up, please! - you reach the door and halt to face the intrusive heartrender behind you.

– I am not a little girl, I can cope with it.

– And I am glad to hear it, - his face just perfectly shows how he enjoys himself at the moment.

– Shouldn't you look after your husband, hm?

– He is not my husband-

– Well, he should be.

With that you slam the door in front of Ivan's face, making him drop this mean smile from his face. If you two go on with communicating like this, you will become besties for sure.

You have never felt yourself so stupid and uncomfortable in your entire life like right at the moment, standing near the wall of the ballroom.

Genya abandoned you about a half an hour ago, and you are standing looking at the only one person here, that may draw your attention.

Aleksander spends his time discussing something with lieutenants on the opposite side of the room. Seems he is not interested in the fete or, what's most important, in you.

Not this gorgeous dress you are wearing, not your hairstyle, nothing can make the man turn his glance on your. After your last conversation none of you dared to speak with each other or look at.

Most of dates to the dance are already preoccupied with their partners, and you have only to throw sympathetic glances to Fedyor and Ivan, where one of them sometimes salutes you with a champagne glass by turns.

Not that you are just standing alone, some of familiar grisha join you from time to time having a small talk. And you may even easily escape from this party, but the chance that Genya will catch you somewhere in the corridors is pretty high and unpleasant.

But one small detail doesn't go unnoticed for you. Only couple of seconds ago the music becomes quieter, and you casts a quick glance towards the orchestra. There from their side, Aleksander is looking straight at you.

But it is not a problem at all. This detail doesn't seem to you; as soon as you follow others' glances with yours you notice a person coming to you.

The one you don't expect to see next to ever.

White coat with golden epaulettes, blond short hair and unusual charming smile instead of dull glassy glance.

Vasily Lantsov is walking straight to your side.

People around are not used to see the part of the royal family dancing with someone at parties like this one, so even musicians slow down a bit.

You are not nervous, but the whole scene is like not happening with you, so you just watch.

– Miss Y/L/N, may I have the pleasure of the dance?

His voice pitch is not high, not low, but something in the middle, although not unpleasant to hear.

You hesitate, but feeling of the general's burning glance on your figure makes you smirk slightly and nod, laying your hand in prince's one.

The music halts, but when the young man leads you to the center of the ballroom, it starts again with new force. The constant thoughts, that you are the only couple now and everybody is looking at both of you vanish as soon as Vasily's hand lays on your waistline, pressing you closer to him.

He doesn't talk, but the man is always looking at you, attentively, with the hidden interest, and you unconsciously compare this dance to your first one with general. It is stupid, because, honestly, it's nothing compared to the first fete.

You were kind of in love, charmed by a handsome stately man, who you trust with your life, and what's now?

Lost, without direction, still in love, but more love than in love, you are dancing with the prince, but not enjoying it. Though the dress is charming. With long waves it waltzes with your every movement, black and red.

Your lips touches a one sided smirk and you can only imagine what an impression this dance has on Aleksander. Surely, his subordinates will have a hard day tomorrow.

Fortunately for you, the music stops soon and the man, as a perfect gentleman, lets go of your palm and smiles in the end. You curtsy and step towards another wall, closer to the exit. One dance is pretty enough for tonight.

But when you intend to leave the room, someone's hand wraps around your wrist, slightly squeezing it, and you turn around immediately.

Lantsov doesn't go away, but stands still peering at you.

– Would you like to join me this evening, miss Y/L/N? - your eyes narrow in suspicion. Carefully you try to take your hand away from him.

– Don't think me to be rude, your Highness, but you are not known for spending time with ladies.

The young man smirks to you and you literally feel that burning gaze from another side of the room.

– I am not, but you will rescue me, if do that, - you clearly don't understand his intentions and wince.

– Otherwise, I will be sentenced to never-ending grumbling of my mother about searching for a bride.

– Oh...

– "Oh" indeed.

You barely hold yourself from chuckling, but the the prince steps closer to you, and suddenly you think that this scene can be used as a motivation. Of course, not for you.

– What do I get out of it? - you take his hand, that Vasily gladly offers to you.

– A way out of your difficult situation.

His words lit a sparkle inside of your mind, your thoughts find a common point, and you switch your interested gaze on him.

He waits for a second and casts a glance on that side where the general should be, but you decide not to test your luck, and keep staring right at the blond man in front of you.

Suddenly you remember that the ring Aleksander gave you with the letter is left in your room, on a night stand.

A nasty rotten feeling crawls inside you and all your previous thoughts vanish away.

When you turn to the direction where Kirigan stood, you see no one. There is definitely not a good sign, and you quickly look around to sneak out of the hall without Genya noticing you.

You excuse yourself and runs out of the ballroom. All this evening leaves your head full of conflicting thoughts and feelings, so you just need more fresh air.

Usually it's Aleksander who comes to your room either to make up or to take his time alone while your sleeping. But something is telling you that this day is not one of them. You need to talk to him first.

The door behind general's back slams loudly, he can even hear some of the pictures on the walls shaking. Everything in the war room is left like it was before he left for the fete. But the man isn't the same.

He ruffles his hair, exhaling tensely, marching from one corner to another in strange mix of helpless rage and jealousy.

He doesn't know, what is going on with him. All these day it was not so hard not to pay attention to this girl, and now, when Lantsov shared a dance with her, the Darkling is furious.

He unconsciously registers his own shadows crawling to his figure from the darkest sides of the room. If he goes on like this, he will surely have troubles with controlling his powers in future, leaving it to his anger.

The full moon is in the night skies and millions of glittering stars are shining radiating a slight pale light. The sudden thought of leaving the palace and having a night stroll dies with a barely audible knock.

Not many people afford themselves a luxury of disturbing the general so late at night, but anyway he heads to the door.

He opens the door rapidly and he blesses himself for wearing a usual cold mask, the general doesn't give his surprise away.

– Zoya? To what do I owe your esteemed company?

The girl's hesitating, but determined expression almost makes him smile, but he holds himself back.

– You left the fete so soon, I was afraid something happened.

Aleksander steps aside inviting her in. Honesty, he may even use this night visit to forget his predicament, but something holds him back. Something is telling him, it is not his way out.

Unconsciously his hand slips into the pocket of his kefta, fingers find the ring of black metal and green stones. He knows the similar one is somewhere here, in Y/N's room.

But when the squaller walks in further into the room, straight to the table, both of them hear one more knock. Loud, clear one. Aleksander will never mistake him for any other.

– Come in!

He doesn't busy himself opening the door, and when it's opened by the woman he is afraid to see, Kirigan finds himself enjoying the moment.

– Am I interrupting? - the witch's cold voice rings in the tense silence of the place, as she cocks her head to the side. Zoya straightens her shoulders.

– I was just keeping company with the general Kirigan, - the man follows Y/N arching a brow without any other visible signs of displeasure. – People tell it helps when you are alone. Isn't it convenient? You should know about it.

Venom in Zoya's voice is clear, but it's not enough for freaking the young woman out.

– Yes, I'm forgetting all my troubles the moment someone breaks into my chambers in the middle of the night.

Kirigan presses his lips in thin line, trying not to smile or smirk. Despite this difficult situation and visible intentions of Zoya towards him, he can't not to admire his forest witch. The little girl turns into his queen. It's just her character, that doesn't let her admit it.

– Zoya is already leaving, - Aleksander pushes himself from the wall, attentively looking at the squaller.

The dark-haired woman passes by you, not even sharing a last glance, and when the door behind her closes, you feel like finally relaxing.

– Don't like the company of the royal family?

The general locks the door and comes back to you, eyeing your figure with a silky arrogant gaze.

You, in turn, don't leave his eyes too, but with completely different expression. The man, who adored you so much, when we first met and developed your feelings towards each other, who worried about your opinion about him, now only pushes you away as hard as possible and even harder.

You indeed are not recognizing the same man you loved. But maybe you should learn to love him again.

– What was that? - your quiet voice seems to shake him to the ground. This strange calm power on the bottom on your eyes frightens him.

– What was what?

– What made you what you are? - you come closer to the man knowing that he won't go away. There are no more places where he can hide from you. – Tell me, Aleksander, what have burnt the heart out of you?

His glance is a mix of shame and disgust. He can't just not look at you and solve his problems with that. With the woman who sees through him.

– You don't want to know, Y/N.

– Well, I'm here..., - you throws your arms to the side.

Kirigan turns away and comes up to the table with maps leaning on his hands. His glance is slipping to the documents and plans, but he feels you're coming with his back.

You can't wait anymore, come closer to your lover. Lean with your hip on the table to face Aleksander, desperately staring into sharp lines of his features, trying to find that very young man he was once, so long time ago, beyond all the darkness that surrounds him.

– What do you want to hear? I was killing people in their backs all these years. I have terrified them, terrorized using my shadows, I was Ravkan punisher. Fouler than death itself.

– I understand, - you say quietly, wondering if there is still soul inside of this man. Burnt down black desert. That is all he has instead of it.

– Do you regret?

You flinch, when low voice rings in complete silence after a pause. Instead of answering you just shake your head.

– Not a minute of it...well, - Kirigan's gaze switches to yours, when you highlights last words.

– Aside from the moments when you tried to send me away.

One-sided light grin touches his face.

– Don't tell me later, that I didn't warn you.

– Even if I ever regret about my decisions, I will never blame you, Aleksander.

Something in him clicks and he straightens turning his head to you. Need in the glance only softens you more.

– Call me that again, - everything inside you clenches, as you hear his broken voice.

– Aleksander-

– No, not like that.

On a short moment you don't understand his words, but then you are finally lighted up with an idea. His hand that lays not far from you appears under your gentle touch.

– Sasha.

The walls he was building for so long are crushing down at this very moment. You make a quick move to embrace him tenderly and tightly. The man immediately hides his head in the crook of your neck.

– Has the darkness in me won over the light, Y/N? - you feel these words as he touches your skin with his lips while speaking.

– I don't know, darling. I don't know.

– Maybe they are right, - he raises his head, and you see these two burning pools of pure madness in his eyes. – Maybe the beast should stay with his own kind-

– Shut up!

Kirigan blinks and fever in his glance vanishes. He definitely doesn't expect this outburst from you.

Your hands laying on his shoulders and chest before, now are cupping his face, making the man look you in the eyes.

– Stop talking nonsense, - his eyes are searching for something on your face, something that gives up your true feelings. – I love you, Aleksander. And you are not even close to a monster. Don't you dare taking about it again.

You bring his head a bit down so your foreheads touch. Only a moment before you notice tears gathering in his eyes.

– I thought I had lost you, Y/N. My dearest love.

You move closer to finally connect your lips, savouring the perfect moment of peace. Your name sounds like a lament from his lips.

– How can you still stand me after knowing who I am?

Kirigan steals one last kiss from you touching the tip of your nose with his. This tension he felt before slowly leaves him.

– I choose to love you for the things you have control over. Yes, I may not approve your methods, but I know that you want the best for your people. That's enough for me.

– If I knew that you become the only thing I needed, I would not come into that forest.

You chuckle and this turns into light laughter, that Aleksander catches too.

– I'm taking it as a compliment, dear.

When you two stop, you realize that it is pretty late already. You won't forget yourself tomorrow's morning for the lack of sleep.

– May I stay with you? - you are searching for the answer on his face.

– Come.

Aleksander leads you to his bedroom where you stayed a couple of times, laying his broad palm on your back.

He gets rid of his own closer and changes it, handing a new clean shirt for you to change as well.

Honestly you have a small collection of his shirts in your wardrobe now, and the whole palace will probably know about it, if you ever done wrong with Genya.

When you take you places on the bed you notice, that the man is still restless.

– Just try to fall asleep, - his hand twitches under your soft touch. – Don't think about anything else, okay?

He is silent, and you go on.

– I see how you talk to your people, Aleksander, I know that you are trying for them. Grisha are dedicated to you, because they know you care about them, - your fingers start brushing circles on the back of his hand. – Though, as I said, your methods are questionable for me.

– I want grisha not to be afraid anymore. Anyone.

– I know. But I can't advise you anything. I'm sorry.

He shakes his head, covering your hand with his.

– It's okay. I'm grateful, that you are here at all, and...

Emotions overwhelm him, and the general falls silent. Suddenly you move closer and hug him tightly, placing a chaste kiss on his brow.

– Shh, sleep. We will think about this in the morning

@aleksanderwh0r3 @all-art-is-quite-useless @carlywhomever @cynthianokamaria

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone x you #grisha trilogy #the darkling #the darkling fanfic #the darkling fanfiction #the darkling x reader #the darkling imagine #the darkling x you

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rosethornewrites · 3 years

Text

Fics I read this week

Some of these may have been read earlier than a week ago, but I tried to keep it contained. Not sure I’ll keep this up, but I’ll try.

Finished:

Rated E:

the origin of change, by kissteethstainred, rated E

Lan Xichen said, “Time for regrowth and mourning is, of course, the most important. But there has also been a—frequent—discussion of marriage.” He paused to drink more tea. He almost seemed apologetic when he added, “Your name has been brought up often.”

“For marriage,” Lan Wangji repeated.

Except with Wei Ying in the picture, nothing goes exactly as planned.

Opportunity, by brooklinegirl, rated E

Lan Zhan is jostled slightly and he turns in his seat to see a harried-looking man squeezing in next to him. There isn't an empty seat there, and the bar is quite crowded. "Sorry," the man says, sounding out of breath. "I know I'm all up in your business, I'll move, I promise, I just—" He blows his breath out. "I'm going to lose this seat next to you, that dude over there has been eyeing it, and it's mine as soon as this guy leaves.”

Rated M:

Oxymoron, by feline_somnambulist, rated M

Jiang Yanli was in the kitchen. She hummed softly along to music being played somewhere else in the house, as she shuffled carefully back and forth from the prep table to the giant vat of soup. The house smelled like pork rib and savory broth. As always, she was beautiful in her element, a goddess of her domain despite the limp and the leg brace.

Her phone rang just as Jiang Cheng entered the kitchen. She saw him and smiled as she made her careful way to the phone on the wall-mounted charging station.

Jiang Cheng put the stack of paperwork down on a counter. He got to the phone first, picked it up. It was Lan Wangji’s number. He rejected the call and put the phone in his pocket.

“A-Cheng? Is everything okay?” Jiang Yanli asked, a frown creasing her brow. “Who was that?”

It Ends With the Beginning, by feline_somnambulist, rated M

They fight. They part. Jiang Cheng is hurt. Wei Wuxian comes to help. Wei Wuxian runs. Jiang Cheng is tired of chasing. They fight.

Until The End, by abCEE, rated M

"When I -- when I tied my ribbon around our wrists, I knew what I was doing and I privately honored it." Wei Wuxian's brows continued to meet as he tried to understand where the conversation was going until realization dawned on him. "Wa -- wait! Lan Zhan, is it what I think it is?!!" "It is usually done at the end of a wedding ceremony --" "What-" "But it could have been acknowledged as an engagement." "Lan Zhan!" He cannot believe what he is hearing now. "But my ancestor revealed herself --" "And we bowed… three times. We bowed, Lan Zhan!"

In which wangxian are married since the Cold Pond Cave incident, knows how proper communication works, and had confessed in the middle of the Sunshot Campaign. Things went spiraling up and down from there.

Rated T:

as it should be, by Sienne, rated T

Post-canon Lan Qiren time travels to before the Cloud Recesses lectures. The Cloud Recesses are quiet and peaceful, something his home hasn't been in years. ...In fact, it is too quiet and peaceful.

Judgment Day, by Grace_Logan, rated T

Cornered Wei Wuxian sees only one way out after cluing in on the Jin's plan.

Welcome To Gusu, by perkynurples, rated T

Deep in the lush forests of Gusu hides an aging resort that hosts dozens of children every summer for an unforgettable couple of weeks. It’s where Lan Wangji grew up alongside Wei Wuxian, and when his childhood friend (for the lack of a better term) surprisingly returns years later in the position of Senior Counsellor, seemingly hell bent on causing the same kind of mischief that got him kicked out of Gusu in the first place, but also taller, broader and tanner than ever before, Lan Wangji knows he’s In Trouble. Or, this fic has it all: longing looks over campfires, found family dynamics, ill-timed skinny dipping, teenagers inappropriately shipping their counsellors, camp weddings...

Therapy is a Performative Act, by cinder1013, rated T

“What does your dad think of your comedy?”

“Oh, he hates it, but it pays the bills and I need it to pay for my goddamn fuckin’ therapy.”

Jiang Cheng stumbles into being a stand-up comic and his favorite topic is dear ol’ dad.

sorry, i love you, by moon_thief, rated T

lan wangji was practically seething as he watched it happen. what kind of person could be so careless, unruly, undisciplined-

and then their eyes met.

oh. oh.

Tremble a Prayer, by cqlorphan, rated T

They kiss, and Lan Wangji regulates himself. There are no tears pricking at his eyes. There is no lump in his throat. His hands are undressing Wei Ying, and then Wei Ying’s hands are on his hands.

“What is it?” Wei Ying says, between kisses.

Even with Wei Ying back, Lan Wangji's sadness overwhelms him at times. He tries, and fails, to keep it from him.

The Quiet Work, by ShipsAreLaunching, rated T

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian get a summons for help from a minor clan in Gusu. When they go to investigate they find a horrible truth, and do what they do best.

Rated G:

Ink Stains Not So Ignored, by Preludian_Staves, rated G

Qiren found something that he still couldn't bring himself to ignore about his youngest nephew's husband.

I’d buy a big house where we both could live, by failed2be_chill, rated G

“Ah, so you want to play with the rabbits and enjoy their soft fur and silly little nose twitches while your poor husband toils in the heat of the day with hammer and nail doing exhausting manual labour. I see how it is. It’s a good job I love you, huh?” Wei Wuxian kisses his husband’s soft cheek.

“Mn, very good.”

---

Or, married WangXian embrace the practical and symbolic joys of home ownership. Domestic bliss.

Family, by Speechless_since_1998, rated G

Jiang Cheng blinked as his brother while he played with the baby he was holding.

He hoped he had misunderstood, but he had proof that it was true right in front of him.

So he did the only sensible thing that came to mind, "Wei Ying, what the fuck ?! '

"A-Cheng, language!" Shijie scolded him with a stern look.

"A-Jie, you can't really accept such a thing!"

"Why not? He is so cute!" she said, making funny faces at the child, totally in love with him.

Was it possible that he was the only one with a bit of mental sanity left?

A Lonely Guqin (No More), by Asphodel_Meadow, rated G

Wei Wuxian is the first person who makes Lan Wangji want to have a duet.

piercing, by escapingaugust, rated G (read the tags)

Stolen Midnights, by hinotoriii, rated G

There are nights where sleep eludes Wei Wuxian. Where the demons of his past are too loud in his mind, reminding him of that which he could never forget, second life or not.

Unfinished:

Not Rated:

Disclosed Regrets, by zLanWuxian, Not Rated

The majority of the cultivation world are pulled into a room that suspiciously resembled the burial mounds. (Their golden cores were sealed too. As to why, nobody knew.)

They are invited to watch Wei Wuxian's life.

What will they do when they find out everything they believed was a lie?

(Or: The characters of Mo Dao Zu Shi watch Mo Dao Zu Shi)

Rated E:

Where You Fell, by Sweet_William, rated E

Years ago, Lan Wangji was a Senior in high school, readying himself for graduation and the coming years studying at the Gusu Lan Institute of Music. Everything in his life made sense, from his role in his family, to a future as a classical musician. The only thing that didn’t fit was the sudden epiphanies he had about himself brought on by his bothersome and flirtatious classmate, Wei Wuxian. When the growing attraction and friendship was cut short by the other boy’s disappearance, he mourned what could have been, but ultimately had to move on. What he didn’t know was that fate would bring them back together again one day, or the reality of how far apart two lives can diverge, how some can find peace and prosperity, while others can fall farther than he ever imagined.

A Narrow Bridge, by FrameofMind and Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle), rated E

Once, Lan Wangji made a choice to step aside. Ten years after Wei Ying’s death, he finds a way back to choose again.

Setting fire to our insides, by StarsAlignNomore, rated E

Lan Wangji dies after the thirty-third strike. Lan Xichen does not handle it well.

*fleabag voice* This is a fix it.

Rated M:

Live Again, Love Anew, by kkanime5555, rated M

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian finally speaks up.

“Mn.” Lan Zhan hums to show he’s listening.

“I think we traveled back in time.”

...

“I’ll go, Lan Zhan. I’ll come to Gusu with you.”

-----

Or,

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are soulmates and, upon Wei Ying's death, they are sent back to when they first met as kids on the streets of Yiling. From there, they both are taken to Gusu, where they are raised together, gradually learning of their shared feelings and finding out the mystery of who sent them back in time and why, all while planning how to save the world, preferably with all their loved ones left alive.

A Torn Red Ribbon, by shiroakuma, rated M

The night before they marched into the Nightless City, Lan Wangji was invited to join Wei Wuxian in his tent.

Unbeknownst to him at that time, it became their last real conversation.

In which, a resounding victory against the QishanWen Sect is won seemingly at the cost of Wei Wuxian's life. Lan Wangji still spends some time being heavily injured. Lan Xichen tries to pick the pieces left behind by the war. The Jiang Sect is renowned thanks to the revered Wei Wuxian and the cultivation world is plagued by unknown forces while Lan Wangji meets with Wei Wuxian in his dreams.

Sacrifices Made with Blood, by NocturnalFriend, rated M

Lan Wangji knew it was too late, there was too much blood on Wei Ying's hands already. Still, if he asked his brother for help, surely. There was a way to rescue the man who held his heart?

Or: Trust is not easily given and all to easily shattered. Lan Wangji learns this in the worst way, when Lan Xichen gives into the demands of the cultivation world. Although nobody could have predicted the whims of fate, giving them another chance at righting things.

What makes you sing?, by Fictio, rated M

Madam Yu was never known for her matchmaking skills but she was known for her inherent meddling. Though it still came as a surprise, when on one fine Saturday afternoon, she called Wei Ying and set him up for a blind date.

There She Rose, by Aiiiru, rated M

Many years had passed yet whispers and gossips about YiLing Matriarch still stayed alive like unruly weeds refusing to die.

"That damn Wei Wuxian must have cursed this year's harvest with 'unkillable' locusts" "But Wei Wuxian had died right?" "Didn't you know that her body wasn't found?" "I heard some cultivators saying that during the chaos, some people saw her leaving in a sword, flying away with someone else." "That must be the demon with whom she signed a contract, a female challenging three thousand or was it five thousand cultivators by herself? Hah!! She definitely has ties with evil creatures and ghosts." "I heard from my cousin in Yunmeng that YiLing Matriarch was born shameless." "Some say she was a male but took female form to seduce the ghosts of burial mounds and gain power by starting demonic cultivation" "Shhh! Don't talk so loudly! My cousin knew a man who loudly gossiped about Yilling Matriarch only to be cursed to death the next day"

Visitations, by Vir_Abelasan, rated M

"Wei Ying-" Lan Zhan says, stutters, "I'm sorry."

And now Wei Wuxian sees it, the red rimming Lan Zhan's eyes, the rumpled edges of his blazer. There is an old, familiar urge for him to reach over, to hold Lan Zhan's hand and smooth his hair, to tell him that everything will be fine.

"We're all a bit sorry about this, I think," he says instead, and finds that he means it. For Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji and everyone else in that Guanyin temple, the pain must be unbearably fresh, like skin just flayed open. But Wei Wuxian's chest had been cracked open a long time ago, his wounds licked and cauterized and sewn shut over five long years - Ever hurting, but a dull, constant ache, "It's really alright, Lan Zhan."

Five years after being accused of corporate espionage and losing everything, the Guanyin Scandal breaks open and Wei Wuxian finds a familiar face at his door.

Kiss My Wounds, Bless My Scars, by Pegunicent, rated M

When he is sixteen, Lan Wangji makes a choice. He becomes Wei Ying's bride.

Rated T:

the one where Jiang Yanli visits (and she's a fucking goddess), by ShippersList, rated T (part 4 of a series)

Wei Wuxian’s sister was a fucking goddess so it was a travesty she wasn’t being fucked like a goddess deserved.

Luo Qingyang decided to do something about it.

(Also, family feels and some plotting but that's beside the point.)

obscured in the shade of the willow, bathed in the light of the moon, by cloud_wanderer, rated T

Wei Wuxian leaves the Burial Mounds for the first time to attend his martial brother's wedding, and everything changes from there. (a.k.a. a universe in which Nie Huaisang schemes to thwart Jin Guangshan's plans and ends up saving Wei Wuxian and the Wens in the process)

Wei Wuxian meets Xiao Xingchen and helps found a sect in Yiling.

Inchoate, by Marinelifeclub, rated T

“Where would you even go once you left? Wait a few more years before leaving." persuaded Jiang Fengmian,

“Will I live to see that long?” Wei Wuxian whispered under his breath.

Jiang Fengmian felt cold at those words. He always thought his children would be the ones to heal the scars left by their mother on Wei Wuxian, but just the concise way he spoke about them, he knows that wasn’t true. Now his best friend’s son sat in front of him, confessing to not thinking he will live to see himself become a man. Cangse and Changze must be furious in their graves as the sweet smiling son they raised endured pain because of a jealous woman and a cowardly man. Sighing, he did the only thing he could to make things right and accepted the boy’s wishes.

At age 14, Wei Wuxian left Lotus Pier and never looked back.

Wei Wuxian leaves Lotus Pier and while things change something’s are just set in fate.

Here We Go Again, by Alliandra, rated T

He looked over to where the swordswoman was still fighting, but her focus seemed entirely locked onto that fight so it was unlikely that she could have had anything to do with the energy drain. He was still wracking his brain for something else to do to assist, so this thing didn’t kill them both, but now he was feeling weak, dizzy and currently not far from helpless.

~~~~~~~~~~

It has been several months since the events at the Guanyin temple and Wei Wuxian is wandering around on his own. After he helps a stranger kill a very dangerous beast he uncovers what seems to be a conspiracy aimed at ending his life. He heads back to Cloud Recesses with his new companion in tow, looking to get Lan Wanji's help in working out what is involved.

Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling made a surprising discovery under Koi Tower that may well be linked to the threat against Wei Wuxian's life.

Can they all work together to find out what is going on and put a stop to it, before something disastrous occurs?

Nie Huaisang's Ten Steps to Fix The Fucked Up Reality, by cosmic_zephyr (ProudHaikyuuTrash)

1. Find the time travel array in the Nie library 2. Convince (manipulate) Wei Wuxian to use demonic cultivation to activate the array. 3. Transmigrate to the body of your 15-year-old selves with Wei Wuxian and Survive his wrath. 4. Come up with yet another exaggerated, slightly concerning, plan to save Lotus Pier, Dafan Wens and your brother. 5. Use Empathy to make the Wen siblings side with you in the mess that is soon to come. 6. Kill the main Wen family and make Wen Qing the new leader of Qishan Wen so innocent people are not killed. 7. Annoy the hell out of Lanling Jin just for funsies and also a political statement because Jin Guangshan can suck it. 8 Preferably, just for your own sanity, find a way to kill Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao. 9. Work with Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing to solve the sabre problem of the Nie clan. 10. Live a happy life with your brother alive and the cultivation world not being the huge fucked up mess in your own time-line. P.S. Matchmake the pining pile of disaster and gay aka Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji.

Aka canon divergence where Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian (and Lan Wangji) travel back in time and save the cultivation world.

Deal, by Rahar_Moonfire, rated T

Nie Huaisang wants revenge for his brother. He also wants his friend Wei Wuxian back. Lan Wangji left the Cultivation World after Wei Wuxian's death and hasn't been heard from since. It's a good thing Nie Huaisang has spies everywhere. He has everything he needs to put his plan into motion: the notes, the instructions, the "willing body," and the patience to pull it all off.

Now he just needs to be sure Wei Wuxian survives long enough to pick up Nie Huaisang's bread crumbs, solve the puzzle, and shatter the Cultivation World again. The only person suitable for that job is Black Jade of Yiling, the husband of the infamous Yiling Patriarch, Lan Wangji.

Rated G:

Hadn't gone as I planned, by hamlets_ghost, rated G (part of a series)

Lan Xichen leaves the Cloud Recesses with Wei Wuxian and Wangji to meet his mother.

He cannot stay.

[continuation of 'Hold on to your heart']

#the untamed #untamed fanfiction #mo dao zu shi #chen qing ling #CQL #mdzs

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apiratewhopines · 3 years

Text

Look at the mesmerizing artwork by @teamhook. Can you spot the villain of this little story?

In the Offing

Chapter 18 — The Stable Boy

Summary: In which our heroine misplaces something

Chapter 18 on AO3

“A guilty conscience means at least you’ve got one

Who will forgive you when I’m gone?”

-Here He Comes, The Wallflowers

“That went further than I intended,” Killian whispered against her throat. She could feel his smile against the sensitive skin and knew that while his words sounded like the beginning of an apology, it was really more of an observation on their current status. Their completely unclothed, totally sated status.

“Hmm, there is something about the motion of the water,” Emma said by way of agreement. She was lazily running her fingers through his mussed hair, appreciating the way the thick, short locks felt silky in her hands. His laughter rumbled through his chest and she gave in to the temptation to run her fingers through the hair there as well.

“I’ll make a pirate out of you yet, Swan.”

“Well, I need to do something special for a man who would trade a secluded afternoon with the most famous actress in the world to spend time with his unknown, magnet-for-trouble house guest.”

She should get up. Lord only knew if there were locks on the door or if they could be interrupted. However, she wasn’t lying about the sensation of being lulled to sleep by the waves. Although sleep was the furthest thing from her mind a few minutes ago.

“House guest? Is that the label we’re going with? How about girlfriend? Lover? Angel? Magnificent creature?” He punctuated each question with a nuzzle against a different section of exposed flesh. “Besides, I am a seafaring man and all sailors know that it’s bad luck to have a redhead on board. Thank goodness I didn’t have to take her out on the open seas. You may never have seen me again.”

“That would have been a shame. I do enjoy seeing you. The more of you, the better.” She allowed her hands to wander over the expanse of skin on display, thankful that the afternoon was warm since there was only one sheet and their picnic blanket from the other day to cover up with. Her eyes had drifted closed during their idle exchange but she cracked open her left to look at him as she felt the bed shift under his movements. He had propped himself up on his elbow and was resting on his side. She was surprised to see his expression had turned serious. “What’s on your mind?”

“I think it’s time we talk. I like the odds of you staying put since you’re naked,” he added with some of his usual swagger.

“If you’re ready,” she told him. Reaching up to cradle his face in her hands, she knew that nothing he said would make any difference to her. She was too far gone already. The only possible outcome was she would fall deeper under his spell. “No matter what, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know what those words mean to me, love.” He pressed a forceful kiss to her lips and returned to his earlier position. His eyes focused out the window and glazed over as he became lost in his memories. When he spoke, his voice had deepened with emotion. “Liam and I moved here a decade ago with one purpose and one purpose only: To find Frederick’s bloody treasure trove. There was nothing for us in England, hadn’t been in years really. I was graduating and Liam was finishing up his enlistment with the Navy. To my surprise, he didn’t doubt for a moment my claims that I could find our fortune on the rocky beaches of Maine. So off we went without a backward glance at the shores of our ancestors.”

She could imagine a younger Killian, full of life and confidence, pulling along his older, more seasoned brother. After all, no one was more jaded than her and she was already prepared to follow him to the ends of the earth.

“It took us more time to find the pub in Storybrooke than it did to find the first treasure hoard. Oh, Emma, I wish you could have been there.” His grin was something that belonged on a schoolboy’s face, not a man in his mid-thirties. Unable to help herself, she reached up and traced it with her fingertips. He captured her wayward digits and pressed a heartfelt kiss to the tips. “Most pirate treasure was in the form of goods like timber, cotton, sugar, or tobacco. But good old Frederick didn’t disappoint. There was enough silver to make us wealthy even by today’s standards. There were some interesting historical bits as well that will one day find their way into a museum but I won’t bore you with those details.”

“Such a gentleman,” she murmured with a chuckle. “What did you do with it? Aren’t you supposed to alert the authorities when you find stuff like that?”

“I want to be a better man for you, Swan, but I will never be a saint. We haven’t disclosed any of our findings. We simply dip in when we need something extra. Some day we’ll let it see the light of day but for now it rests in Davy Jones’ locker.”

“Wait, I know that one. You mean it’s hidden under the sea?”

“No, we put it in my grandfather’s old locker and buried it under the cottage. It’s the only thing my father left behind when he abandoned us all those years ago.” When she rolled her eyes at him, he simply chuckled. “But to answer your question, the laws vary by state and country. Maine is actually quite lenient with their buried treasure as long as it isn’t found on state property. Luckily, two of the piles we found were on my land at the cottage. Technically, I didn’t own the land when I found the first one but it was under contract. I quickly remedied that and it was all above board when I found the second stash a few days later. That one had more coins and a few loose gemstones.”

“Gemstones?” Visions of The Goonies filled Emma’s mind and she had to stop herself from asking about One-Eyed Willy. Because, as fantastical as it seemed, the man who held her heart in his hands also had a knack for finding buried treasure. A gift she hoped he would survive considering someone out there desperately wanted to get their hands on it.

“Yes, darling,” he answered. “I think several have your name on them.”

“No way,” she argued. “I don’t want any of it. What if it’s cursed?”

“Cursed, you say?” He looked thoughtful as the sunlight was momentarily blocked by an errant storm cloud outside. “Yes, I suppose that may be true. Shortly after I uncovered the third pile, I went to the Rabbit Hole to celebrate my victory. Liam had just met Elsa so I was on my own for the most part those days. Not that it mattered, you know how this town takes to new people so I never lacked companionship for a drink or...whatever.”

“Whatever, indeed,” Emma teased in her best impression of his accent. She sensed he was coming to the part of his story that was the most difficult to relay and tried to infuse some humor into the conversation.

With a rueful grin that acknowledged her effort, both with the accent and the humor, he continued. “I met Milah that night. She was a sight to behold in the dim light of the bar, vibrant in a way that seemed too much for this little town.” He narrowed his eyes as they made contact with hers. “I didn’t know at first that she was married. Lads of twenty-four aren’t known for pumping the brakes when a beautiful woman gives them nothing but green lights and I was no different. Honestly, I was probably worse. I was a rash young man far from home and high on my own cleverness. It never occurred to me to question my good fortune or wonder why no one else was vying for her attention.”

“How far gone were you when you found out the truth?”

“Completely,” he confessed with a shaky breath. “The fight we had when I found out, well, it would have melted paint off the walls. I was a dirty little secret, the younger man who captured her attention but not her affections. It was always like that with her. She was so restless. Always moving, always searching. Nothing was ever enough. It took me a long time to realize that I wasn’t enough either. She wanted someone to rescue her from a life of boredom, someone who would carry her away and show her the world and fill her days with adventures. I couldn’t be that for her but I nearly destroyed myself trying to be.”

He was lost in the past, his eyes distant and filled with pain. Reliving the end of the most meaningful relationship of your life wasn’t easy, Emma definitely understood that. Especially when you gave all you had to it and it still collapsed in pieces around you.

“Her husband came to visit me one night toward the end. Offered me money to break it off,” he scoffed as if the idea still insulted him. “I refused of course, convinced he was the villain in our little drama and that I would win the heart of the fair maiden in the end. At it turned out, I was wrong on both counts. The villain was the fair maiden. Mr. Gold and I were both pawns in her scheme to escape a life she hated. When she had the opportunity, she took the money and ran. In my kinder moments, I feel sorry for her knowing she must have felt trapped. But then I remember the way the whole town thought I killed her and any kindness I’m able to scare up disappears. Just like she did.”

“You’ve never heard from her? You have no idea what happened to her?”

“No. When it ended, it ended badly. She wanted me to take her husband’s money so we could leave town together, was angry when I refused to be chased off into the night. It was then that I realized she didn’t care who she was with, as long as she wasn’t in Storybrooke. It was a tough blow to stomach. I only saw her one time after that, a couple of nights before she disappeared. She showed up at the cottage to apologize. Told me she would never regret our relationship but it was time to move on. She left the map as a parting gift. I knew then that she meant to leave. Make no mistake, Emma, Milah is alive and well somewhere on this globe, living her life to the fullest and not sparing a thought for anyone in this town.”

“Then her absence is no great loss,” she observed.

He shook his head slowly as if he wasn’t sure he agreed with her assessment. “The day after she stopped by for the last time was when I pulled my idiotic stunt. I got drunk and tried to sail directly into a Nor’easter. Liam caught me at the docks and insisted on coming with me when he couldn’t talk me out of leaving. Our boat capsized about a mile up the coast. I’m only glad I was able to pull him to shore.”

“You saved his life? One-handed in a gale?”

With a bitter twist of his lips, he bit out, “Not sure you’ll allowed to claim such a thing when the only reason a person was in danger in the first place is because of you. He was trapped under the broken mast. I’m still not sure how I got him out but I crushed my hand in the process. Got a pretty nasty infection and the doctors told me the hand couldn’t be saved and if I wasn’t lucky, I’d lose the arm too. Seemed like a no-brainer.”

She felt the tension gripping him and trailed her hands down his left arm, running her fingers over the smooth scars she felt there. He didn’t pull away but he didn’t relax either. “We’re all scarred in one way or another, Killian. Yours are a bit more on display than the average person but this shows that you are a survivor. I’m beginning to think it might be a bad idea for me to find Milah. She has a lot to answer for.”

“You know, I’ve tried to track her down but I’m afraid I don’t have your abilities at finding those who don’t wish to be found. I thought I had tracked her to Paris a few years ago, there was a new artist there that had her style of sketching but I could never be sure and they disappeared before I could make contact. I still have a file on my desktop with the various artwork I found in the gallery catalogues. I always thought I’d pick up the search again later.”

A little afraid to hear his answer, she nevertheless asked, “Why do you want to find her?”

“At first, I missed her. I wanted to hear her voice. Pathetic, right?” When Emma simply gave him a look that clearly disagreed, he smiled at her. “Hmm, my secretly romantic Swan. You have a tender heart that I adore but don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know.” He looked at her with such fondness that she was tempted to go for round two right then. However, on some level, she knew this conversation was more important than their physical connection.

Unaware of her thoughts, he admitted, “Lately I’ve wanted closure. Not for the relationship. It’s been dead and gone for years. For the case, in order to clear my name. I’ve done a lot of things that I’m not particularly proud of since I arrived here but I would like any doubt removed about this crime.”

“If you don’t mind sharing, perhaps we can find her together,” she offered shyly.

“Emma, everything I have is yours,” Killian told her. With a laugh he added, “Including the gold bars I found in the third treasure hoard I uncovered.” Taking her in his arms, he held her as they laid in the Captain’s Quarters in peaceful silence.

—

The rain that had threatened in the afternoon made good on its promise by the time they arrived back at the cottage with carryout from the pizza place. Fortunately, it was the kind of summer rain that moved through quickly and left the air feeling crisp and clean.

After her third slice of pepperoni, Emma leaned back in the patio chair and sighed. “I’m supposed to meet Graham tonight to search the woods. I guess I should head back to Mary Margaret’s place eventually anyway.”

With a quizzical look, Killian took a sip of his iced tea. “A date with another man and moving out? Have I done something to offend you?”

“Very funny,” she retorted. “I think we’ve gotten things a little out of order but there’s no reason to rush into this.”

“Darling, we have already fallen headfirst into the fast lane. There’s no reason to get scared now. Besides, I happen to know that David and Mary Margaret have reached the toothbrush phase of their relationship. You will be taking your sanity into your own hands if you head back there tonight. David is a loud...sleeper.”

“I don’t even want to know how you know that,” Emma said with a shiver of disgust. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to stay with you for the foreseeable future. If you don’t have any other plans, you can also join me on my date. We’re looking for bodies in the woods.”

With a grimace, Killian studied her profile. “Okay but only if I get to plan our next outing. A man likes some mystery in a relationship but dead bodies are a little overboard.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Dr. Jones.”

Forewarned about the activities for the evening consisting mainly of traversing hilly, overgrown terrain, Emma did a better job of dressing the part. Outfitted with flashlights from Killian’s emergency kit, she knew if the search lasted beyond the light of the midsummer sun they wouldn’t injure themselves in the dark at least.

Arriving at the Sheriff’s station shortly thereafter, Emma was surprised to find it empty and unlocked. Since another brief summer rain was moving through town, she texted Graham and they decided to wait it out at the station. Twenty minutes later, the rain was over but she still hadn’t heard from the sheriff. “That’s weird. He’s usually better about replying.”

“Text him a lot, do you?”

With a amused shake of her head, she admonished him. “Now is not the time to be jealous, Killian. He’s a friend and, unless I’m mistaken, he’s your friend too.”

“He’s not an enemy,” Killian conceded grudgingly. With a hint of teasing, he said, “But perhaps he is competition.” He moved around the station nonchalantly as if he might find the sheriff under a pile of papers or resting in one of the cells at the back of the open room.

With a deep breath, she walked over to him and linked her arms around his neck. “Not in my eyes. I’m not sure how to convince you that you’ve ruined me for other men.”

“I can think of some persuasive methods that will get your point across.” His roguish eyebrow was cocked in a way that she always found so endearing and sexy. “Why don’t we postpone this search party and you can give it your best shot? I promise to keep an open mind.”

“Keeping an open mind has never been your problem,” she laughed, playfully punching him in the arm. “I have a job to do so stop trying to distract me. We’ll have to go without Graham. We’re losing daylight and I’m running out of time before Henry comes home.”

What she didn’t add was the crossroads his arrival would bring. As much as she had fought against this thing with Killian, now that she was in, she was all in. While the four hour drive to Boston was not an insurmountable distance, she found the idea of being separated distasteful. She knew it was a conversation they needed to have and she wasn’t avoiding it exactly. Her rational mind kept reminding her that they had only met a month ago and people didn’t fall in love and move to different states after a few weeks of knowing someone. Especially single mothers who had children to think about.

Having officially given up on the sheriff, they headed toward the town line. Minutes later, they arrived to find the cruiser already parked on the narrow shoulder, driver side door open and cabin lights on. Jumping out of the truck, Emma exchanged a worried look with Killian and observed, “This looks like trouble.”

He followed her to the cruiser and placed his hand on the front seat. “It’s dry so he probably didn’t get here until after the rain moved through.”

“Graham!” Shouting his name repeatedly probably wasn’t an effective strategy but damn if she could think of anything else to do. Settling in the driver’s seat she found the keys still in the ignition and his walkie on the dashboard. Picking it up, she paged David. Within a minute, he answered, confusion evident in his tone.

“Emma? Why do you have Graham’s walkie?”

“We found his cruiser at the town line. No sign of him. We’re going out to the woods to search but you probably want to get here as quickly as possible. I’ve got a bad feeling about this whole scene.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Wait for me.”

True to his word, David’s battered old Ford pick-up pulled behind their truck in record time. Mary Margaret had made the journey with him and as soon as the car was in park, she rushed to Emma’s side. “Still no sign of him?”

“No,” Killian answered with his eyes scanning the thick woods.

“He headed this direction and he was in a hurry,” the brunette observed, her finger pointing toward an invisible trail as if it were obvious. At Emma’s silent question, she explained, “All-State Orienteering champion and the best tracker in town besides Ruby. Knowing your way around the forest is still a skill set that’s valued in Maine.”

“Sure. I mean, why not?” Emma said sarcastically. “Why don’t you lead the way then? We’ve already wasted time waiting around the station.”

Grabbing the flashlight that David handed her, Mary Margaret stepped off the shoulder and moved noiselessly into the woods. She would occasionally murmur an observation regarding a broken twig or boot print in the soft ground. Emma made a point to try to locate whatever signs the other woman noted on their pursuit but was only able to see the tracks occasionally. In no time at all, they had circled back up the hill to come out at the road not even a quarter of a mile from the cruiser. “Great. Back were we started.”

“No,” Mary Margaret disagreed. “Look here.” She squatted down and shined a beam of light on the asphalt.

Sure enough, Emma saw some kind of liquid that had dripped on the road. “What is that? Motor oil?” Reaching down, she lightly pressed her finger in one of the droplets and smeared it against her thumb. Looking at the bright red color, a chill ran through her. “Blood.”

“And tire tracks from an SUV if I had to guess,” David added, his light illuminating the wide tracks partially visible on the wet dirt of the shoulder. “Someone took him.” He immediately started back toward his truck, getting on his radio and calling the other deputy to round up some volunteers and meet them out at the woods.

—

Entering the cottage at four the following morning, Emma dropped on the couch in exhaustion. They hadn’t found any other clues as to the whereabouts of the sheriff or who grabbed him off the deserted road. Had he been followed out to the town line? Is that why he hadn’t responded to her text? Why would he have not reached out to her or David if he thought he was in trouble?

Settling next to her, Killian pushed her hair back behind her ear. “We won’t find him by staying up and worrying. You need to rest.”

“I can’t shake the feeling that this has to do with me.”

“With you? Why do you think so? Didn’t you say he found something in the woods? Something related to a disappearance that happened when you were a baby.”

“I know it’s crazy...”

“I didn’t say that, love. If you think this has something to do with you, I wouldn’t bet against your instincts.” Smiling at her with an expression of full support, he added, “You’ll figure it out. But it doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“He could be out there hurt, Killian, or worse. I think we need to regroup. Go through everything again. I must have missed something. And we’re going to need all hands on deck. The situation is escalating. When are Liam and Elsa supposed to come back?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Perhaps you should convince him to come back sooner.”

“That will be a pleasant conversation,” Killian muttered with a roll of his eyes. “Perhaps I’ll call Elsa instead. She’s the more reasonable one.”

“Coward,” she whispered against his lips as she kissed him softly. She would never get tired of this, having him within arm’s reach. His very presence made all her worries melt into the background.

“You have more than enough bravery for the both of us,” he complimented her. “But I’ll do as you ask. After all, he’s the one who brought you into this mess. Not that I’m complaining.”

“See that you don’t. I have ways of dealing with complainers,” she ordered tartly, forcing herself to get lost in this moment with him. As she got up to walk away, his fingers hooked into the pocket of her jeans and tugged her back into his lap.

“Saucy. I like that.”

“Behave, Dr. Jones.”

There weren’t any coherent words spoken as the early morning light started to break over the horizon. He had decided to disobey, misbehaving in the most delightful ways.

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