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genericpuff · 6 months

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The Extended Mishandling of LO's S3 Midseason Finale Premiere (Pt 2)

Alrighty, I promised a part two back in the first part of this analysis, but found myself busy with Rekindled and my day job, so I'm finally sitting down and finishing this up. If you haven't read that first part yet, please go check it out!

CAUTION: THERE BE FASTPASS SPOILERS AHEAD!

We left off with Hebe and Apollo roleplaying that one scene from The Lion King, albeit with a lot less sense or nuance. Literally all the "drama" so far feels purely manufactured for cheap plot progression and tension and it hardly feels authentic. But now we gotta talk about the second half of this episode, where we finally address the cliffhanger that the FP midseason finale episode left off on - Persephone causing winter.

And what better way to kick it off than with a completely off-base Persephone monologue?

Now, what's shown here is actually a flashback to the job interview scene from S1, when Persephone asked to see the snow in the Underworld. But it's written as if Persephone has some intimate relationship with snow as a whole, as if she's experienced more than this one time which... she hasn't. There was nothing "romantic" really about that scene following the job interview, she literally just wanted to go out and see something she hadn't seen before.

But that calls into question - why does Persephone constantly act like she has an intimate relationship with snow when it doesn't occur in the Mortal Realm? She even says in the honeymoon episode that it's hot all the time in the Mortal Realm, and the temperature only drops every now and then during rainy days... and she somehow makes this about Hades when it literally has nothing to do with him lmao Persephone monologues are some of the worst /r/im14andthisisdeep moments in the series because she's constantly using word salad to describe feelings we never saw or scenes that never happened.

And this scene is no different. She says that snow is something that's interwoven with her most 'treasured moments' but all the visuals have to show for is that one scene from S1 that, again, didn't even come across as a 'treasured moment', it was just her seeing the snow for the first time, there was nothing 'romantic' about it in a vacuum. All the moments from the series you could call ACTUALLY TREASURED milestones of Hades and Persephone's relationship - and Persephone's supposed "love" for the Underworld - are scenes where snow was completely absent (ex. the scene of Persephone and Hades talking about Sicily in Zeus and Hera's garden, Persephone and Hades spending the night in the cabin during the trial arc, etc.)

But then, to make it even more confusing, she goes on to describe her losing her powers and causing winter a "betrayal". As if the concept of winter owes her anything. As if Erebus owes her anything.

The allusion to Erebus itself in the visuals implies that she feels "betrayed" over this happening, as if it wasn't made ABUNDANTLY CLEAR TO HER that she would have to sacrifice something. She's gone SO LONG without knowing or caring about what she could have possibly given up, that by the time it finally revealed itself, she's acting all shocked Pikachu because there's finally something she can't just have. Everything that could make her seem imperfect has been washed away, from her SA trauma to those pesky green hands. Now we finally ARE seeing her affected by her own choices and she's basically waxing poetic about how sad it is that her actions have consequences.

That said, she does seem to have a moment of self-awareness here... but I can't be confident it will actually amount to anything seeing as how all the past attempts at 'growth' have been overshadowed by her vanity and ego.

This line is really confusing / weird in the way that it's written but I think she's trying to say that the source of the cold is from her, she can't pin it on any sort of 'big bad' like she could with Apollo and Kronos. It's just her.

And again, this could be a moment of realization for her that her actions are her own regardless of whatever she wants to pin it on-

But she rejects it instead. She's still not capable of acknowledging that her choices affect others, that her actions have consequences, that she's finally paying the price for something she knew had a cost.

If this were any other comic, I would accept her rejection of this, I would have confidence in knowing she may recognize it eventually. But this is LO and we're three seasons in, she's technically already gotten her happily ever after in the form of becoming Queen and married to her 'true love', so all of this feels like a very last-minute attempt to paint Persephone as this "struggling" character. But she's not "struggling", she's just finally experiencing karma catching up to her and as expected for a person like Persephone, she's already cracking under the pressure of realization that she can't have everything she wants.

Again, in any other comic, this would feel satisfying or endearing to see her fall on her own sword, but to me it just feels frustrating in the context of LO because we've spent five years seeing her get everything she wants with barely any real struggle that wasn't manufactured - with all of it painted as a GOOD THING - while still getting away with treating the people around her like shit.

And when I say she rejects this concept of having humility, I don't just mean through her monologuing, but also through her actions.

If I were to critique LO the same way I would an actual functional series, I would say that this should be the point of realization, the point where we see her crumble under the weight of her not being perfect, not being able to "fix" everything. It all stems back to her entitlement as a bratty main character, someone who can't fathom not being the main character or the "hero".

Because she's not the hero. Demeter is - or at least, she tries to be.

Again, it's hard to know if this is intentional or if this is yet another attempt to present Demeter as an "overbearing mom", but Persephone here looks and sounds like she's been reduced back to the state of a child crying for her mother in the face of her own failures. Despite now technically being a mother herself (through literal babynapping sigh) Persephone is still not a mature adult. Aging her up 10 years and giving her a husband and baby will not make her an actual functional independent adult who's capable of taking care of themselves or making the right decisions... unlike Demeter who is still, ultimately, more skilled than Persephone. She is an actual experienced and mature adult who's capable of rationalizing and decision making, and knowing when it's time to put aside your ego, walk away and let someone else who's far more qualified take care of things.

What Demeter has is something that one can only gain through true hardship, failing, learning from one's own mistakes, and experience, all of which Persephone does not have because she transitioned from a cage of her own imagination where hard work and responsibility was a virtue, into a gilded cage where true hard work can be passed onto someone else whose efforts she could take credit for while sitting on a throne and buying anything and everything she could ever want.

Despite everything Persephone and the narrative claims to have 'earned', she's still a child. The adults have to take over.

And like a child, she doesn't let them.

This is not an 'anime moment'. This is not a moment of redemption. This is immaturity and irresponsibility in its most visible form for Persephone - refusing to let go of her ego and shortcomings to "prove herself", even if it means making things worse.

And Hades enables it.

I want to make it clear there is a massive difference between not being controlling over someone, and actually enabling them.

This is not some small hill to die on. Persephone is literally causing winter, which could very well kill the Mortals. As we've seen in that prior Hebe scene from the first part of this essay, the snow is showing up in Olympus. This isn't something that's happening in the isolation of this single scene, this is happening everywhere and instead of taking the L, Persephone is trying to make things 'better' by simply 'trying harder' which is just not the solution here, Demeter knows this, but Hades is playing the "girlboss" version of a "good husband" by not even bothering to try and convince her to do otherwise. Hades above everyone else should be the one stepping in because he'd likely be the only one she'd actually listen to, but he's refusing to because he has to be the "good husband" who doesn't control the actions of his wife.

So he flat out enables her instead by not even bothering to try and reason with her, to help her see that what she's doing is not helping. Not even so much as a "Persephone, I know you want to help but it's clear something is wrong and if Demeter can figure out what to do to fix this, we should let her", just him saying to Demeter who wants to stop her that he can't stop her from trying... ignoring the fact that he should at least try.

And that's the difference between being controlling and being an enabler. He's not keeping her from doing something that benefits her and doesn't harm him or others. He's not micromanaging her decisions or trying to tell her she's not capable. Now, don't get me wrong, there are definitely things that make Hades a walking red flag especially when it comes to him being a groomer, but when it comes to directly controlling Persephone, most of the time she's doing things of her own accord convinced that it's "the right thing" (which is still just a side effect of the obvious grooming because I really doubt S1 Persephone would have done this shit lmao).

Here, he's not stepping in to even try to reason with her because "well I'd be a bad husband if I stepped in", completely ignoring the fact that it makes him a terrible person, period, to not at least try to calmly reason with his wife and explain to her that her 'help' is not going to help here. Just like when he rewarded her with sex for abusing a nymph in her own home, he's completely complacent to Persephone's actions and doesn't step in to try and help because, according to Wattpad and TikTok, a "good husband" is someone who looks the other way while his life partner does whatever she wants regardless of the consequences to herself and others. "Happy wife, happy life, who cares if the wife wants to be an actual piece of shit to people if it makes her happy".

And thus she makes things worse in her pursuit of "happiness", while Hades stands idly by, watching it all unfold as if he's just an innocent bystander who can absolve himself of any responsibility in this situation. As if she didn't become this way because she ate the pomegranate to be with him and a part of his world.

Now, there's one other sort-of-blatant smoking gun that I want to talk about that I haven't really seen anyone else mention since this episode went up. Granted, this might be me reading far too much into it, but hey, that's what this blog is for and I think it's something that absolutely needs to be mentioned.

Persephone goes on about how her powers aren't just gone, they've been replaced, all she can create is decay, and more specifically-

Now... think of the context of LO's narrative, what it's told us both literally and through subtext, intentional or not.

What does this sound like?

Hades lost his ability to produce children when he ate the pomegranate. He can no longer "create life".

And now, Persephone is finding herself in a similar situation, unable to "create life" the way she knows how. I'd like to think this isn't literal, but it really feels like there's a metaphorical implication here that Persephone losing her ability to create life is meant to be taken literally, that she not only can't create flowers and plant life anymore, but she's lost her fertility entirely. You can go even further back in this when it was established Persephone didn't eat six seeds, but nine, which originally felt like a weirdly random choice, but now seems intentional. I know some people have theorized that it has to do with her possibly being pregnant, but I don't think that's the case, I think it's the opposite - that the 9 months was a metaphor for the 9 months of childbearing that Persephone can no longer do.

And if that's the case... LO truly is no longer a "feminist" piece of work. It barely was before, but if the point of all this winds up being an attempt by Rachel to give Persephone a "flaw" by taking away her ability to bear children... that'll be a punch to the gut.

That said, if it does go somewhere, maybe the point will be Persephone learning she doesn't need to be able to reproduce to have value as a woman. But considering LO's track record with these sorts of plotlines, I can't be confident in the slightest that's where it'll end up. What I can be confident in is that Persephone will likely not stay this way. Like her green hands, she'll likely get her powers back, maybe after the resolution that she's still a real woman deserving of love even if she can't reproduce. I can't possibly know at this point where it's going, all I do know is that LO hasn't done a great job at resolving these sorts of deeper narratives so this just feels like another dart on the wall of bad ideas. Because it's, again, all being framed through Persephone being the "perfect woman", without there being any actual subtext throughout the narrative to imply that this may be a flawed ideology to have, it's just what Persephone has to be and it's sold in the narrative as a positive.

There's one term to describe this with that's rather consistent throughout LO when you peel back the layers of both the comic and Rachel's past work - white feminism. Despite LO's attempts to be "feminist", it's still ultimately being written through a heteronormative male gaze, that women are only "valuable" so long as they're youthful, that any goals or dreams a woman may have should be dropped as soon as they fall in love with a rich and powerful man, and that "other women" who don't fit into that mould of being rich, white, and heterocis are not worthy of love, empathy, or understanding. It's hard to trust that LO will actually challenge these norms when it's been practically enforcing them for five years.

But ultimately, that's a very loaded topic and right now, we don't know where this is going... I'm just not so sure I want to see it after all the missteps the series has pulled over the past half a decade. Like the miracle of childbirth, it's gonna take a miracle for LO to actually stick this landing.

Now, I'm assuming you read this line of dialogue, and you understood it. Yes? You positive? Okay, great. Why am I asking you this question as if you're an infant who doesn't understand what being "passed out" means? Well, you'll see what I mean in a minute.

Now, again, like with the whole "I can't bring life to anything anymore" thought process I just went through, I can't know exactly what they're trying to do here, but Demeter is fully in the right. I want to make that abundantly clear that Demeter was right the whole time and it's pretty telling that even a lot of the people reading the comic in good faith are pointing this out in the discussion circles they can actually access.

Now, in case anyone hasn't noticed, it's clear that Demeter herself is drawing upon the fertility magic of Gaia or Rachel is just alluding to Gaia for some reason. At first I thought it was supposed to be her form of "wrath" until I remembered that (unfortunately) Eris was the only reason for Persephone's wrath, so this is clearly meant to be some allusion to Gaia. Considering the fertility powers were passed down purely through Gaia and Ouranos, this means Demeter is a descendant of Gaia, which... calls into question Rachel's attempts to "remove the incest" from LO, but that's for another topic.

Either way, Demeter is fully in the right here. Hades is a fucking idiot - a useless lump - for not only enabling the shitty actions of his shitty wife, but for not taking even any amount of accountability for the fact that Persephone found out about the pomegranate through him.

"But Puff, she had to eat the pomegranate to beat Kronos!" Did she? Or was that purely manufactured for Rachel's sake because she just had to have an MCU Evil-Robot-Jeff-Bridges villain despite the fact that this FANTASY ROMANCE series didn't need one? The fact that it was written purely to 'force' Persephone into doing something she already wanted to do was completely redundant, it wasn't a 'sacrifice' she made, it was made pretty clear in Episode 165 that she wanted to eat the pomegranate as soon as she found out about it and while that decision is certainly her own, that does not absolve Hades of responsibility for not questioning his future wife's fascination with it or realizing that he unlocked the inner Pandora's Box of Persephone's mind.

And so, Demeter holds him responsible. As she should.

Okay, you read that, right? But remember that line I asked you about before? We should all know Demeter doesn't mean this literally. We have brains and we should all have a minimum amount of media literacy to understand that Hades was telling the truth when he literally said Persephone was "passed out".

We finish the episode on this panel, which I swear to christ I couldn't tell you in all of my own divine wisdom of the arts what in the world is going on in this panel. I'm literally looking at salad.

Is it Demeter and Persephone? Just some dying plants? I have no fucking clue, your guess is as good as mine.

But we're not done. Because we have one more glaring issue to talk about with this episode, and it comes in the form of an author's note that was inserted at the end of the episode. It is truly, despite EVERYTHING we've talked about in both parts of this analysis, the dumbest, most airheaded and egregiously pretentious thing I've seen in this entire episode.

Rachel quite literally put in a fucking disclaimer telling her audience what Hades already told us point blank in the comic - "Don't worry, audience members, Persephone is not literally dead, it's a metaphor for her spring powers being dead!"

I literally can't even express to you how pretentious and shitty this is of her to do. I can't tell if it's legitimately her thinking her writing is "too smart" for even her older audience members to grasp, or if she just wants to dispel the theories that people would want to make about this, or if she completely misconstrued the criticism about her writing not being "clear enough" and thinks that THIS is what people meant. Pardon my tone because I've kept it together relatively well throughout this post, but this is some 2009-era Fanfiction.net level of author's note bullshit.

If she thinks her writing is "too smart" for her audience to grasp, I'm sorry Rachel, but you're just wrong and this is incredibly shitty of you. You think the 14 year olds in your community aren't also reading other webtoons that have deeper writing than LO? I read Death Note when I was fucking 14 and I knew exactly the point of what the story was getting at by the time it was over, despite all the other stories I read at that age that completely flew over my head. And you think LO is somehow more complicated than Death Note, baby's first introduction to the grey areas of morality and justice?

If she's trying to dispel the theories... that actually holds some merit because not only is Rachel notoriously bad at not letting her fandom just talk about their theories without her swooping in to "um actually" them (even if it means killing the fun of theorizing), but the official FP page on FB was closed to new submissions in the hours following this episode and it since hasn't posted any new content. Is it because people aren't posting? Absolutely not. The mods are quite literally holding these posts hostage through the submission and approval system. People are legitimately trying to submit only for the mods to block it entirely from going through. If this is Rachel's attempts at trying to "protect herself" from the criticism this episode has surely earned, then all she's really doing is punishing her own fans who want to talk about it. It doesn't matter anymore that the discussion groups are finally back from 3-4 months of being shut down over the hiatus, they're still not being allowed to operate. The best there is now is the Discord and it's undoubtedly just as heavy moderated as the FB groups.

And as for the third possibility, this also feels like an attempt at Rachel trying to make her writing "more clear" without actually putting in the work of writing a good story. She's undoubtedly seen the criticisms towards LO as a whole that it doesn't express itself clearly, that it constantly flip flops on character motivations and information that has been established, and that any monologuing that's done implies things or events that we've never seen unfold on screen (case in point, the Persephone monologue from the start of this episode) but she seems to have either misconstrued or ignored the point of that criticism entirely by solving it with a quick and shitty author's note at the end explaining her intentions with a scene that was already clearly laid out to us. Instead of putting in the work to write a concise story to explain the things that are a bit more under-developed, she's slapping in a spoonfed explanation for scenes that literally don't need explaining and that ultimately cheapens the scenes that are TRYING to have impact, bringing them down to the same level of mediocrity as the scenes that never had the impact they intended to have to begin with. "You've killed the Goddess of Spring" was plenty clear after Hades said she was passed out, Rachel. Taking the time to explain it in a note at the end is just sad and it really goes to show what you think of your audience, especially when it comes to how you treat your fans in regards to community accessibility in the official discussion groups.

"The haters" didn't set this comic onto the path that it's on or ruin the fanbase experience, Rachel - you did.

#also i stg if she's just redoing the coma plotline from S2 #you can't just go to sleep and avoid the consequences of your actions persephone #wake tf up and take some goddamn accountability #lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 11 months

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Ghost x City Girl Reader

You and Ghost were trying to keep your little fling a secret from the team. Low-key. Private. For a while, that was working.

Drama, Sexual Tension, Jealousy, Break-Ups, Flirting, Banter, Reader smokes, Setting up future smut for the next part, this is about to turn from some nasty smut into something intimate and romantic, but not yet (ʃƪ˘ﻬ˘), i love a good toxic couple to actually healthy, functioning relationship where people grow pipeline

WC: 2.4k ~

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Five

Masterlist

Please enjoy~ (✿˵•́ ૩•̀˵)৴♡*

It's not often that Price asks Ghost about his personal life.

While he hadn't any explicit details, the Captain had been more than aware of his lieutenant's upbringing, alongside his work involving Roba. Had Ghost been a little older, Price was sure the lieutenant would have already matched him in grit and trauma. After all, life never was kind to men like them.

Because of that, Price had respected the man's privacy; it wasn't like he needed a full life story to see Ghost as both a respectable and reliable force of nature. In the Task Force, it's not your past which makes you who you are, it's what you do from here on out.

Actions speak louder than words.

So it's hard not to make comments and have a few questions, after Price has spent the last few hours watching his soldiers eyefuck each other all day. As they have been doing for nearly a month now.

"You and Spice..." The Captain cuts right to the chase, looking up at Ghost from his desk, his expression a cross between being concerned and curious. "Is there something up I should know about?"

Ghost groaned to himself, remaining still in front of Price. No doubt, he knew where this conversation was already going, even as he dreaded it in its entirety.

"...Wha's this about, Captain?"

Price chuckles, having found the answer he was looking for in that response right there. The Captain knows his men and he knows them well, even though Ghost might try and act like it's not true; the lieutenant had been no exception.

And if the Captain's own cunning hadn't been enough to tip him off already, then better yet, he now uses his head to gesture, "Your collar, Simon."

Ghost can't see it yet -- he's kicking himself in the ass mentality as the realization dawns on him -- but some of your lipstick (though barely in Regs on you) had smeared on the corner of his mask, leaving faint marks of the past lust-filled encounter he'd just had with you earlier this day. Left there and forgotten for the perusal of all his colleagues.

Who's to say how long that's been visible there. That would only explain the odd faces Soap and Gaz kept making toward him since returning from lunch. Ghost had merely thought the behaviors had just been the Sergeants' usual ogling natures. Clearly, he'd been mistaken.

The man can't bring himself to do anything other than straighten up and listen, now looking as defeated as he looked irritated. There'd be no lying his way out of this one.

"I'm talking to you about it because I know you'll give me a straight answer," Price admits, placing his pen down now and putting an end to his paperwork, so that he could fully face his subordinate.

No doubt, Price knew if he asked you about it, he'd only receive lies and half-truths. Ghost could be just as dishonest, though the Captain has found his shortness much more digestible. "If you two have something-"

"We don't."

Price can't help but let out a small chuckle at Ghost's quickness to deny that fact. "Right," he says. "Look, Simon, you're both adults. What you two choose to do outside of work is no one's business but your own..."

Ghost tries desperately not to tune Price's words out, however good-intended they were. This had all merely been obvious advice to him, and completely wasted at that, because nothing else was going on. Nothing at all.

Ghost had just been a pit stop on the road for you, and you had just been a minor distraction throughout the day that he ought to forget about already. That's how it looks. That's how it's been.

It didn't make the man's stomach turn any less rationalizing it that way.

At some point or another, Price had come to his conclusion, deep within the unprompted lecture.

"...I just need to know you can keep whatever's goin' on... discreet, yeah? Behind closed doors."

"It won't happen again," Ghost bluntly states.

"Ah," Price shrugs. "That's not-"

Price stops himself when he sees that the lieutenant won't budge. He hadn't been judging by any means. Believe it or not, the Captain had been the first one to come around to you before everyone else.

He always saw you as a troubled soul just needing some focus. And you make mistakes, ones you acknowledge, which the Captain has been more understanding about than you felt you deserved. He wouldn't judge the lieutenant's interest in you.

However, Ghost had already come to a conclusion even before stepping foot into this office; the thought of you and that other man had yet to leave the lieutenant's mind, even hours later.

Images of you kissing that strange man, that man that was not him, it hit him like hot flashes throughout the day, burning in him slowly every time he had to see you again. Between that and this, Ghost figured it'd be best for you both to quit now while you're ahead.

If the jig was up then let it be up for good, Ghost thought. He didn't need the complications anymore.

"Had that been all then, sir?" Ghost asks.

Price sighs, sinking back in his seat in casual defeat.

Alas, there had been another reason Price had been interested in prying into Simon's private life. So the Captain switches things back to an environment both men are comfortable in. Work.

"No," Price says. "There had been something else for you. An assignment."

"What's the mission?"

The sun sets over the base.

A tangerine sky sits above with a peach-colored sun, and the summer air warming the evening. The day was coming to an end now, everyone clocking off so they could do it all over again tomorrow. You were standing in the parking lot with Gaz when Ghost finally found you.

You stood off by your car, a cigarette half gone through, perched between your two fingers, stained by your lipstick. Meanwhile, the Sergeant stood beside you, gabbing on about God knows what that had you laughing yourself to tears.

It doesn't take you long to notice the lieutenant approaching, and for those laughs to all but whittle away. You start to sniff the air, your nose scrunching as you groan unpleasurably. You turn to Gaz. "What's that smell?"

Your eyebrows furrow with disgust, nostrils continuing to smell the air around you, until your eyes have comically fallen onto Ghost's, who stands with mild bemusement a few feet away from you.

"Oh," you say. "It's just Manchester."

Oh ha ha, Ghost had thought. He'd have to remember to laugh in the future.

"Ouch," Gaz laughs himself now.

You turn your back to Ghost once you see he won't indulge you with a reaction, bringing your attention back to Gaz. Those you more or less used him as something to look at as you waited to hear what the lieutenant wanted.

"A word," Ghost says.

You chuckle like you didn't think he was serious. However, seeing as he hadn't budged, you groan, flicking your cigarette away and looking back over at Gaz.

And then, you rest your hand on the Sergeant's shoulder, letting your fingers graze him soothingly as you make your way over to follow the lieutenant. "Tell me more about it later," you purr.

Ghost didn't even want to ask.

You admit, when Ghost pulled you into an empty room you thought you two were going for round two. While you hadn't been planning on it -- your crotch definitely still throbbing from your last interaction -- you had been more than down for another go at him.

However, fucking you had been the last thing on Ghost's mind. Well, not the last, but it wasn't the first.

He makes sure the door's shut behind him before turning his full attention to you. "You're getting sloppy," he points to the lipstick smear.

You giggle, bringing your hand to your mouth rather mockingly. You hadn't actually noticed that you left that there, though you wish you had. It was perfect. "Who saw?"

"Price," Ghost sighs. "Though I'm sure the entire team knows by now."

Now you've started laughing, which only seemed to further irritate the man, feeding more to your sick humor. It's no secret you like to sleep around, so it made no difference to you if people knew or not.

However, it had been a first on the team.

"Hey," you start to tease. "You should be proud. You bagged a baddie. That's worth some boasting, yeah?"

"Stop it," Ghost no longer felt interested in trading banter with you anymore, wanting you to hear him when he says, "Look, I'm putting an end to this, Spice."

You scoff now, mockingly. "Don't tell me you're embarrassed now-"

"No," he stops you right there. "Of course not."

It takes a moment for his words to take meaning to you, but once they have, your whole demeanor changes. Gears shifting. For a moment, Ghost could have sworn you looked upset.

"Why?" You ask.

Why? Because now it's become a disruption. A hiccup at work. "This has gone on long enough," he answers. "Let's not pretend this was going to be a long term thing here."

"I wasn't."

That makes Ghost pause for a second, though he hadn't been sure why. It had just been the way you'd said it -- like that hadn't even been a thought to you, this small thing being something more.

"We're on the same page then," he says plainly. "It's done."

Only that answer did little to satisfy you. In fact, it did the opposite. Frankly, you had no intention of ending things; not without it being on your own terms that is.

And you had a funny feeling the lieutenant wasn't ready to end things either. He has plenty of buttons to push for you to find out.

"Did a little bit of lipstick spook you, Manchester? Or was it the whole jealousy thing-"

"Enough," Ghost intersects. He knows if he doesn't put his foot down at some point, he couldn't rely on you to leave this. Not without making it messy, which had not been something he signed up for. Then again, he knew he'd been playing with fire when he decided to involve himself with you. It's that which got you both here in the first place, and he'd be a liar to say it hadn't kept him warm all this time.

You cross your arms like a pouty little princess, going as far as to look grumpy while doing it too. Of course, you were being more dramatic than you actually felt about the matter, it wasn't like you couldn't find someone else to sleep with. Though, there hadn't been anyone quite like Simon...

"You know, this wouldn't be an issue if you'd just take off that stupid thing-"

"That's not happening."

"Why?" You start making jabs at him now. "Scared you might like having it gone-"

Ghost takes an intimidating step forward, no longer wanting to use words to silence you. Not when his presence could do the trick. He glares at you, demanding your silence.

Silence you would not give him.

Any time the lieutenant felt the need to step up to you, it only triggered your fight-or-flight senses to do the same. So you step forward yourself, keeping your arms crossed and a smile on your face, as you glare back at Ghost, reading everything he had to say in his gaze.

You look him up and down, letting your eyes grow half-lidded and sultry. "You know," you coo. "I think you might like a little kiss on the lips. It might make you act like less of an asshole."

You approach him, until your toes are a small tap away, his body-heat resonating through his uniform to you. The sound of his breath making a low, irritable huff as he exhaled made the hairs on the back of your neck stand, as you kept your eyes locked on his.

Ghost doesn't budge, not wanting to further humor whatever it was you were trying to do. Not that you made it easy. Any time you came close like this, your perfume blanketed him like a warm welcome, your eyes inviting him in. And you knew what you were doing too.

"Don't tell me you never thought about it," you purr, bringing your hand down to his. "I have."

Oh, Ghost has thought about it, from time to time. Mostly when you were alone together and he had you close to him. They were often mere seconds. Urges that pass where he's watched your lips, seeing how full and lush they were, just begging for his mouth to take them in with his.

You continue to let your words try and coax him into action, letting your fingers run delicately up his arm, slowly as you spoke.

"And I'm not talking about those short little pecks we give each other when we fuck," you tell him. "I mean something real. Something deep. A kiss."

You've seen Ghost's eyes drop to your lips now, lingering, taking in every detail. Battling with his own self control. And yet, he remains still, refusing to budge.

So you push even further.

You let your hands slide up slowly, making sure that he's felt every small essence of you which grazed him, until you've let your fingers fall short of his collarbone, where the edge of his mask lie.

"Come on, Manchester," you step on your tippy toes now, mocking his accent as you speak. "Give us a kiss."

Even now, there was just something about the way the air felt between you two this close. As though the air around you had become a bubble, zapping the oxygen out, and slowly drawing you near each other for another breath of fresh air.

Ghost would sooner suffocate if it meant he didn't have to long for another scarce breath of you that wouldn't last long enough to really ever fill him. You would sooner let the flame burn the oxygen away, until its suffocated you both in its ash and soot, if only it meant the fires which burned you would be hot.

And boy did you make those flames look inviting to burn in.

Ghost stops your hand just short of reaching his mask, his touch both tentative and yet so sure of itself all at once. Though his gaze softens, his tone does not.

"No more."

You pull your hand from his and step away, giving him the distance he's so asked for. "Fine."

Somehow, Ghost had doubted everything had been fine. But time had not been on his side for him to see.

"I'd tell you not to be a brat about it," Ghost starts to quip. "But I know that'd be asking for too much."

You cross your arms and smirk. "Glad you know me so well, Manchester," you say. "Now, was that it then, sir?"

"We've got new orders."

You pause, straightening up some.

"We do?"

Part Five Here!

You know what, how about I put some plot in your porn now. I wanted to have fun typing this, so I'm not trying to spend too much time dreary on about mission details and whatnot (since this is fake and my "military" knowledge extends to Google, my ex-husband and my time in ROTC, so in other words, inaccurate), so I hope this reads snappy and kinda flowy.

At the end of the day, you already know where I'm trying to go with this. An easy breezy read. Some chapters might be short, some might be long, it'll be whatever feels right. However, I'm finishing up the outline to this, that way it's not just a meaningless read. And, I'm still working on my other WIPs, I promise!

@13thprogenitor @cabreezer0117 😃

#call of duty #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost mwii #ghost mw2 #john price #kyle garrick #gaz cod #modern warfare ii #mwii #call of duty modern warfare ii #mw2022 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #Spotify

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salted-caramel-tea · 2 months

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Are you fully removing yourself from dtblr now?

i’ve made a post with a brief summary of my thoughts and feelings right now but ur not the only person to ask so ill make another . the short answer is not really . long answer under the cut. we’re actually getting into my whole mental breakdown as well so tw for graphic desc of sa

i just need some time to figure things out . i know i sound like a broken record saying it but sa is not an easy topic to deal with for me personally . im aware that the situation was somewhat blown out of proportion and it doesn’t actually compare to the genuine coercion and force i experienced but the past few days have been heavy .

a lot of it is because of the frequency, i am so happy that people have been comfort so enough to come forward about their experiences but there has been a complete lack of nuance regarding all of these situations it’s been very reactionary and coming online seeing never ending untagged borderline graphic descriptions of sexual assault or rape affects me physically . it’s been 3 years and i still experience physical symptoms after being triggered . my ears start ringing, i get dizzy and out of breath and nauseous and i cry . bc i remember how terrible i felt . and nuts something that still affects my relationships to this day.

one thing about it is that i can really sympathise with caiti . our cases are different, i verbally and physically refused physical advances from my abuser but after it happened i found myself trying to justify it because I invited him to watch a movie with me I didn’t push him away enough and someone was interested in me!! at least someone was interested in me . and it’s why i have a hard time regarding the ‘regret’ comments . because i don’t know that if people knew my story they’d say i was just regretting being intimate with him and stating that because i now felt violated after regretting the experience it didn’t mean i was violated on the night . i don’t think my abuser knows what he did to me . but it doesn’t change the fact that he forced me into that situation . i also want to say i don’t really consider touching someone’s waist sexual assault . it can be a form of unwanted physical contact that makes you uncomfortable but the act unfollowed by any sexual contact is not sexual assault . i do believe her feelings are real however and i can sympathise with that delayed fear and discomfort .

this is not an isolated incident as i’m sure we are all aware . for as long as dtblr has been around there have been controversies of sex crime. a lot of them have been faked, we all remember the period of 2021-22 where there was a new burner account every week accusing a member of the dteam of sa until bbh threatened legal action against one of them . and then there was the drituation . although these were faked, they contained extremely triggering details of grooming and assault. i needed time away then too . i’ve said this through every drummy ache but nothing is worth our physical and mental suffering. there is no creator no person that i would allow myself to suffer for .

the internet is reactionary. people will say things and blow things out of proportion to further their moral activity even if it means deliberately spreading triggering misinformation as a punch in the gut to make people agree . i’m not talking about the victims right now but rather the reactions from fans . over the past few weeks we’ve seen allegations of varying degrees aligned in badness with one another when that simply isn’t the case . sensationalising trauma is the new in thing and it prevents private conversations where there should be some and it’s encouraged by fans online so they can get a fix of their daily drama .and i understand it’s because it’s involving large creators and people want to spread awareness of their behaviour but the line has to be drawn somewhere between what should be public and private matters and there has been a mix of both in the past few weeks .

this need to ‘take down’ someone as opposed to discussing matters in a private setting to come to an understanding of the events without the influence of the public has created a spectacle of sexual assault. anything that is mildly uncomfortable or inappropriate is being labelled as on par with sexual abuse or rape which is not the case at all and it’s creating environments that are actively harmful to survivors by having their traumas brought up where it isn’t necessary or equating people who have made mistakes or bad decisions to their abusers .

this is something that has been ongoing since 2020 and will continue to happen with varying degrees of validity behind these comments and its up to us as viewers to decide what’s real and fake depending on the evidence before us but we don’t know what’s been taken out of context what’s been fabricated what’s straight up slander vs what is real admissions of harmful behaviour and its exhausting to wade through . it might seem selfish that i’m kind of saying i don’t want to know about other peoples sa experiences but i dont . i don’t want to have to wade through pages upon pages of details or hours upon hours of proof to accuse or debunk someone of a topic that physically affects me .

i’ve already said i’m not becoming an anti i hold no serious denouncement of the dteam at all but i need to consider fandom dynamics and if i am willing to deal with these accusations over and over again because we all know it’s not going away . dream had people ADMIT they faked his grooming allegations and it’s still held against him . george did make someone uncomfortable and it’s not up to me to dictate caitis feelings on that but george’s perspective does put into play a perspective of body language that is being weaponised to jump to sa rather than bad communication and awareness of the situation . it’s a lot . and i need time to get myself into a better headspace and figure out if im willing to be involve in further reference of these events .

and also fuck quackity bc ppl are using the past few days to say oh quackity is the only good one left as if he’s not literally being monitored by international labour unions

im adding on a few things . i am uncomfortable with the way some people have been making light of the whole situations here . there’s borderline (fully) misogynistic posts flying around that are being shared as jokes and memes but it really diminishes the weight of some of the situations at hand and as well as the very real women discussing their situations . im not calling anyone out bc this is has been shared all over my dash so its clear that this is just a preference of mine that i personally find discomforting but i hate the way it makes me feel seeing posts relating abuse of women to homosexuality even though it is in a joking manner it just made me really uncomfortable .

im also tired of the words abuse and assault being thrown around without grounded evidence. there has been no sexual situations as far as we are aware . there has been no sexual contact as far as we are aware . there needs to be distinctions between what is discomfort or creepy and what is exploitation or abuse . i’ve been around lots of creepy guys but only one has sexually assaulted me . throwing words around without any substance behind them diminishes the value of the word until people see it as just another insult . by insinuating touching someone’s waist, although uncomfortable to caiti where she was unsure how to address she did not want that to happen, is a form of sexual assault it creates a form of radicalism of sexual abuse where it becomes is every uncomfortable touch a sex crime? no it’s not. it’s going to trivialise what it means to have been assaulted and being invalidation to victims from wider audiences with lines like ‘let me guess a guy touched your shoulder and you screamed assault’ . we are already blamed for what happened to us and to further trivialise it by mislabelling your discomfort and bad experiences as abusive or exploitative it’s providing a potential fan to those flames . and that’s why i say although i believe caiti is valid in the way she feels that her discomfort and delayed trauma is valid i do not believe she was a victim of a sex crime but rather she was in a position where she was made uncomfortable by a creepy older guy .

im also just so fucking tired to logging on to sex scandals of the dream team where everyone was 18+ and no sex occurred because at that point it’s just digging up anything you can to prove someone else’s hypothesis to be semi reality .

george did fuck up . he made a very young woman uncomfortable and should have prioritised reaching out to her to apologise for her discomfort and subsequent emotional weight instead of an extremely defensive take that, yes, can provide further situation but ultimately comes off as a take disregarding of the very real feelings that caiti was experiencing in order to prove people wrong . he is allowed to defend himself but the emotional impact on caiti should have been a lot better acknowledged . i just wanted to make sure that people were aware that despite the fact i do not think george is a sexual predator and that it is a phrase being extremely abused by the internet, i do believe he did something wrong in this situation .

this whole thing is messy and complicated and exhausting and punz needs to shut the fuck up nobody cares

#tw sa mention #tw sa

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scyllas-revenge · 28 days

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I've been encountering post comments of people flipping out over the Bridgerton S3 teaser clip where Anthony sneaks a kiss on Kate while dancing in front of the ton. It made me realize that Boromir was quite bold and brazen with the way he interacted with Reader (Aerdis) in "Breathe".

Getting so close and intimate, publicly, with a lady who was not his wife or even anything?? All the pearl clutching!! 👀😂

Real question, though: what are your thoughts, opinions, or headcanons about social protocols and restrictions in Gondor/Minas Tirith regarding interactions between unmarried men and women? Do you see it as a climate similar to the Regency Era, or something less restrictive? I guess it wasn't super conservative, considering the Farawyn public canoodling... unless that was a great scandal in itself. 😂

Oooh I love this question! (and I'm so excited for Bridgerton S3!!) Here are entirely too many of my thoughts XD

You know how much I love your Breathe fic, and I think acting a bit outside of social norms fits Boromir very well- he seems like the type to feel every emotion very intensely, and while he's very aware of social norms, he's not going to let them get in his way for long. (be still my heart, fetch me my smelling salts at once)

That being said I don't personally imagine Gondorian society to be quite as restrictive as regency-era England, just because the regency era was SO restrictive. There were SO many social taboos and particular ways you had to navigate social settings, and while I'm not an expert on them all, a lot of aspects of Jane Austen's books still stand out to me as just insane, like never referring to your spouse by their first name, even when you're just chilling at home with your kids. No hand touching if you're not wearing gloves, no dancing with someone more than twice in one setting (unless you're making your intentions VERY clear), etc. And alongside that, you get a lot of class restrictions too, like only certain pastimes being considered "proper," and everything from manners of speaking and sitting and chewing your food can mark you as uncouth and poor (I'm thinking of Emma here, and all the minute ways Emma has to teach Harriet to be an upstanding member of society. It's exhausting!).

I think some of these taboos would carry over to Gondor, like needing a chaperone to hang out with a person of the opposite sex before you're engaged, and minimal touching or displays of affection (and yes, I think the Farawyn kiss was VERY scandalous, people were probably gossiping about that one for ages lol). But some of the smaller more restrictive social norms of regency society probably don't apply (unless I want them to, for heightened drama).

Overall, I'm going to say that 1. social norms probably are bent out of whack a bit both during and a while after the war, just because people had more important things to worry about, and 2. Boromir and Faramir are a half-step away from royalty in Gondor, so their behavior probably gets a pass most of the time anyway.

As for the class restrictions, I think once again Boromir gets to bend a lot of rules here- he's probably very aware of how other nobles behave vs commoners, but I don't think he cares much and is probably a bit sick of all the hoops higher-class people have to jump through just to navigate a basic social situation. I also think that, because he's a soldier, he's more attuned to the rest of his citizens than other nobles might be. Plus he's had to cook his own meals, take care of his own horse, clean and sharpen his own weapons, mend his own clothes while on the road, etc. Nothing is beneath him by now. That was probably true for a lot of people during the war regardless of wealth or class, so I'm imagining a bit of the class division kind of dissolving, at least temporarily, after the war. Everyone emerged from it in different places with a different view of the world than when they started.

Finally, I personally really like the idea of some Ancient Roman influence on Gondor (they have aqueducts, I just know it! And I love the idea of Gondorian women wearing those Ancient Roman woven hairstyles) but unfortunately I haven't been able to find much on Ancient Roman societal norms online outside of how they approach meals (which we can tell from the books and films doesn't really apply anyway). So that idea might be a bit of a dead end.

Anyway, thanks for the ask!!! And sorry I wrote such a long rambling response, but you hit me with such an interesting question XD I couldn't help it!

#answered!#boromir

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silvantransthranduiltrash · 4 months

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Going back to the post about Muriel and finwe fighting to the death (but not really). Do you have more headcanon about how they would react when they meet once again. Also I personally feel like Muriel would drag indis by the hair for how she tried to take finwe away from her and how she treated feanor.

Also I was also wondering if you had any ideas on how Muriel and feanor would be once they meet each other. I feel like she would be proud and disappointed at the same fime. She would so probably love her grandchildren.

So, obligatory disclaimer: this is specifically about my au

Miriel would just show up out of the blue. No fanfare, no announcement, just one seconds she’s there. You know what? Maybe Miriel’s already swinging her blade at him.

And the moment Finwe notices her, notices that she’s here, in front of him, alive? It’s as if color returned to him.

These 2 haven’t seen each other in millenia, that is a lot of pent up emotions (and don’t get me wrong, they are angry at each other as well for what happened) and they just go at it. No explenation, no nothing. They’re going feral on each other. Maybe they’re also cursing each other out/flirting while their at it.

Everyone who did not know their dynamics is really concerned and baffled.

It’s not a short or small fight either. They’re going at it for hours, days even, and so mich crap gets destroyed in the process. Entire rooms have been layed to waste and they’re covered in blood by the end of it.

And then they fuck.

Luckily, no one’s around by the time it gets to that point.

But it’s really animalistic, feral, raw in a way the elves have forgotten.

In regards to Miriel and Indis:

Here’s the thing, their families had a bit of a lowkey fued going on since the lake (please see other posts i’ve made on this au) but this takes the cake. It does not help that indis is a bit of a bitch (and Miriel’s still lowkey highkey pissed at finwe’s enabling of her behavior)

Have you seen the mdzs donghua, specifically the scene where madam you humiliates and slaps the shit out of yoayoa? Yeah, miriel is dragging indis through the metaphorical and literal dirt. And indis is pissed too bc she did not want miriel to come back at all. Miriel doesn’t comment on finwe’s other kids though bc she’s not gonna torment the child for the sins of the parents.

It should be noted that Miriel herself has a good number of supporters as well that went more or less dormant when she died, but the moment she’s back up and running? Ho boy, her supporters are tearing through the throats of the indis supporters like starving dogs. (Not literally).

Here’s the thing about feanor and miriel’s reunion:

Miriel’s very aware that she wasn’t there to raise feanor and that she doesn’t really know how to mom as a result, so while she’s very eager to hug the crap out of her baby, she’s also pretty blunt in saying “hey, ngl, idk how to do this, so i’ll probably mess up a lot, and i’ll probably not be the mom you expect me to be (especially with the “Miriel was only a weaver propaganda shoved down everyone’s throats 😒”) but no matter what, know that i love you, and know that i will try my best to be the mom you always should have had.

I don’t feel like (this au) Miriel would actually be that disappointed. I mean she’s no angel either. But furthermore, she gets it. Does she approve of some of feanor’s erratic actions? No. But she’s intimately familiar with the drive and passion that caused it. In all honesty, she’s just sad it happened the way it did. She’s obviously very proud of her bby i mean look at him! LOOK AT HIM!

N e way, yeah Miriel loves her grandkids.

She’s actually staying with feanor right now to 1. Repair their relationship, and 2. She’s reading finwe the riot act, he needs to do some serious groveling before she gets back with him (even though they already fucked kissed)

Of course then there’s the drama of indis and her family, and Miriel lowkey gets it (i mean who would want to be kicked out of the life they’ve been living for millenia?) but also, indis poisened her when she was pregnant with feanor and she had to give her life’s essence to keep him alive to give birth to him, that and some other factors are what resulted in her death in the first place so….🖕.

Also Indis(who is ingwe’s sister in this au)’s dad is still lowkey obseessed with Miriel’s brother so she’s just NOT in the mood to sympathize with her.

And of course Miriel’s dad, who’s the only one with her bc he’s the only one who got killed and went to the halls (since none of miriel’s other family went with her on the great journey) (L), is absolutly delighting at the chance to “clean house” (aka: beat up his SIL, his mistress and said mistress’s family, as well as exterminated any and everyone in the way of his kid’s happiness.)

All in all, Miriel’s come back is simultaneously really bloody and also pretty straight forward.

(Also, Ingwe shows up half way through the brawl and is just cheering his aunt on)

#lord of the rings #lotr #silmarillion #lotr elves #miriel #finwe #indis ig #feanor #miriel x finwe #miriel is feral #answered asks #shamelessly pushing my ‘miriel and thranduil are twins agenda’#4 silvan sibs au #oropher is miriel’s dad btw #and he’s pissed

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zoyaofthegardvn · 1 year

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thank you for doing gods work for the gay girlies... my lil gay heart would explode if you did a "reader gets kidnapped/hurt & love interest goes feral" trope with zoya <33

A Mission Gone Wrong

A/N: One of my most favorite tropes! And Zoya is my fave book character ever, so I'm so glad you requested this! I'm here for the gay girlies always!!!! Hope this makes your little gay heart happy! :)

CW: Mentions of violence and torture, angst and drama, blood, death threats, actual death, fire, explosions, all that fun stuff. Def violent but in my opinion nothing is super graphic, but this is darker than the typical 'who did this to you' trope! So just be aware!

---

"Are you sure you don't want me to send anyone else with you?" Zoya's voice is pleading, near begging you to accept the offer.

Her concern is sweet, but maybe, a bit overbearing. You'd completed many diplomatic trips, investigations, missions of any sort on your own several times. As a Tidemaker, highly skilled in not just the Small Science, but combat too, and incredibly intelligent, you rarely ran into a situation you truly couldn't handle. Then again, since your marriage to the Queen of Ravka, you were hardly ever sent out to do anything even resembling a challenge.

You smile softly at Zoya, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her pouted lips. "Yes, my love, I think that one Inferni and one Squaller is more than enough," her face begins to contort in skepticism, and you playfully roll your eyes at her. "It will be fine, sweetheart, you worry too much."

She scoffs, as if what you'd just said was an offense. "Maybe I should go with you, it's the only way I'd worry less."

You run your hands up and down her arms, shaking your head at the comment. "And what would the heart of Ravka do without her Queen, Zoya?" She goes to protest, likely to tell you that you're more important, as she's said dozens of times, but you give her a warning look before she can speak up. "I'll be super careful, I always am. You're just stressed because it's the first time in a long time we'll be apart."

She gives you a long look, as if to say, yes, but not only will you be gone, you'll be hours away seeking out rogue and most likely hostile Grisha who don't realize they need your help.

You grin, reading her mind, yet you're still wholly unconcerned. It's been so long since you were out in the field, working intimately with the Grisha whom you've sworn to protect at all costs.

"Zoya, baby, I've done things like this several times, I'll only be gone for a few days, and that's if we even find anyone."

"Then why go? Why you? If there's a chance it won't even amount to anything, why do you have to go?"

You can't help the agitation beginning to grow. You sigh, heavily, and level a glare at her. "Because, this is what I'm good at. It's what I love to do. You know I love the Grisha, you know I'll help them as much as I can. Please, don't try to stop me from doing that."

Her eyes flutter down, and she grabs your hands, playing with the ring on your finger. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that you aren't capable. And I wouldn't worry if I was accompanying you, the way that I used to."

You give her hands a squeeze. "I know that, Zoya, but we knew things were going to change when you became Queen."

She looks back up at you and smiles, though the discomfort is still evident on her face. "I know, I know. Just, please... promise me you'll be careful. You won't take unnecessary risks. You'll come home to me."

Your heart speeds up a bit, at the look on her face, the request she's made. "I promise, my love."

---

Hours later, you're atop a horse, riding along a dirt road. The two Grisha accompanying you, Nadine and Ilya, make small talk, inquiring about why the oppressed Grisha may be hostile towards any help you'll offer. You explain that because they've spent so long hiding what they can do, it's difficult to believe that post-war, they all have somewhere they can call home, somewhere they can learn and train. Their lack of education makes them dangerous, because their power is uncontrolled. Lack of control mixed with fear, hesitation, resentment, anger, even jealousy towards Grisha that haven't had to hide themselves since childhood can lead to explosive emotions, causing harm to anyone involved. They nod at everything you say, and eventually, the conversation dies down, and a comfortable silence follows the three of you.

Your thoughts begin to wander, thinking of how you'll approach any potential Grisha. There's been reports of physicians being able to remarkably heal life-threatening injuries in small towns, Healers. Reports of entire gardens and fields blooming back to life after years of lack of care and abandonment, Durasts. But this isn't what you're investigating, it isn't what truly concerns you. It's the reports of fires starting at random, wiping out villages and citizens in an uncontrollable blaze, Inferni. The reports of lakes and ponds suddenly flooding, wiping out travelers and livestock and crops, Tidemakers. The reports of storms occurring on an otherwise sunny and calm day, Squallers. These are the Grisha in most need of help, the ones that have to learn some sort of control before the public handles them themselves. You refuse to believe that they're truly malicious, just lacking any sort of guidance and outlet.

And then, eventually, your thoughts wander to her, your Zoya. You miss her, like a string tied to your heart, tugging you back the way you've came, hours away from home. Though you don't plan to be anymore than a day's ride from the palace, it's still difficult, being this far from her.

And the thought of Zoya makes your cheeks burn, remembering all the ways she said goodbye to you. Not just with her words, but her fingers, and mouth, and...

And then one of your partners is speaking to you. You shake your head, clearing your dirty thoughts, and look to your right where your companion is. "I'm sorry, I was a bit distracted, can you repeat that?"

Nadine, the Inferni, smiles, like she knows exactly what you're missing right about now. Or maybe, she's too worried she'll offend the Queen Consort. "I was just wondering if we should stop soon?" She glances down to a small map she's got clutched in her hands, "there's an inn up ahead, maybe another half hour ride? Then only a few more hours to the village we're needed in, after that."

You sigh, and give a tight nod, spurring your horse onward. You hadn't even noticed the sun had began to lower, painting the sky a red-orange haze. Truthfully, you wouldn't have minded continuing to the village, where reports of a possible Inferni had been made. But, you won't tire your companions out for your own selfish desire to get back home, to your wife.

The three of you continue towards the inn, and after another 15 minutes, your surroundings slowly look more village-esque. It's small, just a few houses littering the streets, a tavern. It's a commerce town, known for harvesting and trading out to bigger cities. Not many actually reside here, and anyone who does is a worker. It's not built for leisure. But, alarmingly, the place seems rather dry and dead. The grass is brown, the air feels... dusty. A few people in the streets give gentle nods, but they seem exhausted, clothes dirty and faces drawn tight. They recognize the three of you as Grisha due to your keftas, and while public opinion has mostly changed for the better, you can still sense some hesitation from them, some looking a bit worried about three Grisha coming to their little town, one they've surely worked hard to keep from becoming unneeded, one they've ensured people rely on through their trade.

But, what really stands out, is in the distance, there appears to be a large crater in the ground. A few people stand around it, speaking, likely the leadership figures in the town. One woman spots the three of you, and she waves you over.

Turning to your companions, Ilya, the Squaller, gives you a shrug, obviously curious about what's gone on here. Although it isn't the town you've been sent to investigate, something has clearly happened that is out of the ordinary. The three of you dismount and walk the rest of the way.

Before you reach the scene, the woman calls out, "More Grisha come to take from this town?" Her voice is hardened, her face in a scowl, but she doesn't seem to be telling you to leave.

When you get closer, you notice how deep the hole is. The area around it is absent of grass, though now, you suppose, it would be dead grass, and it proves what you had suspected, but dreaded. This was obviously a pond, or a lake, of some sort. And now, it's a dry, lifeless void.

You shake your head at the scene, and ask, "What happened? When?"

The woman, who you can now see is older, but a hard working woman, evident by the dirt on her skin, her messed hair, the muscles in her arms and the calluses on her hands, purses her lips and spits onto the dry ground. "Grisha, that's what happened. A few days ago."

Ilya, relatively new to these types of jobs, speaks up. "I'm sorry, that this happened. What else can you tell us?"

A young man, hardly out of his teens standing next to the old woman answers him. "Middle of the night. Woke everyone up. We all ran out of our houses, and there were these people..." he pauses, and his face screws up in disgust, "Grisha," he spits out, "killing our town."

The other villagers at the emptied lake nod their heads. So much for a good public opinion, you think.

The woman speaks again, "There were several of them, they emptied the lake. Just... picked it all up.. and.. carried it away. How is that even possible?" The last part doesn't seem directed at you, really, and your chest aches with empathy. "And then... there was another one. Th-they sucked the life out of everything. Look at it all! Dead and dry. There's no life here anymore."

Nadine speaks, "We're here because there's another town, farther south, that has supposedly been terrorized by a possible Inferni. We think it's a rogue Grisha, from Shu Han, that's fled the cities. Are you saying there are more rogues, ones closer than we thought?"

The woman nods, her face grim. "They've ruined everything. Our source of natural water... gone. We're the only town for miles. How will we survive, let alone trade anymore?"

And at that, your heart breaks. "I am so, so, so sorry this happened. We've been trying to find these Grisha, each time a new report crops up. It's our goal to find them, give them a home, train them. But this, this isn't just uncontrolled power. This was an attack, and I swear to you, they will be punished accordingly."

"And what does that do for us now?"

You flinch at her tone. "I'm a Tidemaker, and... the Queen, Zoya Nazyalsenky... she's my wife."

All of the people gathered at the empty lake pause, and stiffen. They stand up a bit straighter, their eyebrows raised. You always hate pulling that card, but in times like this, when it can be used as reassurance, you do it.

"As soon as we possibly can, we'll send Durasts, and Tidemakers, me included, Squallers, too, to bring water and life back to your town. I swear it. We won't let you be wiped away."

The old woman's face grows less concerned, but just a bit. "You're Y/N Y/L/N? The Queen Consort?"

You nod. "Yes, but please, just call me Y/N. I'm just here to help, however I can. That's all."

She sticks her hand out. "My name is Polina."

---

It turned out that Polina was the owner and operator of the inn, and her grandson was the young man you had also met, Alexei, was his name. Polina gave you and both of your companions rooms, and Alexei had given the three of you warm bowls of stew.

Before turning in for the evening, you had your Grisha meet with you in your room, to discuss how to proceed.

"I'm not sure we should even proceed to the next village. Truthfully, I think the reports were wrong."

Nadine nods, like she had also considered the possibility. Ilya's eyebrows raise, but he doesn't disagree. He says, "Do you think they were misunderstood, or lies, to throw us off?"

"I think that the Inferni either doesn't exist, or made themselves incredibly obvious to cover for the Tidemakers and Durasts that are apparently working together."

It isn't unusual for Grisha types to stick together, but it is for so many of them to be so malicious. It sends a chill down your spine.

"They've been working together a lot longer than we may even think. They seem organized, out of control, but organized," Nadine says. You nod in agreement, running a hand down your face from the stress.

"I think that our priority should be to help these people. I think we should head back, fulfill the promise we made by coming back with more Grisha. We help restore this town, and then travel onwards, with reinforcements. This is obviously more than the three of us intended to handle."

Ilya sighs. "What if they're destroying another village as we speak, what if they're at the village we had intended to go to, taking their water, killing their crops, too?"

Before you can respond, Nadine does. "The three of us won't be able to help them, not without more Tidemakers, more Squallers, and honestly, we'll need Healers and Heartrenders if this gets violent, and I suspect it will be, facing off with anyone willing to take water and food from an entire town."

You give her a nod of approval, proud of her logistical thinking skills and protectiveness of Ravkans. You make a mental note to urge Zoya to promote her sooner rather than later when you return home.

You send both Nadine and Ilya off to their rooms for a good night's sleep, as the three of you will return home at first light, eager to help this town before it's too late.

You turn down the lanterns of your room when they're gone, changing into a night gown and burrowing into your small bed. Though your brain is active with worries and unease, you eventually settle into a deep sleep, dreams of returning to Zoya there to greet you.

---

A harsh light is filling the room, and you awaken with a jump at a loud bang, several loud bangs, actually. Your eyes fly open, and immediately you see smoke filling the room. From the window, you can see the glow of a fire, and your door shakes with the force of someone trying to take it down.

"Y/N!" Nadine shouts from the other side, and you fly out of bed, ripping the door open with your face tucked into your elbow.

Her face is covered in soot, her eyes pinched shut from the smoke. "W-We have to g-" she cuts herself off, breaking into a violent coughing fit. A loud creak fills the space, and a wooden beam falls just feet behind you, setting your bed on fire.

"Where's Ilya?!" You ask, grabbing Nadine's arm and making a run for it. She's obviously been in the smoke more than you have, so you do most of the work, navigating the two of you down the burning hallway. You pass by Ilya's empty room and keep running, hoping he's waiting outside.

The two of you stumble down the stairs, the rail catching fire as you reach the landing, the both of you practically falling down the last flight.

Ahead, you can see flames licking closer towards the entrance, and you raise your hand, summoning what little water moisture hangs in the air to keep the doorframe from catching alight.

When the two of you burst out of the building, Nadine falls to the ground, clutching her chest and gagging from the coughs. You're disoriented, brain and vision fuzzy from the smoke, the heat, the adrenaline.

You look around, and faintly register that the entire town is burning. You want to scream in rage and despair, but your throat feels like it's on fire, and you break into a coughing fit. You try to find Ilya in the mess, but you don't see him, and instead, you're met with the vision of Alexei dragging Polina's body from the inn's entrance before finally, the entire thing is consumed by flames.

You land on your knees by Nadine, bracing a hand on her back, and attempt to scream out to Alexei to leave Polina, to move, before the entire thing collapses, before a sharp blow to the back of your head knocks you unconscious.

---

There's a throbbing pain in your temples, and it hurts to even move your eyes, but slowly, you peel them open. They're fuzzy for a few moments, and your ears are ringing, but eventually, you hone in on the sight of Nadine, across from you, out cold and tied to a chair. There's a gag in her mouth, and her hands are tight behind her back, her legs restrained to the legs of the chair.

Your eyes widen, but you can't move. You're restrained too, scream muffled by a gag similar to one used on Nadine shoved in your mouth. Your whole body hurts, you jerk and buck, trying to break the restrains, but they're tight, and it feels like you'd been given a thorough beating while you were under, as it hurts your ribs to even take a breath in. You can tell that your right eye is swollen, nearly entirely closed, and your lip is busted. You feel wetness dripping down your face, and you assume there's a cut, somewhere near your hairline.

Eventually, the sound of you struggling pulls Nadine awake, but the sound draws other attention, too.

A door swings open, and two men walk in, one carrying a lantern. The added light, provided by your kidnappers, provides more clarity on where you're being held.

It appears to be an empty, wooden structure. Some of the boards are loose, and through the cracks, you see a whole lot of nothing. There's light, bright enough that you can see that it's well into the next day, but not enough to really see inside of the place. If you had to guess, you're in the small barn, or shed, whatever the town called it, that you had passed by when you'd first arrived.

So, they hadn't taken you far at all, then.

Good, you thought, they're exhausted from all the magic they used tonight.

The man without the lantern steps between you and Nadine, a sinister smirk on his face. His fists are bloody and bruised, blood splattered on his white shirt. Nadine looks to you, an expression of rage on her face, and you can see that she's been beaten, too. Nadine, your closest Inferni friend, known for her red-hot rage.

Yes, you were angry, but you knew they should be terrified of Nadine.

And Ilya, he was nowhere to be seen. Though it stung to think he abandoned the two of you, you hoped it was just that, and that the fire hadn't claimed him, or worse, he had been killed by rogue Grisha, killed by the people he wanted to protect.

You snarled, as best as you could with your mouth gagged, when the man bent to be at eye-level with you.

"Well, when we lured the Grisha out here, we didn't expect to get the Queen Consort herself, but you won't hear me complaining." The man chuckled, his companion with the lantern joining in.

The comment confused you, none of the other rogue Grisha you'd encountered had ever been so malicious. Most of them wanted to be trained, wanted to stop wreaking havoc wherever they went. Most were grateful that there were people who cared enough to go find them, to take them in, rather than hunt, kill, or imprison them. There were the occasional Grisha who didn't like the idea of the Ravkan government knowing who they were, being at Ravka's whim, but mostly, they agreed to receive training in exchange for a life of peace and anonymity once they could be trusted with their power.

But this, this sheer, raw, hate and contempt, you'd never encountered it before. It terrified you.

He obviously noticed your confusion, and so he said, "Did you really think no one would realize what you've been doing? Forcing anyone with power into a life of servitude and restraint?" His eyes narrowed, and he smirked, like he'd caught you at something.

You bucked against the restraints again, and quicker than you could blink, he pulled a knife from his back pocket, holding it to your neck. You stilled at the threat, your breath coming out through your nose in sharp exhales.

"I won't let you do to them what you did to me," he hissed out, amusement turned to rage.

And then, it dawned you. This man specifically, he's not a rogue Grisha, no. He was raised in Ravka, taken to the Little Palace as a child to attend school, and then he defected.

It's rare, but it does happen. Some Grisha don't believe in balance of the Small Science, they don't believe in protection and using their powers for good. They're greedy, and power hungry, and view themselves as Gods.

Grisha aren't forced to serve, especially not under Zoya's rule, but there are the ones who view their education and the philosophy of Ravka has a restraint, a confine. They don't see it for the gift that it is, the necessity to keep not only the common man safe, but the Grisha, too. Small Science is a tricky thing, sensitive and delicate. Many rogue Grisha are found on the cusp of burn out. What you do, finding them, bringing them back, giving them a home, in many cases, it saves their life.

Clearly, this man has festered in his unappreciation and resentment for a long, long time.

He noticed the moment you figured it out.

"Yes, yes, that's right. While you were busying rallying up strays, I was busy finding the ones that don't want your charity. The ones that desire freedom and power, who won't give one up for the other."

You started shaking your head, tears of frustration welling, but he pressed the knife at your throat harder, your movements stopping at the feel of a prick at your neck, a small trickle of blood sliding down your throat.

Behind him, you could see Nadine struggling harder, her chair lifting off the ground a few times from the force of her efforts. Please, Nadine, don't give him any reason to hurt you, you thought, as admirable as your friend's efforts were, you had no doubts in your mind that this man was out to kill.

He snarled, whirling around to face her. "Stop moving, Grisha whore! Or I'll kill you first while the Queen here," he gestured behind himself, towards you, "gets to watch. Do you want that?"

Nadine, with a scowl on her face and likely a growl in her throat, shook her head 'no.'

The man, whose identity you still did not know, hummed. "Good girl."

The comment made you sick, bile bubbling in your throat. He had told Nadine, "I'll kill you first," meaning, he definitely had plans to kill both of you. You didn't know when, or how, and the panic began to curdle your stomach.

He glanced to his partner, still off to the side, lantern in hand. "Meet the others outside, take a few, spread out, look for anyone that fled during the fires. There can't be many left, but find them." The other man gives a sharp nod, sets the lantern on the ground, and leaves.

Then your captor turns to you, he smirks. "I have a few questions."

---

For hours, he questions you and Nadine. For hours, he punches you whenever he gets too frustrated, or holds his knife to your throats, or chokes you until you see stars. He pays no mind to your tears, Nadine's grunts and growls and snarls. Your gags are discarded on the ground, but the town is isolated, and no one hears a thing.

But, you're only just now entertaining the very real possibility that you'll never see Zoya again. You'll never come home to her, like you've always promised, and Zoya will forever be waiting for her wife to come back to her. It isn't the pain that you're in that makes you cry, no, it's the devastation that you will never see her again, the love of your life.

But, there is no chance that you'll give in. You won't tell him what he wants to know about the Grisha, the Little Palace, the Queen. Never would you compromise them. And so if it takes Zoya losing you, to keep her safe, so be it.

Your vision is blurry, eyes swollen, blood dripping from your mouth. Your entire body aches, it hurts to breathe. Dimly, you hear the man, who finally revealed his name to be Gregor, say, "I'm going to ask one final question, and then, you're both done."

Through the haze, you peer up at him, and spit a wad of blood at his feet. "I-I... will t-tell you... nothing."

He nods, like he was expecting it. The knife, for the millionth time it seems, is pulled from his back pocket. He flicks the blade out, and he stalks closer.

And then, in the matter of seconds, the entire space is dark.

He halts his movements, staring around the room curiously. It's like a curtain had been pulled around the barn, and the wind has picked up, whistling through the broken boards, gathering dust, whipping it around fiercely. The lantern goes out, and he grits out, "shit." He flicks his wrist, attempting to light it again, but the wind won't allow him.

A large clap of thunder makes him, you, and Nadine, who is hardly conscious, jump. A streak of lightning flares, and in the brief light, you can see Gregor's conviction falter. He casts you a long look, and then stalks towards the large wooden door, which is rattling from the force of the storm.

But before he reaches it, several screams ring out from outside. Instantly, there's a flurry of activity. The all too familiar sound of fighting is like music to your ears. You hear wind whipping around, bullets flying, water wooshing, fire igniting and soaring through the air, balls of flame creating streaks that you see fly by the structure.

Gregor looks terrified. And he should be. This isn't a few Grisha come to rescue you, no. It's the Second Army, led by Zoya Nazyalensky.

Though you can hardly see, can hardly move, can hardly think. You level a gaze at your captor, and send him a smile, it's toothy, bloody, and smug.

Rage takes over his features. He moves towards you, knife at his side, large strides carrying him closer towards you faster than you anticipated, but he doesn't make it far.

The doors to the barn fly open, breaking from their hinges. In the doorway stands her, your wife, Zoya. Never, in the all years you've known her, have you seen her look so furious.

She's mighty, and beautiful, and the relief that floods through you aches from how good it feels.

The scene that plays out behind her is vicious, but truthfully, it doesn't last long. Gregor never implied there was anyone else working with him that was trained and skilled. A fool, to do this work, while leaving the messiest players on the field. The Grisha Zoya had brought with her are cutting the rogues down with ease, showing no mercy.

And evidently, Zoya has no plans for mercy either.

"Step the fuck away from my wife." Her voice is cold, calculated. Her lip curls into a snarl, and you can see her trembling with the force of her rage. To others, her voice would sound alarmingly calm, but you can hear the unmasked terror in the tremor.

She doesn't look to you, but you know she wants to. Her gaze stays steady on Gregor, who stands halfway between you and her. He seems to genuinely consider her demand, for a moment. But then he grits his teeth, and tries to make a run for you. Briefly, so fast you think you may have imagined it, you see Zoya's eyes shift into those of the dragon.

You almost find Gregor's determination admirable, him thinking he could win against the most powerful Grisha alive. Almost.

Zoya's arm shoots up, her hand pushing forward, hardly breaking a sweat with the force she'd summoned to throw him. He hits the wall of the barn hard, and yet he tries to rise. Again, Zoya lifts him from the ground, throwing him against the wall with a sickening crunch. And yet again, Gregor, with broken and bruised limbs, attempts to rise. Zoya, like a predator toying with her prey, allows him to shakily brace himself on his hands and knees. She takes slow, measured steps forward. "What a pathetic excuse of a Grisha, such a waste of power," she sneers, and the jest hits him hard. He chokes blood, spits it out, and says, "you unworthy bitch." And, if you weren't currently holding onto life by a thread, and still tied up, you would've killed him yourself for that little comment. But Zoya merely clenches her fist, and she sucks the air right out of his lungs.

She continues moving forward, shielding you from the sight. Her face is clenched in fury, her fist shakes as she robs him of life. She holds, exactly like that, until Gregor's chokes are quiet whimpers, until he stops moving, stops twitching, and his eyes stare at her, lifeless.

Zoya doesn't pay him attention a second longer than necessary. Immediately, her rage contorts into worry, and her gaze shifts towards you.

"Y/N, oh saints..." Her voice cracks, her lower lip trembles, and she's launching herself at you.

"Zoya," you whisper, but it's gurgled and choked on blood and saliva. Tears leak from your eyes, streaking through the muck on your face.

Her hands are on you, something you never thought you'd feel again. They shake as she cuts through the bonds around your wrists. You wince at the ache in your shoulders and arms as you bring your hands in front of you, reaching out to stroke Zoya's face as she cuts the ties around your ankles. Your fingers tremble, you hardly have enough strength to graze her cheek. Once she frees your legs, she's gathering you in her arms, bringing you to her chest while she releases a sob into your hair.

She cries your name again, repeats of, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," but you pay it no mind. As much as you want her to hold you, you know you're not the most important thing right now.

You pull back, ignoring the sharp pain in your head and chest. You look up at her, into Zoya's heartbroken eyes, and give her a small smile. "N-Nadine, Zoya... h-help her..."

Her brows furrow, but she doesn't resist, knowing you'd never forgive her if she refused to save your friend, too.

She plants a kiss to your forehead, lips dry and trembling. With a last longing glance, she turns to Nadine, limp in her chair. Like she had done for you, she cuts through her bonds, and Tamar and Tolya come rushing through the broken doorway. They survey the space, anger and shock clear on their face. Tamar makes for you, and Tolya rushes to help Zoya with Nadine.

When she's free, Zoya has him take Nadine in her arms and leave, likely to find an available healer.

Don't let it be too late, please, let her live. The concern almost hurts more than any of the physical torture you'd endured.

Tamar stands you on your feet, but you don't make it far before Zoya's returning to your side, again, bringing you into her embrace. Tamar backs off, giving the two of you space.

"I'll go find a healer for her, somewhere to lay her down while they work."

Zoya doesn't respond, but you feel her nod.

She wraps one arm around your back, the other cradling her head. "My love, can you walk?"

You give her a weak nod, exhaustion beginning to take over, and you know you won't be conscious much longer. You try to take a step, but your knees buckle, and Zoya's immediately scooping you up, the arm around your back taking your weight as the other grabs you from behind your knees.

You don't even have the energy to assure her that you're fine, and besides, Zoya's already making for the exit, her steps hurried and frantic. Again, she's apologizing, you can hear that faintly. You want to tell her it's okay, that nothing is her fault, but your tongue feels thick and your mind feels foggy. You register that you're outside of the barn when the light hits your eyes, the storm Zoya summoned clearly over now that she has you in her grasp. You squeeze them shut despite the pain from the bruising, and you slowly fall under to the sound of Zoya calling your name.

---

When you come to, you're immediately confused. Opening your eyes is hard, and even as they flutter open, it's difficult to see. The pain you're in, that's clear, but you aren't exactly sure where you're at. Things are coming back to you in flashes, bits and pieces. The village, Polina, the fires, the barn, the abuse, Zoya.

There's pressure on your arm, and with a groan, you turn your head to look to your left. There, your wife rests her head on the cot you now notice you're laying on. She looks sad, and exhausted, and you want to brush her hair back from her face but she's got her hand in yours, her forehead rested against your forearm. You admire her for a moment, swallowing thickly, your throat dry and croaky. You notice that many of your cuts and injuries had been healed as well as possible, but many had been too much for healers to erase entirely. Mostly, bruises are left, but all of the soreness, the ache and sharp pains, remain. You can see that you'd been wiped down, your skin not so dirty and bloody as it had been. Settling into your thoughts, you can tell that you're undressed, bandages around your middle, others in various places across your arms and legs.

You bring the hand that Zoya does not occupy to your face, and notice a bandage around the wrist, likely where you'd struggled against the binds, tearing into your skin. You brush hair from your forehead, and wince at the nasty cut your fingers skim. The movement shoots an ache through your back, ribs, and temples, and the jostle rouses Zoya, which you had not intended. Truthfully, you knew she needed rest, and she was just so pretty while she slept.

Her head flies up, and she blinks the sleep from her eyes, her gaze settling on you once she remembers where she's at. Her blue eyes widen, and she breathes your name in a sigh of relief. She scoots closer, and holds your face in her hands.

"You're awake," she whispers, like she worried you never would be.

You give her a weak smile, and she tries to return it, but she fails. Her eyes well with tears again, and she can't control the sob that bursts out of her.

"Zoya," your voice is hoarse, "don't cry, baby, I'm alright."

She huffs a laugh, but it's humorless and bitter. "You are certainly not alright."

She reaches down, and picks up a glass of water that had been next to the cot. She cradles the back of your head, lifting it gently while bringing the glass to your lips. She pours it into your mouth slowly, the fresh water is an instant relief. You drink eagerly, and she pulls back. "Slow down, my love, you'll choke."

She helps you take a few more sips until you stop, satisfied and feeling more awake. Your head meets the pillow again, and you lick your lips with the newly provided moisture.

She sets the glass down, and you watch her closely, her face pinched, a few tears leaking from her eyes.

"Zoya, please, I'm okay. Sore, but I'm okay."

She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. "Y/N, you were nearly dead when I found you."

"Zoya..."

"Nearly dead!" She bites out, turning to face you.

You flinch at her tone, and she sighs. "Nearly dead, Y/N, if I had been seconds later..."

"But you weren't, you saved me, you saved Nadine..." Your voice trails off, and Zoya senses the question. She nods softly, "Nadine is okay, I think she woke up an hour or so ago."

You sigh in relief. "H-How long have I been out?"

She shrugs, "I'm not completely sure. I haven't been paying much attention to the time, I haven't left your side. I haven't gone outside. It may have been a couple of hours, or days, I wouldn't know. I didn't leave you."

She sounds like she's reassuring herself, not you. Your heart aches for her, at how dedicated her love is. "I don't doubt it, Zoya."

She nods, and wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. She goes to speak, but you know Zoya all too well, know what she's about to say. You beat her to it. "Zoya, nothing that happened is your fault."

She scoffs, shaking her head.

"Zoya, I mean it. Even I hadn't anticipated this, not Nadine, not Ilya, none of us. And speaking of... is Ilya..."

"He's the one that alerted us. He was awake, when they set the inn on fire, he left and came straight back home."

You nod, relieved that he had made it out, thankful that he had done exactly as you taught him. Never engage with a threat out of your range, always get backup.

"I was so, so terrified when he got there, when he told us what happened."

"Sweetheart..." You reach for her hand, holding it tight,

"It was the middle of the night. I woke up to Tolya banging on my door, telling me something had happened, that you'd been attacked," her voice cracks, and you squeeze her hand. "All I could think about is how I was going to lose you, how I was a fool for letting you go, that I had let you leave and I was going to pay for it. I felt like I was going to be sick. I left immediately, the best of the Second Army with me. I-I thought I wouldn't get in here time, or I'd arrive and you'd have been... long dead. That somehow you would have died, been taken from me, and I wouldn't have known."

You shake your head, tears of your own threatening to spill. "Zoya, no. Stop thinking that way. You didn't let me leave, I'm a grown woman, with a duty to Ravka and the Grisha, if it's anyone's fau-"

"And look what that duty did to you!" She emphasizes 'duty' like it's a curse, leveling her gaze at you. Zoya, when upset, when frightened, masks it with anger. You know that, and so you don't take it to heart.

"Zoya, this doesn't need to be a fight. You know that I love my job. And you know, better than anyone, that what we've done has done far more good for the Grisha than bad. You can't let one incident change that."

"Incident?" She looks at you like you've grown three heads, her tears falling quickly now, distorting her voice. "You were nearly killed!"

"Yes, I was, but I survived, because of you."

"Look at you, Y/N... bruised, bloody. You can't even hold your own head up!"

Yes, it's true, you've never been this injured before, especially in front of Zoya. And you know that if the roles were reversed, if it was you waiting at Zoya's bedside, terrified she may not wake up, you'd be distraught. You aren't denying your wife's terror, but you do wish she wouldn't let it manifest into anger, into self-loathing.

You sigh, trying to keep the frustration at bay. "Zoya," your tone is sharp, "I am so, so sorry you had to see me like this. But I won't give up my job for it."

She shakes her head and looks down at your interlaced hands. "I didn't mean to start a fight, I'm sorry."

"I know, baby, it's alright." You squeeze her hand again, in an attempt to get her to look at you, but she doesn't.

"But, I can't let you go out again, n-not... not for a while."

"Zoy-"

"No, Y/N, please, just listen." Finally, she reconnects her gaze with yours.

"Clearly, something went very, very wrong." You nod your head, because yes, something went terribly wrong. "I don't know yet if it was just simple misinformation, or if someone, one of our soldiers in the field, deliberately falsified intel in order to lure you or I out, away from the palace, away from protection."

Truthfully, you hadn't considered that. It's difficult for you to fathom any of the Grisha wanting to harm one another. But your love for them isn't a universal sentiment.

You swallow thickly, but you don't interrupt.

"I am going to find out, though, Y/N. I swear it." Zoya's voice is a dangerously calm whisper, her tone sharp. "I won't stop until I find every single person responsible for this, whoever did this to you, they're going to pay." It isn't just a statement, it's a promise.

"So some escaped, then? They fled?"

Zoya flinches, as if she blames herself for anyone who had harmed you escaping her wrath. "Yes. When we arrived... it was like Hell broke loose. So much fighting, everywhere, across the whole town. So, yes, some of them... managed to escape. I'm sorry."

"Zoya, no, please, don't be sorry for anything. None of us really knew the extent of what was happening."

She nods, firm and absolute. Her eyes narrow as she looks at you. "Now do you understand why this has to end, these rescue missions? At least until we have a better understanding of what these rogues are capable of, what they want to accomplish?"

Ahhh, you thought, she doesn't know that Gregor, the man she killed, wasn't a rogue. He was one of our own. I'll tell her later, let her worry later, she's been terrified enough.

"Yes, my love, I do. I respect your wishes, you know that. I won't go out into the field for a while, but I won't quit this. If there's an investigation to launch, I want in."

She rolls her eyes, though it's playful. "Yes, yes, I figured you would."

You grin, and reach for her face, cupping her cheek. "I love you, Zoya. Thank you, for saving me."

She turns, placing a kiss in the palm of your hand. Then she leans forward, careful of your split and swollen lip, and places a kiss there, too. "I love you, Y/N, more than anything."

---

It isn't for another few days that you're able to be moved. During the first two days, Zoya fills you in on all of the details you were unaware of as you'd been held hostage. You learn that nearly every building, every home, every business, had burned, save for a lucky few. Many had died, but not all of them. Healers were able to bring many people back from the brink of death, and soothe any minor injuries sustained. Zoya told you the village people are resilient, and thankful towards the Grisha that had come so fiercely to save them.

You learn that while Alexei had lived, surviving minor burns and scrapes, Polina had died, her injuries far too grave. Zoya held you while you cried through the sadness and guilt, and she swore to you that Grisha would be stationed in the village to help them rebuild. They were already developing a plan to return water to the lake, and they would continue to provide financial support while the town reestablished its commerce. And while you knew that Zoya would never, ever, back down on that promise, you still felt miserable that it was one that even had to be made. Polina, a hard working woman, that earned everything she had, that loved her town, would never see it restored, all because you had stopped to stay at her little inn. The tears came often, and Zoya wiped them away each time.

On the third day, Zoya helped you sit up. She'd been babying you, but you couldn't complain, secretly adoring when she dotes on you. You insisted that you could stand, too, and walk around. While she wasn't too fond of that idea, she delicately wrapped her arm around you and supported you as you left the little healer's tent you'd been staying in.

You were able to finally see Nadine, and Ilya, who volunteered to be one of the Grisha that stayed behind. Nadine was promptly promoted for her intellect and, as you recalled her growls and efforts to resist Gregor, for her passion. Just as injured as you, you two weren't able to embrace much, but you did tell her how proud of her you are, and how thankful that she'll be going home, too. Though, if there was anyone more eager than you to keep working, it was Nadine, and because she isn't married to the Queen, there isn't anyone to really stop her. Ilya tried to apologize for leaving, for not trying to find the both of you first, but you quickly shushed him, telling him he had done everything right. And, you supposed he had a bright future ahead of him, seeing as Zoya was incredibly thankful to him for his swiftness.

On the fourth day, you finally convinced Zoya that it was time to go home, and that you'd survive the journey. Every night, she'd been applying ointments and medicines to your cuts and scrapes, hand feeding you food and water. She'd get a wet wash cloth and wipe your skin, due to absence of a bathing room. Every morning she'd brush out your hair and braid it, to prevent knots. She rarely left your side, only budging when the Grisha needed guidance and direction. She slept on your cot with you, declining to have her own, claiming, "I don't think I'll ever be close enough to you anymore."

A few members of the Second Army that were to return to the palace, Nadine included, sat on their saddled horses waiting for you and Zoya to join them. Zoya, ever the dramatic, had added blankets and such to your horse, for comfort. She even made a Fabrikator attach buckles to your saddle, because she was worried that if you weren't strapped in, you'd fall off.

She lifts you with ease, putting you on top of your mount, and making sure you're secure before she climbs atop her own. The trip, while able to be made in a day, was to be split into two, for your and Nadine's sakes.

Zoya sends everyone to ride a few paces ahead, so that she can trail closely next to you. You giggle at her protectiveness, but your heart swells at just how perfect of a wife she is.

Zoya watches you, noticing how every so often, you glance back at the ruins of the village you're leaving behind.

"We'll come back, love."

You shoot her a confused glance. "We will?"

She nods, she smiles, and she sighs. "I know you won't stop thinking about this place, won't stop worrying. When they've rebuilt some, and they're back on their feet, you and I will come back, we'll help with the finishing touches."

You could cry at how well Zoya knows you, how she'd do anything to make you happy and satisfied, including travel back to a village, one any other royal would have written off as insignificant and unimportant, one that is now a source of trauma, maybe even more so for her than you.

"I would love that, Zoya, thank you. I love you, so much."

She smiles, and her cheeks grow a bit pink at the sheer adoration in your voice.

"I love you, too."

---

A/N: WOW! I made this a hell of a lot longer than I had originally intended lol. I hope you liked it, anon! And thanks so much for requesting!

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justzawe · 2 years

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‘I said, put me in a corset asap’: Zawe Ashton on period dramas, pregnancy and embracing silliness

After a series of harrowing roles, the former Fresh Meat star is rediscovering her ‘joyful side’, with a Bridgerton-esque romp – and a baby on the way with Tom Hiddleston

by Liv Little

It’s the day after Zawe Ashton’s 38th birthday when we speak. She’s wearing a bright red, Regency-inspired, rose-covered headdress; she’s had it on since her celebrations with friends and family the night before. “I’ve worn this all weekend. And I thought: ‘Shall I act cool and take it off for Liv? Or will she appreciate it on some level?’” she says with a laugh.

Ashton is still buzzing from the birthday love – as well as, perhaps, the early praise for her leading role in the period film drama Mr Malcolm’s List. She insists she avoids looking at reviews or engaging with what the public think, but it’s impossible to remain completely in the dark. “Obviously, you end up hearing things … That’s the thing I’m hypersensitive to, what that means for the film-makers especially,” she says earnestly.

This year marks the start of a new chapter for Ashton, both personally – she’s expecting her first child with her fiance, Tom Hiddleston – and professionally: alongside Mr Malcolm’s List, she has a villainous role in superhero blockbuster The Marvels on the horizon. Both developments will bring a level of attention she’s unused to; despite starting out in showbiz when she was just six years old (she appeared as an extra in the beloved British-Caribbean sitcom Desmond’s), Ashton has managed to avoid the chaotic life of many who find themselves in the spotlight from a young age.

I ask if she deliberately keeps what is most sacred to her private. “I’m not Gwyneth Paltrow. I don’t know how to do that thing,” she says, by which she means broadcasting the most intimate parts of her life for the world to dissect. Although, let’s be real, that is already happening without Ashton’s permission: ever since she and Hiddleston were first linked in late 2019, after they starred together in the London revival of Harold Pinter’s Betrayal, the internet has been full of feverish speculation about their relationship.

Still, she doesn’t mean to cast shade on Paltrow. “I mean, I love the Goop of it all,” she adds, referring to Paltrow’s Netflix series Sex, Love and Goop, which takes couples on a journey of sexual and spiritual awakening. “I binged it in one night,” she says. It’s an admission you could never imagine being made by the character she’s best known for – the achingly edgy Vod from Fresh Meat, the cult TV comedy set in a Manchester student flatshare. In contrast to Vod’s take-no-prisoners attitude, Ashton is all jokes and smiles, radiating warmth.

Though Ashton closely guards her private life, during the recent press tour for Mr Malcolm’s List she was unable to hide her very visible pregnancy. “That’s the hysterical thing,” she says. “No one wants to go on a press tour at the same time that they want to keep their personal life private, but that’s my ‘contractual professional obligation’,” she says, partly serious, partly making light of the situation.

Ashton landed in New York for the film’s premiere just as news broke that Roe v Wade had been overturned. “I thought: ‘Oh God, there’s nothing more tone deaf I could be doing right now than promoting a lighthearted movie.’ I was also very aware that my presence in that promotion would be as a pregnant person.” She argues that it’s more important than ever that the different journeys of child-bearing people are acknowledged. “We’re having very important conversations about the autonomy we have over our bodies. What better autonomy could I have than just doing it how I wanted to do it?” Ashton is conscious that not everyone has had the same experience. “I have so many friends who have been through real grief, with regards to pregnancy and conception. I hope I can represent anyone on this journey, in whatever way they’re on it. Cos it doesn’t get more ancient than this,” she says jokingly, nodding to the fact that she’s having her first child in her late 30s.

Ashton grew up in east London in a tight family unit with her Ugandan mother and English father, both teachers. She started acting when she was a child and has never been short of work; as well as her breakout role in Fresh Meat, she had parts in films ranging from St Trinian’s 2 to Nocturnal Animals, and more recently appeared in the fourth season of The Handmaid’s Tale. Yet before Mr Malcolm’s List, she had never starred in a period drama.

The film, set in 19th-century Britain, follows the hilarious and often devious character of Julia Thistlewaite (Ashton), who is in her fourth season of seeking a match in high society and at very real risk of being labelled past it. Her character plots revenge against the eligible bachelor Mr Malcolm (Sopé Dìrísù) after he rejects her for failing to meet all the criteria on his list of attributes for a prospective wife. She enlists the help of her cousin Selina (Freida Pinto), with whom she hopes he will fall in love, only for her to break his heart or at least massively embarrass him. It’s a role that makes the most of Ashton’s comic timing, and it’s unsurprising that her performance has been the most talked about of the film.

It wasn’t until watching Bridgerton that Ashton imagined finding a place for herself within the period genre. After falling in love with a world filled with romance, gossip and high tea, she sent her team an email saying: “‘Put me in a corset asap’ – but I didn’t think of it as on course to happening!” With the serendipity of the best romantic comedy, it wasn’t long before the call for Mr Malcolm’s List came through. The actor who had previously been cast in the lead role had dropped out, and Ashton was given just 24 hours to decide whether she wanted it. Despite being second choice, she accepted enthusiastically. “You mustn’t have any ego about this as an actor,” she says. “Film-making is intricate, it’s difficult, it’s expensive, it’s weird. And wherever you end up is wherever you end up. So I was just stoked to do it, because I had just watched Bridgerton, and I’m not going to lie, I thought: ‘The door is open!’”

That wasn’t always the case.

Ashton tells me that when she was studying acting in Manchester, teachers adopted a white-centric approach to period drama. “There was this terrible time when you had to do period pieces where the reference, or sometimes the explicit message, was that anyone of colour in the cast had to imagine themselves as white,” she recalls with dismay. “That’s actually what a director said to us as a group when we were doing a Restoration comedy. And you can imagine the comedy immediately left the bones of the seven people of colour.” Ashton, of course, is far from the first Black actor to share the traumas of being a minority within a majority-white acting class, which is why she’s now taking the time to deliver talks and connect with other students. “I’ve decided to dedicate myself to that this year,” she says.

As a self-described “creative chameleon”, it didn’t make sense to Ashton that the artistic fantasies of others didn’t stretch to seeing Black people step into worlds or characters unknown. “I couldn’t understand why the imagination I had as a reader of classic pieces was not being interpreted on screen.” She finds it absurd that it has taken almost 32 years of acting for her to be tasked with putting on a bonnet. “Sometimes there’s this undertone, like: ‘Well done for retaining enough energy to wait for this moment to happen.’ And that’s a little bit how it feels to step into period drama.”

Many of the roles Ashton played before Mr Malcolm’s List had been harrowing (with the notable exception of Fresh Meat). Earlier this year she starred as a survivor of sexual assault in Lucy Kirkwood’s urgent 25-minute BBC drama Maryland, a work filled with the collective anger of women fed up with a failing criminal justice system. In Dreams of a Life (released in 2011, the same year Fresh Meat premiered), she played the near-silent role of Joyce Carol Vincent, the north London woman whose dead body lay in front of her television for three years before anyone noticed she was gone.

The intensity of those characters’ worlds sits in stark contrast to the jubilance of Ashton’s latest part. She revelled in the chance to go light. “The process of getting into this character was like allowing myself to feel joyful, silly, tender, clumsy, goofy, soft.” These are, she suggests, states of being that Black women are often assumed not to experience. “I thought: ‘Why would anyone think that my peers and I were incapable of this joyful, tender thing?’ What’s that about?”

You’re allowed to play a fun role, I point out. “I am absolutely allowed!” she says. “I realised that for myself at some point in filming. That was a huge penny that dropped.”

She reflects on a protest she attended in east London recently, in response to the story of Child Q, the 15-year‑old schoolgirl who was strip-searched by police officers in 2020 after school staff falsely accused her of having marijuana in her possession. Child Q was menstruating at the time. Teachers and officers didn’t contact her parents before she was searched, and no other adults were present. As Ashton speaks, it is evident just how much the abuse experienced by Child Q disturbed her. ‘‘I went to the protest with a placard bearing a slogan that the writer Bonnie Greer had given me. She was like: ‘Why are people trying to take tenderness from young Black children?’ And I thought that was such a poetic way of putting it. So instead of something very boldly antagonistic, which is where your mind goes when you write a placard for any type of protest, I wrote: ‘Stop killing young Black children’s dreams’. Then I scrubbed that out, and put: ‘Let Black children dream’.”

Ashton might be starring in period dramas and Marvel movies these days, but not long ago she was on the verge of giving up acting altogether; she was worried about being typecast after five years of starring in Fresh Meat. “There are strange things that happen when you leave episodic television, and I think this applies in the UK and the US. There’s a really weird chunk of time where everyone wants you to do the same thing again.” She points to the example of Friends. “Look at the stalling Joey spin-off. Look at the subsequent difficult realigning of identities that someone like Matthew Perry, who played Chandler, went through.”

She briefly moved to the Kent seaside town of Margate in 2018 to clear her head; it helped her return to the industry refreshed. After years of navigating entertainment, she had been on the verge of burning out. “I think it’s because I started young, before any pendulum swing in the industry. I’ve seen it all at this point. The stories I could tell – I mean, that’s the reason I wrote Character Breakdown,” she says, referring to the book she published in 2019, which explores the horrors of the TV and film industry through a mix of fiction and memoir. It’s both shocking and humorous, and includes imagined scenes that reflect the power plays between film-makers, actors and agents. After her brief hiatus from the industry, the role to reel her back into the world of entertainment was, fittingly, that of a gallerist in 2019’s Velvet Buzzsaw, a horror-thriller situated in the world of fine art that asks the question: who is in control – the artist or the industry?

Reflecting on the Ashton of now versus the Ashton who rose to fame in Fresh Meat (the show turned 10 last year), she is more focused on the parts of herself that stayed the same rather than the elements that have changed. “I’m still someone who wants to create interesting characters,” she says. “I’m also someone who loves being part of a loving ensemble – that’s where I always feel most alive. I still love Manchester. I’m not that person any more, but I don’t really know in which ways I’m not – that’s so weird, isn’t it?”

It has been intriguing for Ashton to witness the ways people have seen themselves reflected in the character of Vod. “A student said to me: ‘You are the first person of colour I saw representing any sort of flavour of non-binary or punk or queerness on television.’” She recognises the huge responsibility that comes with that status.

Part of the reason Vod has chimed with so many young people who find themselves occupying a space outside the norm is Ashton’s unwavering determination to create complicated characters over likable ones. “The show’s brilliant creators Sam Bain and Jesse Armstrong wanted me to play it like Vod’s really cool. I said, early on: ‘I won’t be able to create someone cool for you, but I will be able to create someone who doesn’t give a fuck.’”

There is a widespread sense that, because there has been so little representation of marginalised perspectives within the film and TV industry, each character who does make it on to the screen must represent every minority experience, which, of course, it cannot. It’s something that has long frustrated Ashton. “Reading Toni Morrison taught me from a very early age that the personal is universal. Anyone who tries to tell you it’s not has to think about that. That’s also just the way art works. You know, it doesn’t need to be liked all the time. This is what I can’t bear! I don’t care.”

Someone who instilled this mantra within Ashton is the groundbreaking Black artist Lorraine O’Grady. During a series of documentaries she recorded with the artist ahead of the Tate exhibition Soul of a Nation: Art in the Age of Black Power in 2017, Ashton learned that O’Grady had been shunned by some of the Black artist networks in New York because her work extended beyond the concerns of Black struggle. Yet, at 87, O’Grady continues to create the art she wants to see. “Is she someone who goes to bed at night feeling a bit sad that she was outcast by certain communities? Yes. Has she let it take her away from her gut and her heart, and her own experience? No, she has not.”

Having taken inspiration from O’Grady, how have Ashton’s own personal struggles affected her professional life? “They say the same things you struggle with as a person are the same things you struggle with as an actor,” she says. “There was a point when I couldn’t cry on cue. I was like, ‘God I’m just a crap actor, everyone else seems to be able to act loads of stuff, and it’s just me.’ And, actually, it was me. I had a lot of unprocessed sadness and trauma that wasn’t ready to come out in my own life, let alone when someone snapped their fingers and said to cry on behalf of someone else.”

What eventually allowed Ashton to process her own trauma was her writing. In 2019, she wrote a play called For All the Women Who Thought They Were Mad, exploring how workplace dynamics affect Black women. “There is an instant feeling of writing from places that need releasing, writing about something that was traumatising me. So I’m changing the world and changing myself at the same time, and that’s still how I write now.”

And when Ashton isn’t making sense of the world’s traumas, past, present and future, what does she do for fun? She really has to think about this one, not because there isn’t joy in her life – it’s full of it – but because her life’s enjoyments are in many ways tied up in her work. “I feel attacked,” she says through a giggle, as I list some possible activities that she could do for fun outside of the classic film club she joined during lockdown, or the books she reads (she hosted last year’s Women’s prize for fiction podcast).

“I want to get back to the sea,” she says. “It changed my whole headspace. And I should take up gardening.” A day later, she sends me a follow-up email, concerned I might think she’s forgotten how to have fun. “I gave the most post-Covid answer to my free-time question. Forgetting that I love art galleries, live music, yoga and pilates, acupuncture and painting. Sometimes I’m still operating from a place of captivity!”

It’s time for Ashton to go. Hobbies or not, she has plenty on the horizon: she is a woman on the verge of everything from Marvel to motherhood. But, amid the upheaval, she appears to have found a new equilibrium. “I think over the past five years I’ve realised that the only way to do anything in this industry is to be anchored in myself,” she says. “As long as I have that, everything else will fall into place.”

Mr Malcolm’s List is released in the UK on 26 August and is out now in the US.

#zawe ashton #the guardian saturday #interview #article #mml promo

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literary-illuminati · 1 year

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Book Review 12 - Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation Vol. 1 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

So, like everyone on tumblr, I was at least peripherally aware of The Untamed, if only as ‘the C-drama with the impossibly pretty men everyone loves shipping about necromancy or something.’ (Also the one crossover porn fanfic with so many tags that it broke AO3.) So I wasn’t quite coming into this blind, but I think I came pretty close. It sure as hell wasn’t anywhere close to my vague expectations.

Anyway, this was fun! Also absolutely let me cross off reading something from an entirely unfamiliar literary subculture off my metaphorical bingo card for the year. Just reams of assumed context I absolutely did not possess. Kind of loved it (but the occasional clarifying footnotes were very much necessary and appreciated.)

Which is to say – there was so much more slapstick and physical comedy than I expected from the vague intimations of feudal politics and magical warfare I got? Not usually my sort of humour but it got a laugh out of me once or twice. My favourite character is Wei Wuxian’s donkey.

The conceit of the first story – reviled and abused failson destroys his own soul and offers up his body as a host to the spirit of a legendary evil wizard to wreak bloody vengeance for him, but fucks up the bit of the ritual that tells the spirit who to take revenge on. Also the whole ‘legendary evil wizard’ reputation was at least partially and vaguely due to a propaganda campaign by his enemies and he’s not particular enthusiastic about the ‘murder a whole family’ thing – is also just incredible. I kind of wish it had been more drawn out, before the whole ‘gotta collect them [chunks of a specific super cursed corpse] all!’ plot became the main justifying connective tissue.

Not that the overarching plot is really the story’s strong point – it’s basically just the excuse to keep Wei Wuxian and Wang Lanji together and having adventures. The actual selling points are the backstories and character interactions and to a lesser extent the monster of the week stuff. All of which are pretty well done!

Though as far as monster of the week stuff goes – I’m vaguely aware that cultivation fantasy is a whole, like, genre, with about as many weirdly specific shared assumptions as ‘generic’ western fantasy written by people swimming in a sea of Tolkien/Conan-as-interpreted-by-Warcraft-and-D&D, but I’ve really got zero clue whatsoever to what degree the worldbuilding of this is typical of the genre? Not that it particularly matters, beyond some of the reveals making much more sense if they’re building off an assumed awareness of how the world’s expected to work, all more or less new (though more or less intuitive) to me either way. Fun to see so much magic based around music.

Anyways – obviously I’m going in with a biased perspective but my god can you see how this ended up with a massive shipping fandom. The entire story is nothing but impossibly beautiful men flirting/pranking/sexually harassing each other while being utterly and entirely capable to even understand let along communicate their feelings. The two lead’s entire relationship in this volume is like a dated mid-2000s comedy sketch about two ostensibly straight guys playing gay chicken and both being so competitive that they just end up fucking. Author really knew what they were doing with the fanfic bait.

(Though honestly I’m legitimately unsure if it’s just a matter of narrative choice to not dwell on motivations or Wei Wuxian really is the single most unselfaware asshole in the entire universe. He legitimately seems incapable of understanding his own motivations most of the time.)

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the art, which really is very lovely. Though I will be entirely honest that there’s only so many handsome black-haired men in flowing robes I can keep apart in my head.

But yeah, fun read overall. Don’t exactly feel compelled to go seek out the next volume, but don’t regret having read this one, damn sight better than some other things I’ve read this year.

#book review #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mo xiang tong xiu

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theangryjikooker · 1 year

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nain was 18, not 19. she was born august 9th 2003, so in january 2022 she was 18 and in 12th grade.

i do think it's creepy if jungkook, born in 1997 and having SIX years difference from her would pursue her in an intimate way. the age gap is enormous and morally reproachable. if jungkook was into teenage girls in that way i really don't think he would show it to the world in this way. i think he just wanted to show he admired her skill at such a young age. how could he not know her age? she was in a show literally made for high school dance crews. everyone in korea knows those girl's ages. jungkook was rooting for her team because they were from his previous school. he knew that was a high school girl.

I’m 15/10 exhausted.

I’m not saying it’s not creepy. But before I even knew they had an age gap, I was going off on only what was told to me. Using those details, I surmised that what the very first anon suggested could be true (that maybe there was valid interest there) because I was literally going off the limited context given to me.

I distinctly recall an anon calling me out for not knowing every detail/event there is to know about Jikook/BTS. And I don’t, that’s true—most of the time I’m aware of vague details, enough that more well-informed fans know what I’m referring to. I’m sorry, but my life doesn’t revolve around BTS and being knowledgeable about what they’re up to every second of every day and what the peanut gallery has to say about them.

Generally speaking, my anons/followers are really good about chiming in with corrections where needed, but I don’t expect them to do so, just as I don’t expect people to bring up topics I never would’ve brought up in the first place—especially when I know nothing about it.

I only respond to the best of my abilities. If I happen to know more, I’ll say so in my answers.

Knowing what I do now about Nain, her reception to Jungkook and her actions following that initial recognition does take on a different nuance. But I’d also like to point out that I did say nothing about her actions seemed out of turn to me. Of course, no one pays attention to everything I say, just whatever stirs drama. 😑

#TAJ asks #anon submission #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts shipping

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katnissgirlsmakedo · 1 year

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rewatched mirror mirror. as was voted the other day. here are my thoughts. i told you you're not allowed to be mad at me when i get mean, you all voted for this. i told you i was going to be mean, don't you dare get mad at me for being mean about the movie i consistently bring up in a negative light that you voted for me to watch again!! anyway.

perhaps this movie's most egrigious sin was making me fall in love with it at 11 years old. i can't in good conscious say that it's really "bad", this was THE movie for me when i was 11. i'm literally always calling this "my movie from when i was 11" this movie is as much a part of me as my genetically bad knees. however. i fucking hate my knees. worst part of my body fr. just like this movie is the worst defining movie i've ever had, all things considered.

its not necessarily truly a Bad Movie. it’s just that the only things that are truly good about it are a) the aesthetics. everyone on every visual design team was slaying on this movie, the costuming the production design the hair department the prop team the vfx artists the fucking genius that designed the dvd to look like an apple with a bite taken out of it.... just wall to wall GORGEOUS aesthetics oh my god. and b) julia roberts is here

other than that it's lackluster to just nothing. where to even start. the misogyiny? no let's circle back to that. let's start with the underutilization of my bff robert emms. also known as pythagoras bbc atlantis. hi bestie <3 i wish you got to be in this movie more. ok next thing. it's gonna be another complaint about an actor. yeah that one. no it's not just because i'm mad at him for last weeks sleep movie debacle. although i am still mad about that, that has nothing to do with the fact that he is a mediocre to quite poor actor, and he brings such a bad vibe to this character i am literally suppossed to be charmed by. even at 11 i had a sense of bad vibes. i could tell there was something unchic afoot etc. i was always so mad when snow white would fall in love with him every time i watched the movie but i knew it was suppossed to happen that way so i didn't really mind. but i hated it, i hated him. he's not a good person, and he's not that charming, and he's played by a man who seems to think he's in a combination knockoff shonda rhimes drama and a strange fantasy animated sitcom in 2005. can't explain that stuff just vibe or don't. he thinks he could do bbc merlin. he couldn't. not with 100% of his effort. conversely, bradley james could do this movie with three days notice and no script, and that's really saying something because he's like only the fourth or fifth most talented actor in that show's main cast. anyway why didn't they cast someone lily collins actually had good chemistry with. am i being crazy rn because i think he's got bad vibes or do you guys notice that they don't have good chemistry too? it's not bad per se. it could be better tho.

and where to begin on the weird. kink stuff. jesus christ. are we not suppossed to talk about that stuff? did you guys not notice that stuff? are you ignoring it because of the cool costumes? i don't even want to talk about it really i just think it's weird that no one ever wants to bring that up.

anyway i guess that brings us back to the misogyny. nobody likes it when i say stuff like this and i know nobody likes it but i'm gonna keep doing it beause i am so fucking sick of this patriarchy shit and how it invades literally every aspect of life on this earth and i am constantly intimately aware of all of it all the time and it makes me so angry just to like. exist in the world with all of this rage and knowledge and no power to truly change anything outside my own small life and circle and community. and like to have to log on to the chronically online assholes talking about media analysis website and still no one wants to talk about the fucking. misogyny that bleeds through every movie. is ridiculous. this movie wants to pretend that it's a girl power story just because they gave snow white a sword. it's very 2012. except that other media was doing the exacxt concept of "badass snow white" in 2011. 2007. 2005. like, i was there, i know everything there is to know about it, unfortunately. she's not a badass just because she can hold a sword she's a badass because she hates taxes. and she was useless with that sword anyway so what was the point of giving it to her, just so you could say you gave snow white a sword? just so you could get a little training montage? and then we ignore that half the dudes in this montage are routinely demeaning and objectifying her because she's a woman. ok work. feminism! and her love interest hates women and literally consistently devalues her capability and does not ever learn anything the whole time? and they're in true love? and then they get married after he has undergone zero character development and presumably still views her as inferior because of her gender and now he's going to become the king of HER kingdom and rule HER people? yeah that's the future gloria steinem envisioned.

i don't mean to say she's not a strong character, because she is, i wouldn't have latched onto this movie so strongly with my grubby little 11 year old hands if she hadn't been. but it's just so disheartening that a huge piece of this movie and this whole story in general is the love between her and the prince, and then this movie did so well making her a well rounded character who consistently defied expectations of the role she was meant to play as a woman in her society, and then she married a man that looked down on her and her values and her femininity, and HE gets to become the king of HER kingdom someday. i think he should kill himself. i hope she kills him after a year of marriage. i hope no one mourns him.

and really the whole "edgy(ish) modern fairy tale adaptation" thing is rarely done well, in a way that both honors it's source material and the traditions and conventions they came from, and creates something new. this movie was on a great track, it really does do quite well in this regard i won't pretend otherwise. i always gripe about how true love's kiss is represented in modern media, and this movie is not an exception to that (the POINT of it in fairy tales is not that the characters knew a kiss of love would save their beloved, the point is that they DON'T know that true love's kiss will save them. the kiss happens because it is a final gesture of love to a doomed lover. the point is that true love's kiss brings the lover back because the one that kissed them loved them so much even when all hope was lost. whatever it doesn't matter that much) anyway. the only thing really is that it suffers from Made By A Man Disease. not to be confused with the mere fact of being made by a man. it's different. and the men that did this one have some serious issues they need to unpack with a therapist and maybe also their mothers. it's just like. you'll never be the american broadcasting company's once upon a time (2011-2018) created by edward kitsis and adam horowitz. you'll never be her.

AND ANOTHER THING. i know am literally always saying that movies should end with musical numbers a la ella enchanted (you just can't go wrong when you follow your heart and end with a song fr) however. the ending musical number in this movie feels. slightly off. i like that it's very bollywood-esque, that definitely helps it stand out at least. it's not that it doesn't work, because it kind of does. or it works just enough. i think the thing i dislike about it is that they didn't commit hard enough, it plays on half the screen while credits go on the other half, it's like it's a little add on to the end and not the actual ending, lame! also the lyrics are very tonally off with the rest of the movie tbh. "i belive in love"? yeah girl, we know, the whole movie is about how you saved yourself and all the people you cared about from an opressive ruler becasue you loved them and wanted life to be better for these people you loved. you didn't like. learn to believe in love as this song might suggest... idk. it's not really about the lyrics it's more the uncommitted thing. also. the bollywood inspo would have been less tonally inconsistent if there were evan a hint of that in any of the other music in here. unfortunately. so it doesn't gel well and i kinda hate it for those reasons.

anyway hi clary i just saw you on friday <3 hi pythagoras i just saw you on wednesday <3 hi julia roberts, you've been on my tv a few times lately too <3 and hi to no one else in here that i may have seen recently.

#k that’s my piece.#beth.txt #mirror mirror #tagged purely for organizational purposes

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rocksanddeadflowers · 11 months

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that's it, no more super rushed out of nowhere sexually charged energy in romance, like heavy making out and implied or explicit sex scenes from out of nowhere.

make a proper narrative. if you want sexy stuff make it feel natural. no everyone experiences lust and love like that.

sure it happens and there's nothing wrong about that when it does (as long as it's mutually consensual obviously). but god can you shake it up a little bit??? please?????

casual psychical affection is, to me, way more intimate than sex. I don't mean sex isn't important for many relationships or isn't super intimate, I just mean casual physical affection in a way where it shows the characters are so in love, understand each other so well, and are so comfortable around each other (whether they are consciously aware of these facts or not) that they share little touches subconsciously all the time.

foreheads kisses, side hugs, hand holding, pats on the shoulder, touching ankles, forehead bumps, cheek kisses, resting their hand on the other's, one flopping on top of the other while lounging around, etc etc

also, when the height of drama or the climax of the story is happening or just ended and two characters are finally getting reunited, it's so much more satisfying to see them run so fast and hard into a giant hug that it makes an audible noise of their collusion and they squeeze each other tightly than running into a kiss, even if the hug is immediately followed by a kiss or many kisses, that intense moment of just needed to be as close to each other as possible, it just feels right to hold on as tightly as possible.

what I'm saying is, if you want your romance to be very sexually charged or have tons of sexual tension, that's fine. I'm just asking for and suggesting other options. I think it would be nice to a proper realistic slowburn outside of ao3 for once, and to show that you can be extremely romantic with someone without sex related stuff being a necessary factor. also some ace representation in main stream media would be deeply appreciated.

#this is propaganda for the aroace community as well as propaganda for ao3 top kudo'd quality #tune in next time when i give a similar rant about needing platonic love to be equally as adored and represented and desired and romantic #platonic love can be just as real and go just as deep and be just as strong and romantic love

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subject-2-change · 2 years

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Incoming vent about my best friend's girlfriend:

My best friend is out of town for the month and her girlfriend is messaging me. We are chill, so nothing new there. But, suddenly she started sending me paragraphs on paragraphs about how their time away from each other is good and how my friend needs more time for herself so gf will be around less in the future. And then she got deep and self reflective. Something something tarot. Something something "someone will call if there is an emergency." What emergency?

Ma'am, all I asked was how far is the drive to your place.

I've told her outright I'm never giving her advice again and I barely trust their relationship since months ago she considered ghosting my friend. And was telling me about it. And was asking my advice (which was to not do that). And still almost chose to do that.

I love her and she is great, very sweet, and they are cute together. But she seems to assume that, because I'm her gf's best friend, that I want to participate and be her confidante about their relationship details. I've made it pretty clear I do not. Especially because she feels some type of way about me because I was my friend's first (and kind of recent) love. My friend doesn't come to me with 1/10th this much information. She once started a whole fight and almost left my friend over a personal tarot reading backed up by a TikTok reading (which is a WHOLE mess of issues). Frankly, most of this intense drama is her own perception while my friend is just like, "I love her so we'll be together until one or both of us isn't happy."

It's like gf wants me to encourage her self-awareness and is seeking validation from me about her decisions in their relationship. Often ignoring what advice I have given when I don't agree. I believe her need for validation is why she relies on tarot so heavily (specifically TikTok readings and images online. She's actually quite an excellent reader, if you are into that sort of thing).

Listen, I love to support other people, encourage their ideas and feelings. But when people are begging for validation, I just shut off. It has been an argument I've had with my partner who has major anxiety. If they keep asking me something like, "I'm not that bad, right?" or "you still like me?", I have a threshold. Once I've said it more than a time or two in the same conversation, I feel like now we are going in circles and you are just going to have to trust me. Or times when they have requested information I did not want to share, and when I say, "it doesn't have to do with you," I should not be pressed about the issue, regardless if they feel worried that it does. I have never been the sort to lie about it. That is a limit I have with my own partner.

So when friend's gf comes to me about their deep and intimate connection and her choice to be around less often in the future because she is such a burden on friend's time (which she has done multiple times in the past to friend to get a "no you aren't honey" out of her), I am immediately at my limit.

I don't know if she wants me to applaud her and say, "yes, your decisions are very wise and mature and you are correct that this is better for you both," or "no, dear! We all will miss you and you aren't a burden on friend at all". Either way, I'm not about it and I don't have the emotional bandwidth to deal with her self-inflicted, unsolicited relationship drama. Her ability to say positive things about personal growth, in a way that makes it feel like a crisis every time, is impressive.

I have muted her messages, now I'm gonna have a stiff drink and write some self indulgent fiction about my dnd party.

#vent #sovereigns save me #long post

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aemonds-sapphire · 3 years

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Sweet Tooth — Gojo x Reader (Smut)

Summary: Gojo has a sweet tooth, and he doesn’t really see a reason as to why he can’t combine his love for candy with his desire for you.

Warnings: NSFW. Foodplay. Dry humping. Pussy slide. Cumplay. Praise. Pure filth! After sex fluff.

A/N: Gege Akutami revealed that Gojo developed a sweet tooth from eating too many sweets in order to keep his brain stimulated. So, obviously, I took the liberty to write filthy smut about it.

Word count: 3.2k

“You know... one of these days you’re going to get cavities from all the sweets you consume.”

“Excuse me?” Gojo turned his head to face you as he beheaded a gummy bear with his front teeth. “My oral hygiene is impeccable,” he added springing his index finger up, while opened his mouth to show you perfect row of clean teeth up to prove a point.

You glared at him adoringly, scooting closer on your bed to lean in on him. A pair of black round shades met your eyes before you lowered your head to capture the candy trapped between his lips with your own.

He did nothing to stop you, but instead let out a dramatic gasp. “First, you insult my oral hygiene, and now you’re stealing my sweets?”

“You are such a drama queen,” you chuckled, chewing the rubbery candy while you straddled his hips. “The great Gojo Satoru throwing a fit over stolen candies. What would people say?”

Two big and strong hands came to grip your waist to help you settle comfortably on top of him.

“I’ll take my chances,” he grinned, caressing the hem of your panties. “But next time you try to steal my sweets, I will have Infinity on.”

Deep down, you knew he wouldn’t do that. Least of of all now, since activating it would literally send you flying across the room.

“You’re picking candy over me?” you pouted, leaning once more to give him a privileged view of your breasts. “This relationship is doomed.”

Gojo brought one hand to remove the sunglasses off his face, allowing his mesmerising sky blue eyes to fall on your tempting cleavage. His other free slid down the curve of your ass to land a soft smack, causing you to jolt to have your heated pussy now fully pressed against his hardening cock.

“Why should I have to choose when I can have both?”

Something in his voice had changed, and you felt the heat in your lower abdomen intensify as he bucked his hips into yours ever so gently, but more than enough to have the swell of his cock brush against your clit.

Gojo’s hand reached out to a cup filled with an obnoxious variety of sweets, and he promptly grabbed one more gummy bear. He brought it to his lips, holding it firmly in place between his teeth. He smacked your other ass cheek, sending you forward and causing you to balance your body with your arms on either side oh his head.

A devious smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he hooked his index finger in your top to have you lower yourself on him even more.

Instinctively, you wrapped your lips around the candy, but just as your were about to take a bite, he pulled you into a hungry kiss; it caused you to lose your hold on the sweet, but his tongue promptly push it inside your mouth. Reflexively, you started sliding along his covered cock, yearning for more and more friction.

You didn’t even notice that he was holding yet one more candy in his hand until he broke the kiss.

A lollipop.

Your eyes narrowed at him, suspiciously. “What?”

Gojo gave the round candy a short lick, not holding back a mischievous grin. “Lean back.”

“Why?”

You brought your hands to rest on his muscular chest for support. Gojo surely knew how to keep you entertained in the bedroom; he had a way of knowing exactly which strings to pulls with you in order to make things interesting. But when your eyes landed on his tongue teasingly swirling around the lollipop, a rush of tingles caused your clit to swell even more.

“Do as I say,” he insisted trough hooded eyes, his beautiful long white lashes framing them perfectly. “You’ll like it.”

To be honest, you had no doubt that you would, which was why you settled for doing exactly as told, leaning back and gripping his thighs with both hands to keep your balance.

Gojo took his sweet time admiring your delicious body, from top to bottom, only to have his eyes linger on your tight underwear.

“Be a good girl and let me see that clit.”

The way his words came out in such a velvety delight had your heartbeat quicken as a gush of wetness poured out of you clenching pussy.

He kept twirling the candy in his mouth, and only came to a halt when you slowly pulled the fabric to the side.

Having this handsome man literally drooling for you did wonders to your ego; his entire attention was on you.

“Let me see more of it...”

You felt his cock twitch underneath you when you had your other hand release the grip on his thigh to join your other. Gojo Satoru took pride in how easily he could turn you on. He would get so cocky and wouldn’t miss a chance to remind you that he could easily have you throbbing for him.

Once two of your fingers spread your pussy lips, a low growl came from his throat and his hips jerked up.

“So swollen...” he stated, sliding the lollipop out of his mouth. “Look at how wet you are for me... my pants are soaked.”

You did’t need to look down to verify what he had just said; you could feel the fabric of his sweatpants swallowing all of your juices. Realizing that this was turning you on far more than intended, you locked your two fingers in a v shape and began sliding them along your folds, barely stroking your clit.

That was enough to get a more fiery reaction from him.

Gojo had one hand tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants — most likely to help with the restriction as he had a considerable sized cock —, and the other came to rest near your crotch, the lollipop still in his grip.

“Gojo...” you started, stopping your fingers from moving. ‘What are you—“

He bit his lower lip for a second, as if pondering his next move. Then his gorgeous face met yours with his trademark dashing smile.

“Just keep them parted.”

And just like that, he jerked his hand forward, pressing the lollipop against your clit. The sudden pressure caused you to jolt slightly as you removed your fingers, feeling your pussy lips clamping down on the candy.

“Fuck...” you heard Gojo’s voice come out in heavy pants. “Sweet pussy... so hungry for more...”

He kept alternating the pressure with which he teased your clit, drawing the most erratic moans from you as sticky sounds started to fill the room. You kept your panties firmly pulled to the side, but had to grip his thigh tightly to maintain the position. This was surprisingly hot. Having your folds gripping the lollipop as he ran it up and down your slit.

After a few more seconds of intense stimulation, he removed the candy from you with a wet pop.

Nothing in the world could have prepared you for what you witnessed next: the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer in the world brought the dripping lollipop to his lips, drinking in your juices mixed with the sugary liquid.

“Hmm...” he moaned, his hips swaying up and down as you saw him free his cock from his pant, strings of precum coating his skin. “So fucking delicious.”

“Oh my god...” you breathed, not believing how much hotter this man could get.

His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment a he suckled on it before he glared at you.

“You need to taste this.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks at his offering. “Satoru...”

He released the candy from his mouth and brought downwards to your folds, dragging it along your slit and fold to gather a decent amount of juices. Once he was satisfied with it, he propped himself up with on his elbow.

“Open.”

You immediately parted your lips, feeling it slide slowly inside your mouth.

“Good girl... suck on it.”

Locking your eyes with his, you enveloped it with your tongue to taste the sweetness as well as your warmth on it.

Gojo was visibly satisfied, twirling the stick in between his fingers, and sliding the lollipop in and out, fucking your mouth with it. Everything was happening rather quickly, but the entire setting was proving itself to be so alluring, that you had no other choice but to embrace it. Letting go of your panties, you plated both hands on his hip bones and angled your pussy to weigh down on his cock.

A sudden hiss left his lips as he felt your wet underwear drag along his length.

“No. I want more than that,” he mumbled impatiently, yanking the fabric out of his way. “Sit on my cock.”

Even though your mind was hazy from having the lollipop being used as a fuck toy, you managed to comply with his request and eagerly positioned yourself on his cock, the veiny bulge immediately snuggling between your slick folds.

For someone who was known to excel at everything he had his hands on, Gojo surely lived up to his reputation even when being intimate with someone. Even through his easygoing personality, you were aware that he always put 101% of himself in everything he did.

And in bed, it meant focusing on your pleasure before anything else.

He let the lollipop sit in your mouth as he gripped your waist, setting a slow and sensual pace. “Look down.”

Your eyes left his beautiful face only to be met with the mouthwatering sight of his veiny cock being pressed flat against his lower abdomen as your pussy lips slid along, coating the underside of his throbbing bulge. Gojo’s breath was spilling in breathy pants, clearly struggling to hold back at the overwhelming sensation of having your pussy lips engulfing him.

“Good girl... good girl...”

His words of praise only intensified your hunger for more, so you kept grinding your bare pussy and milking more and more precum from his length. In no time, a few droplets of clear liquid started sliding down his sides from the constant rhythmic sway of your hips.

“My turn,” you let out, bringing the lollipop down to collect some of his sweet liquid with it.

Gojo’s mouth fell open in utter surprise, eyes following your every move. You wrapped your tongue around the candy, tasting the warm liquid boosted with specs of sugar. He raised his hips reflexively and let out a few deep moans, dragging you along his cock with revived hunger.

“Wanna taste?” You moaned around the sweet candy, feeling the coil deep within your tummy tightening from all the stimulation.

You brought it down to his lower abdomen once more, and with a short swipe across his damp skin, you extended your arm towards his face.

“Go on, Satoru,” you cooed teasingly. “Taste yourself.”

He darted his tongue out, welcoming his own precum that dripped from the candy. Your hips faltered for a second as your foggy brain focused on the erotic sight in front of you. He greedily sucked on it in between moans and swirls, never breaking eye contact with you.

He licked his lips as he slid the candy back in your mouth. “Not to brag, but I taste good.”

If not for the overwhelming need to cum, you would have entertained his gigantic ego, but instead you resumed your strokes along his cock, thankful that his strong hands were able to keep your pace from wavering.

“I’m not gonna last much longer...” he warned much to your surprise.

That beat any praise he could give you with words. You figured he hadn’t anticipated just how incredible this would feel, especially considering how much more efficient you had become at pleasuring him.

You tried to restrain your moans, but his hips jerking up worked to magnify your own delight. “Wait... I’m almost there...”

Your body pressed down against his in a desperate attempt to reach your high. His abs flexed with each thrust from you and his hands tightened so hard against your hips that you were sure a few marks would stain your skin afterwards.

“I’m gonna... fuck...”

The steady pace he you both had been able to set completely broke down into ragged jerks of his hips as your folds kept coating him in you juices. A few more wet sounds and pump proved to be the last straw for the jujutsu sorcerer, causing a guttural growl to escape his gaping mouth. His body started shaking from intense pleasure as hot spurts of cum shot from his cock, glazing his flushed and sweaty torso with strings of creamy liquid. The turf of white hair that spread from his navel towards the base oh his cock was completely drenched in a mixture of cum, sweat and precum.

“Fuck!” Gojo grunted in utmost bliss, sliding one hand to your ass ad giving it a loud smack. “Such a good girl...”

Feeling his cock twitch in between your pussy lips and his enticing echoes of pleasure was the last incentive you need to get pushed over the edge. You were crying out with every roll of your hips and brush of your clit along his throbbing cock.

“You’re so hot... you’re so hot...” you mumbled mindlessly, not even bothering to hold the lollipop in place as it fell from your mouth.

Gojo drank in the vision of you reaching your high in a mixture of wonder and pride. Your breasts bounced freely with the rest of your body, and with a few more slaps from his hand on your ass cheek, you came to a stop, your pussy clenching around nothing in waves of pleasure. It was too much, and you leaned forward, digging your nails on his slick abdomen, desperate for something to ground you as you peaked up high. You felt both your legs begin tremble violently, and that’s when he gripped both your thighs with his hands to keep you from jerking too much.

“That’s it... good girl,” he praised sweetly, massaging your quivering thighs as you regained your senses. “Shh... you did so well.”

He hand slid up to grip your arms, helping you keep your balance. You felt beads o sweat drip down your neck and back, causing the fabric of your to to stick to your skin.

“Holy fuck....” you said, still awestruck and struggling to even out your erratic breathing.

Gojo smiled at you. “You are extremely sexy, did you know that?”

You merely nodded absentmindedly, blinking a few times to clear your field of vision from the haziness of an amazing orgasm.

“What?” Gojo inquired as he saw your eyes roam around where he was laying.

Finding the object of your interest, your lips curled up in a devilish smirk.

“Let’s not waste this, shall we?” You suggested, dragging the sticky candy across a shallow puddle of cum on the dip of his abs.

You offered it to him, and he arched an eyebrow at you. “And you say I like sweets.”

He took the stick from your fingers and promptly slipped the round candy past his lips. You glared at him expectantly as he suckled on it.

Gojo Satoru nodded, clearly giving it his seal of approval. “Not bad. I can see why you like swallowing my cum so much.”

“You’re so annoying,” you laughed as he cleaned up the mess on his torso with his shirt before taking it off and tossing it to the floor.

“Oh my god... I’m exhausted...” you mumbled, dropping on your side next to him.

“Me too,” Gojo mused from beside you, his breath coming out in more regular pants.

You shot him a sceptic glare, doubting his words. He had the ability to go on for a crazy amount of rounds as if he was using up the same amount of energy you used when doing the dishes. His reverse cursed technique did wonders in keeping not only his brain fresh, but his overall stamina.

“No, you’re not,” you jabbed a finger at him accusingly before discarding your drenched top to the side. “You’re only saying that to make me feel better.”

“Did it work?”

“No,” you chuckled.

A few minutes rolled by in a familiar and comfortable silence.

“It was good...” Gojo suddenly said, twirling the lollipop in his mouth.

You giggled, wiping the sweat on your brow with the back of your hand. “That was really... really good...”

A few strands of damp white hair were sticking to his forehead, and you seized the moment to look at the beautiful man before you; his eyes were firmly shut as he enjoyed the feeling of your fingers caressing his face.

Gojo Satoru had one heck of a brain. Many envied him for it, but in time you realized that even for someone who managed changed the balance of the world when he was born, it could become too draining at times. Of course, he would never admit that. His pride was too great.

But it was all part of his charm, you figured. You relished in these moments of raw intimacy, because they reminded you of how much of him was human.

“Hey...” you heard his lazy voice. “You’re not gonna swap my cock for lollipops now, are you?”

Your heart clenched in an outburst of affection. “No, Satoru. I could never.”

He was a little kid at heart, truly.

A satisfied smile curled his lips faintly. “Good. I don’t like competition.”

“You haven’t known competition from the moment you were born, you silly.”

A beautiful pair of dreamy blue eyes met yours. “Hmm, true. But I don’t like the thought of it,” he mumbled into the palm of your hand, pressing a loving kiss. “I don’t know how you weak people handle it.”

That last sentence would have probably sparked a heated argument among fellow jujutsu sorcery, but you had grown used to this banter

You gripped his chin with your fingers, offering a teasing smile. “Call me weak again and I’m heading out to buy a stack of various lollipops. Different shapes and sizes.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, the lollipop suddenly freezing in his mouth. “Tell you what,” he started, dragging his fingers along his white locks of hair. “You are my favourite weak person.”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.

Just as you prepared to smack his arm, the sudden movement was slowed down and met an invisible force field that repelled you from touching him.

You watched as your hand hovered closely to his arm, but unable to make contact.

Gojo’s damn Infinity.

“You are a cheater, Gojo Satoru,” you huffed in annoyance, dropping your hand on the bed with a thump.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to activate it,” he smiled teasingly, loving just how much he riled you up.

“Bullshit. You can decide what touches you or not.”

He nodded in agreement. “Sure, based on the level of threat the person or object poses.”

Oh?

“So... I posed a threat to you?” you mused, following his logic and not able to hold back a victorious smile. “But... didn’t you just call me weak a moment ago?”

His eyes widened slightly at your remark as you caught him off guard with your deduction.

“Touché, sweetheart.”

Masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #gojo scenario #gojo imagine #gojo fanfic #jjk imagines #gojo x oc #gojo satoru x y/n

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mc-lukanette · 3 years

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[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

—————

Luka took a breath as he hit the last emotion-filled note on his guitar. His body vibrated just as his strings did, though he realized soon enough that there weren't enough high notes to lift him from feeling so low.

Marinette was Ladybug. He was still absorbing it, even though a part of him insisted that it should've been obvious; not just because there could only be one girl in Paris who was so brave, kindhearted, and suited for the job, but... well—

There was also only one girl in Paris who could be so unlucky. Luka was upset - angry, really - at all the things he couldn't have known that just proved to put more pressure on her. People idolized and adored Ladybug, but he never once thought that he wanted to be her. She didn't get anything from being a superhero outside of wasted time and the guilt of having to lie to everyone. He'd felt bad enough keeping Viperion a secret from his family, and he was only a temporary hero.

He sighed, setting his guitar down and raking his fingers through his hair. Marinette being Ladybug would've been enough of a shock on its own, but Adrien being Chat Noir made everything both worse and more complicated. In the midst of all the realizations he'd been having at the time, he felt lucky that he was able to get Ladybug - Marinette - to believe that his mind had just drifted for a moment. She'd still looked worried, but there was nothing he could've told her at the time, his mind too scrambled to be certain what the right steps were.

He'd always imagined that past snakes had learned of other's identities before as well, and thus had wondered before what he'd do if such a thing ever happened. Chat wasn't the one "in charge," so Luka wasn't worried about him (at least not in terms of talking about identities), but Ladybug was a different story.

Previously, he would've said that he'd tell her without hesitation, but the problem was that she was Marinette and the way he found out made things messy. If he told her that he knew, she'd blame herself and demand to know what happened for him to know so she could try to "fix" it, except there was nothing to fix and a conversation about his abilities would inevitably lead to talking about Adrien being Chat Noir.

In essence, he was at a roadblock. There was probably no "right" solution either, as he figured Sass might tell him; that even seemed to be the message Sass wordlessly sent him as Ladybug took his miraculous back. He’d probably known, and maybe had intentionally given him the power to see red strings on heroes in the first place. He didn’t know for sure because he couldn’t ask, aware that it would make Ladybug even more suspicious after he’d already tried to assure her.

What he did know was that Chat was something else to think about now. Chat was tied to her, and he knew - everyone knew, really - that there was drama going on in their relationship. He'd done only a little digging and Face to Face was all the evidence he'd needed, as if seeing the two interact in person wasn't already enough.

There was a pressure there, for Ladybug and Chat Noir to be a couple. Chat Noir was a habitual flirt, and most people ate up any drama or “juicy details” about their relationship. Everyone went wild for the hand kisses that Chat gave Ladybug, whether or not she pulled away from it. Add on the red string of fate, and it just made everything worse, making him wonder what the ties meant; did Adrien's string being tied around his ring mean that he became the cat through fate, specifically so—

It made Luka feel gross just thinking about it, and knowing what he knew made it even worse; people were shipping his friend with someone she wasn't interested in, even if it was "one side" specifically that she wasn't interested in.

He shook his head, feeling vaguely possessive. It wasn't about Marinette being his friend; it was about her deserving better than something deciding her fate for her.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a familiar jingle, pulling out his phone to see a message from Marinette.

Are we still on for tonight?

FOR THE FIRE I MEAN.

I just don't want you to get in trouble! You're sure???

He chuckled, his shoulders easing at Marinette's usual enthusiasm. It was adorable that she was worried about him and not what they were planning to do.

He typed back immediately, I'm sure, Marinette. Don't worry.

He glanced at the drawer under his bed, where all the Adrien pictures were. He imagined Adrien's face plastered all over Paris, flashing back and forth between Adrien himself and Chat Noir.

He felt like he shouldn’t be shocked by the revelation, though he wouldn't be able to quite explain why.

��————

Luka looked over his work once more, checking to make sure the fire would start properly. It'd been a while, but he at least hadn't gotten rusty and even got a congratulatory pat on the back from his mother when she'd seen him carrying the supplies. Had she known that it was Marinette's decision to do this, she would've married them on the spot herself.

As he eyed the box of Adrien pictures set out, he had to bury another slew of thoughts. He knew it was right to try and get rid of Marinette's string, but and he felt guilty knowing that he’d be satisfied at seeing the pictures burn for reasons outside of Marinette.

Speaking of whom, he looked up as he heard a familiar set of footsteps to see Marinette herself heading towards the Liberty, having just made her way down the stairs. She was dressed fairly lightly for nighttime, but wore a fluffy pink shawl around her shoulders to make up for it. Considering what they were doing, it made sense that she wasn't concerned about the cold.

The gangplank had already been put up for her, so she walked across with a smile that warmed him more than the eventual fire would. "Hey."

He smiled back, plopping down comfortably on the seat behind him. "Hey."

She gripped her shawl closer to herself as she glanced at the setup for the fire, the moonlight briefly shining off of her earrings. Luka attempted to avert his gaze from them, but only ended up staring at the red string around her neck. He gave up looking at her entirely at that point, checking the setup again as if it was extremely important to do so.

"You can sit anywhere," he offered, gesturing vaguely to all of the mismatched seats he'd placed around the future fire. He'd wanted to make sure she'd have options, though he hoped the designer side of her didn't mind the chaos of it all. He'd just grabbed whatever spare seating they'd had.

Marinette's eyes scanned over the various choices. Giggling, she replied, "Thank you."

He nodded in acknowledgment. He wasn't in any hurry to get the pictures burned, even if burning them was their goal that day. He'd intentionally had her go slowly so as to test the red string as little as possible, and he planned on doing the same here.

"I brought one for you too," she suddenly said off to his side.

He looked over in curiosity and noticed her open purse, a large piece of blue fabric nearly bursting out of it. It took a bit of effort from her - he imagined that she'd wanted it to be a surprise - but she managed to pull it out, presenting him with a shawl that matched hers exactly outside of its color. He smiled in appreciation of her thoughtfulness, then reached for it before realizing with a start, "Wait. Marinette, did you make these?"

Before she could answer, he took the shawl in his hands, turning it every possible way. Without a doubt, it was her handiwork, and along the back was where the design broke with a Marinette.

"Yeah," she confirmed, and he could practically hear her shy blush. "It's just—you're doing this for me, but even if you weren't, I don't want you to get cold, so..."

"It's great," he cut in firmly, leaving no room for doubt on her end. "Soft. Comfortable. I wish I was better with fashion to say more."

"No, you said more than enough," she assured, taking a seat next to him. That fact looked both silly and intimate given the multiple other seats she could've chosen instead, but he tried not to think about it.

Instead, he gave a curious glance at her pink shawl, silently comparing it to the one she'd given him. "...You didn't have to make it blue," he commented, and clarified before she could think anything bad, "I would've happily worn your colors."

She gave him a look, though didn't seem weirded out by the idea. "But... it's pink."

"What's wrong with pink?" he asked, genuinely confused. "It's your color."

She blushed, her shoulders hunching forward shyly. He didn't even bother taking back what he said, because he meant it; he might've favored blue when he picked out an outfit, but pink made him think of her.

It was much better than red at the very least.

Marinette pursed her lips in response, idly tugging at her shawl and seeming to be in an internal debate with herself. Apparently making a decision, she closed her eyes and breathed up, letting out a soft, "Okay."

He blinked and gave a tilt of his head to show his confusion. "Okay?"

She turned to him, resolutely pulling the fabric off of her shoulders. "T-then you can wear mine?"

He couldn't get another word out, too distracted by Marinette leaning towards him and carefully settling the shawl around his shoulders. Despite the bold move, she couldn't keep eye contact with him, awkwardly hanging onto the front of the shawl as she stared at his lap. She wasn't exactly warm or exuded any particular body heat - in fact, he was sure that her hands would be cold if he held them - but there was a comfort there that couldn't be matched by anyone else.

It took him a moment to make a move, at which point he remembered the fabric underneath his fingers. In a motion equally as careful as hers, he raised the blue shawl and settled it around her shoulders. She finally met his gaze, surprised, but smiled gratefully and released her grip on the pink shawl.

"You can keep it," she said quietly, with less shyness than before.

"Really?" he asked, placing a hand on the fabric to make sure it was what she meant.

She nodded, gripping her own as she replied, "A-as long as I can keep this one in exchange?"

He snorted, even covering his mouth to stifle a chuckle. "You made them, Marinette. Of course you can." He gave an obvious glance at the shawl to admire it. "I'd be happy to match with you."

She beamed at him. "Me too."

That topic officially concluded, his mind went blank for anything more and both of their gazes drifted to the unlit fire. He didn't have to look to know that she was shifting in anxiety in her seat, either wanting to back out or just get it over with.

"Are you ready?" he asked experimentally.

"Yes," she responded, perhaps a little stiffly but the resolve was there. She wanted this.

Luka stood briefly, and within the next few moments, the fire had been lit. The flames started out faint at first, then grew until it was something respectable, easily illuminating the small area around them. The slight chill from the wind dissipated as the fire warmed their skin, Luka hearing Marinette sigh in content harmony with him.

Neither of them took their shawls off despite the increased warmth.

The additional light from the fire made the box of pictures more obvious, with it sitting on a table not too far away. Luka took a step towards it, but Marinette was faster, grabbing up the box and turning to him with a determined expression.

"I have to do it," she insisted.

He didn't exactly disagree - this wasn't his battle - but it didn't stop him from looking nervously at the red string, the dangling part of it laying across her hand and dipping itself in the box, taunting him.

"How many do you want to do at a time?" He was careful in his wording, not wanting his tone to imply anything.

She furrowed her brows, staring down at the box in deep thought. Her fingers flexed against the cardboard, a small gust of wind blowing by and causing the fire behind her to whip around in protest.

"...All of them," she muttered, then met his gaze cautiously. "Will that be okay?"

Luka glanced at the fire, but it wasn't that he was worried about. The string would try to fight her, he was sure of it, and the only thing he wasn't sure of was if it would be better or not to let her go with her wishes. He half expected the string to physically drag her off the Liberty, and the mere thought caused his neck to sting.

But, he also believed in her. She was fighting fate herself without having used the snake even once, and he wasn't going to deny her if she thought this was best.

"Yeah," he assured. "Just don't get too close. I don't want you to get hurt."

She nodded, obviously not catching onto what he really meant.

Luka sat down on his chair, toying with the rips in his pants to keep his hands occupied as he watched her. Her posture was straight and confident as she faced the flames, despite the shake in her hands, and he was sure the fire in her eyes wasn't just a reflection.

He didn't see Ladybug in her place. There was only Marinette and everything that he already knew about her. Knowing what he did now wasn't surprising, but heartbreaking, and he couldn't be prouder of her for doing what she was trying to do.

To go against what everyone - even fate itself - expected of her. He couldn't relate on her level, but looking as he did and having the mother he did, he understood.

Finally, Marinette stepped forward, and the string was already tightening around her neck. She froze, shutting her eyes and clutching the box tighter as she mentally fought the sensation.

He barely managed to keep himself still.

She swallowed, taking another step and managing to open her eyes again. She squinted at the fire, either from the light or from her own resolve.

Then, all at once, she thrust the box forward, the pictures flying out and mingling with the flames. The fire flared up in response, practically roaring, and the string tightened further in protest. Marinette even let out a cry as she tossed the box aside.

Luka barely had time to react when she suddenly rushed towards him. He outstretched his arms and she filled up his lap, her heart seeking him out as she clutched his jacket. He wrapped his arms around her, hoping his comfort came through without words.

Her breathing was ragged, and he couldn't tell whether it was from the string or her emotions running high. He brought one of his hands higher up on her back, knowing that he could do nothing more for her but wishing he could.

He took solace in the fact that the worst of it was over.

Staring over her head, he watched as the pictures burned, blond turning black as the flames singed the pictures and reduced them to ashes. Marinette, meanwhile, remained against him, desperately clutching his fabric for wordless support. He honestly would've been okay being the only spectator to what she'd done, but she then shifted in his lap to glance behind her.

They watched the sight together, the fire whipping about with the wind like it was making sure the job was done as they'd wanted. In no time at all, there was no evidence of the pictures left outside of what was allowing the fire to burn brighter.

Marinette let out sigh of relief, collapsing against him again and nuzzling his chest. "What's wrong with me...?"

"Nothing," he replied, clutching her tighter. "You were amazing."

She looked up at him, possibly searching his expression to ensure he meant it, then offered a tired smile. She shifted again, but this time without any urgency or need. Luka sucked in a breath as she nestled her head against his shoulder, making herself comfortable on his lap while still being in a position where they could watch the fire together. Slowly, he relaxed, and they ended up not needing those other chairs after all, neither moving from their comfortable positions.

And, maybe it was just him, but the string seemed looser around her neck than it ever had before.

#au: Dread String of Fate #Dread String of Fate: writing #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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