#Even tho Church let her go I can't :[ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oddinary4bts · 6 months

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November Sun | jjk

☆summary: whenever he breaks, the november sun shines on him. and jungkook chases you across the sky - but you've gone some place he can't reach you now.

☆pairing: Jungkook x reader (I genuinely don't think the gender is ever mentioned? please let me know if it is so I can adjust this here), mentions-ish of Namjoon x reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, it deals with heavy themes)

☆genre: grief au/funeral au?, exes au, angst

☆warnings: angst, like. Just angst. OC is dead and Jungkook is grieving her. Curses words, very light mentions of sex, flashbacks of moments when jungkook broke. mentions of christianism (the funerals are held in a church), mentions of alcohol, jealousy. Namjoon is a broken man as well

☆word count: 3.7k

☆a/n: I started writing this tonight because I was sad and then just realized I won't have the strength to look back on it ever again so I'm posting it even tho it hasn't been beta-ed, and even tho the person that makes my moodboards is unavailable rn. Idc. It needed to be out of my system, and now it is.

☆a/n pt2: I know this piece is extremely heavy. If you ever need to speak, please reach out to me. My blog is a safe space for every single one of you <3

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The church is a tall building. Grand, elegant in its simplicity, though it cuts against the blue sky up above in stark lines, shaped like a prison.

Jungkook thinks life has become a prison a while ago.

It’s a mystery, why your family chose this space for your funeral. You never believed, never practiced. Is it a betrayal to mark your passing in a space that feels so unlike you?

Jungkook thinks it is.

He sighs, chases the heaviness away the same way the clouds chase themselves in the sky up above. He doesn’t know how the sun is shining in the blue expanse of the sky. It’s November, yet the day is warm, the sun is blindingly glowing. It feels like a crime – how can the sun shine in a world deprived of your existence?

Jungkook doesn’t want to know.

Only knows that he’s watched from afar the people that gathered on the front steps. Chatting, heads hung low and shoulders bent forward. He heard sniffles, he heard laughs, and he just waited for everyone to go in to get closer.

Jungkook doesn’t know why he was invited. Why someone from a distant past figured he would need to be here, to share his grief with people that could understand.

Though Jungkook thinks no one can understand.

He remembers you, in all your glory. His first love, when he had been a stupid college kid who didn’t know what he wanted in life. You were two years older, and now... and now one day he’ll be older than you. Because you've stopped aging, you came and went like a moment in time, when he'll still be here for who fucking knows how long.

He chases the thought away with a long inhale, holds the air in knowing that it’s choking him up before he lets it out on a sigh.

You were beautiful. A star that walked the Earth, only to return to the night sky above far too soon. He had loved you dearly, in his own twisted way. Had tried to be what you sought, what you needed, until he had realized he was never going to be enough.

Would you still be alive today, if he had fought harder?

*****

“I’m not doing this,” you said. “I’m so fucking done with your indecision, with your fear of commitment.”

Jungkook scoffed. “Please, you graduated and now you think you’re so high above me. Get down from the fucking horse, Y/n, it’s not going to bring us anywhere.”

He’d said the words hoping that they would hurt you. And they did: he saw you physically recoil as if he’d punched you. As if the words had been a physical blow, and not just letters of the alphabets shaped into words and sound, into arrows to pierce that beautiful soul of yours.

“Maybe I don’t want us to go somewhere anymore,” you replied after a quiet moment of breaking hearts.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“I know.” You sighed, slightly shaking your head as your eyes fell to the floor between you and him. “I know, but I mean it.”

“Please,” was all Jungkook thought to reply.

“You say please all the time,” you told him. “You beg me, and for what? We always circle back to fighting, to hurting each other.” You paused, and though you were avoiding his features he could see you blinking back tears. “Maybe we aren’t supposed to be together at all.”

“Don’t say that,” Jungkook warned. “Don’t you fucking say that. I love you. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“I love you too, Jungkook,” you answered. “I’ve loved you since the first day I met you at that stupid party last year.”

Jungkook felt the tear rolling down his cheek, felt the gravity pulling on his heart until it was shattering on the ground.

“Then why stop now?” he asked. “Give me time, Y/n. I’ll graduate, and I’ll be able to move in with you, and to provide for you and give you everything that you need.”

You sighed heavily, finding courage to finally meet his gaze. At the stark finality shining behind your pupils, Jungkook’s knees weakened. His whole fucking body weakened, ready for the blow.

For the end that was coming for you and him like a car barreling down a dead-end street.

“But I’m tired of waiting,” you answered. “I don’t want to spend my life waiting around for someone.”

“I’m still in college, I just can’t move in with you right now…”

“I know, Jungkook. I know.”

He wanted to fight. Wanted to tell you to stay in his dorm tonight, and to never leave again. But he could tell that you were already gone.

So he steeled himself. Readied himself to let you go even though you were the blood in his veins.

“I’m holding you back, aren’t I?”

You wiped a tear on your cheek, blurring behind those in his gaze. “You are.”

He choked on a sob, hiding his eyes behind his hand as if that would stop the breaking. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you reassured him. “We just aren’t at the same place in life anymore.”

An empty silence surrounded you, so loud Jungkook could hear every beat of his heart in his ears, could feel the walls pressing in.

“I don’t want you to go,” he softly said.

“I know,” you murmured. “I…” You choked on a sob, and it took you a moment before you managed to continue. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed, a sound so devoid of joy he wondered if he’d ever feel happiness again. “Please don’t be. You’re allowed to want more.”

“I wish I didn’t.”

Anger rose up on the horizon of Jungkook’s conscience, and he pushed it away. He refused to be angry at you, refused to put the blame on you when you made it clear that you wanted him to move in so long ago, and he disregarded it without even once thinking about it.

“I’ll find you again,” he promised, voice strained and heavy with emotion. “I’ll graduate and find you.”

You stepped closer to him, gently cupping his cheek. “Go find someone that loves you for what you are, Jungkook.”

“And you don’t?”

“I don’t want you to settle for someone that asks too much for you,” you explained, renewed silver lining your eyes. “Find someone that loves you for who you are, right now.”

“Fuck that,” he choked out, and he pulled you flush against his chest. “Fuck this nonsense. ”

“I’m so sorry,” you cried against him.

“Don’t be,” he reassured you, though he was crying too. “Don’t be. Give me a few years. I’ll have it all figured out in a few years.”

*****

The priest at the front of the church is going on and on about something that Jungkook doesn’t care to listen to. It’s impersonal, nothing like you, like the vibrant girl he remembers. So he lets his memory guide him to you, where you’re awaiting him. Your lips on his, your hand running through his hair. Your own hair catching in the wind that time you’d gone hiking, and he’d believed being at the top of the mountain with you felt like he had won in life.

Or that time you’d driven on the coast, windows down, screaming the lyrics to a song he can’t listen to anymore. Now the song is haunted by ghosts of a past he never learned to let go, perhaps because for months after the breakup he’d kept the conviction that he’d find his way back to you. He’d believed it the same way he believed the sun would always rise in the morning. A simple truth of nature, that nothing could ever break.

Except a car accident, apparently. Because all it took was a car accident to wipe you off the surface of the Earth, to take your light and shove it into shadows, into darkness and a void so wide he knows he’ll never find you again.

But he’d believed he’d find his way back to you. Never let anyone in after you, for the months and years it took him to graduate because he always knew he’d find his way back to you. You were his silver lining, the finish line at the end of the race. On a November day, just as sunny as today, Jungkook reached that finish line.

He did find you again, only you never knew.

*****

Jungkook had never felt so light before. Like he had grown wings, like he was soaring in the clouds up above. Though the sun was out, the weather was cold, wind running cold fingers through the lapels of his coat until he found himself shivering as he made his way to the flower store.

He’d get the biggest bouquet for you, and then he’d head to where he knew from a common friend that you lived now. It was Saturday, and he hoped to catch you unaware, to catch you in the middle of cleaning your apartment the same way that you cleaned it back when you were dating.

The image of you, with your hair pulled back in a high ponytail as you danced around instead of sweeping the floor shone in his mind, brighter than the star in the sky above.

He bought the flowers, heart beating fast in his chest. Because it was time. It was finally time to go home, to tell you that he did everything he said he would, that he changed and now had a job that could support what you both wanted. He wanted to ask you out, and in his dreams you had been answering yes every single time since he had decided to go see you.

His heart fluttered as he gently rested the flowers on his passenger seat, careful not to damage them. Memories floated to him, and a smile grew on his lips as he remembered you, screaming out the window that day you had driven along the coast. You had stopped to watch the sunset in the waves, and he’d kissed you stupid on his back seat until every single inch of your skin knew about his love.

He couldn’t wait to create new memories with you.

He drove carefully, enjoying the warmth of the sun now that he was safely hidden from the wind. You actually didn’t live too far from where he did now, and soon enough he parked his car near your building. He got out of the vehicle, almost running to the other side in his excitement to grab the bouquet on the passenger seat. When it was safely tucked in his hand, Jungkook shut the car door, locked it, and started walking to your building.

He didn’t even know which apartment was yours. He believed fate would guide him, and so he crossed the street to your building, trusting the universe for what was to come next.

He heard your laugh before he saw you. Love swelled in his chest, and he wondered if you were laughing because you’d seen him, because you’d known that he’d come back for you.

And then he saw you. The wind was ruffling your hair, which he assumed had prompted the laugh. Your eyes were closed, hands struggling to push the wild strands behind your ears.

You were more beautiful than he remembered. Shone brighter, with the same stuff that stars consisted of. He was struck for a moment, watching you with his bouquet hoping that you’d open your eyes and see him.

The world slowed down to a stop, and time halted, and Jungkook watched you, feeling at home for the first time in years.

The illusion fractured the instant someone else came into view, making him realize that you hadn’t been laughing at the wind. No, perhaps your laughter took root in the dimples gracing the man’s cheeks as he smiled at you, as he pecked your forehead before grabbing your hand.

Jungkook ducked behind a car, clutching the flower bouquet like a lifeline the moment that you turned towards him. Did you hear his heart breaking? Did you hear the mockery in the November sun rays – you’d broken up on a similar day, years ago.

Jungkook couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think around the shattering of his heart, around the blood turning to ice in his veins as he heard you speak to the man – Namjoon, he heard you call him.

He would have rather not known the name.

Still Jungkook drank in the sound of your voice, trying to shape it into the words he was so willing to hear you say today. It didn’t work, and soon enough your voice disappeared, leaving him in a deafening silence of wind and sun and the realization that after all, he had come back too late.

Perhaps he should have known that he'd be too late.

*****

When Jungkook received the call last week, he’d sat outside in the silence until he thought his eardrums would start bleeding. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t breathed, hadn’t done anything other than to stare at the fading light of the sun.

He wonders, why is it that whenever he breaks, November sun is shining high above? As if the universe takes pleasure in his torment, in undoing him until he barely counts as a human being anymore.

He got pissed out drunk that night. Last time he had been as drunk was when he had found out you were dating someone new, that day he had come to find you.

And now he wonders, if he had approached you that day, would you still be dead today? Would life still have put you on that road with its drunk driver so that you could meet your end?

Or would you be laughing at some dumb comment he’d make, telling him that he’s stupid with eyes so full of love he wouldn’t be able to do anything else but agree with you?

It’s hard to tell. So, he doesn’t try to figure it out – he has an eternity ahead of himself to figure out how to live without you anyway.

Maybe in all his misfortune Jungkook actually had some luck. He’s learned to grieve you a while ago already, and perhaps grieving someone that still lives is harder than grieving someone that’s passed. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he knows anything. Just that, so far back in the past he should have said fuck it and move in with you. It was such a simple request, but he had been too young and dumb, and he’d forever live with the regrets of it.

If someone from your family notices his presence at the funeral, recognizes him from your shared past, they don’t say. Especially not as the end of the ceremony comes before he’s had a chance to really take in the picture of you, smiling, over there next to the urn with your ashes.

You’re ashes now. Everything that made you – your laugh, your smile, the way you carried yourself with that simple elegance – all of it is gone to be replaced with mere ashes.

He doubts they can hold the truth of your essence, but then again he doesn’t think anything can, or anything ever will again.

He blinks away the tears as they come, leaving the ceremony like a whisper in the wind. He doesn’t want to speak to your family, doesn’t want to see them coddling the man that you loved, that survived the accident when he should have been the one to go.

Jealousy and selfishness are ugly, Jungkook realizes. But it’s easier to hate the man that took you away from him, no matter how unknowingly he did it.

And Jungkook tried to hate you once. He tried hard, in the months after that fated November day, when you’d laughed to that man’s joke, smiled when he’d smiled that soft dimpled smile of his. He had tried, because hating you felt like it was the only way he wouldn’t hurt. But he still hurt – he still hurts.

All he’s been able to do in his life since you broke up is hurt, and he highly doubts he’ll ever feel differently again.

Perhaps he’ll grow numb. Perhaps he should have grown numb a while ago.

At least that’s what he’s telling himself days later, when he’s looking at the tombstone they picked out for you. The finality of your name and the dates, the ending, is unnerving. He wishes it was fake, wishes it was a joke, and that he didn’t spend most of his life loving someone that moved on to a new love in just a few years.

It’s been over a decade and he hasn’t moved on even a little bit.

He kicks the ground, mad at the leaves littering the ground where you’re buried, as if they’re sullying you. And as if laughing at him, sun rays pierce through the clouds up above, that dreaded November sun making an appearance when it should stay gone.

He allows himself to cry. To break down, to sit on the ground and curse everything and everyone that’s ever been between you and him. He curses his stupidity, curses the sun and the leaves and the etchings on the stone. He hates everything. Hates himself, hates you, hates the whole fucking universe for taking you away, for not giving him the chance to be with you.

That’s how Namjoon finds him. Jungkook’s tears have receded, and he’s just sitting there, an empty shell that once held love and laughter and your lips on his. He hears the scuffle of Namjoon’s steps, of his cane as he walks up the path.

The man’s features are grave when Jungkook can’t help but glance towards him, sees him ambling up the path with that cane, the only indication that he too was in that car accident. And Jungkook wonders if Namjoon knows about him. If Namjoon knows that he wasn’t the first man whose love for you was a bottomless ocean, one Jungkook has drowned in time and time again since you broke up.

Namjoon remains standing, and Jungkook remains sitting. Like there’s an understanding between them, and silence conveys more than words could. Jungkook doesn’t want to move, and Namjoon clearly doesn’t have anywhere to go.

Jungkook thinks the Earth has revolved around the sun at least once before Namjoon scrapes his throat.

“It’s hard to believe that she’s gone, isn’t it?” he speaks, deep voice carrying the weight of the universe.

Jungkook doesn’t deign reply as his eyes fill with tears, though he refuses to let them out right now.

Especially not in front of the man you loved after him.

“You’re Jungkook, aren’t you?”

The simple sentence makes Jungkook lose it. He hides his face in his hands, his whole soul bleeding out under the November sun.

“She told me about you,” Namjoon continues, and Jungkook is convinced he hears pain, tears and grief laced with Namjoon’s words.

What did you tell him, Jungkook wonders? Did you tell Namjoon that you should have waited for Jungkook, that you should have given him a chance to become what you needed?

“She loved you a lot,” Namjoon adds after a silence, and he chokes on a sob. “She never forgot about you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Jungkook asks with that broken voice, raspy with disuse.

He hasn’t been able to speak since you died.

“You deserve to grieve. She loved and loved, and I wish it would have been enough for her to live…”

“Stop,” Jungkook begs. “Please.”

Namjoon falls silent, offering salvation to Jungkook, though Jungkook doesn’t know if he deserves it.

Would he have been able to offer salvation to someone in his position if the situation was reversed? He highly doubts it.

“It’s just…” he trails off when he finds words again. “You got fucking years with her. You got years of loving and-“ it breaks on a sob. “And you were fucking engaged.” Jungkook pulls at his hair. “You were engaged, and all I got was months. Not even a full year.”

“I’m sorry man,” Namjoon answers, voice so broken Jungkook wonders who’s suffering the most.

He doesn’t think it’s himself.

“Was she happy?” Jungkook eventually asks, once he can’t stand the silence hanging around. Once he can’t stand the etchings on the stone, the void in the universe that used to be filled with you.

“I made her as happy as I could,” Namjoon replies truthfully, his voice strained but not as pained anymore. As if he’s reached a conclusion, clarity filling his mind.

Not needing to hear more, Jungkook gets up, dusting himself off.

“Good talk,” he says, fighting against the next onslaught of tears, and then he’s storming off.

Storming away from you, from everything that you meant to him. And maybe the sun rays really are mocking him in that beautiful November sky, because Namjoon says, “I don’t think she ever truly was happy after you, though.”

Jungkook stops, convinced someone just stabbed him right in the heart. He doesn’t think the organ can beat anymore, doesn’t think he can live anymore. He just wants to be dust on the wind, to be forgotten, and to stop fucking feeling all the time.

“She was calling off the engagement,” Namjoon continues. “She…” Jungkook turns, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen such agony as the one that graces Namjoon’s features right now. “She said she shouldn’t get married to me when she still loved another.”

Clouds pass in front of the November sun, and Jungkook remembers the smile on your face whenever you’d catch his gaze. He remembers the way you’d lovingly cupped his cheek even when you were breaking up with him. He still feels the ghost of your fingers on his skin as he holds Namjoon’s broken gaze.

He holds Namjoon’s broken gaze, unable to offer the man salvation. It might make him a monster, might make him selfish and jealous and everything that he finds disgusting about humanity. But Jungkook doesn’t care.

Not when he realizes that perhaps, perhaps he’s the one that you’re waiting for on the other side of the veil, so that you can rest in the eternity of afterlife together.

And perhaps, perhaps there’s some sort of beauty in the thought.

☆☆☆☆☆

I am crying and in pain and I am sending everyone that read this whole thing lots of love and if you need to talk just hit me up bc grief is a bitch and we hate her and I just wish I could take everyone's grief away

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1-800-local-slut · 20 days

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Back and Forth

Franklin Saint x Black! Fem! ex-gf! Reader

Franklin is that toxic ex that won't leave you alone, you're no better. Franklin and the reader are on again off again but for some reason they just don't work every time.

This is for all the girlies who bounce on business, I would fold for Franklin instantly. This man could be my favorite evil ex, idc. Stand on business tho y'all, Franklin is my favorite fictional liar but best believe I stand ten toes down.

Warnings: allusions to smut, drinking, drug dealing, typical Snowfall violence, season 3 Franklin, smoking weed (stay off that booga suga y'all), mentions of death, toxic relationship, Franklin is also pretty possessive, both of y'all are really jealous, reader is described as a crazy bitch, reader was caught in a drive by in the past, mentioned kidnapping

Request are open <3

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A cloud of smoke streamed from my parted lips, the smell of weed blanketing the car. Tasha and Latisha both scoffed at me after my last statement, their disappointment in me as thick as the smoke filling the car.

"You know he's gonna be right back in yo draws come tomorrow after church, stop playing." My eyes rolled before I could stop them. My brain felt fuzzy and the world seemed peaceful in the dead of night. Passing the blunt to Latisha, she took a deep inhale and held her breath.

'Between the Sheets' blared from the cars radio, adding comfort to my addled brain. Comfort and a slight hint of anger. This was one of our songs, that played while we were under the blanket in his back seat.

The car steamed up that night, similar to the smoke filling the car right now. I had an irrational fear that night that we would shake the car so much that it would roll off the hill we were parked on.

That was before he fucked it all up again.

Latisha was wrong. I was done with his bitch ass this time. This time, I was done playing with him, all his bullshit, his hypnotic eyes, the mountain of lies.

"Girl it's okay, no one blames you for giving into Franklin. Brother's fine." Tasha stuck her tongue out teasingly, which prompted a laugh from me.

Perched on the edge of the back seat with Latisha and Tasha sitting in front, I pulled my sweatshirt over my legs and pressed my head against the window. Latisha gave her a playful smack.

"Oh girl watch out before she do you like how she did Ki and them. Remember how she kicked through that bitch screen door?" Latisha laughed and Tasha cackled. I still remembered how hot it was last summer, when I put my foot through Kira's screen door and ran in swinging. Bitch shoulda closed her front door too but her broke ass couldn't afford air conditioning.

Sure, Franklin and I were technically broken up at the time but what does that matter? Especially after Leon rolled up on Delroy, my 'special friend', and Delroy told me to get to stepping the next time I saw his ass. I know Franklin told Leon to do it too. I don't think I gave Leon any reason to purposely make my life harder.

"Hey now that bitch deserved the ass whopping she got, she could fuck with that nigga all she wanted but how you gonna talk shit about me knowing you can't fight? Let's be serious y'all." It was funny, how she swore that Franklin wanted her over me. After I put my foot through Kira's door and caught her by her tracks, Franklin was at my bedroom window that night.

He was in my desk chair ten minutes later, handing me a box of chocolates that he knew were my favorites. Then he was in my bed giving me some deep, slow strokes that should be illegal. Looking deep into my eyes, pressing soft kisses down my neck and whispering apologies in my ear. Promising me that things would be better this time, that he would be better this time.

He hadn't even looked at her ass since.

Maybe he was over there right now. It had been six hours since he told me it was over, that he couldn't deal with my 'controlling self' and I told him to go ahead and kiss my ass.

Controlling, like he didn't have Peaches following me around all day because he had the slightest suspicion that I might've been considering cheating on him. He wouldn't have that problem if he wasn't ducking me out of nowhere and then when I pressed him he thought it was cute to lash out on me and tell me to get the fuck on.

"Look at her ass. Dick has her stuck." Latisha snickered and I snapped my head towards her. A lazy smile spread across my lips. The smoke stung my red eyes, it was a beautiful summer night and I was planning on getting so high I could shake hands with God, I was with my friends just having a great time. Fuck Franklin, fuck everything.

"If you don't leave me alone." I giggled and stretched back. I could feel it now, and wanted nothing more then to enjoy the feel of the seats under my skin.

It was like I was sinking into a wave of comfort and sleep. And before I knew it, I was floating through my dreams.

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"So y'all are over?" Franklin's eyes were burning into the house phone, his eyes willing it to ring. His long arms stretched over the back of the couch, head facing away from the TV the minute something interesting stopped happening. Leon, as always, had doubts, but as long as he stood ten toes behind Franklin, he didn't really care.

The moonlight casted in on Franklin, his eyes lit by the moon and the TV. Jerome and Louie were cuddled on the couch, while Burst City played from the TV.

"Yeah. She was all over me, I couldn't take it." Finally he turned his head back to the TV and stopped trying to force the phone to ring. A loud noise from the movie, amplifies by Jerome's speakers

"You the only nigga I know who'd be mad about a bitch that fine being all over him." With a chuckle, Leon took a drag of his cigarette. Jerome chuckled and Louie rolled her eyes before she smiled. The way she always smiled when she was with Jerome. The way Franklin's girl ex-girl used to grin uncontrollably when she was snuggled into his side.

"Shit, you fuck with her then." Franklin grumbled bitterly, taking an annoyed sip from his coke. He hated knowing that others could see how fine she was. If it were up to him, she'd wear a potato sack and stay in the house. He'd stay in the house with her too, the two of them together forever. But that just wasn't how things worked.

Why the fuck were they talking about her anyways? Franklin broke up with her, Franklin told her to get lost, Franklin was telling himself that it was over this time. Not just for his sake, but for hers.

Would you believe that she brought out the worst in him? Not his fucked up job, not his dad abandoning him and coming back now that he's grown, no. His ex-girlfriend.

She made him jealous, possessive, down right nasty. Nasty in a way that was different from when he would be pushing into her and could feel her nails dragging down from the nape of his neck. Nasty in a way that was just mean.

Yes, they had their highs. When they were the happiest people on Earth, but when they had their lows they were so low that it might have been in Hell.

"Aye man, I ain't mean that. All I'm saying is you two do this every week." The tension now palpable while they all sat in silence.

That wasn't even true. It wasn't every week, more like every three weeks! Usually Franklin fucked things up, usually by getting annoyed at something (work, her, they hadn't been having sex, he was arguing with his mom or Jerome or Louie or Leon, someone hit on her, she wore something sexy and he knew other niggas would like it just as much, he was hangry) and taking it out on her.

But not this time! This time, they had she started the argument when he came by her house late and she asked him where he'd been. When she came at him with the evidence that he let a stripper toss her ass in his face (which he put a stop to quickly) and refused to tell him who told her, then he got mad. Then she was like 'okay but why did you lie' and obviously he couldn't tell her he went to the club for business purposes because then she'd demand to know why it needed to be a strip club.

According to her, it was just about him lying to her. Which made sense or whatever. He even tried explaining she was the only girl for him and that he only wanted her ass in his face. He even tried cupping her chin and making her look him in the eyes, which usually made her weak in the knees. Franklin just wanted to come over, fuck, have a meal and spend some time with his girl but of course he can't just get what he wants.

So naturally Franklin felt caged and decided to tell her it was over.

"Whatever man, I said it's done."

"Alright then, damn." Easing back into the silence, they both sat and watched the TV. Franklin more so stared, his brain focusing instead her.

Inside he felt shaky, weird. Kinda like how he imagined the addicts he sold too felt without his rock.

She got jealous, but it was kinda sexy how mad she got. How crazy she was over him. Mostly she was only mad because he lied. He could go without lying. He never met to hurt her, just avoid the stress of her knowing he was around strippers and having to answer all her questions. But if he told her earlier that he was going and explained to her that it was for work then he could've avoided all of that all together.

Whatever, it was done now.

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"WHOSE AT MY GOD DAMN DOOR?!" It was 7:00 PM, Saturday night and there was a jumping party that needed me on the dance floor. Yet as I slipped in my earrings, my shorts rubbing against my thighs, someone was repeatedly knocking at my front door. Rather loud too.

As I stormed through my apartment the banging got louder. My apartment was filled with warm colors and the radio I picked up from Jerome's ages ago was humming 'Turn Off The Lights' and it put me in the mood to maybe someone over tonight. Fuck someone who wasn't Franklin.

More banging at the door, it wasn't Latisha or Tasha, they'd just use their keys. A sense of dread hit me suddenly like a car hitting a pedestrian. Being Franklin Saint's girlfriend had put me in two drive byes and one almost kidnapping and now there was someone beating down my door.

My hands found the knife I'd used earlier to rip open a package I'd gotten earlier, small remnants of the cut up box scattered on my carpet right under the coffee table in front of my couch.

Slowly I stepped to the door with my heart thudding around in my chest and the music fading away around me and now I just had to open the door. The knocking continued and suddenly my thoughts cut off by my foot thudding into a box.

A box full of shit. A box filled with Franklin's shit that I intended to drive by his place and fling out the window before never seeing him again. The sweatshirt I stole from him last winter, some cash he left here, changes of clothes, some socks, a bracelet he got me and a bunch of other jewelry wrapped carefully to avoid damage, plus some framed pictures of us. I could only hope he took the same care with my stuff.

The way the box smelt of him made me want to just run back to his arms. It was weird, being without him. But I knew it was for the better, my refusal to go back to him unwavering. As long as I stayed far from him.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

Well damn.

There he was standing in her door way towering over her small form. A bunch of flowers, foxgloves and oleander (my favorites he knew that), held in his hand in contrast to her knife which she now knew she could never bring herself to use on him.

He smelt so good that she had to fight the urge to jump in his arms.

Girl don't do it, send him on his way, her brain told her but her heart, like always, wanted to ditch the party and just spend the night laid up with him. Without any of the bullshit, the way things used to be when they could just be happy together.

Her legs on the other hand wanted to split open on their own. His eyes had that effect on her. He could just control her body with a look. What even was it about this nigga, was she that vulnerable to seduction?

Was it his smell? The rich cologne he bought with his new earnings with the slight smell of cigarettes and the night air. Plus the smell of his mommas house. Maybe.

Was it his strong jaw, the dark eyes that tore right through me like the sky being torn open by a gust of wind.

Fuck how the nigga smells, tell him to go. Do NOT let yourself get hypnotized

"You gon let me inside or keep pointing that at me?" That smirk crossed his lips. Damn. I wondered if I had this affect on him? Did I make him weak? Did he miss the sex so bad he was pathetically trying to get himself off every night thinking of that thing I do with my tongue that he likes? Was he damn near humping his mattress without even realizing it? No matter if he was, as sexy as it was to imagine Franklin touching himself to me. He had to go.

With a kiss of my teeth, I extended my arm to block the door way. This nigga could not pass.

"What you want nigga?"

"You."

"You came here to tell jokes? Take your shit and get the fuck on, I got somewhere to be?" A deep chuckle was his response. He had the nerve to laugh, teeth and all?

You can do this, you can do this, tell him to get to stepping

"Yeah I see you going outside looking real good. I just wanted to talk, see if we could get some closure. I promise I'm not gon take all night." He stepped closer, knowing my body would drive me back. Instead I dug myself into the ground, I stepped back then he'd be in my house.

I had to scan him up and down, find some way to even the playing field. Or make him think his seduction skills weren't working but damn they were working.

Remember how he acted, remember the lies, you wanted out

He smiled and looked like the guy I grew up with. The nice mammas boy who would never try to hurt anyone. I knew better, but he looked so...non threatening.

He was standing there, all washed up wearing a black jacket that he knew I loved him in. He held the flowers up in his right hand and knowing that he probably had a gun on him turned me on some how. The danger of being with Franklin always turned me on. Watching him get aggressive with others and knowing in a few hours he'd be taking it out on me.

The music I had playing wasn't helping me not get weak.

I don't know when he got so close that his chest was pressed to mine. He could hear my breathing and probably my heart beat.

Fuck his closure, send him packing

"Take your shit and go." It slipped out as a whisper, a breathless sound.

His face was right in front of mine and I couldn't do anything to stop myself. I should push him out my way and get to that party. Go find some other nigga who couldn't be as fine as Franklin but he would do for now.

"I'm sorry." He whispered against my lips. I could feel basically every part of him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry for getting mad. Baby, please. Take me back. I'll do better. I'll stop lying to you. I'm sorry." He was inside now. Pushed through the door, his body against mine and my head spinning.

"What do I have to do to make it up to you baby?"

"I don't believe you. You always do this, you know your not going to change." I whimpered, my eyes shutting. My brain was fogging, an effect Franklin always had on me. But I would be stronger than this. I had too.

"I swear I will." He planted a soft kiss on my neck and I jumped. He was so warm. He tossed the flowers on to the little table I usually throw my keys on when I come in. Both hands ran up and down my arms.

"I promise I'll change. You don't have to pretend you don't want to come back baby, I'll do better this time. Just let me treat you right tonight, I'll start changing right now." More kisses undid me. I needed to tell him off. But the funny thing was, whenever Franklin and I broke up it was like I could only remember the best parts of him.

Not the lashing out, the screaming, the controlling, the random lies, the secrets. Only the gentle moments, where he held my face and gave me soft kisses that chipped away at me. The gifts that would adorn me when we went out, the way he proudly showed me off, the shopping sprees and little weekend trips, even the normal nights we would just sit around with our friends.

Sitting on his lap where I belonged, on whoevers porch as we just talked (and disturbed the peace of the neighborhood) and passed a blunt around and drank. He always made sure I got home safe afterward, my designated driver.

It was weird. Maybe it was feeling him kissing down my neck and him gently caressing me, but the good memories were just rushing to me. Like water smashing into a wall, slowly chipping away from it.

"I'm sorry I got mad at you. I'm sorry for lying, I just didn't want you to worry. I understand that I hurt you by lashing out and I'm gonna work on that. And you know I'm not perfect, just like you not and we both gon have to work on that. But I want to work on us, and I'm going too do whatever it takes. I'm building an empire and I want you to be right there with me when we make it to the top. It wouldn't be right without you." He was staring into my eyes, staring into my soul and heart and making his way back into both.

"Just one more chance. I promise this time I'll be better." I was never gonna hear the end of it this time. Another kiss, another piece of my self control.

"And if I'm not, I'll never bother you again. You have my word." It wasn't like he was all bad all the time. Standing trapped right next to my doorway, the city howling outside I felt the chill of the Summer night air blowing in from my open living room window. Somehow I was able to find it in me to push him off of me, stepping away into the living room putting more distance between us.

"I'm sick of going back and forth with you Franklin. It's constant with you, you lie for no reason and expect me to just forgive you. Why can't you just be straight with me?" He glanced at his feet, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. He looked guilty but I knew no matter how beaten up he looked I knew the next thing out of his mouth would probably be a lie.

"When my dad started coming back around, I couldn't tell my mom the truth. That I was the one who bailed him out that time. And I have to hide shit from people all the time, because I feel like I know better than they do and how news will effect them." He sighed, coming in and placing the flowers on the little side table next to my door. He ran a hand down his face, and I took another cautionary step back.

"You can't decide for me how things will make me feel. It isn't fair. You demand I tell you everything but it just isn't fair." That's bullshit! Yeah, Franklin had it tough growing up. His dad ran out and what not, but that has nothing to do with me!

He stepped closer in two large steps and took my hands in his. He ran his thumbs over my hands and I found myself admiring how big and perfect his hands were holding mine. Franklin really was beautiful and our everything just went together with pure perfection. If only he stopped keeping things from me. My eyes met his and he looked so..sad.

Sympathy overcame me even though I knew his ass didn't deserve it.

"I know. I know and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't be better for you. But I'm gonna try and do better this time. Imma give you everything you deserve this time. No more back and forth." Crouching, his forehead touched mine and I saw his eyes closed. He always did this, it was like a hug for him. I closed my eyes too.

"You promise?" It came out a soft whisper, and I could feel relief washing over him in waves.

"Promise."

#black reader #x reader #x black reader #fem reader #franklin saint #snowfall #franklin saint x reader #franklin saint fanfic #multifandom account #pls send requests #my man <3 #toxic relationship #leon simmons

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soldier-poet-king · 1 month

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Will my suffering never cease

- went to good Friday evening service even tho it's not a day of obligation, didn't go yesterday evening to Maundy Thursday for a variety of reasons

- priest manages to fit homophobia and transphobia into his sermon. Not even gay marriage. Just unions, that let ppl share taxes and have hospital visiting rights. And big bad scary surgery. Like. Completely unrelated to the matter at hand. Says SO LITTLE abt the Passion, managed to talk for 10 minutes without really saying ANYTHING. Takes Pilate's 'what is truth' and instead of engaging in the long philosophical and theological discussion around that question, decides to use it as a rallying cry against wokeism and a godless progressive society.

- my two ex best friends were there. Ran into them. + One's husband, who I introduced her to a decade ago. Like I'm mostly over that, no longer shitty and resentful, fully know that it was partially my fault and born from my own terribleness at 19 and undiagnosed untreated mental illness. Still uhhh hurts tho??? As a reminder?

- music bad. Ok I'm petty. I'll give the trads (1) point. I don't like guitar mass. I will NOT agree with the trads in assigning moral weight to my aesthetic preference. It's simply a preference, which does not make any musical form inherently superior to the others. But the triduum really lends itself to Latin hymns and chants, in my heart. My other fave church music is traditional Black spirituals. I would greatly prefer either. But just. If it sounds like an acoustic version of a pop love song. I just. I can't. I KNOW I'm the weird about Jesus romantically girlie. But I am not vibin with this folks

Literally would have simply Walked Out. Hit da bricks during the homily. But was with my family so 1) cannot out myself 2) did not have house keys on me, so I was suck regardless

Anyway I said I wasn't going to do fun things today but I'm so upset and cranky and I did chores all day, I am going to catch up on dungeon meshi. Marcille is my best favourite cringefail girl I'm obsessed with her and surely the wlw neurotic fussy mage who loves her friends will not betray me like this

#the duality of fran #faith tag #also like #.highly unlikely that i was the only closeted queer person there #and obvs extra full of the triduum a lot of non regulars attending #so GLAD that they decided to make it such a lovely and welcoming environment for THE BIGGEST MOST SIGNIFICANT WEEKEND IN THE FAITH.#surely this will encourage people and make them feel welcome and loved and cared for #yes yes there's that flannery oconnor bit abt not judging priests harshly #but also. its one thing to have a bad homily #not discussing the philosophy of pilates question is fine. i get most ppl are not versed in greco roman thought #but the absolute just. whining reactionary social conservatism #ON GOOD FRIDAY???#even going as far as to be like 'those few of us who keep the faith'#okay sir. this isnt some uwu im so special and faithful unlike all those abomination degenerate queers #gonna get gay married for tax purposes/green card out of spite #(green card both ways i can get u cad citizenship lmao)#remove my reproductive system. idgaf. uterus free to a good home. all it does is give me health problems anyway #tho that last one is less dysphoria and more just. it's a fuckin pain in my ass medically speaking #also the triduum is THEE celebration for the gay chrisitans. its john the beloved. its judas. its projecting for us ok

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darethshirl · 2 months

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Writing Pattern Tag Game

super late with this but better late than never! thank you for the tags @fadedsweater, @anneapocalypse, and @dragon--sage 🥰🥰 tagging back @roguelioness, @sarsaparillia, @korcariiwitch, @queenaeducan, @rosella-writes, @dreadfutures, @melisusthewee, @mel-0n-earth and anyone who sees this and wants to do it tbh!

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 fics and see if there's a pattern!

Goblins were disgusting, wretched little creatures, but even Astarion had to admit they knew how to throw a party.

from i'm not beaten by this yet (you can't tell me to regret) (bloodweave, explicit, 3k words)

It was only after Astarion had finished the kill—after the gut-deep slash, the satisfying spurt of blood—that he realized he was being watched.

from tear it through my heart (again, again, again) (tavstarion, mature, 4k words)

The cemetery was a quiet, unassuming little place, hidden between a shabby building and a formerly-tall church wall that was swiftly falling into ruin.

from cradle me with grace (tavstarion, explicit, 3k words)

Baldur’s Gate buzzed with all the activity of a healthy city, lively and unchanging throughout the ages.

from so long to this wretched form (tavstarion, teen, 4k words)

The tower at Moonrise was both more imposing and more cramped than Astarion had imagined.

from take me under, take me home (tavstarion, teen, 6k words)

The moon shone high overhead, and Ketheric Thorm’s world was crumbling all around him.

from deus proditus (Ketheric study, general, 1k words)

The thing was, Astarion really had wanted her from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her.

from let me wrap my teeth around the world (tavstarion, explicit, 5k words)

In retrospect, John should have waited before bringing his friends back to life.

from like prometheus we are bound, our godforsaken lot (John/Mercy/Augustine, The Locked Tomb, general, 2k words)

It starts so abruptly that Cliff doesn’t even realize what’s happening.

from you know how to make me crawl (Cliff/David, Black Mirror, explicit, 1k words)

Despite everything, and despite what her future memories will tell her, Erica grew up relatively happy in the House of Slaughter.

from ain’t it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves (Erica study, Something Is Killing The Children, teen, 2k words)

so!! first of all I'm surprised I had to go deep enough that I ran out of bg3 fics lmao. I'd almost forgotten I'd written that black mirror fic!! and yet I didnt go far enough to reach a dragon age one 🥲 I really have left this fandom huh (for now! 😤🐺)

second of all, I'm surprised by how short some of these are! I definitely think of myself as more wordy, and I prefer my longer sentences when I look at this. I think the weakest are the bg3 ones in the middle where I have to establish which act we're in (and let me tell you I STRUGGLED with that Baldur's Gate city description, it was literally the last part I wrote in the fic and you can kinda tell i wanted to get things over with aksdh)

I do prefer the ones that are more character-centric (poor Ketheric, so dramatic lmao). I think if you're going in fandom-blind John's line is the most striking (he can bring people back from the dead???) even tho if you have the context it's not that impressive an opening 😂 And I super enjoyed writing astarion being a dick about goblins!

but I gotta say my favourite line is the "it was only after Astarion had finished the kill" etc etc from tear it through my heart 🥰🥰 in fact I liked that line so much I made it the summary! these are the kind of vibes I want to always achieve 👀 also, honestly, I should start in action/medias res more often! it seems like a fun style I've tragically underused so far

#ask meme #my writing #bg3 #tlt #black mirror #hey you know what other annoying pattern i can see #all my titles are from song lyrics 🙃😂#i hate it but also im not gonna stop it cause. you know. coming up with titles SUCK #but theyre still dumb to look at one after the other akjsd #also you can tell im wordy when my pattern analysis babbling reaches FOUR PARAGRAPHS LMAO 🤡

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avatarrecom · 7 months

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Day 6: Blindfold

Pairing: Poly!recoms x Recom!reader (can be read as character x reader)

Word count: 800

A/N: First time writing smut, so it probably sucks lol. God, the local church confession booth definitely hates me.

Kinktober masterlist

🌍 Recom Miles Quaritch He’d go feral if you let him blindfold you. “Darlin, I'm gonna cover your eyes with a blindfold, but don't worry, I'll take care of you. Just trust me, alright?” You give him the green light and he ties the blindfold on, while his feather gently brushes against your skin, making your senses go wild. With each touch and kiss, you can't help but moan louder. He’d treat you like a total goddess, worshiping every inch of you.

😈 Recom Lyle Wainfleet Honestly, I think he's into being the one who gets blindfolded (and tied up). He finds it cute and sexy when you take control. Even though he could easily break free, he stays put and follows your every command. Every touch sends him into a frenzy and he's always begging for more. He even calls out your name in a desperate voice. When you're on top of him, he can't get enough and he finishes quickly. And when you tug on his queue just a little bit, he lets out the cutest whimper that makes you feel powerful.

🍬 Recom Z-dog To her, blindfolds are totally cool, and she's actually really into them. She gets a kick out of seeing you wiggle around when you can't see anything, 'cause it makes all your other senses go into overdrive. She loves it when you don’t know where she’s gonna touch you next. She definitely keeps extremely quiet so she can see you jump when she suddenly whispers in her ears, while you thought the was somewhere else.

🥽 Recom Walker She's not really into anything too rough, but she loves messing around with different sensations. Especially when she blindfolds you and your senses go into overdrive. She's all about experimenting with temperatures, and one of her faves is wax play. She just loves how it looks on your skin. And the best part is according to her? You never know what she's gonna do next!

😎 Recom Mansk I think Mansk isn’t into blindfolding, He’d want to see the pleasure in your eyes when he’s absolutely destroying your pussy. He’d want to see the tears leak out of your eyes when you’re overstimulated. Maybe he’d try it a few times, but he still prefers to see your pretty face when he fucks you.

🧯 Recom Prager I have a feeling that he’s only into blindfolding you when you had a rough time. If you’re a soldier, then maybe because of a mission, or because of the hunt on Jake. If you’re a scientist, it might be when he returns from a long mission and you two haven’t seen eachother in a long time. He’d definitely use his bandana to blindfold you tho. But a clean one (I just know that he has dozens, sometimes he also uses them to tie you up), He doesn’t want his dirty, sweaty bandana touching your beautiful face. When you’re blindfolded, he would worship your body like you’re an extra celestial being. He’s such a sweet baby, he just wants you to feel better.

⚕️ Recom Ja He would be okay with blindfolding, but only if you ask for it and even then he hesitates. He definitely wouldn’t suggest it himself. I feel like he doesn’t like having one of his senses cut off and he wouldn’t like it for you either. He would only do it to please you when you’ve had a rough or stressful time.

🧢 Recom Brown He's into blindfolds, for both of you. He thinks it's super sexy how it makes your senses go wild and makes you more sensitive. Usually, he pairs it with temperature play - ice and wax. The different sensations drive him crazy and he loves hearing your little gasps and whimpers. But he’ll only do blindfolded temperature play on you, not himself.

📿 Recom Lopez Definitely into blindfolding. Loves to lightly trail his fingers and lips over your body and surprising you where he’s touching you next. He would tie your hands too, so you can’t use them to sneakily find out where he is. I feel like he definitely has a collection of blindfolds, to use in different situations and on different people. He would be okay with being blindfolded, but not often. The moment he takes a step back and sees you with the silky blindfold over your eyes, he has an instant hardon.

⛓️ Recom Fike Blindfolds is something he never thought he'd be into, but when you mentioned it, he got all excited in his gut. He's totally into using them on you and having you use them on him. He will decide on some rules with you and when you’re the one who is blindfolded he’ll constantly ask you if you’re okay. He won’t do anything extreme, he’s too anxious that he’s doing something wrong and he can’t see the emotions in your eyes.

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doevademe · 1 year

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Nico remaining a catholic while being the son of the lord of hell (and the greek equivalent of Paradise) is just the epitome of irony for me.

That's why I propose the following prompt:

Some random homophobic: y'all are going to hell for your sin!

Percy and Nico share a look before bursting out laughing.

Percy: Been there, done that, bud. A little dark but welcoming when you know the owner of the place.

Nico: Actually got a room for me in a palace there, can't say the same for you tho.

"Why are we here again?" Percy asked as he squirmed uncomfortably. The church parishioners seemed to all be looking at them.

"Because it's my mother's death anniversary," he reminded him. "And for some reason, you decided to accompany me to mass instead of staying home."

"I wanted to support you, Ni," he said. It was the first time he could do something as Nico's boyfriend and not just as his friend. "I just didn't know this was an hour-long thing."

Behind them, an elderly lady shushed them. Nico turned and apologized in a hush.

The rest of the mass went by. Nico distressingly left him to have some white, thin food put in his mouth and come back to kneel. Percy couldn't say he understood, but he imitated Nico as well as he could.

He could see a man in his forties looking at them suspiciously.

Eventually, the priest named Nico's mother when talking about praying for the departed, and soon after the mass was over. Nico took his hand and led him out.

"I think mamma went to heaven," he said softly. "That's why I could never summon her."

Percy looked at him. So that was why he attended mass for her and not Bianca. Nico knew where his sister had gone after death, but Maria di Angelo was another story.

"It was a nice ceremony," he whispered, not knowing what else to say. "I didn't understand half of it, but it was beautiful."

Nico smiled and squeezed his hand.

"That couldn't have been easy for you. Staying still all that time and not understanding why people did things," Nico told him once they were outside. "But thanks for being respectful and... for being there for me."

Percy smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

"If it's important to you, of course I'll be there," he said. "So, that white wafer—"

"I knew it," someone said behind them. They both turned to see the same man that had been glaring at Percy during mass. "Don't you know your kind is not welcome here?"

Percy paled. Had he done something wrong? Was he embarrassing Nico in some way?

"What do you mean our kind?" Nico asked venomously.

"Perverts," he clarified, looking at them in distaste. "People like you shouldn't desecrate the house of our Lord."

Percy blinked.

Oh, so he hadn't done anything wrong during the mass. The guy was just a homophobe.

He let out a sigh of relief.

"I thought Jesus invited everyone to come to him, even sinners," Nico answered with a raised eyebrow.

"If they repent," the man said. "Only hell awaits those like you."

And Nico turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. Percy stared back.

They both laughed.

"S-sorry dude, but I know for a fact that I won't go there," he said as the man turned redder and redder from anger. "The guy in charge kind of likes me. I have my own room in a palace waiting for me."

"That's sacrilege!"

Percy shrugged.

"I mean, down there is a little cold and drafty, but it's not as bad, and the dead don't feel the cold," Percy added. "If anything, I can say it's not the worst thing that could happen."

"You, though? I doubt you might get more than oblivion," Nico continued. "You're not God's brave defender. You're barely God's anything."

"You—"

"You're worth nothing, and you'll die alone and bitter," Nico said in his son of Hades voice. The man turned white as a sheet. "We're leaving, Percy."

The man stayed quiet as Nico walked ahead of Percy, their hands still linked, until they reached a Starbucks.

"Order anything you like," he said. "My treat, as thanks for going with me."

They didn't talk about that man, and Percy realized it was because he mattered so little to Nico.

"Why go to mass, if you know you're going to the Greek Underworld?" He asked once they were seated. Nico smiled sheepishly.

"It makes me feel closer to my mother," Nico admitted. "I feel like she's with me then."

Percy smiled and kissed his boyfriend, not caring who saw.

"I'm sure she is, Nico."

#Percico #my writing #writing prompt #Percy is just that Hannibal Buress meme #he's so happy with Nico that he forgot homophobia existed #ask #anonymous

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fareehaandspaniards · 5 months

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I am starting to collect all my headcanons about Gremia! This post is created to make my head empty again, so I can start create something new, but if anyone wants to read my Deep Dark Fantasies - enjoy xD

(traditionally a portrait! One day I will have portrait of EVERY character of BB, but for now I drew 7!)

Should I start by saying that creating an image of a character like Sir Gremia is an extremely fascinating endeavor, because 90% of his image is my personal fantasy and kinks, since the game gives almost no information about him?

What we have in the game:

An old generation Tomb Prospector, as he can be summoned to Ebraitas (and funnily enough, ONLY to her. He's not available ANYWHERE else in the game at all. Unique sir xd)

Default Face Model. Who knows if it was his face model that became the default because the developers decided not to bother, or if he had a different face but it was removed, but still he is the only npc without a mask with a default face. He has a slightly swarthy skin, long nose, protruding forward chin, age wrinkles, narrow lips, gray (maybe gray-blue?) eyes.

Wild fighting style - in my case, when I tried to summon Damian and Gremia to Ebraitas in turn, the difference was obvious xD If Damian walked around the enemy and kept a distance, throwing magic and sometimes getting hit, Gremia rushed into the fight and literally crushed the unfortunate Great One to the wall xd (what a man)

His name is !Sir! Gremia. How many other sirs are there in Bloodborne? Fucking zero. So he's got a title somewhere. Is he a current captain of Tomb Prospectors? (Tho they almost all died already I suppose?) Did he receive that title for his service? Is he noble from the beginning?

Okay, model, name, fighting style and church weapons, augur ebrietas, plus torch and...

youtube

(he's saying "That's all!" xd)

And now we can move on to the headcanons, since THAT character has been given a tribute in the form of listing his CANON traits, now we can throw in a LITTLE bit of my thoughts (I used to think that Edgar and other npcs with no lines or anything else were the peak of comedy, especially when the fans get a personality for all these dudes. But Sir Gremia is a new level. The poor man doesn't even have a face of his own lol).

So.

Let me start by saying that I changed his appearance a LITTLE bit. Basically changed his eye color to brown (I really want brown eyes, but I'll probably go back to the canonical gray version later Q_Q), and added a couple of scars and burn marks. And so I gave him short, dark, brown hair, and impressive musculature, since I have a headcanon that he spent ALL his free time working out and improving his physical form, as he saw it as the best way to survive. Periodically, the Church would make him read, if only to ensure he knew the Church's prayers and precepts, but Gremia would be extremely resistant to this endeavor, as he simply couldn't read (and didn't want to, I'll tell later why)

He was recruited into the Tomb Prospector ranks because of his fighting ability, physical strength and a great desire to be among them. It seems to me that Ludwig himself was responsible for recruiting the first generation of Tomb Prospectors, as his Holy Sword of Moonlight was retrieved from the dungeons, so as the first Church hunter, he may have been their commander for a while. That's exactly how I headcanoned it. And it was Ludwig who accepted Olek, Gremia and Damian into the squad, and the rest (naturally, there are also other Tomb Prospectors. Can't a task as extensive as pulling numerous goodies from the tombs of the Pthumerians and beyond be done by 3 men and one horse (Ludwig)). Gremia was a beggar, so poor that his main livelihood as a child was stealing, and later it became fights where bets were placed on people (this I borrow a bit from the movie "Sherlock Holmes" with Robert Downey Jr. Oh, and it's an interesting topic in general). Actually he could have become one of the hunters Gehrman mentored, I don't think it mattered to him what the origin of his charges was, but being Tomb Prospector is more prestigious, more expensive, more interesting. Besides, at that point, could Gremia have calculated that this case was safer? Hunting is fine, but hunters die in huge numbers, it seems to me. If we take a large city like Yharnam and imagine how many volunteers and common hunters could have died from disease/blood poisoning/beast curse/just a lack of fighting skills or a single mistake - it gets creepy. SO anyway he met Damian there, as a recruit to Tomb Prospectors.

Gremia was a very open-minded young man in his youth. As I wrote in a post with headcanons on Damian (here<3), he is "what I think is what I say" type. He jokes constantly, VERY much, and comes up with a variety of puns, often ruining the atmosphere or the moment, but it's easier for him to accept reality and present himself to people that way. Through jokes, he distracts himself from the horror of what is happening around him. If in young Damian's vision this trait was extremely annoying, then I think by the time of the game events, Damian would really miss his goofiness, because when your life consists of suffering, disappointments and shattered dreams, this is the only way to distract yourself (I like to imagine how Gremia constantly grabbed all sorts of artifacts found by their squad in the tombs, and tried them on himself, and then laughed out loud).

He's a great fighter, which is probably obvious since he's still alive by the time the player arrives to the Chalice of Isz? He uses Rosmarinus and Augur of Ebrietas, but not a Call Beyond. Funny that Edgar has the same equipment as him except for Torch! I have a headcanon that Edgar doesn't accept Great Ones as something good or an idol, and I think Gremia isn't a woshipper as well. But if Edgar sorta hates hates them in my vision, Gremia would be afraid of them? He is not a scientist, so why couldn't he see them as something terrifying?

GREMIAN stuff! Gremia was all manly man - "I never cry", "you can cry on my shoulder", "you're like a girl", "long hair is for women" and so on, but inside, he was still a very vulnerable creature, most of all craving affection and the very "tenderness" that was "not for him". He could reproach Damian for being overly sensitive, for his long hair, because it was impractical, for being careful in battle and for the fact that he always stays somewhere behind instead of rushing forward with him, as befits a real warrior (the image of a "warrior" could be gained from the only fairy tale books Gremia was read as a child, and also from the "the strongest survives" principle. I think as man from the poorest stratum of Yharnam, Gremia couldn't read and only learned it as an adult, but with great difficulty). All these reproaches would make their relationship prickly, but calling Damian effeminate would Gremia think of him only more and more? And the jokes in which he would constantly mention how Damian reminds him of a girl would be incomprehensible to Damian himself, but would simply mean that Gremia is constantly thinking about it. Gremia is the type who will say "no homo" his whole life, whether it's accepting help on which his life depends, holding hands with a friend, in bed with lover or on his deathbed, etc. xd Also "If he's cute and I'm top, it's not gay" lol (funny how most Russian anecdotes are based on this very phrase. Ironically, our anecdotes have men getting laid all the time, and I find it a curious social phenomenon, since our older generation doesn't accept LGBT in ANY way but still finds funny those goofy anecdotes about two men fucking xD). Gremia:

Damian would be exactly a "girl" to him, as I said, even though Damian himself is only related to femininity by his caring nature and long hair? Gremia would just really like to patronize him, making him "weak" in his own mind, but Damian was too young to see feelings in silly undercurrents and constant rebukes. I headcanon that Damian came to Tomb Prospectors from being a librarian, i mean, in Byrgenwerth he was in charge of the book archive. And the fact that a bookworm was trying to become a fighter would have made Gremia extremely nervous at first - he would have tried to teach him (even though he didn't ask for it), rebuke him, show him how much better Gremia himself was with weapons and all that. All in all this attitude would lead to their open conflicts at first, which would piss Ludwig off immensely as a leader (who would suggest them find a room lol). But gradually, Gremia would finally be able to express, that by constantly pestering Damian, he's just trying to care and actually genuinely worried if he survives against the dead of the catacombs and what happens to him. Gremia does care, he just doesn't know how to show it.

Gradually Damian would improve his fighting, get used to it, stop keeping behind the rest of the team and being afraid, and start guarding Gremia himself, because he was a great friend and comrade for him, even though he sometimes behaved inappropriately. It would break the whole image that Gremia had formed of Damian, but it would fuel his interest. After all, usually the manliest men are the ones who dream of being protected and petted. That would be where the real "camaraderie" and partnership would begin, the time when they could be a better team. Soon would be discovered Chalice of Isz, and of course, by this particular couple. (I headcanon VERY strongly that in one of the missions a fire of love happened between them, either by adrenaline or generally flowing out of their relationship, and there was passion, but this incident they didn't discuss in any way, and Gremia was the first to brush it off that it wasn't all that serious, though he was waiting for Damian to deny it). Gremia's feelings at this point would be boiling like a huge brew in a red-hot cauldron, but he would be afraid to voice them, instead of this trying to flirt with Damian, whose thoughts were entirely occupied with young Micolash. But Gremia had no way of knowing that his best friend and partner would soon leave the service he had devoted a large part of his life to?

Some time after that, when the Choir was founded, Damian began to distance himself from Tomb Prospectors, spending more time with the scholars of the Choir and even receiving an offer to become one of them. Expeditions down into the endless labyrinths still continued, but it was no longer as idyllic as it used to be, and Damian started carrying around a beautiful talisman - a medallion with the image of Micolash' eye, already blue, a beautiful English tradition from the days of Victorian England :^) Like one of those:

Gremia and Damian's views on Ebraitas differed - Damian took Micolash's point of view, wanting to know the rest of the Great Ones, their nature and etc, and was generally respectful. While Gremia was afraid of them. He, a man of a down-to-earth mindset, would not accept a monster as an idol. And fear would not encourage him to worship, but rather repel him.

When Micolash made the decision to leave the Choir, Damian followed him and visited his former colleagues one last time, only to say goodbye and leave his armor. Gremia was shattered, and the Damian had no idea that their union meant absolutely everything to Gremia, and that he was in love. That's when their biggest conflict happened, a real drama where Gremia left the other with a dislocated jaw in response to his coldness, as well as saying lots of bad things to him, saying everything he felt (except his true feelings), and generally making Damian think he was hated. Maybe Damian would have tried to look deeper into his soul, but Gremia closed himself off too aggressively, and Damian had already pledged his loyalty to Micolash and he doesn't break promises. In general, both remained sure that they do not want to see each other. Gremia's heart was broken, but he could not express it in anything but a crushing everything around, and so after angry Damian left, he shed tears for a long time and closed himself off from everyone for a while.

WOW GUYS what a drama I created, good job me??????? I HOPE YOU ENJOY READING MY BRILLIANT FANFIC LOL

("Moments of unbridled imagination" says the pic)

No, really, I am sorry for all of this what you are reading, since it all just appeared from my head as I looked at sir Gremia. I feel for him and Damian with all of those at the same time:

ANYWAY

Gradually, Gremia would seal his poor heart and continue his service, finding an outlet in it. While Damian was busy with science (kidnapping people for Micolash, organizing the School of MensTits and caring for a fully grown but unstable man), Gremia seriously tried to find a hobby, any hobby that would take his mind off memories about Damian - so he learned how to read and generally began pestering the Choir scholars with inquisitive questions about the faith, tried to find a mate in Olek, studied the Church's weapons, and even had a few love affairs. But nothing seemed to get better. He enjoyed communicating with the children from the orphanage, whom the Choir continued to take in. And loved to talk with Edgar, as one of the many Choir guys and later someone who could see Damian through his spying mission. Gremia had even told him stories about Damian, under the pretense that he wanted to warn him, but ended up spilling Damian's entire youth to Edgar with some delicate details, exclusively moments unrelated to combat in any way. No, well, the fact that he can cook is extremely important to Edgar? (no). Also, Gremia taught Edgar how to fight (because Gremia VERY much wanted to, and Edgar couldn't say no), so Edgar inherited his fighting style.

During his service, he also realized his long-held dream - he was given the noble title of Sir. Although Gremia claimed to despise the aristocracy of Yharnam, he always wanted to feel "higher" than he was, so Ludwig knighted him with Laurence, and appointed him head of the Tomb Prospectos (sadly, there was soon almost no Tomb Prospectors left. But Gremia always wore the title proudly, and mentioned that he was "sir" every chance he got).

As he matured, Gremia was no longer so boastful about his manhood, but became more confident and relaxed, though his parade of jokes remained with him. The feelings he had for Damian, despite calling him a "traitor", no longer seemed strange or foolish, and he accepted them. Gremia had become a fine man, a true support and simply a good human, who had finally accepted his inner sensitivity and desire to nurture and mentor. (Left without Damian, he no longer worried about what the other one would think of him, so he let himself go, and simply wanted to become better for Damian, so that he might one day impress him or even win him back.)

Over the years, Gremia and Damian had forgiven each other for the last goodbye, and Gremia only wished that Damian would finally stop following Micolash and come back. Gremia and Damian crossed paths once, when Damian was taking care of provisions for the School of Mensis. They pointed their weapons at each other, but Gremia noticed for himself how much Damian had aged, how much he had changed, how much colder he had become. Damian felt a huge guilt towards his former comrade and asked if the Gremia held a grudge for all that happened between them. Gremia would have suggested Damian to leave Micolash, reminded him that the School of Mensis was an immoral fuck-up and Damian wasn't like that at all, and complained that they were almost the same age, only Gremia looked young, having earned only a couple of age wrinkles, while Damian had sand falling out of him (he would have definitely asked why Damian had a huge cage-shaped thing on his head and where the fuck are his eyebrows xd). But Damian is a man of his word, and so they would have drifted apart again, still as warring sides, Church and School of Mensis, only now knowing there was no offense between them. I can directly see this all right here, this is definitely going to become a fanfic when I start writing it.

When the Mensis ritual happened, when Rom became a Vacuous Spider, when Caryll disappeared, when Edgar died, when Damian lost everyone he knew, he thought he was alone. But Gremia was still waiting for him. I wrote once before in a post that Damian ended his life after Micolash died in a Nightmare, but I don't like that end of his life at all, and I didn't know that there was such a wonderful Gremia who LOVED him all his life (whoops how lucky Damian is!). So after visiting Micolash one last time and making sure that the aura of presence was gone from the mummy and the nightmare was over - a new dawn was beginning in Yharnam, this time a true dawn, the two of them could leave the city and finally live like normal people, at least at the end of their lives.

Happy end achieved yay!

Little headcanons I forgot to mention in all this writing:

When Gremia was seriously injured during a battle and was paralyzed and bedridden for a while, Damian would come to read to him. He would read everything from children's books to poems and ballads, and Gremia would listen intently, memorizing the stories and often falling asleep to his voice.

Micolash in this entire timeline and headcanon, if he ever had a romantic relationship with Damian, it was only in the School of Mensis. However, seeing Gremia's blatant interest, he would deliberately take Damian's attention back to himself. Not that he needed the attention badly. It was just that he needed to signify that Damian was his, perhaps even as a thing. That's the kind of person he is xd Well, how not to piss off such a susceptible Gremia who lights up like a torch? Gremia's excessive jealousy led to quarrels, and it was extremely amusing for Micolash to watch it. Ugh not nice xd When Damian left everything for Micolash, Gremia was just like that: (Why him and not me?!)

youtube

Gremia is almost permanently horny. It's such a character trait, I don't know what to say xd And because of that, his frequent fantasies led to him often secluding himself with exciting thoughts, often hiding very poorly that all his thoughts are specifically about Damian (if he saw Damian in a woman's dress, he would die I SWEAR (from the hardest boner in his whole life)

Ludwig was always there for all of Tomb Prospectors, but Gremia seeked his help more in love affairs, asking for advice - what to do with Damian, because Ludwig seemed to him very experienced man xD

WHOEVER you are thanks for reading my fanfic, if you are reading this line! xd Sorry for couple of russian memes, they are too expressive and perfect here. Sorry for sorry, I am tired and could think of it more, add more headcanons, connected with the GAME EVENTS but my head is fucking full, and if won't put my fantasies somewhere, I can't create something new ;_; Anyway I am not sure anyone would read all of this

lol

1:40 AM I am fucked up bye

#tomb prospector gremia #gremian #bloodborne headcanons #some memes #tried to make it funny to read #my art #bloodborne

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vladdocs · 1 year

Note

Hello!

Thank you so much for sharing your knowledge with us. I would like to ask if there are any common misconceptions about Vlad that are widely accepted as fact? I have often come across historical "facts" that are untrue but are repeated often and widely spread.

Thank you, have a nice day/evening

You are welcome and it's my pleasure <3 "common misconceptions about Vlad that are widely accepted as fact?" There are quite a few of those: 1. He was in the order of the Dragon - Vlad had nothing to do with it, This whole Order of the Dragon thing and his father comes from 1 chronicle that never mention Vlad Dracul's name, but the voievode of Wallachia which at the time was Vlad's uncle Alexandru Aldea. tho Iancu de hunedoara was in it, Quite ironic. 2. Vlad was hated by boyars - This one is completely false since you simply can't be a ruler without the support of the boyars. they are the ones who lands you their armies at need, without their support Vlad couldn't be such an active voievode. 3. His first wife killed herself by jumping of Poenari - pure fiction, we don't even know her name let alone how she died. 4. Vlad was brutal even for his times. - He was quite a chill man, he didn't do anything that his successors and predecessors wouldn't have done, most of his enemies were just exiled and he NEVER impaled a boyar or someone with noble blood since it was forbidden by law to execute them in anyway except decapitation, you now also know why Vlad was so mad on the Brasov's merchants who buried alive his brother. I recommend you to search "Jacobo Pazzi" or "Georghe doja" to find out the average punishments in Vlad's time. 5. There was only 1 night attack. - The campaign of 1462 is really played down a lot, there were in between of 2 and 9 night attacks, Mehmed's aim with that campaign was to absorb Wallachia into the Ottoman empire and to kill Vlad, not to change the rulers. When an army it lead by the Sultan himself it always mean that the invaded country will become part of the ottoman empire if they manage to conquer it. And how we know the whole war started in the summer and finished in Autumn, when Matthias imprisoned Vlad. After Mehmed was defeated (He also retreated because he had another war going on) and left Radu to deal with Vlad, there were actually 3 more fights between Radu and Vlad which Vlad won of course and then he run out of men and went to Matthias. 6. Vlad introduced harsh punishments in Wallachia - Wallachia inherited a set of laws from the previous Serbian empire, Vlad didn't change them and only obey them. that's why it is funny when you hear "Vlad punished them" mf that's the law. A group of boyars and the church were usually the ones that carry out the punishments. 7. Vlad was so feared because of his brutal acts

- he was feared because of his military skills and how efficient he was in battle, also because in his raids he was targeting smaller villages to impact the income of boyars.

8. Vlad was not religious and even hurt priests

- my brother in christ, the harshest punishment in our sets of law was called "Desugubina" and it applied when you hurt a church figure, After Vlad gifted a monastery with the wealth previously owned by a boyar named Albu the great he burned that church and gather an army to fight Vlad, Vlad defeated him and as per Desugubina, his whole bloodline was wiped out. Vlad was extremely religious like every ruler and boyar.

9. Vlad was imprisoned in a dungeon filled with rats.

- People need to realize that he was of noble blood, when you hear imprisoned either in hungry or at the ottomans don't think about a cell, but a luxurious palace surrounded by servants.

10. Vlad was killed by the ottomans and his head was sent to the sultan who put it on a high stake in Constantinople

- "who put it on a high stake in Constantinople" This part is completely fiction, Anything beyond "He was sent to the sultan" can't be found in any document or chronicle. As for the head being sent to the sultan it from Antonio bonfini chronicle(Which i will put it below) i personally don't find it a trustful source but the Corpus Draculianum team do. Vlad died in Bucharest attacked by 3 armies combined of Crimean Tatars, Wallachian rivals and Ottomans when he had only Stefan's 200 men with him. The battle was so violent that almost nobody got out alive, that's why the sources are so confusing and all over the place. Bonfini's chronicle: " It was said that the king rushed to the Transalpine [parts of the empire] to free Dracula, to whom he had given a wife and also his blood relative by a lawful marriage, from the hands of the Turks.

After he went there, he captured Dracula in Transylvania, it is not known for what reason, since this was not quite known to anyone, but the other Dracula, who had been placed in the province by the Turk, he approved of, contrary to everyone's opinion. This one he led captive to Buda and punished with the dungeon for ten years.

They recall that Dracula was of unheard cruelty and justice. They say that when envoys of the Turks refused to take off the Phrygian caps at an audience, according to the custom of their homeland, in order to consolidate [this] their custom, he hammered three nails into their heads so that they could not be moved.

He had put innumerable Turks on stakes, and between them he had dined nobly with friends. The beggars and, moreover, all of the degenerates, idlers, and wretches of strength and fortune he took in for a very noble banquet, [and] thereupon, throwing fire into them when they were full of food and wine, he destroyed them.

Likewise, he often flayed the skin off the feet of Turkish prisoners, rubbed them with crushed salt, and soon after led goats to lick the salted soles, which increased the torture by the roughness of their tongues.

A Florentine merchant, worried about securing (his) money, he ordered it to be deposited in the middle of the road and, not having lied about the money counted at night, let him go safely.

In a barbaric region he applied such a great rigor that anyone could be completely safe with his fortune in the middle of the forest. Matthias restored him to his old dignity, but he was finally killed in a Turkish war, his head was sent to Mehmed as a gift.

The king never allowed the Turkish envoys to come before him without presenting Dracula, whom he held as a prisoner, the most bitter enemy of the Turks and exceedingly terrible to them, again and again. The latter recognized the man from whom they had experienced so many inhuman tortures, as often as they had been beaten and put to flight, and looked at him askance.

And the more they were invited to the completion of the truce. But the king, to confirm their fears, refused a truce, submitting that by paternal right it was not lawful for any king of Pannonia to make truce or peace with the Turk: If he did so, his royal dignity would be immediately ruined." You have to keep in mind that there are over 50 Ottoman chronicles about Vlad and almost all are written after his death yet none ever mention something about it or his 3rd reign, as for Bonfini chronicle you decide for yourself how truthful it is. 11. Vlad lived in Sighisoara at Casa Dracul.

- He might have lived in Sighisoara but Casa Dracul was built in the mid 16th century, As for the fresco of Vlad Dracul from there, the respective fresco represents Ali Pasha from Timisoara, together with Mihaly Apafi and the mayor of Sighisoara, very probably during the first visit to the city, in 1662.

______ There is a LOT more stuff but the post is already too long, I don't think i need to say anything about Bran Castle, Katherina Siegel, German pamphlets or rural legends. My advice for you it to stay away from articles, documentaries, youtube videos, books with that title "The true story" "The real life" and for the love of god, avoid Vlad's Wikipedia at all costs. that thing is a dumpster fire. Seek professional opinions and if you can ask for a proof. In the future the Corpus Draculianum volumes will be available in English as well and people will finally have something to confirm or debunk claims but until then, you can just visit their YouTube channel or facebook page/group

#questions #vladtheimpaler #vlad dracula #vladtepeshistory #history #romania

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somebirdortheother · 8 months

Note

Hello dear Birdy. It is I, your favourite YouTuber reviewer, here to bother you about Foundation once again!

Let's get down to it: how fucked that OG!Cleon would lord over The Cell!Demerzel like a little creap, teasing her with the taste of freedom. And I know your opinion on Demerzel has vastly worsened since the heydays (amusing proof that i'm not a native English speaker: I wrote hay days at first and then felt the need to check and realize how dumb I was) of Season One, but come on… Don't you feel a teeny tiny bit of sympathy for her, who's been trapped in pieces for thousands of years?

I have to give it to OG!Cleon though: he didn't set Demerzel free without forethoughts. Many stories rely on the acts of the imbeciles to move certains plotpoints forwards. It would've been so easy to have him act irrationally and to liberate her in a fit of desire. He's an asshole, and it's beyond cruelty, what he did to Demerzel, but at least he was relatively smart about it. I have a newfound sympathy for her, because she clearly didn't choose that fate, and she's been trying to correct course ever since.

I've changed my mind. I don't like Bel Riose anymore. Even if you're a good guy, when you keep working for the oppressors, you're automatically an asshole by association. He's pretty cool, and I like the actor, but if I were in the same room as Bel, i would kick him in the nuts.

Ahahahahaha can't believe that Cleon, of all people, is the one reminding us that Foundation should be about collecting knowledge, not building weaponry. It WAS an armory and the Church IS a cult. Heartbreaking: the worst person you know just made a great point!

In other news, I'm delighted that Salvor is back to form and kicking asses left and right, like she should. But the bastard keeps using my man Hugo. Salvor needs to fry his ass.

Hari fucking Seldon can't even tell a white lie for the life of his followers. I'm disappointed. I know y'all math nerds need us peasants to KNOW that the math is always right but damnit, sometimes you just have to give a bitch a bone!

Tellem: poor illusion Hari: proceeds to smash her brain's out Me: lol

Can't believe Demerzel tried to mix "I could fix him" with "fucking him would fix me" to give us "fucking him could fix him". I'm glad that my theory about her using sex as a method of control proved to be true tho! It failed in epic fashion, but I'm glad!

100 000 000 000/10 because DROWN!HARI IS NOW DIRTY!HARI!!!!! I'm so happy about it. I don't know how he pulled that one off (maybe he's just incredibly good at holding his breath) but I'm happy regardless. King of Kings, truly an iconic bitch. How coold that we had a little glimpse into the past, to see exactly how Cleon and Demerzel became an item. I'm incredibly sad for Demerzel. Her backstory raises so many questions, the most important to me being: if she's literally incapable to do harm to Cleon, how is it that she could snap Cleon XIV's neck so easily? Is it because his genetic material was slightly different? If so, she easily could've wipped out the entire Dynasty before the problem could be fixed. With no more Cleons, the little chip in her would be useless. Or perhaps that demanded a tremendous amount of will for her to do that, hence the meltdown that ensued. Mystery! Super sexy of Salvor to save the day like that. Overall, good episode. I enjoyed it quite a lot.

FNG

Hello, dear FNG. I must quote your own words because this was a brilliant review of Episode 9 of Foundation S2.

100 000 000 000/10 because DROWN!HARI IS NOW DIRTY!HARI!!!!!

Dirty!Hari!

INDEED, my friend! He's Dirty!Hari alright! I just love him. Iconic performance. Also, it's undeniable that a version of the following conversation happened offscreen between Gaal and him:

Gaal: Hari. Babe. Trust me, just trust me. We are going to have you drown. Literally almost die. Full brink of death. But I'll definitely save you at the last moment. If the plan works. Which it may not. But it might. Hari, who was previously had his whole plans come undone because of Gaal, and who had been her prisoner for over a 100 years, whose whole life is shit partially because of her: *heart eyes* Okay <3

Re: Salvor - VERY HOT OF HER TO BE A BADASS. I'm so happy that she was stronger than her memories of Hugo this time. Loron deserved his grisly end.

Re: OG!Cleon - you do bring up a good point. He comes off as sufficiently intelligent and calculating. I was almost assuming that by the time he's older he'd be dumber about the robot he kept visiting his whole life - but buddy really came through with his evil plan.

This leads me to Demerzel. You're quite right - my appreciation of the character plummeted since the start of this season... and unfortunately it didn't recover with this episode, though I do have to say that calling Cleon 17 a sperm with quite inspired. But you see, I'm spoiled by "rat in a maze will do anything to break free" stories like the SUPERB Ava of Ex Machina, where an artificial creature that lives imprisoned does absolutely ANYTHING to survive and be free. And here we've got Demerzel - too dumb to deal with a Cleon.

Current Cleon vs Vault!Hari - you take the mathematician's name out of yer mouth! Although Vault!Hari is a dick. I think he's hitching a ride in his prime radiant at this point, with not a care in the world. Which does make me wonder - I truly think that Terminus!Foundation's plan was... how should I say it... dumb as nails. What did they think was going to happen when they decide to fuck around in front of an emperor that belongs to the long line of clones that include such bangers as Cleon the Twelfth???

Bel Riose - Yeah, I understand. I guess, for me it was believable that he chose to follow an order because his sense of discipline and fulfilling his husband's with came first. I still feel like he may pull something unexpected in the next episode.

THANK YOU FOR YET ANOTHER REVIEW!!!!!

Can't wait to hear your thoughts about Ep10 when it comes out!

#fng foundation watch #foundation #foundation season 2 #foundation spoilers #hari seldon

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