#also for the amount of people who were not aware I also made a rejoice version. scheduling this already so I don’t forget 👍

[frog-chemicals]

Part 2!

#mostly making this version a separate post bc I’m curious if the numbers will be noticeably different? #also for the amount of people who were not aware I also made a rejoice version. scheduling this already so I don’t forget 👍 #gb doodles #for. consistency sake. guess that’s my. creations tag?? it’s not a drawing. but I did have to fotoshop it. even though I did it in paint. #neil banging out the tunes #413

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 少年歌行/The Blood of Youth

The Blood of Youth is a 2022 live-action adaptation of the tale of a deposed, disabled, and incredibly cunty prince who's on his way back to settle the score with his asshole father, and the rag-tag band of weirdos he accumulates along the way, including Spear Girl, Bad Monk, and Fire Puppy (pictured above).

I hope you like shounen anime, because this is the most shounen anime something is allowed to be without actually being based on something running weekly in Shounen Jump. What if Nirvana in Fire were also Naruto? It would be the Blood of Youth.

This show is an underrated gem of action-packed fun that not nearly enough people in English-speaking fandom have seen. In an attempt to correct that -- and ahead of an announced second season and prequel in progress -- I'm here with five reasons you should try it out.

1. Zero thoughts head empty

You do not have to pay an enormous amount of attention to this show to understand what's going on. The show itself does not always know what's going on. It got distracted by a shiny object over there, and now we're all gearing up to go punch the shiny object. We'll get back to the main plot when we're done with the punching.

It has a million billion plot threads going on at any given moment. Bad guys roll in from sects you've never heard of before, using superpowers with stupid names, only to get kicked into next week. There's approximately eleventy thousand characters -- so many, in fact, that I ran into problems several times while making this rec post, because there aren't readily available photos of everyone I want to talk about. Just look at the DramaWiki cast list. See how it goes on for like fifty screens? That's a little what the show feels like.

Except I'm not saying that like it's a bad thing, because the show knows it's doing this, and it acts accordingly. It telegraphs pretty well who's important and who isn't (and then it goes out of its way to color-code the latter, which is handy). What you're left with is absolutely a manga-style plot, complete with training arcs and semi-relevant sidequests, all working up to the final boss match.

It is an extremely self-aware show. On multiple occasions, something would happen, I would crack a joke about it, and then a beat later the show itself would make the exact same joke. I wouldn't call it an outright comedy, but it's still very funny, and on purpose. It has no illusions about being some kind of profound, meaningful epic. Mostly it's just here for a good time.

Yet this lightheartedness is what makes the powerful emotional parts really powerful by contrast. The show is not stupid; it's just goofing around most of the time. When it knuckles down, it can be devastating. And you know what? It does wind up being profound and meaningful about some stuff. How about that.

So yeah, if you're up for something that bops merrily right along and only occasionally rips your heart out, here you go!

2. Putting the poly in polycule

Bisexuals, rejoice! It's representin' time!

Here you go, I made a relationship chart of about 40% of the show's potential and canonical ships. I could have included so many more, but I only had so much space on the image, so I had to leave out some amazing ones, like the sword hedgehog who's real into this one cougar who could easily wipe the floor with him, or the rich nerd who thinks he has a chance with the aforementioned hot butch, or the fancy MILF who cheated on the emperor with a dreamy jianghu man and is trying not to cheat on him again with a different, slightly less dreamy jianghu man. See? There's just so much.

I would also say these are not exclusive ships. They are extremely inclusive ships. I am a fan of most (though admittedly not all) of the pairings listed here, and in fact of many of the three-and-more-somes indicated by these lines. They're such a cuddle puddle of shared intense feelings that it's hard to imagine anyone getting more than mildly jealous. Moreover, the potential for romance does not get in the way of hetero friendships; a boy and a girl who are each dating other people can go do adventures together, and (mostly) nobody gets weird about it, which is nice. If anything, what makes the overall dynamic so polycule-like is how equally friends and love interests get treated, meaning that it's not difficult to see a lot of crossover potential between those two categories.

If you're like me, you're hesitant about canonical romance, especially when it's straight, mostly because so many straight love stories wind up being tiresome, gross, and/or skull-poundingly boring. You will then be pleasantly surprised by how the canon pairings with members of the main cast are not like this at all!

Xiao Se and Sikong Qianluo are the main textual romance, and golly gee, they're just cute as heck. As the chart above indicates, I like interpreting them as two Kinsey 6's who have found their single exceptions, Mulder-and-Scully-style. Maybe one of the best things about their relationship is that it gets sidelined all the time for the plot. They're not so busy being in love that they forget to get shit done. Then they get a bit of downtime and get to go on a date, and you're like, aww, those sweet gay disaster babies are gonna do a little bit of heterosexuality. Just precious.

Tang Lian and Fairy Rui are right up there with the cuteness. She's a sex-positive dancing beauty who wants to ride that pretty boy like she stole him, and he's a shy sword boy so tightly bottled up that he'll explode if he sees a bare ankle. Avoiding spoilers, I will simply say that this is a pairing of two relatively soft people, until a bad thing happens to one of them and the other hardens up about it. If that's your jam, they're here for you.

Lei Wujie and Ye Ruoye are probably the most magical and the most practical of the bunch. They have a beautiful, super-dreamy, really horny sword-dance meet-cute, complete with its own pop song ... and then that's it, they're basically just together. She likes him, he likes her, good for them. In-laws aside, it's a refreshingly low-drama situation. Besides, I always love it when the hypercompetent woman gets the sweet, devoted himbo who'd do anything for her. Ruoye's had a hard life, and she deserves someone who can dick her down good at night and make her a nourishing breakfast the next morning.

And then there is, of course, The Ship:

Xiao Se and Wuxin are canonical, textual soulmates. The show treats their dynamic as more important than any other. It's so important, in fact, that the show has to sideline Wuxin for huge parts of the drama, lest everything get too damn gay. They each get a boyfriend catch on the other. They both do fairly reckless things when the other is in trouble. They are the secret hidden happy ending to the series. They share the kind of ride-or-die relationship built on mutually being the hugest bitches in any given room. Whether or not you think this is romance, it is extremely romantic, and the series agrees as much as it can, all things considered.

And if none of those flavors of love float your boat? Well, have you considered ... eunuchs?

3. She likes e4e

So I'm on record as being real into eunuch characters, right? Well, if you're with me on that, you are in for a treat here, because these are some absolutely buck-wild eunuchs.

There's five main ones, and I can't even begin to scratch the surface of what's going there. Like, really, I don't even think I understood all of what was happening with them. They're kind of the bad guys, but then they're kind of the good guys, but then some of them are the bad guys, but then they're just working for the bad guys, but then they screw over the bad guys, and ... it's just a lot, okay? It's a lot, and it's all happening with this bunch of catty bitches.

Also, you would not believe the difficult time I had finding any images for this section. I guess for some reason, fandom isn't way into a bunch of canonically dickless color-coordinated middle-aged men in weird hats? Whatever, man, they are missing out. If, however, you have the good sense to be into the intense and complicated (semi-romantic??) relationships among colleagues who also professionally just happen to be missing their external genitalia, buddy, strap in (and maybe strap on, depending).

Don't let me oversell how much these guys are in the show. They're not. They're vaguely important at points throughout, and they become incredibly important near the end, but they're hardly main characters. They're mostly back at the palace, doing their various schemes and looking absolutely fantastic.

So if they're such a minor part of the story, why do they get their own selling point? Well, I think their presence is a good example of two specific things about the show:

Specific thing the first: It's so queer -- not gay, but queer. Thinking back to my last selling point, you will notice how many of those straight pairings may look normie on the outside, but once you get down to it are not playing by cishet rules. (For instance, I've seen a lot of people read Tang Lian's resistance to sexual advances as asexuality, which, sure!) Likewise, there are lots of incredibly important, intimate relationships that don't conform to standard romantic pair dynamics. Add to that a lot of bodies with unusual characteristics and conditions, and you've got the makings of plenty of delightful non-normative love stories.

Specific thing the second: There are so many things going on with so many side characters that there's a kink here for everyone. Don't care for eunuchs? How about slinky villains with mind-control powers? Devoted servants who would do anything for their masters? Former bad guys who owe life-debts to the good guys who saved them? Bonded pairs traipsing around the jianghu together? Sons nursing legitimate grudges against the men who killed their fathers? Alcoholic widowers with incredibly slutty necklines? Mysterious cross-dressers with unconvincing moustaches? Vengeful brides? Martial siblings? Murderous royals? Guilt-ridden half-siblings? Boring star-crossed lovers? All these and more! It's a smorgasbord of rarepair fuel!

Also, I just love these toxic drama queens. It's like if RuPaul's Drag Race had the authority to have you executed.

4. The most intriguing outfits I've ever seen in anything (and yes, I'm including Winter Begonia)

Time for a fashion show!

The asymmetrical fits, the detailed embroidery on everything, the brilliant colors -- everybody just looks so good. And yet everything still looks ... eh, I don't know if "practical" is the word I want, but at least wearable. Nobody's dragging ten-foot trains of fabric behind them or wrapped in eighty floofy layers of gauze (except Rui, but she's special). Their outfits are strange and elaborate, but they don't defy physics.

What's truly stunning is how often they get new outfits. Xiao Se alone changes clothes about once every other episode, and more if he's getting a flashback. He is the fashion plate of the whole series, and every look he serves is pitch-perfect.

They're not outright color-coded, but the main characters do have certain colors associated with them -- which is extra-fun when you watch those colors bleeding into their friends' clothes as their relationships get stronger. I also think -- and I'm willing to be proven wrong on this point, but I think I'm right -- that they recycle some characters' outfits into parts of other characters' outfits. On more than one occasion, I'd swear that Lei Wujie shows up wearing the left half of something Xiao Se was wearing a few episodes back (tailored to fit him, of course, because that dumb ponytail boy is tall).

Where I think the costume design gets massive points, though, is that the costumes are themselves adaptations.

Before the live-action series, there was a 2018 3D animated donghua. I have never watched the latter, but apparently the drama is intensely faithful to the animated visuals, to the point where some fights are shot-for-shot remakes.

Of course, you can do a lot more with unreal clothing and bodies in animation -- and you can show a lot more skin, at least according to Chinese content laws. The live-action costumers chose to preserve about as many of the appearance beats from the donghua as they could manage, while still accepting the limitations of real-life bodies and materials. You can see some side-by-side comparisons here. The live-action outfits manage to be instantly recognizable without being slavishly devoted recreating to their inspirations.

So if you're sick and tired of dreary, ill-lit shows with bland palettes, this vibrant, colorful drama may be just the thing for you. It's a rainbow from start to finish.

5. Actually a good central plot?

Despite all the wacky delightful shounen nonsense that this show has -- and it has a lot -- the core of the whole narrative, which is Xiao Se's story, is surprisingly great and cohesive.

The short version is this: Xiao Se used to be Xiao Chuhe, sixth prince and somewhat heir apparent. Then he and his jerk-ass dad had a falling-out that resulted in the prince's having his martial arts abilities all but taken from him. He's been living the life of a very well-dressed innkeeper for several years, trying to avoid all of that palace garbage. But now his jerk-ass dad is dying, which means that a lot of horrible decisions are finally having unfortunate consequences for everyone, and Xiao Se's got to get back in there to make sure everything does not go to shit and land someone terrible on the throne -- even if it has to mean taking it himself.

His central conflict is between what he used to be and what he's become. Does he miss being Xiao Chuhe, high-ranked martial artist and future emperor? Or is he happier being Xiao Se, long-suffering nobody who can barely run a business, much less hold his own in a fight? What would he be willing to do to get back what he's lost? What are his obligations to himself versus his obligations to everyone else? How much is he responsible for his father's bullshit? And why has he wound up having to babysit this stupid Fire Puppy?

It's okay, they're best friends now. Lei Wujie decided.

No spoilers, but I liked Xiao Se's ending a lot. I feel it's very true to the character and shows a real understanding of who he is and what he values. And really, at the end of the day, sometimes all you need for a happy ending is your girlfriend, your girlfriend's girlfriend, your girlfriend's girlfriend's boyfriend who's also your boyfriend, your other boyfriend, his girlfriend, and your long-distance for-real soulmate.

Feel like giving the youths a try?

You can find them on YouTube or on Viki. But be absolutely sure that no matter where you watch it, you make sure to go watch the epilogue as well. (And if you get real into the story, well, here's a link to information about all the other adaptations.)

You are also welcome for how I did not spend this post going off for five hundred years on how much I love Wuxin and his funky relationship to Buddhism. I figured that's way too niche of a selling point for most people, and might indeed have even been counterproductive. But know that I could have.

Also, I'm very happy about the announcement of a second season, because that's going to mean Liu Xueyi has to shave his head again, and he looks unbearably good with a shaved head.

Oh yeah, did I forget to mention the whole motorcycle photoshoot?

In case you hadn't noticed, the whole cast is stupidly hot. Hachi machi.

#the blood of youth #少年歌行 #bloody youths #i made this #rec post #the party is a polycule #LeiDHD

[dailychapel]

Revelation 8:1-13 NLT 1 When the Lamb broke the seventh seal on the scroll, there was silence throughout heaven for about half an hour. 2 I saw the seven angels who stand before God, and they were given seven trumpets. 3 Then another angel with a gold incense burner came and stood at the altar. And a great amount of incense was given to him to mix with the prayers of God's people as an offering on the gold altar before the throne. 4 The smoke of the incense, mixed with the prayers of God's holy people, ascended up to God from the altar where the angel had poured them out. 5 Then the angel filled the incense burner with fire from the altar and threw it down upon the earth; and thunder crashed, lightning flashed, and there was a terrible earthquake. 6 Then the seven angels with the seven trumpets prepared to blow their mighty blasts. 7 The first angel blew his trumpet, and hail and fire mixed with blood were thrown down on the earth. One-third of the earth was set on fire, one-third of the trees were burned, and all the green grass was burned. 8 Then the second angel blew his trumpet, and a great mountain of fire was thrown into the sea. One-third of the water in the sea became blood, 9 one-third of all things living in the sea died, and one-third of all the ships on the sea were destroyed. 10 Then the third angel blew his trumpet, and a great star fell from the sky, burning like a torch. It fell on one-third of the rivers and on the springs of water. 11 The name of the star was Bitterness. It made one-third of the water bitter, and many people died from drinking the bitter water. 12 Then the fourth angel blew his trumpet, and one-third of the sun was struck, and one-third of the moon, and one-third of the stars, and they became dark. And one-third of the day was dark, and also one-third of the night. 13 Then I looked, and I heard a single eagle crying loudly as it flew through the air, "Terror, terror, terror to all who belong to this world because of what will happen when the last three angels blow their trumpets."

Oh, God of wisdom, I want to praise you and give you my life.

Like a loving parent, you bless me. You have watched over me, knowing my history and the path that led me to you.

Thank you for the peace you promise peace in my life. I ask that I be always aware of the strength of your great power. May it never leave me.

So many people before me in so many generations, have served you so humbly, answering your call. Please give me the wisdom and courage to be your humble servant.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel Shall come to thee, O Israel!

[smutsonian]

checkmate

the salesman (squid game) x female reader

summary: salesman obsessing over a client’s daughter

warnings: 18+, darkish fic, manipulation, smut, breeding kink, creampie, jealous salesman, lil bit of praise kink

word count: 2.2k

a/n: new salesman fic who dis? @crappedoutlungs​ i drickin love you always and forever please never drop my ass in the dirt/thank you for proofreading. also this was a praise kink and jealous salesman request but idk if i did this right so i apologize in advance

main masterlist

The salesman has been keeping an eye on you. You've been trying to solve the case like a cute little detective since your father went missing because no one else was willing to help you.

Who would when the man you’re trying to look for has been in trouble for more than ten fingers can count. With the amount of time he's spent in and out of prison, your father has clearly made a name for himself among the cops. Everyone at the station is aware of the bad people your father has been working with. Your father's debts, which he continues to avoid. It was inevitable for him to cross the wrong person, and it appears that he has already done so.

Who would help such a man? 

The salesman did. He gave him one of those call cards for the infamous game after he slapped him a bunch of times, secretly enjoying it.

When he found out about you, he wished he'd done more harm. Concerning what your father has subjected you to. The daughter who works nearly 24 hours a day just to pay bills that keep disappearing because your father manages to talk you into giving him the money.

He realized you weren't that difficult to persuade. Because the salesman knows how much you adore your father, it was easy money for him. If he'd known how bad your father was to you, he'd have replaced the slaps with punches.

He, on the other hand, is devising a strategy. He's been keeping an eye on you as you've attempted to solve your father's disappearance. He thought your dedication was endearing, and he enjoyed watching your little adventures, despite the fact that they were futile.

He was content to simply observe you as you scanned the station for clues about your father's whereabouts.

He was content with admiring your beauty from a distance.

Until he wasn’t.

Until the new young cop began paying more attention to you.

Oh, the clients he was playing with were victims of his jealousy, his slaps being even harder than his usual hard slaps.

The young cop was clearly more interested in you than in your father's disappearance, but you were too naive to notice. You're so desperate to find your horrible father that you don't even care about yourself.

The salesman’s eye twitches in annoyance when the young cop wraps his arm around you when you shivered at the coldness in the station. The red paper in the salesman’s hand gets crinkled up as he continues to watch you in someone else’s arms.

He was the one looking out for you ever since your father disappeared and even if he was the one who’s behind it, he never let you out of his sight, looking after you and threatening those who even tried to glance at you with ill-intent.

The young cop was no different. He was just there to get into your pants. The young girl who was desperate to find her missing father.

He wasn’t going to let some young boy get his dirty pathetic hands on you.

No, he was going to do something about it.

The salesman would’ve laughed at how easy it was to frame the young cop of masterminding your father’s disappearance. The clothes that your father wore before the games started, planted at the young cop’s home. 

It was rewarding to see you looking at the young cop with disgust and betrayal while he was being cuffed and put into the backseat of that police car.

He would’ve rejoiced at the way the young cop’s face became so desperate, afraid, and lost if it wasn’t for your sulking form.

It touched the salesman’s heart and before he knew it, he was walking towards you who’s currently sitting on the sidewalk, head pressed to your curled knees, shoulders jumping as you sobbed your heart out.

The salesman didn’t want that for you and it was enough to make him approach you like you just have a pull towards him. You controlled him without even knowing it.

“Here,” he watches as you raise your head from your knees, eyes glistening with tears and nose running, yet you still looked like the most beautiful flower in the garden.

His heart skipped a beat when you took the white hanky he was holding out for you, your cold fingers brushing against his firm hand.

“Thanks,” your soft whisper was music to his ears and he wanted it to be the last song he listens to before he dies.

He ignores the way your body stiffened when he sits on the pavement beside you, he’d fix that later. Just like how he’ll fix you and your broken heart.

“W-what are you doing?” Oh, how he adored your shy voice. He looks at you, your eyes looking at him with wonder and confusion.

“You look like you need a friend,” he only smiled, patting your knee softly before looking away from you. He had to stop himself from pouncing on you even though it’s the only thing he wants to do. 

He’s going to let you heal first. He’ll heal you.

“Oh,” was your response and he just kept his silence knowing that you prefer that instead of forcing her to recall all the mishaps that’s been happening to her.

It’s not like he needs to know about it anyway. He already knows everything about you. 

His lips curl at the way you shuffled closer to him when a burst of wind passes the both of you. He basked at the feeling of your head slowly falling down his shoulder and slightly frowning when you picked it back up, apologizing profusely at him which he waved at nonchalantly.

He offered to drive you home but turned down your offer for a cup of coffee. As much as he wanted to go inside your home with you, he had to wait. He couldn’t push all things at once or you might slip away.

His patience was rewarded when you finally started opening up to him. Even allowed him to sleep over from time to time. 

The next big thing that he was rewarded with was the trust you gave him when you asked him to drink with you. He knew how drunk you can be and he preened at the thought of you trusting him like that so when you became a drunken mess, he took care of you.

He respectfully changed you out of your dirty clothes and helped you with cleaning up after yourself before placing you on the bed.

To top things off, he slept on your couch, eager to play the role of a sweet gentleman. 

He was rewarded the next morning when you woke him up with the smell of a delicious breakfast.

He watched you as you prepared a plate for him, loving the domestic display and daydreaming about the day when you’re finally his wife, hopefully round with his kid. He’ll spoil you with everything. He’ll be the perfect husband.

You place the plate in front of him with a shy smile before sitting next to him, closer than you usually would and he hides his smirk by taking a spoonful of the meal you made for him.

He compliments the food, loving the way you avoided his gaze. You’re adorable when you’re shy.

“Jun-ho was the one who taught me the recipe,” was your way of trying to cover the awkward silence but it only managed to fuel the salesman’s anger.

Jun-ho was the young cop who betrayed you, or at least that’s what you believe. So, why would you even speak about that boy?

Your eyes widened when he visibly stopped eating, face blank as he stared at the food that looked so delicious but was now staring back at him like it was mocking him.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk about him,” you apologized, hands cupping his forearm desperately. Like you’re begging for his forgiveness.

His ego was boosted again.

He was going to play his part again and he’ll finally get you after this.

“I’m not mad at you. I’m only worried about you. I don’t want you thinking about the bad memories, okay?” He covers both of your hands with his big ones, long fingers easily caging yours. The fondness in your eyes and the glint that passed through it was enough to make the salesman smile.

You were finally in his clutch.

As expected, your shyness was replaced with adrenaline and you suddenly moved forward to kiss his lips. He would’ve returned the kiss but he was still playing a part. He has to finish this act in order to finally have you in his arms. For you to be finally his.

He watches as you pull back, the embarrassment and shyness back in your features as you realized that he was not kissing back and had a look of shock on his face. 

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know what came over me!” You apologized again and again until he was cupping your warm cheeks with his cold hands compared to the heat of your body. 

“I liked it,” he says shyly, loving the way your eyes lit up at his sentence.

“You did?” 

He nods in response, looking down like a shy boy before saying the final script that would make you crawl in his arms.

“I just don’t want you to do something that you would regret. You’re hurting from your loss and I don’t want you to be forced to—”

He couldn’t even finish his words because you're back on him, more eager and demanding this time. Your tongue was inside his lips and this time he was reciprocating your vigor.

He can’t hold back anymore.

“Please. I want this,” you moaned through the kiss.

He won’t hold back anymore.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pulls away, watching your love drunk eyes before picking you up and heading straight for your bed.

He lays you down with so much care that he can see the way your eyes were making heart shapes for him.

He makes a move to take your clothes off and you let him. He watches as your eyes flutter when he takes his time, his fingers brushing your thighs softly down to your ankles.

“Is this okay?” He asks when he makes his way to what’s between your legs, ready to get a taste of you.

You shake your head before pulling his body up until his face is right in front of yours.

“I want you inside me now,” you all but begged. 

He smirks when you keep your eyes shut, waiting for him to just take you. 

He wants to hear you beg though.

“A-are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you,” he stutters, cursing in his mind because all he wants to do is shove his thick hard aching cock inside you.

“Please! Just fuck me. Just fuck me right now, please!” You grab at his backside pulling him close and he shudders at the contact.

Well, don’t mind if I do.

He kisses you before pushing in, slowly at first but goes fast when you keep pulling him closer.

“You feel so good… You’re amazing!” He whispers through moans as he continues to thrust in and out of your sopping slit.

Your moans only push him more into insanity and the picture of you with that Jun-ho guy makes his blood boil. 

You're his now. Nobody will be able to get you now. Not even Jun-ho.

He growls as his pace becomes stronger and your wanton moans only urge him to keep pounding into you.

He watches your face as he continues to plow into you, your hole eagerly clenching around him and when you open your eyes, he does his best to stop himself from cumming because your eyes were looking at him with so much love.

“Please cum inside me,” you mutter through gasps as he keeps his pace strong and fast.

“Such a good girl for me.”

You let out a whine when he hits a certain spot and your next words were what made him finally spill inside you.

“Oh, god! I love you! I love you so much!” You finally scream, feeling his warm liquid squirting inside you, your legs shaking in ecstasy as he continues to ride you through your orgasms.

He watches you fall apart beneath him and smiles at the sex drunk look that your eyes have.

“You mean that?” He bites his lip, genuinely nervous now as he lays down beside you.

You turn to him, fingers dancing across his face, admiring the little hairs that were starting to grow.

“I do. I love you,” you press a shy kiss on his lips before looking at his eyes that were starting to tear up.

“Are you oka-”

“I love you too,” he cuts you off and presses a kiss on your lips as well but longer and more passionately than the one you gave.

“You’re mine now,” he bites your lips and you chuckle at his possessiveness.

“I’m yours,” you assured him, still blind and unknowing of how his plans worked out very well and how you unknowingly yet perfectly played in his game.

Nothing mattered to him anymore.

The only thing that does is you being in his arms.

taglist 

General: @readermia​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @xoxabs88xox​ @anncutamarica​ @chaoticfiretaconerd​ @i-love-superhero​ @caffiend-queen​ @coconutqueen21​ @jtargaryen18​ @jennmurawski13​ @mushyjellybeans​ @ninjabucky​ @buckstaybucky​ @donutloverxo​ @rebloggingeverything @adriannajackson @la-cey​ @awaywithtime​ @gotnofucks​ @empath-bunny​ @belovedcherry​ @white-wolf1940​ @the-soulofdevil​ @mianorth​ @scorpiosmalfoy​ @rottenstyx​ @denisemarieangelina​ @priii​

#salesman x reader #the salesman x reader #the salesman x female reader #recruiter x reader #naive reader #squid game smut #squid game fic #squid game x reader #squid game imagine #the salesman imagine #salesman imagine #dark fic #gong yoo x reader

[laurasimonsdaughter]

The Counterfeit Marquise

A literary fairy tale published in 1697, presumably by Charles Perrault and François-Timoléon De Choisy (who spent a considerable amount of his life in drag, just like the protagonists of this story).

Translated by Ranjit Bolt, featured in Warner’s Wonder tales: six stories of enchantment (1996).

Cw: gender disphoria.

The Marquis de Banneville had been married barely six months to a beautiful and highly intelligent young heiress when he was killed in battle at Saint-Denis. His widow was profoundly affected. They had still been very much in love and no domestic quarrels had disturbed their happiness. She did not allow herself an excess of grief. With none of the usual lamentations, she withdrew to one of her country houses to weep at her leisure, without constraint or ostentation. But no sooner had she arrived than it was pointed out to her, on the basis of irrefutable evidence, that she was carrying a child. At first she rejoiced at the prospect of seeing a little replica of the man she had loved so much. She was careful to preserve her husband’s precious remains, and took every possible step to keep his memory alive. Her pregnancy was very easy, but as her time drew near she was tormented by a host of anxieties. She pictured a soldier’s gruesome death in its full horror. She imagined the same fate for the child she was expecting and, unable to reconcile herself to such a distressing idea, prayed a thousand times to heaven to send her a daughter who, by virtue of her sex, would be spared so cruel a fate. She did more: she made up her mind that, if nature did not answer her wishes, she would correct her. She took all the necessary precautions and made the midwife promise to announce to the world the birth of a girl, even if it was a boy.

Thanks to these measures the business was effected smoothly. Money settles everything. The marquise was absolute mistress in her château and word soon spread that she had given birth to a girl, though the child was actually a boy. It was taken to the curé who, in good faith, christened it Marianne. The wet nurse was also won over. She brought little Marianne up and subsequently became her governess. She was taught everything a girl of noble birth should know: dancing; music; the harpsichord. She grasped everything with such precocity her mother had no choice but to have her taught languages, history, even modern philosophy. There was no danger of so many subjects becoming confused in a mind where everything was arranged with such remarkable orderliness. And what was extraordinary, not to say delightful, was that so fine a mind should be found in the body of an angel. At twelve her figure was already formed. True, she had been a little constricted from infancy with an iron corset, to widen her hips and lift her bosom. But this had been a complete success and (though I shall not describe her until her first journey to Paris) she was already a very beautiful girl. She lived in blissful ignorance, quite unaware that she was not a girl. She was known in the province as la belle Marianne. All the minor gentry roundabout came to pay court to her, believing she was a rich heiress. She listened to them all and answered their gallantries with great wit and frankness. My heart, she said to her mother one day, isn’t made for provincials. If I receive them kindly it’s because I want to please people.

Be careful, my child, said the marquise: you’re talking like a coquette.

Ah, maman, she answered, let them come. Let them love me as much as they like. Why should you worry as long as I don’t love them?

The marquise was delighted to hear this, and gave her complete licence with these young men who, in any case, never strayed beyond the bounds of decorum. She knew the truth and so feared no consequences. La belle Marianne would study till noon and spend the rest of the day at her toilette.

After devoting the whole morning to my mind, she would say gaily, It’s only right to give the afternoon to my eyes, my mouth, all this little body of mine.

Indeed, she did not begin dressing till four. Her suitors would usually have gathered by then, and would take pleasure in watching her toilette. Her chambermaids would do her hair, but she would always add some new embellishment herself. Her blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders in great curls. The fire in her eyes and the freshness of her complexion were quite dazzling, and all this beauty was animated and enhanced by the thousand charming remarks that poured continually from the prettiest mouth in the world. All the young men around her adored her, nor did she miss any opportunity to increase that adoration. She would herself, with exquisite grace, put pendants in her ears – either of pearls, rubies or diamonds – all of which suited her to perfection. She wore beauty spots, preferably so tiny that one could barely see them with the naked eye and, if her complexion had not been so delicate and fine, could not have seen them at all. When putting them on she made a great show of consulting now one suitor, now another, as to which would suit her best. Her mother was overjoyed and kept congratulating herself on her ingenuity. He is twelve years old, she would say to herself under her breath. Soon I should have had to think about sending him to the Military Academy, and in two years he would have followed his poor father. Whereupon, transported with affection, she would go and kiss her darling daughter, and would let her indulge in all the coquetries that she would have condemned in anyone else’s child.

This is how matters stood when the Marquise de Banneville was obliged to go to Paris to deal with a lawsuit that one of her neighbours had taken out against her. Naturally she took her daughter with her, and soon realised that a pretty young girl can be useful when it comes to making petitions. The first person she went to see was her old friend the Comtesse d’Alettef,11 to ask for her advice and her protection for her daughter. The comtesse was struck by Marianne’s beauty and so enjoyed kissing her that she did so several times. She took on herself the task of chaperoning her, and looked after her when her mother was busy with her suit, promising to keep her amused. Marianne could not have fallen into better hands. The comtesse was born to enjoy life. She had managed to separate herself from an inconvenient husband. Not that he lacked qualities (he loved pleasure as much as she did) but since they could not agree in their choice of pleasures, they had the good sense not to get in one another’s way and each followed their own inclinations. The comtesse, though not young any more, was beautiful. But the desire for lovers had given way to the desire for money, and gambling was now her chief passion. She took Marianne everywhere, and everywhere she was received with delight.

Meanwhile, the Marquise de Banneville slept easily. She was well aware of the comtesse’s somewhat dubious reputation, and would never have trusted her with a real daughter. But quite apart from the fact that Marianne had been brought up with a strong sense of virtue, the marquise wanted a little amusement and so left her to her own devices, merely telling her that she was entering a scene very different from that of the provinces; that she would encounter passionate, devoted lovers at every turn; that she must not believe them too readily; that if she felt herself giving way she was to come and tell her everything; and that in future she would look on her as a friend rather than a daughter, and give her such advice as she herself might take.

Marianne, whom people were starting to call the little marquise, promised her mother that she would disclose all her feelings to her and, relying on past experience, believed herself a match for the gallantry of the French court. This was a bold undertaking thirty years ago. Magnificent dresses were made for her; all the newest fashions tried on her. The comtesse, who presided over all this, saw to it that her hair was dressed by Mlle de Canillac. She had only some child’s earrings and a few jewels; her mother gave her all hers, which were of poor workmanship, and managed at relatively little expense to have two pairs of diamond pendants made for her ears, and five or six crisping pins for her hair. These were all the ornaments she needed. The comtesse would send her carriage for her immediately after dinner and take her to the theatre, the opera, or the gaming houses. She was universally admired. Wives and daughters never tired of caressing her, and the loveliest of them heard her beauty praised without a hint of jealousy. A certain hidden charm, which they felt but did not understand, attracted them to her and forced them to pay homage where homage was due. Everyone succumbed to her spell and her wit, which was even more irresistible than her beauty, won her more certain and lasting conquests. The first thing that captivated them was the dazzling whiteness of her complexion. The bloom in her cheeks, forever appearing and reappearing, never ceased to amaze them. Her eyes were blue and as lively as one could wish; they flashed from beneath two heavy lids that made their glances more tender and languishing. Her face was oval-shaped and her scarlet lips, which protruded slightly, would break – even when she spoke with the utmost seriousness – into a dozen delightful creases, and into a dozen even more delightful when she laughed. This exterior – so charming in itself – was enhanced by all that a good education can add to an excellent nature. There was a radiance, a modesty in the little marquise’s countenance that inspired respect. She had a sense of occasion: she always wore a cap when she went to church, never a beauty spot – avoiding the ostentation cultivated by most women. At Mass, she would say, One prays to God; at balls one dances; and one must do both with total commitment.

She had been leading a most agreeable life for three months when Carnival came round. All the princes and officers had returned from camp, and everywhere entertainments were being held again. Everyone was giving parties and there was a great ball at the Palais Royal. The comtesse, who was too old to show her face on such occasions, decided to go masked and took the little marquise with her. She was dressed as a shepherdess in an extremely simple but becoming costume. Her hair, which hung down to her waist, was tied up in great curls with pink ribbons – no pearls, no diamonds, only a beautiful cap. She had dressed herself, but even so all eyes were fixed on her. That night her beauty was triumphant.

The handsome Prince Sionad was there, dressed as a woman – a rival to the fair sex who, in the opinion of connoisseurs, took first prize for beauty. On arriving at the ball the comtesse decided to go and sit behind the lovely Sionad. Chère princesse, she said as she drew near and introduced the little marquise, here is a young shepherdess you should find worth looking at. Marianne approached respectfully and wanted to kiss the hem of the prince’s dress (or should I say the princess’s) but he lifted her up, embraced her tenderly and cried delightedly: What a lovely girl! What fine features! What a smile! What delicacy! And if I’m not mistaken, she is as clever as she is beautiful.

The little marquise had responded only with a bashful smile when a young prince came up and claimed her for a dance. At first all eyes were fixed on him, owing to his rank. But when people saw her answering his questions without awkwardness or embarrassment; saw what a feel she had for the music; how gracefully she moved; her little jumps in time; her smiles, subtle without being malicious and the fresh glow that vigorous exercise brought to her face, total silence, as at a concert, descended on the hall. The violinists found to their delight that they could hear themselves play, and everyone seemed intent on watching and wondering at her. The dance ended with applause, little of it for the prince, popular though he was.

The acclaim that the little marquise had received at the Palais Royal ball greatly increased the comtesse’s affection and concern for her. She could no longer do without her and she offered her rooms in her house, so that she could enjoy her company at her leisure. But on no account would her mother agree to this. The little marquise was almost fourteen and, if the secret of her birth was to be kept, it was vital that no one should be on intimate terms with her except her governess, who got her up and saw her into bed. She was still quite ignorant of her situation and, though she had many admirers, felt nothing for them. She cared for nothing and no one but herself and her appearance. People spoke to her of nothing else. She drank down this delicious praise in long draughts and thought herself the most beautiful person in the world; the more so since her mirror swore to her every day that the praise was justified.

One day she was at the theatre, in the first tier, when she noticed a beautiful young man in the next box. He wore a scarlet doublet embroidered with gold and silver, but what fascinated her were his dazzling diamond earrings and three or four beauty spots. She watched him intently and found his countenance so sweet and amiable that she could not contain herself, and said to the comtesse: Madame, look at that young man! Isn’t he handsome! Indeed, said the comtesse, but he is too conscious of his looks, and that is not becoming in a man. He might as well dress as a girl.

The performance went on and they said nothing more, but the little marquise often turned her head, no longer able to concentrate on the play, which was The Feign’d Alcibiades. Some days later she was at the theatre again in the third tier. The same young man, who drew such attention to himself with his extraordinary adornments, was in the second tier. He watched the little marquise at his leisure, as fascinated by her as she had been by him on the previous occasion, but less restrained. He kept turning his back on the actors, unable to take his eyes off her and she, for her part, responded in a manner less than consistent with the dictates of modesty. She felt in this exchange of looks something she had never experienced before: a certain joy at once subtle and profound, which passes from the eyes to the heart and constitutes the only real happiness in life. At last the play ended and, while they waited for the afterpiece, the beautiful young man left his box and went to ask the little marquise’s name. The porters, who saw her often, were happy to oblige him; they even told him where she lived. He now saw that she was of noble birth and decided, if possible, to make her acquaintance, even if he went no further. He resolved (love being ingenious) to enter her box by accident.

Ah, madame, he cried, I beg your pardon: I thought this was my box. The Marquise de Banneville loved intrigue and made the most of this one. Monsieur, she said to him with great frankness, we are indeed fortunate in your mistake: a man as handsome as you is welcome anywhere.

She hoped in this way to detain him so that she could look at him at her leisure; examine him and his adornments; please her daughter (whose feelings she had already detected) and, in a word, have some harmless amusement. He hesitated before deciding to remain in the box without taking a seat at the front. They asked him a hundred questions, to which he replied very wittily. His manner and tone of voice had an undeniable charm. The little marquise asked him why he wore pendants in his ears. He replied that he always had: his ears had been pierced when he was a child. As for the rest, they must excuse these little embellishments, normally only suitable for the fair sex, on the grounds of youth.

Everything suits you, monsieur, said the little marquise with a blush. You can wear beauty spots and bracelets as far as we’re concerned. You wouldn’t be the first. These days young men are always doing themselves up like girls. The conversation never flagged. When the afterpiece was over he conducted the ladies to their coach and had his follow it as far as the marquise’s house where, not daring to enter, he sent a page to present his compliments.

During the days that followed they saw him everywhere: in church; in the park; at the opera and the theatre. He was always unassuming, always respectful. He would bow low to the little marquise, not daring to approach or speak to her. He seemed to have but one object, and wasted no time in attaining it. Finally, after three weeks, the Marquise de Banneville’s brother (who was a state councillor) called and suggested that she receive a visitor – his good friend and neighbour, the Marquis de Bercour. He assured her that he was an excellent man and brought him round immediately after lunch. The marquis was the handsomest man in the world; his hair was black and arranged in thick, natural-looking curls. It was cut in line with the ears so that his diamond earrings could be seen. On this particular day he had attached to each of these a pearl. He also wore two or three beauty spots (no more) to emphasise his fine complexion.

Ah, brother, said the marquise, is this the Marquis de Bercour? Yes, madame, replied the marquis, and he cannot live any longer without seeing the loveliest girl in the world.

As he said this he turned towards the little marquise, who was beside herself with joy. They sat and talked, exchanging news, discussing amusements and new books. The little marquise was a versatile conversationalist, and they were soon at ease with one another. The old councillor was the first to leave, the marquis the last, having remained as long as he felt he could.

After this he never missed an opportunity of paying court to the girl he loved, and always made sure that everything was perfect. When the good weather came and they went out walking to Vincennes or in the Bois, they would find a magnificent collation, which seemed to have been brought there by magic, at a place specially chosen in the shade of some trees. One day there would be violins; the next oboes. The marquis had apparently given no instructions, yet it was obvious that he had arranged everything. Nevertheless, it took several days to guess who had given the little marquise a magnificent present. One morning a carrier brought a chest to her house which he said was from the Comtesse Alettef. She opened it eagerly and was delighted to find in it gloves, scents, pomades, perfumed oils, gold boxes, little toilet cases, more than a dozen snuff boxes in different styles, and countless other treasures. The little marquise wanted to thank the comtesse, who had no idea what she was talking about. She found out in the end, but reproached herself more than once for not having guessed at once.

These little attentions advanced the marquis’s cause considerably. The little marquise greatly appreciated them. Madame, she said to her mother with admirable honesty, I no longer know where I am. Once I wanted to be beautiful in everyone’s eyes; now the only person I want to find me beautiful is the marquis. I used to love balls, plays, receptions, places where there was a lot of noise. Now I’m tired of all that. My only pleasure in life is to be alone and think about the man I love. He’s coming soon, I whisper to myself. Perhaps he’ll tell me he loves me. Yes, madame, he hasn’t said that yet; hasn’t spoken those wonderful words: I love you, though his eyes and his actions have told me so a hundred times. Then, my child, replied the marquise, I’m very sorry for you. You were happy before you saw the marquis. You enjoyed everyone’s company; everyone loved you and you loved only yourself, your own person, your beauty. You were wholly consumed with the desire to please, and please you did. Why change such a delightful life? Take my advice, my dear child: let your sole concern be to profit from the advantages nature has given you. Be beautiful: you have experienced that joy; is there any other to touch it? To draw everyone’s gaze; to win all hearts; to delight people wherever one goes; to hear oneself praised continually, and not by flatterers; to be loved by all and love only oneself: that, my child, is the height of happiness, and you can enjoy it for a long time. You are a queen, don’t make yourself a slave: you must resist at the outset a passion that is carrying you away in spite of yourself. Now you command, but soon you will obey. Men are fickle: the marquis loves you today – tomorrow he will love someone else.

Stop loving me! said the little marquise. Love someone else! And she burst into tears.

Her mother, who loved her dearly, tried to console her and succeeded by telling her that the marquis was coming. There was a lot at stake and this incipient passion caused her considerable alarm. Where will it lead? she asked herself. To what bizarre conclusion. If the marquis declares himself – if he plucks up courage and asks for certain favours – she will refuse him nothing. But then, she reflected, the little marquise has been well trained; she is sensible; at most she will grant such trifling favours as will leave them in ignorance – an ignorance essential to their happiness.

They were talking like this when someone came to tell them that the marquis had sent them a dozen partridges, and that he was at the door, not daring to enter as he had just returned from hunting.

Send him in! cried the little marquise. We want to see him in his hunting clothes. He entered a moment later, all apologies for powder marks, sun burn and a dishevelled wig. No, no, said the little marquise. I assure you, we like you better dressed informally like this than in all your finery. If that is so, madame, he replied, next time you will see me dressed as a stoker.

He remained standing, as though about to leave. They made him sit and the marquise, kind soul, told them to sit together while she went to her study to write. The chambermaids knew what was what and withdrew to the dressing-room, leaving the lovers alone together. They were silent for a while. The little marquise, still flustered after her talk with her mother, scarcely dared raise her eyes, and the marquis, even more embarrassed, looked at her and sighed. There was something tender in this silence. The looks they exchanged, the sighs they could not contain, were for them a form of language – a language lovers often use – and their mutual embarrassment seemed to them a sign of love. The little marquise was the first to awake from this reverie.

You’re dreaming, marquis, she said. What of? Hunting? Ah, beautiful marquise, said the marquis, how lucky hunters are! They are not in love. What do you mean? she rejoined. Is being in love really so terrible? Madame, he replied, it is the greatest happiness in life. But unrequited love is the greatest misfortune. I am in love and it is not requited. I am in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. Venus herself would not dare put herself before her. I love her and she does not love me. She has no feelings. She sees me, she listens to me, and she remains cruelly silent. She even turns her eyes away from mine. How heartless! How can I doubt my fate? As he spoke these last words, the marquis knelt down before the little marquise and kissed her hands – nor did she object. Her eyes were lowered and let fall great tears.

Beautiful marquise, he said, you’re crying. You’re crying and I know the reason for your tears. My love is irksome to you. Ah, marquis, she answered with a heavy sigh, one can cry for joy as well as pain. I’ve never been so happy. She said no more and, stretching out her arms to her beloved marquis, granted him the favours she would have denied all the kings of the earth. Caresses were all the protestations of love they needed. The marquis found in the little marquise’s lips a compliance that her eyes had hidden from him, and this conversation would have lasted longer if the marquise had not emerged from her study. She found them laughing and crying at the same time, and wondered whether such tears had ever needed drying.

The marquis immediately rose to leave, but the marquise said to him pleasantly: Monsieur, won’t you stay and dine on the partridges you brought? He needed little persuading. What he desired more than anything else in the world was to be on familiar terms in this house. He stayed, even though he was dressed in hunting clothes, and had the exquisite pleasure of seeing the girl he loved eat. It is one of life’s chief delights. To watch at close quarters a pink mouth that, as it opens, reveals gums of coral and teeth of alabaster; that opens and closes with the rapidity that accompanies all the actions of youth; to see a beautiful face animated by an often repeated pleasure, and to be experiencing the same pleasure at the same time – this is a privilege love grants to few.

After that happy day the marquis made sure he dined there every night. It was a regular affair and the little marquise’s suitors, who had had no cause to be jealous of one another, took it as settled. She had made her choice and they all admitted that beauty and vanity, however powerful, are no defence against love. The Comte d’****, one of her most ardent admirers, had a keen sense that his passion was being made light of. He was handsome, well built, brave, a soldier: he could not allow the little marquise to give herself to the Marquis de Bercour, whom he considered vastly inferior in every respect to himself. He decided to pick a quarrel with him and so disgrace him, thinking him too effeminate to dare cross swords with him. However, to his great surprise, at the first word he uttered when they met at the Porte des Tuileries, the marquis drew his sword and thrust at him with gusto. After a hard-fought duel they were parted by mutual friends.

This adventure pleased the little marquise. It gave her lover a war-like air, though she trembled for him nevertheless. She saw clearly that her beauty and her preference for him would constantly be exposing him to such encounters, and she said to him one day: Marquis, we must put an end to jealousy once and for all; we must silence gossip. We love one another and always will. We must bind ourselves to one another with ties that only death can break.

Ah, beautiful marquise, he said, what are you thinking of? Does our happiness bore you? Marriage, as a rule, puts an end to pleasure. Let us remain as we are. For my part, I am content with your favours and will never ask you for anything more. But I am not content, said the little marquise. I can see clearly that there is something missing in our happiness, and perhaps we will find it when you belong to me entirely, and I to you. It would not be right, replied the marquis, for you to throw in your lot with a younger son who has spent the bulk of his fortune and whom you still know only by appearances, which are often deceptive.

But that’s just what I love about it, she interrupted. I’m so happy that I have enough money for us both, and to have the chance of showing you that I love you and you alone.

They had reached this point when the Marquise de Banneville interrupted them. She had been closeted with her agents, and thought she would refresh herself with some lively young company, but she found them in a deeply serious mood. The marquis had been greatly put out by the little marquise’s proposal. Ostensibly it was very much to his advantage, but he had secret objections to it, which he considered insurmountable. The little marquise, for her part, was a little annoyed at having taken such a bold step in vain, but she soon recovered, deciding that the marquis had refused out of respect for her – or that he wished to prove the depth of his feelings for her. This thought made her decide to speak to her mother about it, and she did so the following day.

No one was ever more astonished than the Marquise de Banneville when her daughter spoke to her of marriage. She was sixteen and no longer a child. Her eyes had not been opened to her situation, and her mother hoped they never would be. She was careful not to agree to the match, but to reveal the truth would have been a painful solution both for her daughter and the marquis. She resolved to do so only as a last resort. Meanwhile she would prevent, or at least postpone, the marriage. The marquis was in agreement with her on this, but the little marquise – passionate creature that she was – begged, entreated, wept, used every means to persuade her mother. She never doubted her lover, since he did not dare oppose her with the same firmness. Finally she pushed her mother to the point where she said these words to her: My dear child, you leave me no choice: against my better judgement I must reveal to you something that I would have given my life to conceal from you. I loved your poor father and when I lost him so tragically, in dread of your meeting the same fate, I prayed with all my heart for a daughter. I was not so fortunate: I gave birth to a son and I have brought him up as a daughter. His sweetness, his inclinations, his beauty, all assisted my plan. I have a son and the whole world believes I have a daughter. Ah, madame! cried the little marquise, is it possible that I …? Yes, my child, said her mother embracing her, you are a boy. I can see how painful this news must be for you. Habit has given you a different nature. You are used to a life very different from the one you might have led. I wanted you to be happy and would never have revealed the sad truth to you if your obstinacy over the marquis had not forced me to. You see now what you were about to do? How, but for me, you would have exposed yourself to public ridicule?

The little marquise did not answer. Instead she merely wept and in vain her mother said to her: But my child, go on living as you were. Be the beautiful little marquise still – loved, adored by all who see her. Love your beautiful marquis if you like, but do not think of marrying him. Alas! cried the little marquise through her tears, he has asked for nothing more. He flies into a rage when I mention marriage. Ah! Could it be that he knows my secret? If I thought that, dear mother, I would go and hide myself in the furthest corner of the earth. Could he know it? In floods of tears now, she added: Alas, poor little marquise, what will you do? Will you dare show your face again and act the beauty? But what have you said? What have you done? What name can one give the favours you have granted the marquis? Blush! Blush, unhappy girl! Ah, nature you are blind: why did you not warn me of my duty? Alas! I acted in good faith, but now I see the truth and I must behave quite differently in future. I must not think about the man I love – I must do what is right.

She was uttering these words with determination when it was announced that the marquis was at the door of the antechamber. He entered with a happy air and was amazed to see both mother and daughter with lowered eyes and in tears. The mother did not wait for him to speak but rose and went to her room. He took courage and said: What’s the matter, beautiful marquise? If something is distressing you, won’t you share it with your friends? What? You won’t even look at me! Am I the cause of this weeping? Am I to blame without knowing it?

The little marquise dissolved in tears. No! No! she cried. No! That could never be, and if it were so I would not feel as I do. Nature is wise and there is a reason for everything she does.

The marquis had no idea what all this meant. He was asking for an explanation when the marquise, who had recovered a little, left her room and came to her daughter’s aid. Look at her, she said to the marquis. As you see, she is quite beside herself. I am to blame. I tried to stop her but she would have her fortune told, and they said she would never marry the man she loved. That has upset her, Monsieur le Marquis, and you know why.

For my part, madame, he replied, I am not at all upset. Let her remain always as she is. I ask only to see her. I shall be more than happy if she will consider me her best friend.

With this the conversation ended. Emotions had been stirred, and would take time to settle. But they settled so completely that after eight days there was no sign of any upheaval. The marquis’s presence, his charm, his caresses, obliterated from the little marquise’s mind everything her mother had told her. She no longer believed any of it, or rather did not wish to believe. Pleasure triumphed over reflection. She lived as she had done before with her lover and felt her passion increase with such violence that thoughts of a lasting union returned to torment her. Yes, she said to herself, he cannot go back on his word now. He will never desert me. She had resolved to speak of it again, when her mother fell ill. Her illness was so grave that after three days all hope of a cure was abandoned. She made her will and sent for her brother, the councillor, whom she appointed the little marquise’s guardian. He was her uncle and her heir, since all the property came from the mother. She confided to him the truth about her daughter’s birth, begging him to take it seriously and to let her lead a life of innocent pleasure that would harm no one and which, since it precluded her marrying, would guarantee his children a rich inheritance.

The good councillor was delighted at this news and saw his sister die without shedding a tear. The income of thirty thousand francs that she left the little marquise seemed certain to pass to his children, and he had only to encourage his niece’s infatuation for the marquis. He did so with great success, telling her that he would be like a father to her and had no wish to be her guardian except in name.

This sympathetic behaviour consoled the little marquise somewhat – and she was certainly distraught – but the sight of her beloved marquis consoled her even more. She saw that she was absolute mistress of her fate, and her sole aim was to share it with the man she loved. Six months of official mourning passed, after which pleasures of all kinds once again filled her life. She went often to balls, the theatre, the opera, and always in the same company. The marquis never left her side and all her other suitors, seeing that it was a settled affair, had withdrawn. They lived happily and would perhaps have thought of nothing else, if malicious tongues could have left them in peace. Everywhere, people were saying that, while the little marquise was beautiful, since her mother’s death she had lost all sense of decorum: she was seen everywhere with the marquis; he was practically living in her house; he dined there every day and never left before midnight. Her best friends found grounds for censure in this: they sent her anonymous letters and warned her uncle, who spoke to her about it. Finally, things went so far that the little marquise went back to her first idea and decided to marry the marquis. She put this to him forcefully; he resisted likewise, only agreeing on condition that the marriage would be a purely public affair, and that they would live together like brother and sister. This, he said, was how they must always love one another. The little marquise readily agreed. She often remembered what her mother had told her. She spoke of it to her uncle, who began by outlining all the pitfalls of marriage and ended by giving his consent. He saw that, by this means, the income of thirty thousand francs was sure to pass to his family. There was no danger of his niece having children by the Marquis de Bercour whereas, if she did not marry him, her notion that she was a girl might change with time and with her beauty, which was sure to fade. So a wedding day was fixed on, bridal clothes made and the ceremony held at the good uncle’s house. (As guardian he undertook to give the wedding feast.)

The little marquise had never looked as beautiful as she did that day. She wore a dress of black velours completely covered in gems, pink ribbons in her hair and diamond pendants in her ears. The Comtesse d’Alettef, who would always love her, went with her to the church, where the marquis was waiting. He wore a black velours cloak decked with gold braid, his hair was in curls, his face powdered, there were diamond pendants in his ears and beauty spots on his face. In short, he was adorned in such a way that his best friends could not excuse such vanity. The couple were united for ever and everyone showered them with blessings. The banquet was magnificent, the king’s music and the violons were there. At last the hour came and relatives and friends put the couple together in a nuptial bed and embraced them, the men laughing, a few good old aunts weeping.

It was then that the little marquise was astonished to find how cold and insensitive her lover was. He stayed at one end of the bed, sighing and weeping. She approached him tentatively. He did not seem to notice her. Finally, no longer able to endure so painful a state of affairs, she said: What have I done to you, marquis? Don’t you love me any more? Answer me or I shall die, and it will be your fault.

Alas, madame, said the marquis, didn’t I tell you? We were living together happily – you loved me – and now you will hate me. I have deceived you. Come here and see.

So saying he took her hand and placed it on the most beautiful bosom in the world. You see, he said, dissolving in tears, you see I am useless to you: I am a woman like you.

Who could describe here the little marquise’s surprise and delight? At this moment she had no doubt that she was a boy and, throwing herself into the arms of her beloved marquis, she gave him the same surprise, the same delight. They soon made their peace, wondered at their fate – a fate that had brought matters on to such a happy conclusion – and exchanged a thousand vows of undying love.

As for me, said the little marquise, I am too used to being a girl, and I want to remain one all my life. How could I bring myself to wear a man’s hat?

And I, said the marquis, have used a sword more than once without disgracing myself. I’ll tell you about my adventures some day. Let’s continue as we are, then. Beautiful marquise, enjoy all the pleasures of your sex, and I shall enjoy all the freedom of mine.

The day after the wedding they received the usual compliments and, eight days later, left for the provinces, where they still live in one of their châteaux. The uncle should visit them there: he would find, to his surprise, that a beautiful child has resulted from their marriage – one to put paid to his hopes of a rich inheritance.

#Charles Perrault #François-Timoléon De Choisy #genderqueer folktales #trans representation #laura retells #except not really it's more like laura copy pastes this time

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (03)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively;

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

SERIES: CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4

Note: OC is a lawyer but the author knows nothing about law except the three law subjects she took last semester. errors. ah. there will always be errors here bc english isn’t my first language. anyway!!! enjoy!

Jimin wasn't lying when he said you were a mess. This was evident to Jeongguk the second he stepped inside your apartment.

Pile of cardboard boxes and papers were cluttered all over the floor, causing him to feel uneasy. The faint colors visible in his eyes didn't help to calm his nerves. It was as if he suddenly became hypersensitive to his surroundings.

He assumed that your house wasn't really that untidy, but as stated, the colors made it seem like it was untidier.

"Hi there, buddy." Jeongguk forced a smile at the cat glaring at him. He remembered Jimin telling him that your cat was a bitch. The fury pet was making this strange, scary sound. Jeongguk suddenly wished you were here to stop the cat from attacking him.

He wasn't expecting you to lock yourself inside your room the moment you realized that he was your soulmate.

He was so startled by your reaction that his first instinct was to run after you. The thing was, your cat was blocking your bedroom door—stopping him from intruding your personal space. It was obvious that the little animal didn't like the fact that Jeongguk invited himself inside your home.

Jeongguk didn't know why you were hiding from him. In your defense, you were embarrassed. What were you supposed to say to your soulmate? How were you going to explain to him that the reason why you looked like a mess was because of your demanding job?

Being a civil lawyer was exhausting. One second you're negotiating settlement with the other side's attorney, then you would just find yourself filing motions in court and of course, there were many instances where you're standing before the jury and judge to present a case.

Expertise wasn't the only thing necessary in law. You also needed a great amount of empathy so that you could understand your clients. You cared for them a lot; this was why it was such a big deal for you whenever they choose to omit facts.

You hated it when your clients were being dishonest, you didn't need them to be innocent. You only wanted them to tell you the absolute truth so that you could properly defend them. It wasn't like your job was easy. The fact that most people living in your world see in black and white was already a pain in the ass. Earlier this day, you had a client who was suing a businessperson for selling fake whitening products. She claimed that she spent a whopping two thousand dollars to get that fair skin tone. Sadly, it didn't work.

The opposing side asked your client this: how can you say that the products don’t work when you can’t even see colors?

You were shocked to learn this. Your client was subject to a color test for eyes. She said she could see colors when in fact, she couldn't. Actually, the only reason why the vendor sold your client the whitening products was because she also lied to the seller. The latter's rule was that she wouldn't allow people who see in black and white to purchase her products. This was so she could protect her business' image from fraudster like your client.

Things like this often happened in court. The one you encountered were usually easier to resolve, unlike what criminal lawyers face. This, however, didn't mean your job should be taken lightly.

What happened in court today actually took a toll on you. Your boss humiliated you in front of your colleagues, saying that he couldn't believe an experienced lawyer like you would make such rookie mistake. This made you feel like a loser that's why you decided to go home early to rest. You knew you couldn't work when your heart was this heavy.

You ran yourself a bath the moment you reached your apartment. Jimin was bombarding your phone with text messages to remind you that Jeongguk, a friend of his, was going to drop at your place later today since he was interested to be your roommate.

You simply replied 'Yes, I haven't forgotten. Stop pestering me,' to your best friend. Truthfully, Jimin hadn't shut up about this guy named Jeongguk since last week. He kept telling you that he was the perfect replacement for Seulgi, your former roommate.

You just shrugged it off. Honestly, you didn't care if Jeongguk was the perfect roommate or not. At this point, you would take anyone in. You seriously needed someone who could help you with the household chores.

The warm water grazing your skin made you feel sleepy. Before you knew it, you're off to dreamland; however, your little slumber was disrupted by loud knocks coming from your front door.

"Shit!" Your eyes went wide upon realizing that your supposed to be new roommate was already at the door. As if to confirm the horror, your phone rang.

Jimin was calling.

"Where the hell are you? Jeongguk is in front of your door!"

"I know. I'm so sorry! I fell asleep." You got out of the tub, hurriedly putting on your bathrobe.

"Talk to you later!" You ended the voice call, rushing towards the door. Unfortunately, you slipped on the wet floor.

You whined in pain. Luck was truly not on your side today, but instead of getting annoyed, you simply stood up and went your way to the door.

"I'm sorry, I was in the shower. I swear I heard you the first time you knocked, but I was panicking so I slipped down the floor and I..." You were already blabbering right after opening the door. You hadn't seen your future roommate's face because it was easier to lie without looking at someone in the eyes.

You didn't know why you told him you heard his first knock, when in reality, you didn't. You guessed you just hated disappointing people. What happened with your boss today was something you couldn't let to be repeated again. You couldn't bear to irritate another person.

You kept yourself busy as you reasoned out. You ran your hand through your wet hair, eyes widening when you saw your fingers covered in soap suds.

"Oh, my God!" You were panicking again. This time, you finally looked at Jeongguk to see his reaction.

It was like the world stopped.

No. You did not see colors instantly. What you felt was something strange—mystical perhaps. It was just like how they described it in books and movies.

You thought people were exaggerating about what they claimed they felt when they met their soulmates.

Apparently, they were not.

You know the feeling of finally seeing the rainbow after the strong storm? It was like that. Except this was way better. Your young self was probably rejoicing now. Being able to meet and look in your soulmate's eyes was dazzling.

The colors were becoming visible now, it was faint—this was in contrast to the embarrassment you were feeling.

You suddenly became very self-conscious with what you looked like. You were wrong. Your young self wasn't that happy because she wasn't expecting to meet her soulmate like this.

You were aware that you looked awful. The bags under your bloodshot eyes were probably so deep. The soap suds in your hair made you appear ridiculous. The most horrifying of all? You were wearing a bathrobe designed with the face of your favorite cartoon character.

"Uh—"

You ran away, locking yourself in your room before Jeongguk could finish what he was about to say.

Your heart was beating so fast as you stared in the mirror. The disgust you felt intensified. God. You looked horrible. You mentally cursed the brand of the mascara you were wearing. So much for claiming to be smudge proof! Curse yourself too because this wouldn't happen in the first place if you only refrained from crying over your boss' mean words, but it seemed like you never learned. You just scolded yourself from crying easily, but here you were, tears were painting your cheeks once again.

"No..." Your lips quivered. You were stronger than this. You weren't going to ruin your chance with your soulmate.

Determined, you quickly changed into a sage dress. Your hands were trembling because of your new found excitement. You loved colors ever since you were a kid. The fact that you couldn't see them didn't stop you from learning its meaning. You studied good color combination before. You were aware how to aesthetically match the hues. For instance, you knew that you would look ridiculous if you wore a neon green shirt and bright pink jeans. You were always careful in choosing what to wear, so now that you could finally see colors without referring to your color palette generator, you were beyond happy.

When you looked decent enough, you decided to finally face your soulmate. The first thing you saw as you opened your bedroom door was Jeongguk sitting on your couch—this was a very shocking scene. No. You weren't surprised because he was casually plopped down on your sofa, what you didn't expect was to see Miri, your bitch of a cat, to be so comfortable on Jeongguk's lap. Your pet looked at peace; the usual hiss she was making was replaced by a silent purring. Her bambi eyes mirrored your soulmate's same big, doe eyes.

You cleared your throat to get Jeongguk's attention.

"I let myself in, I hope you don't mind." You couldn't decipher what he was feeling. Jeongguk's voice was soft, but there was no hint of emotion there. His expression was also unreadable.

Jeongguk tore his gaze away from you when he realized that you were staring. As if this wasn't already awkward for him, you went on to say something that made him more uncomfortable.

"I've been waiting so long to meet you! Are you going to move in with me now?" You plopped down beside Jeongguk, squeezing your body between him and the arm of your sofa. Miri hissed since she was astounded by your sudden action. Actually, Jeongguk was surprised too. Your couch was pretty spacious; he didn't understand why you had to press yourself beside him.

Jeongguk also didn't know why you sounded so hopeful. The sparks in your eyes caused him to scowl; however, this didn't stop you from speaking your hopeless thoughts.

"We could do a lot of things together! I had planned everything since I was young!" You giggled. You didn't know why you were so comfortable telling him things. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you two were soulmates.

However Jeongguk was confused with your weird idea of wanting to do all of this romantic stuff with him. The uneasiness he felt couldn't be contained anymore when you abruptly talked about dating—as in dating him.

"Whoa, whoa..." He cut you off, arching his brow and moving away from you. "Slow down, will you? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh." You blushed, immediately realizing that you had gone too far. "I'm sorry I got carried away. I was just excited to meet you." You couldn't help but beam at him.

Jeongguk continued to raise his brow at you.

"Why? Are you really that desperate to find a roommate?"

It was your turn to raise a brow at him.

"N-No, I just..." You breathed in, unsure of what to say. "I'm just happy to finally meet my soulmate."

"Soulmate?"

You flinched because of the bitterness in his voice. His innocent eyes turned dark, he was glaring at you. Miri was startled once more. She jumped on your lap because she was getting scared of Jeongguk.

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but I don't believe in soulmates." The word 'soulmate' sounded so rough coming from him, making you flinch again.

Many people had told you that you were good at gauging the feelings of other people, this was why your heart skipped a beat when you saw pain and anger crossed Jeongguk's feature. It was as if he was betrayed by someone.

"It's the most absurd thing I've heard in my entire life. Only stupid people believe in soulmates. I mean—" Jeongguk sucked in a breath. He was so annoyed that he didn't even know how to express his thoughts without breaking apart. "It's limiting the possibilities for people. Why am I required to fall in love with someone I barely know? Why should I leave the person I truly love just because a person meant to be the love of my life," he paused, quoting the words love of my life in the air. "Helped me see colors? It's like forcing me to do something I don't—no, I can't do. It's such a burden. Love can't be bought. I refuse to be with people just because they helped me."

There was silence after Jeongguk's long speech of the reasons why he didn't—or as what he claimed—couldn't love you.

Jeongguk wetted his bottom lip. The silence was making him hate himself. He hated himself because he saw the tears forming in your eyes, an obvious sign that you were hurt because of what he said. But most importantly, he hated you.

It was unlikely of him to hate someone he just met—or to simply hate anyone at all, but everything about you was making him mad as hell.

He hated your hopeful eyes, he hated your beliefs, he hated that you were the person hindering him from being with Red.

He knew it was unfair to blame you since Red chose to leave on her own, but he still couldn't help himself because the idea of soulmate was what urged her to leave.

You were Jeongguk's soulmate and for him, it meant nothing. So with a furrowed brow, he stared hard at you as he said this:

"I'm making you choose right now. Either accept me as Jeongguk, your tenant or Jeongguk, your soulmate. But just so you know, I will never stay with you if you treat me like a soulmate."

His word stung, though you were aware that the only way to make him stay was to choose the former option. At least this way, you got to be with your soulmate.

The colors you see were starting to fade away and it was okay...

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #ficswithluv #bangtan angst #bangtan ships #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook friends to lovers #jungkook roommate au #jungkook soulmate au #jungkook fic

[rkived]

extra drabble #2: love is in the air and it’s rubbing it in right on pediatricsurgeon!jungkook’s face as he’s reminded that he’s awfully single once again. that doesn’t mean he can’t gift a special someone something, right?

or in which, jungkook thinks you’d look nice with tiffany & co. jewelry around your neck. (hospitalplaylist!au)

📍drabbles masterlist

‘‘What do you think she’ll like?’’ Taehyung asks Jungkook as they peruse through the Tiffany & Co. counters filled with expensive jewelry. 

The youngest shrugs his shoulders, ‘‘Shouldn’t you know? You’re the boyfriend,’’ he comments, but it only garners him a displeased side-eye from his friend. 

‘‘Why do I even bother asking for your help? You haven’t had a girlfriend in over a decade.’’ Taehyung mumbles, shaking his head as he keeps analyzing the sparkly bracelets. ‘‘So until you have one, don’t even try to use the I’m the boyfriend and I should know argument…women are far more complicated than that.’’ 

One of the pediatrician’s eyebrow raises, curious about the neurosurgeon’s words. 

Jungkook blames Med School for his lack of ‘‘women knowledge’’. His dating life was basically nonexistent all throughout the years he was studying to get his degree and although he did try his best to go on a couple of dates after he got his specialization, he had realized that he was absolutely clueless about how to even date. 

If he could grade his dating skills, Jungkook would give himself a less than average score. 

He has to give credits to his friend. Although the older male was stressed about getting his younger girlfriend the perfect Valentine’s Day gift, at least he was trying. The neurosurgeon isn’t a patient person at all, and on any other occasion, Taehyung would’ve picked anything at random, swiped his credit card, and called it a day. 

Jungkook doesn’t understand why does one put themselves through so much stress for one day. He’s a firm believer that there shouldn’t be a predetermined day to be romantic with your partner. Then again, Taehyung is right, the pediatrician hasn’t dated in a hot minute so what does he know? 

The neurosurgeon clicks his tongue as he starts to think that he won’t be able to find anything for Yoonah in this store. He’s about to call Jungkook over to tell him that they should try Cartier next, but he holds himself back as he notices the youngest is stuck staring at one of the showcases displaying the latest arrivals. 

Taehyung chuckles, placing his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and startling him. ‘‘Thinking about getting someone something for Valentine’s?’’ He asks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. 

Jungkook laughs nervously, ‘‘No! I uh─’’

‘‘I think Y/N would really like that, don’t you think?’’ Taehyung interrupts him, a teasing tone to his voice. He actually has no damn clue what you even like, but he thinks it’s funny to pester his friend, especially when it comes to you. 

It’s almost comical how embarrassed Jungkook gets whenever you’re romantically implied to him. 

In any other moment, he’d tell Taehyung off. What does the neurosurgeon even know about what you like? This time, however, Jungkook remains silent as he looks back at the necklace that had caught his attention. Two interlocked pendants hanging delicately from the gold chain. It is something you would like. 

‘‘So, are you gonna get it?’’ The neurosurgeon asks him, it almost feels like he’s cornering the youngest into swiping his black card right then and there. 

Jungkook stammers, lips slightly ajar as he debates inside his head if he should. 

He’s really not the type to give people gifts, not even to you. Although he did give you that spa day certificate last year, it was only because his mom had given it to him in the first place and he couldn’t seem to find the time to use it, regifting it to you because coincidentally you had been complaining about knots in your back that same week. 

 ‘‘Let’s go,’’ the pediatrician mumbles, tugging his friends’ jacket to get him to leave the store. 

There’s a really vivid picture of you wearing the necklace with a big smile on your face that he can’t seem to get out of his mind now. 

---

You’ve always had mixed feelings about Valentine’s Day. 

On one hand, you think the festivity is cute. The hospital gets decorated with pink and red colors, there are heart-shaped paper banners hanging from the walls and there’s even free candy all over the place! 

On the other hand, it serves as a yearly reminder that you’re terribly single and have no one to spend this day with. Of course, you could always do something with your friends. Sadly, your friends are all busy doctors. Besides, you are very aware this day is marketed for couples. Whoever came up with the friendship idea must’ve been single and felt left out. 

You already have plans of your own anyway. A bottle of wine and a family-sized bag of your favorite chips are waiting for you at home, you’re only left to pick what movie will be the chosen one for tonight. 

The debate of what rom-com to watch is stopped as you enter your office, a gasp escaping your mouth as you notice the bouquet of flowers over your desk. Your eyebrows raise in surprise, taken aback by the sudden surprise. 

You hadn’t been expecting anything from anyone. You were quite content with the amount of candy you had received, but something like this was far away from your mind. 

It almost even scares you to look at it closely. Afraid it could be a terrible joke or a simple mistake someone had made, an arrangement wrongly delivered to you instead of the original owner. That’s a possibility. 

Mustering up the courage to get closer, you pick up the bouquet to notice there’s a small blue box snuggled between the pretty flowers. Your eyes widen because...Tiffany & Co.? Yes, this must be a mistake. 

There’s no note attached, which only makes you wonder who could possibly this gift be for. 

You can almost hear a little devil Yoongi whispering from your shoulder finders keepers, it’s only fair since it’s in your office anyway. But there’s also ethical angel Namjoon on your other shoulder telling you to do the right thing, which is to head towards reception and ask who had entered your office and left it behind. Which you do ─ angel Namjoon rejoices as devil Yoongi swears he’ll get away with it someday. 

The receptionist is typing away at her computer’s keyboard, registering the new files into the system as she notices you approaching with the bouquet on hand and she stops her work to smile at you. 

‘‘Hello, Doctor Y/L/N! I see you got your Valentine’s Day gift, heading home already?’’ She asks curiously. 

You chuckle, ‘‘I think there’s been a mistake.’’ The comment makes the receptionist’s eyebrows furrow together, confused at your words. ‘‘I don’t have a Valentine, so there’s no way this is for me. There’s not even a note attached to it.’’ 

‘‘Ohhh, I see.’’ She says in a tone you can’t quite pinpoint, getting back to her typing quickly. 

You clear your throat, ‘‘I was wondering if you know who went inside my office today?’’ 

The receptionist refuses to look at you again, eyes focused on the screen in front of her. She shakes her head no, ‘‘So many people come and go, I lose track of them!’’ 

You sigh, defeated. The receptionist takes one last look at you before you leave, ‘‘That gift is for you, Dr. Y/L/N.’’ Your gaze moves back towards her, but you can tell her lips are sealed. Whoever left this behind must’ve asked for secrecy. 

Looking back down at the bouquet in your hands, you smile slightly at the idea of this being yours. Someone actually gave you something for once. 

The receptionist chuckles at your flustered cheeks and the smile you’re biting back from spreading across your face. 

----

Jungkook’s phone buzzes as he steps outside his bathroom. It’s a message from the group chat and he quickly opens it, fingers beginning to tremble as he hopes it’s the long-awaited message he’s been hoping to see throughout most of the day. 

[9:30 PM] Y/N 🥰❤️: i think i have a secret admirer? 

[9:30 PM] Seokjin: Welcome to the club! 

[9:31 PM] Namjoon: Why? Did you get something today? 

The message that proceeds is one that makes Jungkook’s heart stop momentarily. It’s a selfie of you smiling, a gold necklace being the main focus as it sits pretty on your chest. These are the moments the pediatrician doesn’t question Namjoon’s diagnosis, he is crushing hard.

[9:34 PM] Yoongi: It looks expensive, good for you Y/N. 

[9:32 PM] Taehyung: omg :0 

[9:33 PM] Taehyung: that necklace looks awfully familiar…..

Jungkook is too busy staring at the picture to even notice Taehyung’s teasing. 

It’s just like he had pictured, but much better. 

a/n: hiii guys happy valentine’s day!! my gift for y’all is this drabble <3 pining 101 is a crowd favorite and i feel rlly guilty abt abandoning it :( but i HAD to write smthn for these two for vday!! hope u enjoyed n sorry (again) for the wait :P ps: although this is an extra drabble, this does take place during the main drabbles timeline!

#jungkook au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook drabble #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook au #jeon jungkook drabble #bts drabble #d: pining 101 #kept it cute n short y'all for once

[vidalinav]

Love is Bright Red, Hope is Dark Blue SNEAK PEAK

So, it seems that sneak peaks keep me accountable, because every time I posted one I finished the fic, and if that’s not some voodoo magic I don’t know what is. 

However, this hopefully will be the last fic I post before ACOSF. I’m aware that many of you will probably be logged off by the time I post, but honestly who even remembers this fic series. I’m perfectly okay with shouting to the void. I’m going to abandon every fic I said I was going to write and keep them on the back burner. This will be the first completed work I’ve ever had and I’m determined and... also very bored! (insert little emoji with the fists up) 

So, I’m going in. 

Nesta’s Love is Quiet/Cassian’s Love is Warm Masterlist

~

The picture of Nesta hangs on the living room wall. She moves and its eyes follow. She blinks and it awakens. The other her stares. Her expression a collage of painted lashes, crimson dusted skin, a rose that is cradled in her hands. This Nesta, praying to some unknown deity who never answers.  

She looks innocent. Far too innocent for the amount of horrors she’s seen... and she’s alone.

A singularity. An outlier.

The image lies off center in the middle of the wall, yet the other pictures crawl up the space like tangling vines suffocating the life out of her. Life is not painted in her eyebrows, or the color of her hair, or the red of her lips, or her pale neck. Rather, it is what is around her. The pictures that are filled with laughter and smiles and heart-wrenching happiness.

They must have taken it from her, she thinks. Poor girl.

But Nesta shakes her head. No, she never had it. It was always the others who laughed, who yelled, who joked those jokes of theirs. She might have been placed here, forced to fit, squeezed into the place they could find room for, but at the end of the day, she is merely a pretty painting tacked in Feyre’s living room wall. Beautiful… but not alive. Cold, and alone, and red with the stain of blood.

Is this what Feyre sees when Nesta skidders through her memories? If it is, she is even more certain of their foolish want to love her.

“I painted it the day you left. I think it came out beautifully, don’t you think?”

I think I look dead inside; she wants to say, turning to Feyre who leans against a table, all starry skies and none of the bleak, burning black holes.

Dead.

Dead and buried.

Feyre grimaces, taking a breath as if she’ll recite poetry in the hall. What other words will spew from the depths of her throat and croak out in sounds and syllables?

Are words even enough to describe memories turned to dust and rose-colored wounds freshly healed?

The fiery anger blooms out of Nesta’s lungs. Its laid dormant for far too long, all those winter days in the mountains trapped under frost. But, Nesta can’t respond, doesn’t know what she’d say to her little sister who means so much to her, but at the same time makes her heart ache as if it bleeds from where’s she’s stabbed her in the chest.

Nesta opens her mouth to speak...

Elain strolls in.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” She grins, grasping her forearm, pulling Nesta towards the dining room in glee. “I thought I’d show you what I made to celebrate.”

Nesta shudders at the thought, at the feeling of her sisters at her side and behind her. Huddling around her as if they mean to keep her close. Nesta thinks it feels like a prison. “Celebrate what?”

Elain looks at her oddly, “You being back—and Cassian, of course… Your health.” She adds, her brows furrowing in concern. Nesta doesn’t know what that look means.

Tell me, she wants to scream.

Elain swallows, the dandelion charm at her throat bobbing. “When Cassian carried you in, you looked so… small. Feyre and I were worried that you’d—”

“We had complete faith that you’d be safe and well again,” Feyre smiles, the mirth never reaching her eyes.

An odd phrase, Nesta thinks, for she’s never been safe or well.

Nesta squints to the table and Elain perhaps noticing the shift, moves quickly to the image of steaming casserole and piping hot buns. Dessert already sits in each corner and she wonders who exactly they’re all feeding if this is the amount of food they waste.

“The roast is still in the oven.” Her favorite.

“You’re favorite,” Elain mumbles softly—shyly, “I thought since we missed your birthday, we could celebrate now.”

That word again.

Celebrate…

Don’t they know that she rejoices in being away from them? That she finds solace in the quiet day by day. There is no obligation of sterile complacency, of beauty she can never live up to. She doesn’t need to be a good sister, a caring sister, a sister who reaches both hands out in compassion. In Windhaven, beyond Velaris, she is just Nesta. She is no one.

Nesta resists rolling her eyes or saying something snarky just because she can, just because she knows it’ll hurt. Instead, she touches the plate on the table, a fine porcelain made of blue glass. It reminds her of the chandelier she has at home, blinking and twisting like an unhindered star.

She doesn’t want to celebrate her birthday.

Feyre pulls out a chair, the noise screeching against the floor and Nesta can’t stop the harsh look she sends her way.

If they missed it, she did too.

But at her cold demeaner, Elain is quick to lure her to a seat, proclaiming that Nesta will sit beside her all evening. Perhaps, they’ll exchange stories. I want to hear everything, she pleads. Will Nesta tell her the weather then? The bitter frosts, the buried cemeteries, the avalanches that never came crashing down like she wanted. It was all too perfect, all too according to plan.

Nesta will not let them have the satisfaction.

Elain smiles crookedly, some noise that sounds both like a laugh and a cry barreling out of her lips.

Nesta half-wonders what about her now seems fragile to her little sister when she had treaded precariously past death and disinterest and yet nothing could persuade them a year ago that she wasn’t well enough— okay enough.

Nesta only looks to the stairs. The sound of rustling feet stampeding above. She can feel him even now, wants to call for him even if she abhors the thought.

Her sisters are… different when Cassian is around. More watchful, more cautious. Not as eager to touch her or to offer an array of activities that don’t at all sound pleasing to her ears. He is her guard somehow, even though he offers nothing but laughs and soft, easy smiles.

But he ambles down the stairs as if she calls him. Perhaps she does, in that hollow part of her body she still doesn’t understand. The part that whispers his name, echoes his feelings, reminds her that she is not alone.  

“Sit,” She urges lowly, moving the utensils that Elain sets down to another place setting. Cassian raises a brow but sits beside her.

His hand rests on the table and Nesta wants to know what it would seem like to these… people—her family if she placed her palm in his so openly. She clenches her fist to stop the reaching, turning her gaze away from his golden skin.

“Oh,” Elain says, noting the seat beside her taken.  

To be continued….

~

Tagged and those who will be tagged from Cassian’s Love is Warm and those who said they wanted to be tagged on everything: (let me know if this changes)

@dreaming-of-bohemian-nights , @missing-merlin, @strangeenemy, @saltydreamcollector, @midnightbluhm, @my-fan-side, @queenofillea1, @tswaney17, @gloriousinlove, @ekaterinakostrova, @thebluemartini, @anishake, @lord-douglas-the-third, @soitsgorgeous, @lolasjournal @duskandstarlight, @arinbelle, @nestaarcher0n, @allilal @mis-lil-red

~

I hate confrontation like my life depends on it, but I don’t know how to start the healing process for the sisters without some, so maybe you’ll get an outburst or two from Nesta and maybe Cassian. But ultimately it’s going to end not like the healing is complete, but rather that the healing is able to take place, ripping off band aids here. It’s going to be long and emotional. 

I read the previous chapters and omg I get so mad when I read it. It’s like physically impossible to read Nesta’s voice without being stark, ugly mad, but it is easier to write that way. Also, Feyre is about to be annoying in this but it has to happen to come full circle. But at least Cassian and Nesta will be uber cute and established! I have a day out in Velaris date for them.

If y’all have followed this story and have some burning desire to see something, let me know! It will be the last chance to do so. Because again, I’m determined to finish and I’ll NEVER write for this fic again. NEVER. But I will not write smut (unfortunately I suck at that and I try to avoid anything I suck at)

Actually let me set a date: it’s going to be posted on Wednesday by 11:59pm central time. Yell at me if it’s not lol. This will be my reaching 1000 followers gift.  

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fanfiction #acosf

[padme-amitabha]

Anidala Week 2021

Day 3: Mythology/Fairy Tales or Favorite Touches

A Serpent in the Garden of Eden

This is based on Hindu mythology about two lovers named Behula and Lakhindar. Some aspects of the original story have been tweaked :)

Once upon a time, two seraphs in the kingdom of heaven fell in love – a love so deep and profound they would attract the envy of the other angels who served in the court of gods. They were Vader and Amidala, the most beautiful out of all the angels.

Vader was descended from the bloodline of the Father himself, creator of the heavens. Vader with his enormous black wings – a black as sinful as midnight – was the angel of death. He could be as beautiful or terrible as the person whose soul he intended to take with him.

Amidala was descended from the Sister, the deity of light, love and purity. She was the queen of the celestial maidens. She inspired all to follow her and was well loved by the citizens of Zion. Her soft wings were as white and pure as snow itself.

This couple’s union caused quite a stir in court and attracted the attention of everyone. The gods felt they were an excellent match and gave them their blessing to marry. They lived together in harmony for centuries and had many children including the twins Luke and Leia, who became deities of the sun and the moon. But after a while, like most immortal beings, they grew weary of living eternal life and craved adventure. They desired to be reincarnated and sent to Earth so that they could find each other and fall in love with each other all over again. The gods granted them this request.

Amidala, being the elder of the two angels, was sent to earth first as the youngest daughter in a well-off family in Theed. Four years later, Vader was sent as the son of a woman named Shmi. Shmi Skywalker was a middle-aged woman who lived on her own in a city called Mos Espa. It so happened that her family had been cursed and killed by the god of snakes and destruction, Sheev due to a grudge he bore against the Skywalkers. He had spared her since she was a child at the time, intending her to become his devotee, but the iron-willed Shmi vowed never to worship the god who had taken away her family.

Sheev, a vindictive god, was affronted by her refusal and placed a curse on her. Any child born of her would never reach adulthood. Shmi went on to have six sons and all of them died under mysterious circumstances in their infancy and Shmi suspected it was from snakebites. Which made sense, of course, since snakes were associated with the conniving god and it was said that was how he took the lives of people who incurred his wrath.

When she found herself with child again, she briefly considered giving in to Sheev. This seventh son was conceived without a Father and Shmi suspected a divine intervention. The child was born with stars in his eyes that reflected infinite wisdom. He was too aware as a child and emitted a godly aura. Shmi knew he was no ordinary human child as soon as she held him in her arms. With his unnaturally bright blue eyes and soft golden curls, he looked like an angel descended from the heavens. Shmi named him Anakin.

Shmi was fiercely protective of her boy and always kept a close eye on him. Anakin was not to step a foot out of their extremely safeguarded house. Anakin, naturally because Vader’s essence still lived inside him, was born with the desire to explore worlds and make a name for himself. But he was aware that his mother’s overprotectiveness came from the sorrows she had endured so he (mostly) remained an obedient child. He dreamed of leaving his house once he reached the age of twenty-one for that would render the curse null and void. 

As a child, he had discovered he was an excellent craftsman and a natural artist. He painted everything he had heard Shmi talk about the world beyond Mos Espa and even Tatooine. Sometimes, images would flash in his mind about a place where there was only happiness. These visions would also show him a strangely familiar face.

Anakin hadn’t seen many girls and most of the women he had encountered were his mother’s age but he knew she was the most beautiful girl in the world. He wasn’t certain she really existed and perhaps, she was just a figment of his imagination and he decided to bring her to life with a portrait. He deftly painted her big brown eyes, delicate features and soft brown hair. It proved to be his finest work.

Meanwhile, Shmi began looking for a potential bride for Anakin. She knew he was lonely and she knew she wouldn’t be around forever to look after him and Anakin had just turned twenty. He had been mostly nonchalant to the girls she had considered for him and spent an awful amount of time thinking about some fictitious girl of his dreams.

She went to Jira, the fruit seller, who lived nearby. The old woman knew every girl in vicinity and she had doted on Anakin since he was little. Shmi told herabout Anakin’s reluctance to marry.

“Don’t look so down, Shmi. I have good news for you,” Jira assured her. “I know about Anakin’s curse and it seems like we have found a solution. A month ago, I visited my sister in Theed and heard the most interesting news. The Naberries are devotes of Shiraya and on a recent visit to the temple, they have heard a prophecy about their second daughter. It is said she would never be a widow.”

Shmi rejoiced at the news. If Anakin were to wed this girl, that would secure his life. “Where can I find this girl?” she asked.

Anakin did not want to marry this girl. His mother had gushed about her countless qualities. Shmi believed she was as special as her own son.  She was well known in all of Theed for being wits, virtues and beauty. But he was growing weary of living life as a prisoner inside his own home and he longed to live a normal life. Maybe this Naberrie girl was the answer. He agreed to meet her.

All his initial reluctance faded once he saw her. It was her. The girl from his dreams.

Anakin immediately agreed to marry Padmé, who seemed just as much taken with him as he was with her.

On their wedding night, Shmi prepared a chamber for them and took every precaution to keep out any snakes that could slither in. Unfortunately, Sheev was one step ahead of her. He conspired with Watto, the builder, to sabotage their accommodation and leave a carefully concealed hole.

Anakin and Padmé were fast asleep on their wedding night, after conversing for hours about their shared visions and memories. The snake upon gazing at the couple felt a pang of regret and hesitated to bring misfortune upon the innocent young couple. Sheev then used his godly powers to compel the serpent and charmed Padmé to fall into a deep slumber. The snake caused the lamp kept next to the couple’s bed to topple and the spills of hot oil forced Padmé to wake and she found her husband bitten by the serpent. She took out the dagger she always carried with her and with she threw it at the snake, which caused its tail to be chopped in half.

Shmi rushed to her son’s side but it was too late. The poison was already in his system and within a few hours, Anakin was dead. Shmi was inconsolable with grief and so was Padmé after becoming a widow at such a young age.

As per the tradition, Anakin’s body was to be put on a raft and set to sail on the river as was done to people who died from snake bites. Padmé refused to accept his death.

All her life, she had known her husband would never die before her. She wished to be on the raft and accompany him. The people thought she had lost her mind from the grief. She waited for them to leave after the ritual and then sneaked in the raft and started sailing on the river. She prayed to the gods to not let the raft sink.

It was said if you went far enough, you would reach the heavens. And that exactly was Padmé’s intention. She would enter heaven and beg the gods to restore Anakin back to life.

The gods were impressed by her perseverance and put her through many trails along the way. Padmé, with Amidala’s essence in her, proved she was worthy and passed them all.

When she reached the heavens, the gods welcomed her.

“We are impressed by your devotion to your husband,” said Yoda, the god of wisdom.

“Then help me by bringing him back to life,” pleaded Padmé.

“It is too late,” said Sheev, ever the schemer. “You have taken too long to reach here. We can only resurrect him within 3 days of his death. You have taken a week.”

Padmé was heartbroken. She besought them to find another way for her to be reunited with her Anakin again or take her life as well.

“There is a way,” said Qui-Gon, the god of compassion, thoughtfully.

“We can make him a god again, as he was once. But he would be bound to serve another god for eternity. That is the price you must pay.”

Sheev was quick to step up and offer to be Anakin’s master and Shmi, realizing her son’s life was more important to her, allowed Anakin to be Palpatine’s apprentice.

Shaak Ti, the goddess of power, was impressed by Padmé and offered to take her in if she was willing to give up her mortal life. Padmé agreed without a second thought. Anakin was restored to life and he was euphoric on seeing his beloved at his side. He felt very fortunate on having such a capable woman as his wife. In the end, Padmé’s endurance and good faith was rewarded. The couple was welcomed back in heaven as gods, reunited after the adventure of a lifetime, and as the happiest of husbands and wives.  

#anidalaweek2021 #anidalaweek #anidala #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #anakin x padme #anakin and padme #fic #my writing #behula #hindu mythology #reincarnation #shmi skywalker #sheev palpatine

[wangxiandecoded]

Episode 5

Previous Episode | Next Episode

(Spoilers for the whole show ahead!)

Episode 5 is chock full of moments and fun romantic tropes that make it hard to believe this show passed the censorship. 

Wei Ying has already taken Lan Zhan as his soulmate of many lifetimes and started confiding secrets in him. He gets dragged away to copy all the rules he broke but it’s ok Wei Ying, Lan Zhan has to notice the undeniable chemistry you share at some point.  

The Yiling Patriarch Invented Gay Pining 

The sheer amount of pining in this scene.. How did he not burn a hole through the library?

Guy takes a break from admiring the beauty of his crush, starts admiring his calligraphy instead.

The Many Names Wei Ying Calls Him

Calling your beloved by his every name to get his attention. Success! He responds to the name with intimate connotations. But oh no! He actually looked at you! What do you do now? Head empty. Quick! Ask him why he’s ignoring you and subtly remind him that he has the right to express his anger by using your formal name for completely logical reasons. 

I understand Wei Ying's feelings, it must be maddening to meet the love of your life and want to skip to the domestic stages of romance, when he still considers you an unruly stranger who has no business with him.

Can we take a second to appreciate what a pure soul Wei Ying is for wanting to constantly do better and learn what he did for Lan Zhan to hate him so much? He apologizes not once but repeatedly for breaking the rules and assures Lan Zhan he would never attack him with the intention to harm. (Wei Ying sweetie, you did nothing wrong, he just isn't ready to admit you're melting his heart.) 

All he wants is your attention. Just spare him some him, Lan Zhan! I have no clue how someone can say no to Wei Ying when he’s being this cute. Lan Zhan’s self-restraint must really be something else.

This line and Wei Ying's gay ass smile is so damning. I do not know how some Chinese censor officials did not have conniptions over this.. were they too blinded by heteronormativity, perhaps? Even Lan Zhan has had enough and charms him into silence.

Looking At Him When He’s Not Looking

Looking at your bro when you think he isn't aware you're looking at him, but he's actually painting a portrait of you when you aren't looking at him. I’m done with these idiots.

Wei Ying's heartfelt apology is obvious to us but Lan Zhan's definition of sincerity is abiding by the rules, which Wei Ying gives into for him, with a lot of effort. If that’s not love, what is? 

More pining. Wei Ying makes one last attempt at wooing Lan Zhan for the day by giving him a parting gift. (For what exactly? Monitoring him while he carried out his punishment? Love is so irrational, y’all.)

The last touch he gives to Lan Zhan's portrait is adding a flower to his forehead ribbon. This is how Wei Ying really sees Lan Zhan - not as the intimidating Lan Wangji from Gusu Lan clan, but the guy he finds cute when he's lost in concentration. It pains me to see Wei Ying do so much to win his heart.

Lan Zhan Thinks Everything Wei Ying Does Is “Boring”

Wei Ying asks him to say something other than “boring” for a change and this is his reply. What makes their relationship so captivating is their contrasting personalities. Every time Lan Zhan thinks Wei Ying is being ridiculous and goes, “Boring,” I think he actually finds Wei Ying kind of amazing and that’s annoying because it is nothing but a hindrance to the way of life expected from him. It is boring and ridiculous to Lan Zhan that he is starting to get used to Wei Ying’s presence in his life. It is boring that he’s beginning to notice and personally care for a single person instead of the world. It is boring how someone is breaking the seamless silence Lan Zhan has spent most his life wrapped up in and suddenly making it overflow with words - words he does not vocalize but Wei Ying hears anyway. That’s what finding the right person feels like, after all. So it is boring that Wei Ying, with his stupid grin, is so close to coming into his life, throwing out the worldly matters Lan Zhan is supposed to be devoted to and asking him, “Lan Zhan, isn’t it funny that I’m your worldly matter now?” 

I guess Wei Ying does get his wish in the end. Lan Zhan erupts and calls him "Wei Ying" for the first time ever because he made him open an erotic book, more specifically one that features explicit gay art. The production team is so slick, I felt giddy the first time I saw this. But still, I don’t think Lan Zhan was being fair, I’m sure he broke a rule that said it’s a great offense to reject someone’s gift. 

Lan Zhan strikes me as a closeted baby gay raised on ascetic principles, and Wei Ying’s confident chaotic bi energy is predictably sending his poor world for a toss. No wonder he was ready to duel it out with him. What are the implications of this, Wei Ying? You showed a Lan clan member gay erotic art and assured him there is absolutely nothing wrong in enjoying it. Do you want to kill him? 

And remember Wei Ying got this book from Nie Huaisang who has also been queer-coded. After a point, you lose sight of how many characters seem hella gay on this show.

Nonetheless, it is impressive that there is someone who can make the disciplined, detached Hanguang-Jun lose his calm and even get him to swear. Of course it ends up being something for Wei Ying to brag about later. It is indeed an accomplishment that few people can claim as their own.

Can We Buy An Island For Our President Zewu Jun?

Zewu Jun is not even being subtle here. Why is he smiling? Seriously, why?! The fact that his brother called this guy by his formal name which can be used only by people you're close to? The fact that he followed Wei Ying to the secluded part of the Cloud Recesses? Or because he was unable to find the real person since he's fixated on Wei Ying? Knowing our President, it's probably all of the above.

The show's clever usage of Zewu Jun as the emotional compass who points precisely to what Lan Zhan feels is definitely one of my favorite things. We see that Lan Zhan often says one thing about Wei Ying but means another and Zewu Jun is the stand-in for the audience who knows the truth.

We can see the contrast of a speechless Lan Zhan when Zewu Jun confronts him about wanting Wei Ying's company versus the facade he puts on when actually in Wei Ying's company. That's it for today's analysis, folks.

The Aqua Demon Hunt Is The First Testament To Their Chemistry

Wangxian end up sharing a room. (Do we have the President to thank for that?) Lan Zhan being all "Time for me to go meditate in solitude" and Wei Ying being ".... about how we belong together!"

Rewatching these scenes is definitely bad for my heart. The unconcealed disappointment on Wei Ying's face when Lan Zhan turns down his bet to prove their like-mindedness really sends. (Is this the ancient equivalent of a love calculator, Wei Ying? How did the Yiling Patriarch never invent a device like that, I wonder.)

Lan Zhan, did he really deserve this? He just wants to show you what an incredible, unmatchable team you both will make! And he is so good at reading your mind.

Just smiling at the fact that your bro exists for no apparent reason in middle of a hunt. Wei Ying sure has his priorities straight, even if nothing else in his life is.

Wangxian Are The Dream Team

Wei Ying distracting the water ghost and saving Lan Zhan at the same time so effortlessly? A stroke of admirable genius! I probably need to start a separate post to keep track of all the times Wangxian's teamwork puts everyone else to shame. Notice how every time Lan Zhan said "boring" in this episode, it was directed only at Wei Ying’s romantic gestures. 

It's that little shoulder bump that screams "I'm sorry I splashed water at you, I did out of my love for you, okay?"

I'm sorry Wei Ying, he just needs more time to process the fact that you are the unrivalled candidate for a cultivation partner he has ever come across. And if you ever get confused why Zewu Jun is mysteriously smiling at various points in the show, it's probably a "My brother is falling in love, good for him, good for him" smile.

Wei Ying’s little head tilt after they both defeat the water ghost that came for their boat that says, “See? We belong together.” 

When Lan Zhan learns why Suibian is called so and thinks, "My crush is a fucking idiot, love that for me.“ 

Wei Ying always understands what Lan Zhan is thinking or wants to say without him having said a word. Soulmates.

Thank you water ghosts for ensuring they both end up on the same boat and giving them the chance to display their spectacular synchronization. Maybe it’ll help Lan Zhan wake up.

I rejoice every time there is a juxtaposition of Wangxian with the straight couples because it proves our main characters are travelling the same romantic arc the others are.

Saving Him For The First Time

Lan Zhan rescues Wei Ying in the nick of time! Sure, that’s the Right Thing to do but do you see his expression? That’s unbridled shock that Wei Ying is going to die. And the matter of utmost importance to Wei Ying in this life-or-death situation is the fact that Lan Zhan isn't holding his hand after the "intimate" experiences they’ve shared. I cannot.

Ok Lan Zhan.. You don't touch people.. Let’s see who the exception is. But honestly we get it, just swooping in to save him was a lot to handle, holding his hand would have been a gay apocalypse on your heart.

Wei Ying Is Growing On Lan Zhan

Lan Zhan finally admits Wei Ying could be right, because annoying as he is, his deductions are brilliant. 

We learn Lan Zhan is secretly craving loqauts but throws it back when Wei Ying gives him one. Zewu Jun offers to buy loquats for Lan Zhan, again hinting at his repressed feelings for Wei Ying. 

When we hear a vendor selling Emperor's Smile, do we see Lan Zhan's anti-Wei Ying persona begin to crack or am I seeing things? 

The episode ends with someone (Wei Ying) taking two bottles of Emperor's Smile and paying for it. Whatever happens, Wei Ying is going to sneak his misconduct into the Cloud Recesses and his way into Lan Zhan’s unfaltering heart.

All in all, this was an episode that opened the possibility of Lan Zhan maybe starting to accept that Wei Ying is a nuisance he likes having around. At the very least, he wants to live in a world where Wei Ying is alive and being his unbelievable self. He’s a man of few words and many micro expressions so that’s why it’s so golden on the rare occasions he does slip up and show that he cares about Wei Ying, like saving him in this episode. His actions speak louder than his words, and they ring louder still as show progresses and he becomes the main line of defense between Wei Ying and anyone who so much as thinks about harming him.

Episode 5 drives it home that Wangxian have chemistry that is to be envied and worth investing in. We get the sense that these two are going to be together for a long ass time.

#the untamed #chen qing ling #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed analysis #the untamed meta #wangxian analysis #wangxian meta #cql meta #cql episodes #the untamed episodes #wangxian #lan zhan #wei ying #lan wangji #wei wuxian #cql rewatch #the untamed rewatch #mdzs meta

[ayuuria]

Yashahime Translation: VV Magazine December 2020 Issue

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

Interview with Matsumoto Sara

On VVM (VV Magazine) is voice actress, Matsumoto Sara, who plays the role of Higurashi Towa in the anime that started on October 3 on Yomiuri TV/Nippon TV channel, “Hanyō no Yashahime” (Every Saturday evening at 5:30pm~ *Some areas excluded)! What is the charm of this current work that depicts the efforts of the three daughters (Towa = voice: Matsumoto, Setsuna = voice: Komatsu Mikako, Moroha = voice: Tadokoro Azusa) of Sesshōmaru and Inuyasha, who appeared in Takahashi Rumiko sensei’s famous work “Inuyasha”? What do you keep in mind as you play a character who crosses over time and rampages left and right with the modern and feudal eras as her stage? What was your state of mind the moment you got specifically selected to play the role of Towa? We will be going behind-the-scenes of the new “Inuyasha world”!

Matsumoto: My name is Matsumoto Sara. Please treat me well today!

Ikeuchi: I am Ikeuchi Shinji of the Village Vanguard (abbreviated VV going forward) P strategic division. Please treat me well today.

VVM: This page is a specialty corner of this small magazine where we try to interview the person that the lucky staff members selected from the approximately 350 stores that VV maintains across the country, have said that they want to meet… This time, we specially had Ikeuchi-san from VV headquarters come as he is a big fan of not only the “Inuyasha” series of course, but Takahashi Rumiko-sensei as well.

Ikeuchi: I was part of the generation that read the “Inuyasha” manga in real time. Furthermore, I’m basically a big big big fan of Takahashi Rumiko-sensei so I took advantage of this opportunity and came today (laughs).

Matsumoto: I’m deeply honored!

Ikeuchi: No no, I am truly honored as well! Of course, I enjoy watching “Hanyō no Yashahime”, so just being able to meet a voice actor who takes part in a work that I love makes me happy.

Matsumoto: Thank you very much!

Ikeuchi: With that, regarding “Hanyō no Yashahime”. First, could you tell us what was going through your mind when it was decided that you would be cast in a work that continues the world of a big hit history work that makes someone from a generation like mine fired up?

Matsumoto: First I thought “No way!”. I was shaking. I had asked my manager over the phone in a corner of the train station building near the recording studio and I jumped for joy there (laughs).

Ikeuchi: It seems you auditioned, so you find out the results over the phone I see.

Matsumoto: I contact my manager via phone, email, and other different means, but so far good news tends to come over the phone (laughs). I knew that news had arrived regarding “Hanyō no Yashahime” and I was just in the middle of recording. I was always looking at an accent dictionary on my smartphone when recording. Then the screen suddenly flashed, and my manager’s name popped up.

Ikeuchi: You wanted to call back as soon as possible!

Matsumoto: That’s right. However, I really held myself back until after the recording was over. At this point, many days had passed since the audition so I thought “Could it be…”  and when I called back at the station building near the studio, they said “You got the part!”

Ikeuchi: That’s going to be a memorable station building.

Matsumoto: Yes! (laughs)

VVM: Though you explained it on your blog, it seems you were not allowed to tell anyone that you passed until the day of the announcement?

Matsumoto: The only person I told was my older sister who I live with. I recorded a voice sample for the “Hanyō no Yashahime” audition during the self-quarantine period but it seems my sister overheard it. She said, “You seem to be saying Sesshōmaru this and Sesshōmaru that next door” (laughs). It seems she figured it out somewhat.

Ikeuchi: She probably thought “Maybe it’s an audition related to “Inuyasha”” (laughs)

Matsumoto: That’s how she found out. Hence, I told her “I passed that thing”. Then my sister rejoiced too.

VVM: The information was released on August 7th. This was the first lead role in your career so I’m sure your family was overjoyed.

Matsumoto: Everyone told me “Congrats! ~” “Do you best~”. I have a relative who’s an avid fan of Rumiko-sensei, so they lamented “Why didn’t you tell me~!” (laughs). When that person told me previously “It looks like they’re going to do a new “Inuyasha” story”, I had already auditioned but I couldn’t even tell them that. I really had to suppress the urge to tell them.

Ikeuchi: I’m also a big fan, so I totally understand how they felt (laughs).

VVM: Was there already social distancing at the audition?

Matsumoto: Yes. Normally you meet a lot of people at the audition site (studio), but I auditioned alone. That’s why I don’t know what type and how many people auditioned.

VVM: Thus, you passed with flying colors and apparently during the first recording, sound director, Nagura Yasushi, advised you that “You don’t need to make her so boyish” or something like that?

Matsumoto: Nagura-san gives me all sorts of advice, but he really places importance on Towa being a girl.

VVM: Was there a reason you were leaning more towards boyishness?

Matsumoto: When I submitted the voice sample, I only had the character design and setting document, so I didn’t know the character’s personality or details.

Ikeuchi: Do you fill in the missing information yourself?!

Matsumoto: Yes. I thought over a lot of things like the meaning of a girl in boyish pants… Or that it’s written Sesshōmaru’s daughter, but her surname is Higurashi… the result was a pretty strong toned voice sample. I was told “You passed” with that so I went into the recording with that and I was advised “You don’t need to make her boyish”.

Ikeuchi: What was the intent?

Matsumoto: She’s simply a 14-year-old middle school girl who grew up in the modern era so she’s not really conscious of things like her strength in fights or the blood relation to her parents. It’s possible that by going to the feudal era and getting involved with Setsuna and Moroha, she becomes conscious of that side of herself. That’s why I think they wanted me to be aware that at the beginning, Towa is just a normal girl.

Ikeuchi: I see. Now that you mention it, at the beginning, Towa was the only one who didn’t have any experience in battle. Even in episode 3, she didn’t land the finishing blow.

Matsumoto: She gets into fights but she’s never experienced defeating demons so when I think about things like “I wonder if by chance the part of her that’s Sesshōmaru’s daughter will awaken?”, “How is she going to change?”, or “I wonder if she’s going to become cool?”, I get excited. But there’s a part of me that’s a little unsure if I’ll be able to express that well (laughs).

VVM: Two months have passed since broadcasting began; what sort of girl do you think Towa is now?

Matsumoto: She looks cool as there are visuals that make her look like a boy, but I think she has a surprisingly absentminded side to her (laughs).

Ikeuchi: Although I can feel Towa’s kindness and strong heart from your voice, do you have any difficulty balancing that aspect?

Matsumoto: While I leave the character balancing to the directors, even if I think about my acting at home, I won’t know until I sync up with Komatsu Mikako, who plays Setsuna, and Tadokoro Azusa, who plays Moroha, so that’s where it gets difficult.

Ikeuchi: Like what sort of acting will the other person do?

Matsumoto: That’s right. There are times where the act I’ve prepared takes a 180-degree turn, so I put 120% into my real time acting for each situation.

Ikeuchi: Starting from Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha, each of the three different characters have voices that really suit them.

Matsumoto: The tone of voice for all three of them isn’t very high, so there’s an aspect where I feel they’re all similar. Especially when it comes to serious lines. However, when listening to it, this might be strange to say, but the “shade” of the voice is different like the mellowness, so while the voices overlap, I think there’s differentiation between the characters. (translator’s note: I’m not positive about this sentence).

Ikeuchi: Towa and Setsuna are twins, so I think that the part where they’re a little “similar” makes them realistic.

Matsumoto: Thank you. After episode 3, there are more scenes where Towa and Setsuna poke comments at Moroha, so sometimes sound director Nagura (Yasushi) tells us our voices sound the same. Apparently, there are times where they sound like one person, so I consulted with Setsuna’s voice actress, Komatsu Mikako, and changed my tone.

Ikeuchi: What sort of conversations do you have with Komatsu-san and Tadokoro-san?

Matsumoto: We talk about acting of course, but the three of us love “Inuyasha” and we were able to take part in “Hanyō no Yashahime”, so we fan talk like “I wonder if that demon from that time was…?” or “This was in “Inuyasha” too right?” (laughs).

Ikeuchi: What about personally? (translator’s note: Like in private life)

Matsumoto: The three of us made a group chat in LINE and we communicate there. For example, after I watched episode 1 prior to airing, I messaged them like “Did you see episode 1? It was amazing!!”. Then Komatsu-san responded “Ooo, I’ll watch I’ll watch!”. Tadokoro-san responded with “It would be a waste so I’m going to watch it on air!”.

Ikeuchi: To fans, that’s an incredibly extravagant group chat!

Matsumoto: It’s only been two months since episode 1 but the three of us are already close and we always hype on recording day.

Ikeuchi: Are the three of you in the recording booth together?

Matsumoto: The staff made distancing considerations so that the three of us could record together. There are a lot of scenes with the three of them, so as of now the three of us mostly record together.

VVM: Has Takahashi Rumiko-sensei ever come to watch the recording or said anything to you before?

Matsumoto: When recording first started, it was during a situation where meetings were being done remotely, so I didn’t have opportunities to meet not only Rumiko-sensei of course, but the other cast members as well. However, the other day when I went to the limited time “Inuyasha” Café that opened in Shibuya PARCO with director Satō Teruo and the other “Hanyō no Yashahime” cast members, Rumiko-sensei was there! I greeted her with “I am Matsumoto Sara, the role of Higurashi Towa!”

Ikeuchi: I’m genuinely envious of you! Since she doesn’t make very many appearances on TV and such, her existence is so far away that you wonder if she really exists…

Matsumoto: It was deeply emotional. Pardon me for saying this but I was also moved like “She’s really here…”. She was like a god to me when I was a child.

VVM: Did you have any sort of conversation with her?

Matsumoto: I heard that the cast and staff of the “Inuyasha” anime went on trips together every year since the broadcasting. I was moved that they still communicate with each other even now after 20 years since the broadcast. When I think about how I get to participate in a part of this work that sensei cherishes so much, my body tenses up.

Ikeuchi: Actually, to celebrate the broadcasting of “Hanyō no Yashahime”, VV is also releasing “Hanyō no Yashahime” merchandise in which the actual animator drew the illustration… (shows a rough sketch drawn in pencil)

Matsumoto: What?! That’s amazing!! The side profile (face) feels fresh.

Ikeuchi: This will be used as the cover for VVM and such.

Matsumoto: I’m so happy that you would publish it in such a magazine!

Ikeuchi: Not at all, the pleasure is ours!

Matsumoto: (while looking at the picture) It really is the world of “Hanyō no Yashahime”! I look forward to the colored VVM cover!

VVM: We would like to have you trace your memories back a little here, but we would like to ask you what made you become a voice actress and what kind of girl were you when you were Towa’s age (14)?

Matsumoto: When I was 14 years old huh… I was in an all-girls middle school for three years, so I never really interacted with boys the same grade as me. Hence, I grew up in a world of only girls. It was a classroom permeating with the characteristic emotions of girls going through adolescence (laughs) and I think I learned all sorts of things like how to interact with people. Until then, part of my personality was that I was somewhat too conscious of things and I casually learned to “let go”. (translator’s note: it literally said “抜く” in quotes which directly translates to “to remove or pull out”. It can also translate to fap… honestly this can go in any direction so interpret this as you will lmao)

Ikeuchi: In addition, during adolescence did you ever go to VV?

Matsumoto: I’m from Chiba prefecture and I always went to the nearby VV. I bought presents at VV when it was someone’s birthday.

Ikeuchi: Thank you very much!

Matsumoto: After becoming an adult, I went to buy a towel with a meat pattern on it. I bought a lot and went about giving them to people who’ve taken care of me (laughs).

Ikeuchi: The meat towel! It’s been popular ever since it went on sale (*unfortunately it is sold out at this time)

VVM: Around when did you start aiming to become a voice actress?

Matsumoto: In my elementary school graduation anthology, I wrote that “I want to become a voice actor”!

Both: Whaat, Wow!

Ikeuchi: So since elementary school?

Matsumoto: I was good at drawing when I was in elementary, so apparently my parents and relatives thought I would go towards the design route. That’s when my friend told me about the work of voice acting. They said they wanted to be a voice actor. Influenced by that, I said “I’ll become one too!” (laughs).

Ikeuchi: Have to thank your friend for that then.

Matsumoto: Yes. For me, I wanted to become a manga artist since I was good at drawing, but thanks my friend, I learned that there was a world where you act with your voice.

VVM: What did you want to be during middle school?

Matsumoto: Around the end of middle school, I suddenly thought “I want to do acting!”. I looked at the notices for acting schools that are usually on the back of magazines and I thought “I don’t really get it, but I have a feeling I can do this!” (laughs). Then I spoke with my parents.

Ikeuchi: What did your parents say?

Matsumoto: My parents made a living with music to begin with, so they understood. They were basically like “If that’s what you want to do, then why not give it a try?”. So they let me go to (acting) school and as I learned about acting and singing, I vaguely began to think “I want to work in this field in the future”.

Ikeuchi: From there, why did you choose voice acting?

Matsumoto: By the time I was a high schooler, I had done several auditions but for some reason my (acting school) teacher brought a lot of voice work. Then I suddenly remembered how in elementary school I made a big deal about “I want to be a voice actor!”. I thought of voice acting as one way of acting.

Ikeuchi: How did you ultimately decide what path to take?

Matsumoto: The moment I decided my path. Until then, I had thought about going to a 4-year university that was known for theatre, but my mother told me “Going to university doesn’t mean you’ll be able to do acting all the time?”. I realized that that wasn’t quite right. I want to think about acting all the time!

VVM: Indeed, a university would mean that you would have general study plus theatre study.

Matsumoto: It’s a no brainer but the only thing in my head was “Acting!” “Voice Actor!” so my thought process was genuinely “I want to do acting = a university with a theatre department!”. Ultimately, I went to the vocational school I graduated from.

VVM: Tokyo Announce Gakuin correct?

Matsumoto: Yes. By that time, I had decided “I’ll definitely become a voice actor!”. My parents also pushed me saying “If you’re going to go to that kind of a vocational school, you better become a pro!” (laughs).

Ikeuchi: That’s how your dream came true.

Matsumoto: Yes. I’m truly happy.

Ikeuchi: Your friend who told you about voice actors, your parents, your (acting school) teacher… through all those different encounters, you were guided down the path of a voice actor.

Matsumoto: I’m grateful of the fact that I have a job doing something I enjoy, but this time I got a big role in a work that’s connected to “Inuyasha” which I have loved for a long time. I’m truly thankful to the people I met.

VVM: Before you became a voice actress, which works of anime did you like and influenced you aside from “Inuyasha”?

Matsumoto: When I was little, I enjoyed “Card Captor Sakura” that was being broadcasted on NHK. There was also the one-hour time slot of “Inuyasha”, of course, and “Detective Conan” (Nippon TV). Then there was the one-hour time slot of “Hikaru no Go” and “Prince of Tennis” (TV Tokyo). “Chibi Maruko-chan” and “Sazae-san”. I loved “One Piece” and “Kochi Kame (Kochira Katsushika-ku Kameari Kōen-mae Hashutsujo)” (Fuji TV) so I watched them all the time. Not only do I remember the details of the works I watched back then but I still like them as well. Ever since I started making my own money, I’ve been repurchasing the original mangas.

VVM: On your blog, you recently wrote that you went to see “Princess Mononoke” at the theater, so do you like Ghibli works?

Matsumoto: I love Ghibli works and while I had a lot of VHS movies back home, “Princess Mononoke” was rescreened in June of this year so I went to watch it. I came to understand parts that I didn’t get as a child and once again thought it was an amazing work.

VVM: It was first shown in 1997. The content is a little difficult for a child to understand isn’t it?

Matsumoto: Now that I think about, this a little off tangent but at the time, my mother went to watch the movie and showed me the pamphlet. On the cover was the scene where the heroine, San, was sucking out blood from Moro’s wound.

VVM: It’s a well-known scene on posters and such.

Matsumoto: I thought the blood around San’s mouth was dirt. I remember thinking “We have to hurry and wipe the dirt off that girl’s mouth!” and scrubbing it.

Ikeuchi: (laughs) What happened to the dirt?

Matsumoto: I scrubbed too hard and tore a hole in it (laughs). I’m sorry, this was really off tangent!

VVM: (laughs) It would be great if you could make an appearance in a Ghibli work.

Matsumoto: Ever since I decided to become a voice actor, I always had the thought of “I want to be in Ghibli movie!” in my heart, so I definitely want to make that come true!

Ikeuchi: Speaking of movie theater, getting a little ahead but I want to see a movie edition of “Hanyō no Yashahime” just like “Inuyasha”!

Matsumoto: Absolutely! I also want to see Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha, in action on the big screen!! If we could see the parents and children fighting together at the movie theater… Aah~ just thinking about it makes the corner of my eyes heat up. Ever since I got the role of Towa, I’ve been hoping myself “Please let this happen!” (laughs).

Ikeuchi: We fans wish for that too!

VVM: Recently, you declared on your blog “I’ve become able to keep my word!” so please make this a reality!

Matsumoto: (laughs) Okay, we will do our best!

VVM: Alright then, lastly please tell us your goals for 2021!

Matsumoto: Let’s see, I don’t know if this will be possible until the world becomes more stable, but I would love to interact with “Hanyō no Yashahime” fans around the world. “Inuyasha” is popular worldwide so I get supportive messages in all sorts of languages on my twitter. Among them are people who comment using translation tools so I would like to meet everyone directly… even if meeting directly isn’t possible, I would like to talk to everyone in some way. This is what I think of “Hanyō no Yashahime”. I like this character. Anything is fine so I would love to hear them.

VVM: What about in your personal life?

Matsumoto: I want to move. I live with my older sister but because the state of the world has changed this past year and me becoming busy with “Hanyō no Yashahime”, we’ve had a few problems arise… The biggest problem is our bath times overlap. I say that but I do get along with my sister, so maybe living in the same apartment complex but in different units like the Asagaya Sisters (laughs). I’d like to talk with her and find the best possible solution!

Ikeuchi: Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule today!

Matsumoto: Thank you as well! I look forward to seeing both the “Hanyō no Yashahime” cover issue and article. Please support “Hanyō no Yashahime” next year as well!

#Yashahime #Hanyō no Yashahime #yashahime: princess half demon #translation

[fallenrepublick]

Armor

A/N: Alright dudes instead of a headcanon today you get a new fic. Yaaayyyy... It’s with a dominant reader so all you tops out there can rejoice! Is it well written? No. Did I write this because I know you people are thirsty 24/7? Yes. Have fun or whatever

Warnings: Oral/fingering, blood?, Maul’s a bottom here so... sorry?, it’s not fluffy either, is kneeling in general a kink? I think it is

He had commissioned a new set of Mandalorian armor for you. A dark, ominous red painted the shields on your arms and legs. Black markings traced down the middles and sides, mirroring those on the body of your lover. At first glance, the piece seemed to blend you into the other members of Death Watch, albeit newer and most likely even stronger than theirs. However, further investigation showed golden accents on the edges, lining each piece of armor as a reminder to those around you of your supposed royal status now. Your helmet was no less extravagant. Detailed paint covered the face as well, with a tinted black eyepiece hiding your features. Before each battle, when you walked through the army of Mandalorians who had pledged their allegiance to Maul, and by extension to you, voices went silent. All heads turned to you in preparation for what was to come.

Maul had fought you at first about it, saying that allowing you into battle was absolutely out of the question. The thought, the risk that went into even considering anything happening to you was enough to rock him to his core. And yet, with persistent enough coddling and a painful amount of reassurance that you’d lead from behind, he relented and had a new set of armor created specifically for you, also insisting that he let everyone know that you getting hurt would result in everyone’s punishment.

But that set currently sat on the top of a dresser to the right of your alcove. The sun was setting on the city and enough clouds were rolling in on the horizon to merit concern over a potential storm. It was later than Maul said he’d be back and frequent glances at your new armor sent thoughts of seeking him out passing through your mind. A soft tremble in the atmosphere could be heard in the distance.

The door slid open to reveal your Zabrak, posture indicating a tense and frustrating meeting with the other Syndicate lords. He walked like a predator seeking out his prey for the day. Had you not known any better, you might have been concerned. Yet even as he stalked toward you, you barely turned, hoping maybe the silent treatment would make him feel guilty for leaving you behind.

“My Starlight,” he practically whispered, seating himself on the edge of your navy window cushion. You didn’t turn to him.

“You left me.” Your head remained turned out the window, hiding a scowl wiped across your face.

“I know, I didn’t mean-”

“I just don’t understand why I can’t stand by you. I mean,” you gestured towards the dresser. “You make it seem like I’m here ruling with you, but when it matters, and I mean really matters, I’m stuck in this room like a pet waiting for you to come back for me and tell me I can do something.”

Maul didn’t move, breath shaking and eyes scanning your face for a hint of what to say. If even possible, his voice went quieter. “Darling, these men are… criminals to say the least. If anything were to go wrong and their allegiance changes, then-”

“Then they’ll know who’s hunting them. That’s what you were going to say, right?” You stared, testing and daring him to bite back.

“That depends on whether or not they’re hunting you.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t that be something,” you scoffed, shaking your head slightly at the thought. He tried to reach over to hold your hand, but you yanked it away, snapping around to face him. “I’m not as weak as you think I am, you know. If you want me to be some sort of trophy wife, just tell me, but I’m not going to pretend like I’m doing anything that matters.”

“That is not,” he growled back, leaning closer towards you, “What you are. You are my queen, Starlight, with just as much power as I, if not more.”

“Yeah sure. Bow to me like one and then maybe we’ll talk.”

A smile tugged on Maul’s lips. His hand traveled slowly across the soft fabric of the cushion, landing on the backs of your calves, moving up to your thighs. Warm fingers made paths across your skin as you struggled to keep a straight face. He pushed himself in front of you, one of his mechanical legs kneeling between your own, the gentle traces turning into a firm grip.

“So that’s what you want?” His voice was a low rumble, lips dangerously close to your inner thighs. “You want to be worshiped?”

His horns brushed against you, moving further up, pressing you to answer his questions. Your head turned back to the window a moment, contemplating. The clouds had rolled in fully, thunder shaking the glass panels and strikes of lightning painting pictures of electricity in the distance. Your breath slowed and you faced him again, amber eyes glowing in the coming darkness, awaiting your command.

“Yes.”

He slid you down closer to him, leaving you on your back entirely. His hands moved up, spreading your legs further apart for him to gain access to, planting lazy kisses along your inner thigh. He traced bites up and down your leg, marking every inch of bare skin he could find. You held in any sounds of pleasure or desire that might have come from you on any other day, wishing to deprive him of any knowledge of what you wanted. One of your hands pressed up against the wall behind you, leaving you wishing for something to hold on to.

“Then, my queen,” He moved up, tugging at the seams of your already soaked underwear. “I will do as you command.”

Maul’s fingers went to work, pressing against your folds and moving further into you, curling as they moved. Your hand found his horns, gripping them and pressing him up against you, eliciting a growl from the back of his throat. You knew what he was doing and you knew the consequences that came with it, yet the anticipation pulled your legs in tight enough to draw blood against the horns on the sides of his head, dripping down and mixing with saliva and the juices already dripping down the sides of your legs.

His tongue slid in, stroking the inside hastily and desperately. Every movement he made sent shivers down your spine, stars dotting your peripherals and an overwhelming awareness of every place he touched taking hold of your mind. You couldn’t hold it back any longer as your gasps and moans escaped your throat, only causing him to want you more. His thumb rubbed your clit, causing your thighs to tighten around him and your legs to curl around his shoulders.

“Faster. Go faster,” you managed to call out louder than you had meant to. In your head, you knew that people could hear, knew that the walls of the palace were not nearly thick enough to contain your moans and commands. Yet, as it stood, you wanted them to hear it.

As if a switch had been flicked, the Zabrak obeyed almost immediately, adding yet another finger inside of you and setting the pace from that of a heartbeat to a race fast enough to make you crumble. The added pressure pushed you to your limit, back arching and cries of his name resounding off of the metal walls. The vibrations of his gentle purrs against you shook you to your core, a painful juxtaposition to his less-than-gentle movement otherwise, and you bucked your hips against him, forcing the sensations to only deepen.

The nipping and biting became more frequent, Maul sensing how close you were, the knot in your stomach becoming more and more difficult to contain. The control he gave you was like a drug. On any normal occasion, you’d be under him, begging, pleading for your release, and it was only after he told you to, that you came. But here, as desperate as you were, no commands or orders were uttered from your lover. He only worked as directed, as if driven entirely by your desire. Electricity shot through your vision when you came, a cry reverberating through the room as you soaked him in your cum. He took no time in relishing your taste, licking a sucking until there was nothing left.

Your breath still rushed, your heartbeat faster than ever. Maul rested his head on your knee.

“My queen,” he gasped, visibly exhausted as well. “Did I please you?”

You smiled at him, sliding your legs off of the cushion. Standing up, you took one of his hands, urging him to follow you.

“You did,” you hummed, looking back at him. Once he was standing, you placed your hand on his shoulder, pushing him down onto his knees. His eyes gazed at you, confused, yet obedient, as a pet does waiting for a treat from their master. You pressed your foot on top of his thigh, a hand lifting to stroke the tattoos on his cheek lightly. “But that does not mean we’re finished yet.”

#darth maul #darth maul x you #darth maul x reader #star wars x you #star wars x reader #look i like writing angst better do you see the shit i put up with for you people

[shadowsof-thenight]

Starry skies

Summary: Contemplating the rest of your life is daunting, especially if you have little control over it. And the person assigned to keep you safe only adds complications.

Ship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Angst and melancholy (and a tiny bit of fluff) Words: 1811 

***

A/N: I was working on my series, when a few ideas for one-shots just popped in my head. This was one of them and I hope you like it! The amazing @gnomewithalaptop​ was my wonderful beta for this (like she if for pretty much everything I write) Thank you for all your hard work and kind words! I truly appreciate you.

***

Masterlist      

***

Starry skies

You couldn’t remember a time where you had seen the stars, not like this anyway. In the city where you grew up, there was too much pollution from the surrounding lights. So you had never realised how mesmerising they could be, how magnificent their light really was. You had never seen them fall either. And right now, you were really wishing for a shooting star, one you could wish upon and change your fate. 

Which was why looking up was your first instinct upon exiting the cabin. The sight instantly left you breathless, as it had done so many times before in the past two months. The sheer magnitude of the galaxy was enough to render you speechless time and time again.

Quietly you sat down on the swing-set in the back of the small garden—the high fences giving you a sense of safety that you hadn’t experienced much before you’d come here either. There was still plenty of tension left in your shoulders, back, and neck, but it was significantly less and you rejoiced in the notion. You hadn’t known what it was like to relax, to not look over your shoulder 24/7. Of course, you still looked—though not as much, not with your personal bodyguard, who was currently pretending not to keep an eye on you from the living room window.  You appreciated his attempt to give you some peace and quiet. He knew you needed it, needed time to gather your thoughts and face your emotions. There were so many of them, all swirling around inside of you, and they’d shaken you to the core—because you suddenly wished things were entirely different. Mostly, you wished you had been brave sooner.  

As if your feet had a life of their own, they began to move as soon as you sat down, causing the swing to gently sway back and forth. Holding on tightly to the ropes that held the swing up, you sighed deeply. A cool breeze washed over you, expelling the heat of the day. The heat had been a new experience for you; the sensation of heat clinging to your skin, unwilling to leave, wasn’t one you’d ever get used too. You wondered if you even needed too, after tonight.


The backdoor creaked and soft footsteps followed the sound, slowly inching closer, and you smiled. Another new experience; the alleviation of stress upon the sound of approaching footsteps. A feeling you could definitely get used too. A feeling you wished you could get used too, but it wasn’t in the cards for you.

Soon you could feel his presence behind your seated frame, a source of heat standing close, and you tilted back towards the heat—allowing yourself to lean against him. Another sigh left you as his hands found your shoulders, gently trailing down your arms, and you cherished the feeling. He was so strong, unforgiving in a fight, but with you, he showed a much gentler side. He showed you a kindness and respect that you’d never known.

You smiled as it dawned on you that you’d only known him for two months now. It was funny how close you could get to people in such a short amount of time if the circumstances were right. Or perhaps he was special. In fact, you were certain he was special. He had managed to get so incredibly close, to become tethered to your heart, seemingly out of nowhere and with little effort made. It was crazy really. Though it was certainly the kind of crazy you enjoyed. The kind of crazy you would miss, as you would miss him. After tonight.

That was all you had, one more night. And you weren’t certain what would be wise. Should you tell him how you felt? Or was it better to keep it buried? Did you want to leave never knowing, or with a broken heart? There was nothing you could do now, to change the circumstances of your life, nothing you could do to keep him close. And your fate was out of his hands as well. No matter what happened next, by morning light you’d leave this cabin behind. And him with it. 


In the morning a new agent would be assigned and you’d travel onwards, while he’d go back to the city. Where he’d probably forget about you. He’d eventually find someone special, who wouldn’t need protection, who wouldn’t need to leave. You wondered if you could live with that. You had no choice. The question became, would you be able to live with the idea that he’d never know that he was your someone special? 

“Hey Buck,” you whispered as you felt him lean into your touch.

“I knew you’d end up here tonight.” His deep voice was a little gravelly from lack of use—you’d spent most of the day in silence. Tense silence.

You stood up from the swing, turning quickly to face him—your fingers still lightly grasping the robe. His fingers enclosed yours, and for a moment, your eyes were drawn to the touch. Again, so gentle and caring.

“Do you think it’ll be this warm where I’m going?” you asked softly, your eyes focusing on his blue ones. “Or that I’ll be able to see the stars like I can here?”

You knew he could not answer you. He didn’t know. He wasn’t supposed to know—that was the whole deal. The fewer people knew where you were, the better off you were. Safer. Though right now, you’d trade in that safety to stay with Bucky.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, his gaze leaving you and glancing up to the sky instead. Had you seen that same melancholy you felt? Or were your eyes deceiving you?

“I know, I’m just…wondering I guess,” you said with a sigh and looked up as well.

“I hope it’ll be beautiful,” he whispered. He added a few more mumbled words that you couldn’t quite make out. He had a habit of doing that—speaking so softly that you couldn’t hear him. And not once had he repeated himself, claiming instead that he was simply talking to himself. It always spiked your curiosity, but you’d accepted by now that you wouldn’t figure it out. Perhaps if you’d had the chance, you would’ve been able to crack his hard exterior—but that wouldn’t be happening.

“Me too,” you sighed, stepping closer to him and taking your chance. Your final chance.

“I also wish you could come with me,” you added in a whisper, your hand gently placed on his chest and your eyes trained on his face. He usually managed to control his features, so you knew you had to look closely to see a response. He had a good poker face, but you had managed to uncover a few tells, and you hoped those would help you unravel it.

“Me too,” he said with a sharp intake of breath. His eyes bored into you and your heart skipped a beat.

What followed was silence where he seemed to be debating his next course of action and you patiently waited for him to make a choice. Would he give in? Or remain the professional? The answer came much sooner than you expected when he suddenly bent his head and crashed his lips into your own, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

A content sigh left your mouth as you leaned into him, cherishing any moment you could get with him and quietly wishing that the night could last forever. Alas, it was nearly midnight now and like a twisted Cinderella, you would have to leave in five hours’ time.

Your hands twisted into his shirt as you tried to get as close as possible. In the back of your mind, you were aware of the swing repeatedly bumping into your leg, but you paid it little mind when his tongue asked for entrance. You moaned into the kiss, and his hands squeezed your waist a little tighter in response to the sound before they trailed down, tapping your thighs and silently asking you to jump up. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you jumped, and he carried you inside—seemingly as eager to treasure these moments as you were.


If only you have taken a chance sooner. For five hours didn’t seem enough. Nothing would ever be enough. But you pushed those thoughts out for the time being, and instead relished the feeling of his skin against your own.

All too soon, sunlight made its presence known, pushing through the thin curtains, and you quietly slid from the bed—careful not to wake Bucky. Saying goodbye was not something you’d envisioned doing. Not now. Emotions were bubbling too close to the surface. 
So you left, like a thief in the night. Quietly, without a word, leaving destruction in your wake.

Once you were outside, you glanced back at the cabin one more time, a lump quickly forming in your throat. After attempting—and failing—to clear your throat, you took a deep breath and walked towards the awaiting car. Leaning against it was Natasha, a solemn smile on her face—a knowing look, one filled with sympathy. It didn’t surprise you. Her ability to acquire knowledge was beyond your comprehension. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she’d seen right through you.

Without a word, she took the duffel bag from your hands and placed it gently in the trunk of her car. You thanked her softly, before walking the passenger side. There, you allowed yourself one more peek at the cabin, and as you did, a single tear slipped from your eye. You brushed it away quickly and got into the vehicle.

As soon as you were strapped in, Natasha drove off—distancing you from the cabin and the beautiful soldier inside of it. You hoped he was still sleeping. Hoped that he wouldn’t be made that you hadn’t woken him up. He had tried so hard to stay up, but he’d been on high alert for two months now and he was exhausted. Eventually, sleep had pulled him under, and you’d spent that time memorising his face, the scars on his chest, the spot where his shoulder made way for a mechanic arm. You’d traced the scars there, gentle fingers feeling the thick rugged lines that marred the skin—he’d always been so self-conscious about his scars in his waking hours, it had felt strange to touch them as he slept.

Looking down at your hands now, laying in your lap, you could almost still sense the warmth of his skin on them. It was silly, impossible of course, but you felt it all the same and it brought a smile to your face. Perhaps you could live off the memory of him.

#Bucky Barnes Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Marvel Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #Starry Skies

[midastouches]

ok just because i know you dont know and i like messing with you: THE END

okay so first off fuck you. two, i wrote this just to mess with you right back. enjoy, bitch.

ask me about my novel in progress!

Her hair was perfectly curled, and for what felt like the eighteenth time in the past 10 years, Andromeda reached towards her bed for a black dress that had never outgrown her. 

She’d been to too many funerals for the dress to fit over her like a second skin, yet here she was shrugging it on, and not a wrinkle to be found. 

The war was over though. And this final funeral had to be the most dazzling yet. It couldn’t even be described as a funeral, Andromeda thought. It seemed more like a celebration. Photos of Estella hung everywhere, from her wedding to her christening as queen. Elani had decorated the place in soft blues and pinks. The harsh red tones of the castle seemed almost dulled into a sunset. 

It would’ve been Jairo’s favorite.

The death of Jairo was no longer such a biting pain, like it was in the second war of the St. Claire Kingdom. It had dulled into a familiar ache, one that occasionally scorched her skin, but she had come to terms with the scar, and the pulls of anger it would bring. 

It also made her happy that Estella was with them now, and they could tell stories of their adventures of maybe, just maybe that ghost of Jairo could finally forgive Aster. 

Aster. 

They’d been dancing around eachother for so long now. She wanted to give in so badly, just let her lips scrape his like they did so long ago when she was constantly overflowing with righteous fury and fear of his father. She just wanted to lay in bed next to him as he whispered to her about the time he met the God Femke, finger twirling in her dark hair against his alabaster skin. The moon kissing the earth. 

The sun and the moon, finally intertwined. Finally everything the Gods wanted in the first place, according to what Aster had told her. 

Andromeda drifts from her room, daydreaming about the man who put countless daggers against her throat, and she is the same. 

The amount of blood they spilled would fill a canvas in the most curious ways, from enemies to friends to lovers for a moment. Regressing back to enemies to not even that, just someone she didn’t recognize.

She still doesn’t let him talk about those five years, when he was at his most cowardly and she was still only driven by the martyrdom of Jairo. Andromeda isn’t sure if she’ll ever be able to find it in herself to forgive him, or herself for all of the words exchanged in that dingy shack, his hair mottled grey and her skin constantly flecked in her own blood from nicks and paper cuts. 

She entered the viewing room still examining the scars on her hands when she almost ran into Aster St. Claire himself. His piercing grey eyes crinkled with familiar lines echoing them as he laughed at her. 

“Oh, Andromeda. Can’t seem to find this universe now, can we?” It was her favorite laugh, one that must’ve made Femke rejoice when they’d heard it the first time, after everything. She hugged him, arms so tight her grunted. She held onto his sleeves as they parted. 

“I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” she said, tone solemn as she looked at the coffin, at someone who had become one of her closest friends. 

Aster shrugged. “It’s the last one.”

“One, too many,” Her eyes narrowed at him.

“I am aware, Andromeda, how many people have died for this.” 

She stiffened. Aster had never been able to fully comprehend either his mother or his fathers death. Almost twleve years later and he still can’t bring up Zain’s. 

And she had killed two of those people with nothing but anger and a silver sword. Both in color and the stained blood. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Aster relaxed his tense shoulders, unclenched his jaw. 

She dragged her arm down from his sleeve to his ring-laden hand. Their fingers immediately intertwined in comfort and he all but dragged her to the redwood coffin, to match the castle color. 

“She’s probably mocking us right now,” Aster smirked. “Wouldn’t have wanted this done at all. She’d been telling me for ages that if she ever died in battle, all she wanted was to be cremated and let her ashes flow with the southern wind.”

“Elani would never do that.”

“Percislehy why she’s right there,” he gestured, almost crudely, to the coffin. Estella, as the cliche goes, looked asleep. Her light blonde hair was plaited into two braids forming a crown around her head. SHe was wearing her reception gown, a light pink silk thing that had sparked gossip for days. 

Well, Andromeda thought, the wedding itself sparked never ending gossip as well, but the fashion was really top tier. 

Her and Aster continued to look at her. 

“Should we say something?” Andromeda whispered. 

Aster cocked his head, dwelling on it. Without answering her, he just started talking. 

“Hey, Stella. Gods, I always thought I would die before you.” Andromeda winced at his opening statement. “Anyway, I know we haven’t been able to talk a lot since everything went down, war in my kingdom, war on yours, but even still, we were family, every single step on the way. Even for the moment we were bethrothed, you were more my sister than everything else. You’ve done everything for me. I can’t believe that this is the way you were rewarded. You deserved a long life, happily married to Elani. I just want you to know, that I know what we talked about, and I know what you said, and in the wake of your death, that I should follow what you say, but this is my last act of rebellion to piss you off I guess. Give my brother a punch in the face up there, would ya? If he’s up there.” Aster broke off on the last line, eyes completely vacant. 

Andromeda knew immediately where he had gone too. Femke’s visit haunted him as well as amazed him, and what had haunted him was the fate of his mother and father. Femke had never disclosed where his brother had ended up though, so Aster had no idea whether he was in paradise or purgatory. 

Andromeda prayed more than once that Zain had ended up in paradise. She’d never told Aster. As far as he was concerned, she still never prayed. 

Her faith was not in a God, but for a man who once had the whole world on his shoulders, and still chose to follow her in the end, and not cave in on all his fears. 

She may pray to Femke, but she still mouths Aster right after. Still alive. Maybe hers. Could be hers, if she just says something. He made his piece to hers, and now it was her turn. 

Aster nudged her. “You wanna say something?”

She shook her head. “I already did.” Her smile was more forced, and her eyes were brimming with tears, but she couldn’t find it in herself to disclose her soul to Estella. Not when Estella already knew what she would say anyway. 

“You were the one who suggested it.”

“It was more for you than me,” she said. 

Aster sighed, and dragged her along. “We need to talk.” 

“I agree.”

[seyaryminamoto]

May I ask - why Ozai likes Ursa more than Azula? Keep in mind you're not the only author who choose this portrayal and I'm as confused by it as Azula is

Oh, I know I’m not the only author who portrays it that way. These guys

did it too! :’D Though this guy

backtracked on it, to a fault, merely turning Ozai into someone who gives zero shits about anyone ever. Which means he gives the same amount of shits for Azula and Ursa. His Ozai is surprisingly fair on that front!

Alright, all jokes aside, the main reason many of us interpret Ozai’s relationship with Ursa as a little more complex than originally presented, it’s because of this shot: 

(Credit: former Piandao.org screenshots, now turned into a Google Drive folder)

That’s the same fountain-pond-thingy  where Ursa had been sitting in earlier flashbacks of that episode.

(Credit: same as above)

It’s such a small, simple moment that I suppose most Ozai haters would say it amounts to nothing, yet it actually speaks lengths about his character: why would Ozai stand here, melancholically, before a fountain that is no longer functioning (because in his screenshot, it’s not), a place where his wife used to sit, right on the morning after she left? This is a guy who literally just got EVERYTHING he ever wanted. He is Fire Lord now, thanks to the scheming and conniving and wicked plotting that took place over the previous day. He finally overcame his father and brother’s shadows! So… why would our first shot of a man who finally succeeded at everything he wanted be not a shot of said man rejoicing in triumph, but a shot of a man who is, by all effects, in mourning?

This suggests that Ozai may have cared about Ursa. The fact that we don’t see them angry, arguing or bickering through this episode also suggests that their relationship, while far from a lovey-dovey happy mushy thing, is that of two people who at the very least coexist peacefully. We don’t see any direct interactions between them, so yes, it’s possible they were far more troubled than the episode suggests (I, personally, interpret it that way), since everything in Zuko Alone is seen through Zuko’s eyes. But IF Ursa and Ozai were in such a bad place, to the point where he would have even convinced her to leave as he does in the Search… why would he do this? Why would he stand by that fountain as though honoring Ursa somehow?

All this being said, I personally find Ursa a much more interesting and dynamic character if her relationship with Ozai isn’t that of a victim and his abuser, but of a woman with such sharp wit that, even without being a bender, ergo, representing no physical threat to her husband, still wielded such authority that she could keep this fierce, savage man in check, capable of respecting her when she’s around, and even honoring her when she leaves. I have said it before, and I’ll say it again: in my very humble opinion and headcanon, if Ozai ever got close to genuinely loving someone, it was Ursa.

As ever, disclaimer necessary: this does NOT mean Ozai was entitled to Ursa’s love in return, this does NOT mean Ursa is to blame for the man Ozai becomes, I’m not implying this is a situation where “love” would have absolutely saved Ozai from being the man we know him to be. While I do believe that if he had chosen her above his ambitions he might have been ~better~, it was Ozai himself who had to make that choice. I don’t blame Ursa for how her relationship with Ozai turns out, whether in canon or comics or Gladiator, NOT EVEN A LITTLE BIT. Relationships like theirs are complex, difficult and not straightforward: both characters have faults, and both deserve to be held accountable for them. So Ozai deserves being held accountable for sacrificing everything for power, and that’s that.

But finally, getting into your question… why would Ozai like Ursa better than Azula?

Personally, in the way I want to portray them through flashbacks, it’s because Ursa makes NOTHING easy for Ozai, since day one. She isn’t trying to please him, she isn’t just a doormat waiting for him to stomp all over her: she has demands of her own, the first of them respect, and Ozai finds himself giving it, even if he doesn’t quite reason with why he’s doing it. He wants her to care about him, probably as starved for affection as his daughter is later on too, and whenever he made her happy, even if just a little, he would have felt a sense of accomplishment that was absolutely unprecedented for him.

Zuko canonically has described his family by saying they were “happy”, at some point. While no one can say for sure what time period he refers to (it could be the happy times ended when his mother vanished, or perhaps a little before that), I’ve always assumed he wouldn’t have seen Ozai and Ursa as they were in the Zuko Alone flashback and thought “wow my parents are so happy, look at their poker faces! That’s happiness!” So, I believe they actually were happy once, enough to make each other smile or laugh. There’s a simple scene in the first comic trilogy where they’re at the beach with their children, simply sitting together at the sand while their kids play in the sand and water: who’s to say those aren’t the kinds of moments Zuko refers to as happiness?

Compare that to the Ozai we meet in canon: do we ever see him happy in Book 3 about anything but his advancements and achievements? His smiles are always smirks. Every situation he’s in, he’s merely basking in becoming more powerful and fulfilling more of his often-pointless ambitions. While he seems to respect Azula to a fault (she interrupts Zuko in a war meeting and she gets no Agni Kai as punishment, Ozai is Mr. Hypocrisy Incarnate), did we ever see anything that suggested genuine affection for her? While I write him as directly involved in her training, canonically Azula has been trained by Lo and Li, two non-benders. Even a tiny canonical hint at how Ozai may have been involved in helping Azula reach her full potential as a bender could be, to a fault, interpreted as him caring for her a little more than he originally planned to, being invested in her growth for what it is and not only for what advantages it offers him. But instead, the entire extent of what we know about their relationship is that he sends Azula on missions, basically in the capacity of a military agent or leader: as much as this allows Azula to show she’s a badass, does it show Ozai cares about her? Do we have a single hint that he actually is emotionally invested in his daughter?

AT BEST… the lack of punishment for having lied to him about Aang’s death can be, somewhat, interpreted as unwillingness on Ozai’s part to punish Azula too harshly for a huge mistake. Even then, by the finale he outright yells at her before offering her an important “mission” that he can only entrust to her. And that’s their canon relationship, isn’t it? Missions, missions and missions. He hands her missions, she delivers. The consequences aren’t too steep if she doesn’t, but he might even yell at her if she tests his patience too much.

Basically, my take on Ozai respected Ursa, even though Ursa has no power of her own to threaten him beyond her disapproval and displeasure. Because she earned that respect, she was the only person he NEARLY considered an equal. He was willing to surrender if she was adamant about certain things (this is no spoiler, since chapter 9 we all know that, in Gladiator, Azula never learned swordsmanship with Piandao because Ursa didn’t want her to, and to Azula’s eternal outrage, Ozai gave in to Ursa’s demands, just like that!), he was willing to listen to her opinions on whatever was happening in the world, he would argue with her and they’d have disagreements because they were both stubborn as hell. All of this means Ursa’s opinions, beliefs and decisions mattered to Ozai, enough that he would sometimes back down and let her have her way.

Azula, however, has been his pet project, the perfect child, for as long as she has lived. He raised her to be his heir, to uphold his legacy, molded her after himself (even if the result wasn’t at all like him :’D), and Azula dreamt of following on his footsteps for a long time (until her own equal shows up and his influence serves to change the way she sees the world…). Azula, then, is his most loyal ally, and Ozai takes her for granted because of that. She will always be on her side because he raised her to be, and that’s that. 

Ozai’s first blast of reality that shows him Azula is NOT unbreakable, that she is NOT undefeatable and that he shouldn’t send into danger willy-nilly? It’s in the White Lotus Attack arc, where he finds her terribly sick in her room and she’s mortified that he’d see her that way. That was the first moment an actual surge of fatherly instincts came over Ozai since Azula was a very tiny kid.

Azula’s rebellions against Ozai in Part 1 are relatively small, and she’s constantly terrified to her very bone whenever she opposes him at something, as in her birthday. Ozai was displeased by it, and she was troubled and wondering how to improve things between them again later on. Pleasing her father is a behavior ingrained in her head from an early age. She wanted to make sure she was on his good side, even if she was growing much more aware of his mistakes, his shortcomings and everything wrong about him by then. Not being on good terms with her father was terrifying for her in those days, terrifying in ways it never was for Ursa: in Azula’s case, it’s learned behavior acquired mainly by seeing, through Zuko, what happens to someone Ozai considers unreliable and disposable. She absolutely doesn’t want to be that.

But it’s not until Part 2 that Azula outright starts to take a stand against her father. And yes, she was terrified too in the Festivals, but she went toe-to-toe with him in front of all his military leaders. Then she took his attempt to punish her, by forcing her to give a public speech she wasn’t ready for, and spun it on itself to both present herself as her father’s soooo loyal daughter while providing the entirety of the Fire Nation with new values to abide by in regards of how they treated slaves and honorary citizens. Ozai’s reaction that time was a petty, small revenge… but he actually was amused by what she’d done. And THAT… that was actual respect from Ozai, for once. He saw his daughter could stand up to him, and get away with it safely. Suddenly she wasn’t just his obedient child-soldier, which was what he had taken for granted that she was: she was a potential leader in her own right. At this point, their relationship changes.

That change takes a turn for the worse after she fails to convince him to carry forward her slavery laws project, and then she discovers Seethus’ assassination spree. At this point, the falling out between them is absolutely dreadful. Ozai doesn’t attack Azula physically, however: he argues with her, snaps back and does his best to convince her that he’s in the right, but she’s 100% certain of the opposite. By this point, Azula is behaving a lot more like Ursa than she ever had before: she defies him, stands up to him, and unlike her mother, she does have literal firepower to back her up. 

Point being: AZULA BECOMES A THREAT.

And while they’ve managed to kind of establish a low-key peace after that (though as you may imagine, this new arc is yet more trouble for the relationship between the Princess and her father), Ozai still sees Azula as a threat ever since. He’s willing to trust she won’t do anything too far out of hand, not as long as he makes enough concessions for her, not if he abides by her advice once in a while… but that makes her no less of a threat anyhow. He needs to make her a reliable ally again, and he can’t do that by wielding his authority over her head anymore. Not when she has already shown herself perfectly willing to ignore it.

And that means he respects her in an entirely different way than how he respected Ursa: he didn’t have any reason, Gladiator-wise, to think Ursa wasn’t on his side, they had disagreements but she was his wife and she supported him through thick and thin even in some REALLY shady stuff. Right now, Azula is starting to look like the entire opposite of that: she was the one he raised to be his wholehearted supporter. The one person who would only ever treat HIM as the hero, the winner, the good guy. And now she’s changed her mind about him, he knows it, and he’s worried about what that entails.

It’s ironic that it’s because of Azula’s rebellious bouts, and the cracks in her mask of the perfect daughter, that Ozai’s bottled-up affection for his daughter emerges. I won’t say that somewhere in the depths of his dark heart he loves her… but I will say that every time Azula rises up against him, he sees some of Ursa in her and he automatically takes her more seriously because of it.

Meanwhile, whenever Zuko stands up to him, he basically feels like it’s an ant shouting at the boot that’s ready to crush it. On a REALLY subconscious level, Zuko seems to embody Ozai’s weaknesses, the side of himself he would much rather pretend doesn’t exist. He despises Zuko for it all, because he’s a reminder of his own shortcomings and failures. And even when Zuko tries to rebel, Ozai continues to treat him as a weakling, unworthy of respect, that only warrants being crushed. He’d never be able to act like this with Azula or Ursa.

So, why would I say he cares more about Ursa, or that she’s his actual #1 while Azula is #2? Because Ursa was never a tool, never a source of self-fulfilment: she was someone who he wanted to impress, whose respect he craved and he offered her his own. He valued her, everything she offered him, even if things between them became complicated for an array of reasons. Ursa has always been a sort of blind spot for Ozai, the one person who made him happy in a sense that didn’t involve ambitions and advancement. She was a good influence on him, all around, even if he seldom knew how to react to her influence positively.

That’s not the bond he had with Azula. She was his perfect heir, and that was all he ever expected of her. Canon-wise, that’s all she is. Gladiator-wise, once she stops being ONLY that, Azula doesn’t simply become someone Ozai respects and approves of: she becomes a threat. She is the one and only person in the Fire Nation who can tear down everything he has worked for, and it sure looks like she wants to do exactly that. He has been molding her all her life, only to find she has become his worst possible enemy and now he has to be much more cautious about how he deals with her.

One day, maybe, once his characted develops some more… Ozai might start respecting Azula on the actual same level he respected Ursa. One day, he might realize that, while craving Ursa’s affection and love, he had already earned Azula’s but he threw it to waste. By then, it may be much more difficult to determine who is his #1 indeed… but until that point is reached, he will continue to hold onto the memory of his wife while ignoring that his bond with his daughter is what will determine if he can attain either true salvation or eternal damnation… :’)

#anon #ozai #ursa #azula #gladiator #theirs is a chaotic mess of a family #which is fun and horrible on equal measure #I honestly love Ozai's bonds with both of them Gladiator-wise #because they're a goddamn mess #but it's the most humane thing about him altogether #and that's fun #but he's still a shithead soooooo #yeah

[a-wandering-ghoulette]

MyRock ; issue n°44 (Jan/Feb 2017) A Nameless Ghoul from Ghost interview.

Photos: Manon Violence Interview: Mark Renton

2017 has been the year of all records for Ghost! After an exceptional concert at Hellfest, a nicely lead Download Festival (despite voice problems) and a France tour still in minds, the band then launched a triumphal American tour. Meanwhile, the satanic clergy also draw its awesome “Popestar”, EP lead with drums beating by the heady single “Square Hammer”. Telephonical talk with one Nameless Ghoul to take stock on the past, the present and future of this definitely fascinating band.

//Before continuing, note this issue is still available for international orders on their online shop. Direct link to this issue’s page in source! Don’t be surprised by the first cover shown there, it’s litteraly a two covered mag… The mag is meant to be read in 2 time: you start by one side, no matter which one, and when you reach the middle, you have to close it and flip it then tadaaa you have more to read on the 2nd side!//

(Read the full interview under the cut and feel free to point out mistakes!)

Hello, who’s calling? Nameless Ghoul: Hello! I’m one of the Nameless Ghouls.

Which one? Which instrument do you play in the band? N.G. : I’m our clergy’s official spokesperson. I’m also Ghost’s founder, main composer and, most of the time, I play guitar.

How do you feel at the approach of Papa Emeritus III’s end of reign? Because there’ll certainly be a new Papa Emeritus soon… N.G. : You’re right, we’re close to the end of a cycle. Personally, I always saw change as a good thing. It’s stimulating. We still have a lot of concerts to give in 2017, but I think I can safely say that at the end of the next year, all Nameless Ghouls will be tired of Papa Emeritus III! It’ll be nice to see a new leader coming to guide us.

How would you describe the personality of Papa Emeritus III compared to his predecessors? N. G. : First of all, Papa Emeritus III is an entertainer! He loves projectors, he loves the public, and he loves success. The first Papa Emeritus was someone very rigid, very strict, and very solemn. A real son of a bitch! (laughs) To be honest, we don’t miss him at all! Papa Emeritus II was a pervert a little bit sadistic, and, in hindsight, I think he wasn’t very at ease on stage. He wasn’t a showman, unlike Papa Emeritus III! Him, he’s the guide we missed to rise up the quality of our shows, to reach the step above and communicate with our fans. We will be eternally thankful for his work. I believe he have paved the way for his successor…

Precisely, what are you waiting from the future Papa Emeritus IV? N.G. : Well, I want him to be scary. That he bring back something more tenebrous, while remaining spectacular. Broadly speaking, I want the next album to come back to a gloomier atmosphere.

Fueled by ego

On a more personal viewpoint, what is your relationship with your character? N.G. : What’s exciting me the most with Ghost, it’s that the project is a real challenge for the individuals involved. Everybody is on an equal footing. Furthermore, there’s something really thrilling to embody a character which is a part of yourself, but never totally you. Traditionally, rock stars always reach the point where they fuse with their creature. In the end, rock’s always been fueled by ego. Even if you’re part of a fully honest and underground band, you’ll always have this desire to be under the spotlights, to be recognize, famous and loved. Those pretending the contrary are liars. Roughly, no matter the music you make, you all secretly dream to be a kind of Justin Bieber. (laughs) To be masked is something very different. It’s a kind of anomaly in the entertainment system. Because every day, you never receive the admiration you deserve. When I’m not on stage with Ghost, I’m going back in anonymity. It’s very positive for me. I would say, my character brings me some stability in my daily life. But I’m aware my case is a bit special since I’m Ghost’s main composer and thus I’ll always be linked in a way or another to this project. But being in the obscurity is sometime more complicated to manage for the other Nameless Ghouls…

This mystery surrounding Ghost inevitably attracts the fans curiosity. This year, some of them started a vast quest to discover your identities. We imagine it’s part of the game, but what are you feeling regarding it? N.G. : From the beginning, we knew it’ll be impossible to keep the secret until the end. It’s already a miracle we held this long. (laughs) Personally, it doesn’t matter. I think the work accomplished pays its own way. I mean, our albums, our concerts and our universes are that strong they succeed to supplant the reality. Today, people don’t care to know who’s under Papa Emeritus’ hat. When they come to see us play, they want the real Papa. It’s a bit like if our creature ended up escaping us to live its own life.

2017 has been a successful year for Ghost, with appearances in huge festivals, a colossal American tour and the worldwide success of the EP “Popestar”. How did you live that? N.G. : This year has been amazing on every points, really! We’ve been able to see how much the band has grown by federating more fans. However, I’m not someone who contemplate our success and congratulate myself. The past doesn’t interest me. But the future does. When we take a step forward I always try to have in mind the next one. 5 years ago, we played at the Olympia supporting In Flames and Trivium. It happens that on 11 April next we’ll come back, this time as the headliner. But instead of rejoicing, I like to tell myself: “OK, it’s cool, but what I really want to do is Bercy!”. And if one day we make it to Bercy as the headliner, I know in a corner of my head there’ll be the Stade de France. I’m ambitious. (laughs)

I come from extreme metal.

Ghost is one of the rare bands to link metal to the general public. Do you think it explains this popularity? N.G. : I think, yes. We see more and more diversity in the public at our gigs. Of course, there are metalheads with long hair and battle jacket, but there are also hipsters, girls who usually listen to pop music, and alternative rock lovers. I find it fantastic. You know, musically, I come from extreme metal. It’s been in my genes since my teenage years. I listen to many other things, but it’s where I come from. It’s my identity and it’s what forged my mentality. At the point that, when Ghost began to be successful, I started to feel guilty. I had that feeling I transgressed underground metal’s tactical rules, which are systematic rejection of success and popularity. It took me a lot of abnegation to understand success isn’t nefarious, on the contrary, it’s the reward for an hard work. And deep down I think I was scared to be rejected by my own community, to be treated like a sellout.

Have you ever been confront to animosity from fundamentalists metalheads? N.G. : Oh yes, mostly now! On internet, some start to let their hate flow on Ghost. But it’s OK, I understand. Myself, if I wasn’t in the band, I think I would hate Ghost. (laughs) Because in metal, once a band makes money, they’re sellout. It’s like this and I accept it. It’s also an old metalhead’s thing. People who were here during the rise of the extreme genres grew up with a certain code of conduct, with a more rigid thinking. By the way, I’m going to tell you a secret: some of my best friends abhor Ghost. They hate the band. They don’t understand what we do, they think it’s crap. But it’s nothing. They can. They stay my friends after all. (laughs) It’s different with kids, they are more open minded. But in hindsight, I’m figuring out that me too, in my daily life, I’m an old fart. (laughs) I listen to a small amount of new things. Nothing give me more joy than a good old “Master of Puppets”, a “Seven Churches” by Possessed, or a King Diamond, my hero!

King Diamond & Merciful Fate.

Would you say King Diamond was the biggest inspiration for Ghost, in terms of theatricality? N.G. : Indeed! As far as I remember, I’ve always listened to King Diamond and Merciful Fate. At home, my mother listened to a lot of 60’s and 70’s classic rock, like Beatles, Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin. My brother, him, listened to harder stuff like AC/DC, Sex Pistols, Rainbow… I liked all of this, but when my neighbor introduce me to King Diamond I had the feeling to be someone special. I was listening to this crazy stuff that no one else knew at home! I was 8 and, at this age, as you can imagine, I was very marked by his albums’ visuals. King Diamond is the one who open me the door to this gloomy universe which is now find in Ghost.

Kid from the 80’s.

We also guess an interest for the 80’s! If previously you made a cover of Depeche Mode, your EP “Popestar” offer us covers of Echo & The Bunnymen and Eurythmics. N.G. : I’m a kid from the 80’s, it’s the soundtrack of my life. I think it’s mostly thanks to the radio, which was always switch on at home. I like all classics: Mike Oldfield, Nik Kershaw, Eurythmics, Midnight Oil… When I was a teenage, I kind of liked to show of and act like a thoug one who only listen to extreme metal, but secretly, in my bedroom, I listened to Duran Duran, Spandau Ballet and Bronski Beat. (laughs) And, in the end, Ghost is exactly this: a mix of Kiss, Depeche Mode and Merciful Fate with a bit of Pink Floyd over it, especially “The Piper at the Gates of Dawn” and “A Saucerful of Secrets”.

On your last EP, there is the heady single “Square Hammer”. It’s the first time you embrace that clearly pop’s codes. Is this song representative of the sound you would like to have on the next album? N.G. : You know, album after album, each time we ask ourselves how far we can go. It was already the case with “Infestissumam”. At the time, we wondered if the song “Ghuleh/Zombie Queen” wasn’t too much. After a moment of hesitation we were like “Fuck! Black Sabbath made ballads so why not us?”. On “Meliora”, we wondered if there weren’t too many ballads. Then, when we composed “Square Hammer”, we found the title too direct, too effective. We were scared our fans wouldn’t understand. We’ve always had this metalhead consciousness tugging us. But in the end, we thought a good song is a good song, no matter the shape. So to answer your question, I think our next disc will wander further more into these melodies, indeed.

You have a break until the resumption of the tour, on March. Will you write the new album while you’re at it? N.G. : Of course! I’m already on it, I have some new songs…  And a good idea where I want to go with this album, but it’s too early to talk about it. The problem is the 2017 tour will extend and I’m not sure we’ll have the time to finish the recording before going back on the roads. I think we’ll finish it in late 2017, with a potential release in 2018. Earlier seems difficult to me! All I can tell you is that visually, the next album’s imagery will come back to something way darker than “Meliora”.

What can we expect for your next date at the Olympia, on 11 April next? N.G. : I saw today that our concert is sold out, it’s amazing! It’ll be very alike shows we gave in the USA this year. We have a stage structure more sizable compared to the last time we came in France. Visually, the show will be impressive, but we’ll also play some rare titles. The only deception is we won’t have the pyrotechnical effects, because they aren’t authorized at the Olympia. So it’ll has to work doubly hard! You know, we love to play in France. We are always very well hosted here. Moreover, what I most loved since the release of “Meliora” it’s to play again and again in France. I really saw our public grow out there when it comes to Hellfest or Rock en Seine. To feel appreciated like this is the greatest reward. Furthermore, the food is succulent in France, people are lovely and you have this attitude a bit impertinent which is rather close to that of Ghost. France, it’s our second home. We’re eager to be back at the Olympia and to party with you! (Translator note: Ooooh you and your sweet like honey words~ We love you too, dear.)

Bonus anecdote:

(Almost) naked with James Hetfield! Our new friend Nameless Ghoul is an ultimate fan of Metallica. Before becoming friend with James Hetfield, he met him in circumstances rather… embarrassing: “Metallica, it’s the greatest band in the world! I hadn’t have time to fully savor their last album but I’m so happy to know they’re alive and in great shape.  It also means they will tour, and thus we’ll get the occasion to meet on the road. James Hetfield has been one of Ghost’s first supports. I had the chance to meet him several times, and since we often message each other. The first time he’s been introduced to me, the situation was rather… surrealistic. We were in our lodge, changing ourselves, and here come James Hetfield suddenly appearing by the door to say hi. And you know what? I was in underwear! It was the most embarrassing situation of my life! I was there, in underwear, in front of my greatest idol! How embarrassing!”

#the band ghost #Nameless Ghouls #papa emeritus iii #special ghoul #tobias forge #interview