#i like how personal it is. no clear mythological figure

[hexjulia]

i looked up who that painter was because despite having had an intense pre-raphaelite obsession period like every other teenage cliche out there I'd never heard of her. She hardly seems to be remembered. Instead of articles the top pages google shows me are auctions... thankfully there's this page;

https://www.robertsimon.com/wylienotablesale

worth taking a look at! about that painting i just reblogged specifically;

'The subject and attributes of the painting appears to be of the artist’s invention, without a specific literary source. The ashen, somewhat androgynous king representing death peers out at the viewer through a veil held in place by the elaborate jeweled crown seated on his head, sculpted in raised “gesso duro” (Fig. 3). A scalloped halo in richly articulated gilt gesso is seen behind him, placed in front of the blue-grey feathers of his angelic wings, which are subtly modeled in low relief. In his right hand he holds a silver-tipped spear, while his left rests atop an elaborately bound book poised atop a clock-face on a table. The clasp of the book is open, the elaborate cover decorated with raised gold ornamentation around bone inlays, while the spine is decorated with four fictive panels. The topmost shows a dove hovering above the title “Liber Aeternitatis” [the Book of Eternity]; beneath that is a depiction of the Crucifixion; then the Resurrection; and finally a peacock, the traditional symbol of rebirth and immortality. These are all expressively modeled in gesso, highlighted with fine black lines. The gilt background punctuated by round depressions evokes the celestial sky of Italian gold-ground paintings. Throughout the work tempera colors and gilding are integrated with the gesso medium to create effects both illusionistic and decorative.

[...]

The frame, designed and fabricated by the artist, is richly decorated with designs in low relief (Fig. 4). In the corners menacing crows, a common symbol of death and the afterlife, surround a tubular ring depicting a snake biting its tail, an ancient emblem of eternity. Within lies a concentric relief band with alternating dragonflies and flowers (possibly poppies), both associated with change, transformation, and rebirth; then another snake-biting ring oriented in the opposite direction. A further flat band follows, this one decorated with a pattern of swirling knotted cords, of a type usually called sailor’s knots, signifying eternal and unbroken love. Finally, an angled inner frame surrounds the painting, with raised lettering spelling out work’s title along the edge. If the highly personal iconography of this work, both painting and frame, remains abstruse, its fundamental concerns may be said to be the mystery of life, the inevitability of death, and the hope for eternal life.'

look at those details!!

#i like how personal it is. no clear mythological figure

[luvf4ngz]

Til Death Do We Part Brings Us Together

grim reaper! jason todd

Description: Your constant close calls with death first captures the attention of the Grim Reaper, then his heart, and lastly, his devotions.

Contents: Female Reader, Mentions Of Death/Dying, References to Greek Mythology, Possessiveness, You Watch Pretty Woman and Read Pride & Prejudice Together Bc Yeah, Mentions Of Isolation But It’s Okay I Promise, Jason Is Lowkey Lonely And Desperate, Reader Has A Death Wish? Maybe?, Praise Kink, SO MUCH PRAISE, Unprotected Sex, Religious Symbolisms, Sacrilege?, Nipple Play, Jason Calls You Princess, Obviously???, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, (Female Receiving), He’s So In Love, Jason Todd Is Touch Starved, Devotion, Jason Is A Munch, Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex, Yes Greek Gods Wear Boxers, Enthusiastic Consent, “Will it fit?” I’m Sorry Okay, Size Kink, Jason Todd Has A Big Dick, Gentle Dom Jason Todd, Intimate Sex, Slow Sex, Soft Sex, Aftercare, Cuddling

Word Count: 6081

Author’s Note: Jason is loosely based off of Thanatos from Greek Mythology/Hades (the game). It was kind of hard infusing his personality with the literal personification of Death, but I hope I did a good job! Also some details are completely made up or changed for the purpose of the fics, like how dying works in Greek Mythos. Please don’t come for me, I’m just trying to be horny on the internet. Without furthermore, please enjoy :)

Actually one more thing I have a Thanatos/Death playlist and I adore it to bits, please listen if you want.

Thank you @toruslvt for beta-reading!

He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him. 

"Yet another brush with death." You heard a husky voice beside you, making you turn your head to look at the figure sheepishly. 

Whether you’re extremely unlucky or just unfathomably reckless, he’s not sure. All he knows is that your soul has been on the edge of being his over and over again - whether it was narrowly missing a car or falling into a river or even just choking on a bone. You always seem to make it out of those situations just fine, which has thoroughly caught his attention. 

 "You should really be more careful, you know." He looked at you and sighed. 

“I am! Or at least I try to be...” You murmur timidly, scratching the back of your neck. “It’s uh, it’s nice to see you again.” You give him a small smile, turning your body to face him. 

As always, he’s in his dark cloak, the hood lifted to conceal some of his hair, casting a shadow over his face. The gold accents adorning his body glint due to the faint sunlight casting through your kitchen window, the same sunlight making his tan skin glow, making him look otherworldly - which he was. 

He raised his eyebrow, “Is it now? Most people are terrified to see me.” He muttered, smirking a bit,

“I guess I’m used to you now.” Your grin gets a bit larger, warmer. “You don’t have your scythe.” You point out.

He lets out a slight chuckle at your observation, “Such a keen eye. I figured I wouldn’t need it, and I was right. What was it this time?”

Your face heats with embarrassment at the question. “I slipped.” You confess, pointing to the puddle of water on the ground. “Almost cracked my head open, I guess. But! I turned my body in time, so I’m fine.”

“Yes, that would explain your wet clothes.” His eyes trail down your body, catching slightly where your nipples peek out against the damp fabric, before looking back up to your face.

He clears his throat, “Haven’t you learned your lesson by now? It’s not even lunch time yet and you were on the brink of death. Aren’t you afraid of dying?” He scolds you.

“I mean, not really.” 

A pause of silence.

“What? You’re joking, right? How can you be so cavalier about this?”

“I don’t know, it doesn't seem so bad. It’s a natural part of life. Should I be scared?” 

“What kind of question is that?!” He raises his voice slightly, eyebrows scrunched as he looks at you. “Of course, you should be. Dying isn’t fun. You’ll be dead, trapped in the underworld for the rest of eternity. You should be trying to preserve your life while you still have it.”

“I am, though. I’m not saying I don’t like being alive, I’m just saying, when it happens, it’ll happen. There’s no use being so pre-cautious and anxious all the time.”

He lets out a huff, “You are… certainly a strange one.”

“In any case, I’d like to think my soul will go to Elysium. I'm a pretty good person, so I think the afterlife won’t be too awful for me.” You continue on, carefree.

"That isn't my point, though. Even if you're guaranteed a place in Elysium, you should still be more vigilant.”

“Why should I be? My end is already predetermined, isn’t it? Don’t the fates know when my time is up?”

“Well… yes, but-”

“Wait, then how come you visit me before I actually die?” You interrupt him, a realization suddenly taking place. “Near death experiences shouldn't summon you right?”

He hesitates a bit, caught. "You’re correct… I visit you on my own accord.”

“Why?” You tilt your head cutely, an innocent and puzzled look in your eyes.

“You’ve just caught my attention, is all.” He looks away. “I like to keep track of you, the Fates are wrong sometimes, and you basically have a death wish so I just… I like to make sure you’re okay.”

You smile slightly at his words, “You don’t want me to die?”

“Of course, I don’t. I like- I like to watch you. You’re interesting to me.” He chooses his words carefully.

“I am?” Your eyes brighten a bit at his words.

He turns back to you and nods, his hood shifting a bit with his movement, revealing a bit more of his hair. The white streak catches your attention. 

“I have to confess it’s… cute the amount of trouble you manage to get yourself into. It’s entertaining to see what you get up to, how you treat others, what you desire out of life.” His eyes move to look into yours. “Your mentality is quite unique, as well. You see dying as natural and not something to be feared, but I think you've accepted it to an… abnormal degree." He paused. "...You're the first person in a very long time to not express fear of me.”

“Why would anyone be afraid? You're only doing your job... and you're quite nice." 

He laughs, the deep rumble of his voice goes straight to your knees. "I think you're the first person to ever call the God of Death ‘nice’. You wouldn't believe the amount of people that fear me, even before their time is up. It's... exhausting, really. I can always hear their prayers, their cries, their pleads.”

"I mean I can’t blame them, I just can't share the same sentiment, especially with all the conversations that we've had."

He smiles at you, “You really are like a breath of fresh air. It’s nice to know that someone doesn’t hate me.” He pauses again, a soft look in his eyes. “But you should still be careful. You're not made of rubber after all. Don’t let me take you earlier than I should.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, though.”

“What?” In such a short time, you’ve shocked him again.

“I wouldn’t mind dying knowing that you'll be the one waiting for me.” You say it so casually, continuing to smile at him, as if it wasn’t the sweetest thing anyone’s ever uttered to him. His heart beats a little faster as he stares down at you, stupefied. 

“You can’t mean that.” He replies after a while. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He’s speechless, dumb-founded. How could he possibly begin to explain that the idea of anyone liking him enough to allow him to take them from this world so happily was absurd?

“What?” You ask, noticing his sudden silence. “Why’s that so strange? I like talking to you, and when I’m in the afterlife you would keep me company, right?”

He lets out a breath and smiles a bit, the whites of his teeth peeking out behind the pink of his lips. “I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sound appealing.”

“Good.” You smile a little wider, your eyes crinkling as it makes his heart begin to race now. 

“I-I should get going, there’s uh- souls I need to get to.” He stutters out.

“Yeah, that sounds important. I should clean up with water. I’ll see you around uh… Mister Grim Reaper, sir.”

He lets out an amused huff. “Jason. Just call me Jason.”

“Will do.” You jokingly salute him, and it makes him let out another chortle. 

“Alright, farewell then.” He nods, before blinking out of your kitchen. 

You stare at the space he used to occupy for a bit, still smiling softly, before leaving to get a mop - and maybe a change of clothes.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to be here?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow as you stare at him from the couch. 

“Yes.” He replies simply, his eyes and attention focus on the movie playing on your TV.

His visits have been more and more frequent lately, ever since the conversation the both of you shared in your kitchen. Now, Death, who prefers the name Jason, shows up even if you didn’t go through another life-threatening event. 

And right in this moment, Jason is standing in front of your couch, entirely enraptured by Pretty Woman, of all things. 

“Don’t you have to do your duty? I’m sure there’s a lot of lost, wandering souls right now.” You try again, concerned. 

“What? You don’t want me here?”

“I didn’t say that!” You put your hands up in defense. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble or something. Won’t Hades or the Fates or… whoever your superior is get angry?”

“Probably.” He shrugs. “But what are they going to do? Kill me?” He casts you a glance from the corner of his eyes, before going back to the movie. “Besides, souls can’t leave the mortal body without me being there. They’ll just rest for a bit, I can always come get them after.”

“I guess that’s fine then.” You sigh out. “Could you at least sit down?” 

Jason lets out a nod, before moving to the couch, taking a seat beside you but still keeping his distance. 

He watches the rest of the movie in silence beside you, enjoying your company. His eyes flick over to admire you a few times, taking in your immersed gaze and noticing the way you’re clutching a plushie so close to you (cute). When you sniffle, when a few tears trail down your face, when your parted lips form a pout at the ending, his heart pumps hard in his chest. 

This was a much better use of his time. 

“You have so many books.” Jason states, his figure crouched so that he could properly read all the titles. His hood is off, fully revealing his soft, dark hair - the white streak a beautiful contrast. 

“Who’s the observant one, now?” You chuckle from your place on the bed, eyes not leaving the novel in your hands. 

He rolls his eyes, “What are you reading?”

“Pride and Prejudice.” You hum softly, eyes still scanning the page. 

“What’s that about?” Jason asks, walking away from the bookshelf and towards you. 

“Uh, it’s a little complicated.” You murmur, “But basically it’s two people learning to get over their, well, pride and prejudices to fall in love.” 

He lets out a hum, “Read it to me?” 

“Oh my Gods, you’re so lucky, I just got to the best part.” Your eyes watch him as he lays down beside you on your bed, the fabric of his black cloak pooling around his body. 

“Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began: ‘In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’ Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression.” 

Jason turned to his side in order to get a better view of you. He watches how your eyes practically light up as you read, a smile gracing your face. He can’t help but think how pretty you look like this. 

“She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed. UGH, it’s so romantic!” You yell out, clutching the book to your chest and rolling back and forth slightly, making him let out a chuckle at your antics. “I mean at this point in the book I still hate Darcy but Gods, the way it’s written is just so good!” 

He falls silent for a bit, his gaze affectionate as he watches you. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

You stop your giddy reactions, looking at him curiously. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you remember when you said you wanted to be with me in the afterlife?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?”

He took a deep breath. "Let's say... let's just pretend for a moment, that when you die... I don't guide you to the afterlife. Instead, I take you somewhere else with me."

You sit up slightly, pushing yourself up on your arms, turning your body to face him. “Where would we go?” You set your book aside on the nightstand. 

“To… my home. I have a residence on the outskirts of Tartarus. You would be safe there, I can make sure that nothing would bother you.” He sits up fully, grabbing and holding your hands gently. “Please, I want you to stay with me. I get so lonely, and I just- I like being around you.” His tone is soft, pleading and sincere as he confesses his desires to you.

You smile back at him, eyes crinkling softly in that way that he’s come to adore. “I’d like that.”

“Really?” He gasps out, face mirroring yours as a bright smile overtakes his features.

“Mhm,” You hum, “It’ll take some time, though.”

He shakes his head, hands gripping yours a bit tighter, “I would wait the entire rest of eternity for you, if I had to.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to not make you wait that long.” You giggle out.

“I’d hope not. I want to have you with me, I want to keep you around until the end of time itself.” 

“I think that’s the most romantic thing anyones ever said to me, Jay.” Your tone is light, teasing. 

“There’s a catch though,” He pauses, hesitant to see your reactions. “You won’t be able to leave the house or see anyone else. I can’t risk you getting found. B-but I get you anything you need, I can make you happy.”

“That sounds just fine to me.” 

His eyes glisten in happiness, a bright shine in them. “Then... it's settled. I will take you to my home, and you will stay with me… forever.” His glances down to your lips for a second, before quickly looking back into your eyes. 

You notice the movement, heart beating a bit faster.

“Could I kiss you?” He whispers, his voice low and warm. 

“Yeah,” You mumble back.

He leans in closer, hands releasing yours as one places itself on the small of your back, pulling you closer to his body as the other gently grips your chin. He leans down, tilting your head up until he feels the soft press of his lips to yours. Warmth floods his body as he feels electricity in the air, and he feels his heart pound behind his ribcage when your own arms wrap around his neck.

Your touch, your taste, was addicting. You were tender and sweet, and Jason never wanted this moment to end. He groans when he feels your hand begin to play with his hair, and he presses himself closer to you, both hands moving to grip your waist. 

His grip tightened on you as your kiss intensified, his body started to tremble as it filled with a desire so deep that it was all-consuming. 

Eventually you break apart from him, needing air. He dismays at having to pull away, but allows you to do so.

"If that's what's waiting for me at the end of my life, maybe I do want to die sooner…” You joke, breathless.

He groans again, “Don’t… don’t say that. Don’t tempt me, I can’t take it.” He presses his forehead to yours, both of your breaths mingling together.

You giggle, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss him again. He relents easily, his heart skipping when you hum softly against his lips, the desire in his body igniting higher and higher. 

Eventually, he’s the one to pull away, his breath tickling you as he trails his nose against your neck. He can feel the soft tremor in your breath as your body shivers against his. “Can we go further?” He murmurs into the skin.

“Yeah, I want more.” You nod.

“Good, I do too. I want all of you.” He begins to press his lips to your neck, lightly leaving kisses and bites that you have squirming and gasping. 

“You have me.”

“You don’t understand.” He shakes his head. “You... you don't know how much I've been longing for you. Your presence alone gives me joy. Having you touch me… it makes my heart pound and my body melt. The way you talk, the sounds you make... it’s perfect. I want to touch you. I want to hold you. I want to know everything about you. I want all of you.”

“You can have that too…” You sighed out. 

“You drive me crazy.” He groans, leaning close again to kiss you deeply, caressing the sides of your body. He wasn't holding back anymore. He couldn't. He wanted you so much that it ached in his bones. His hands started sliding slowly but surely, caressing your back and waist. He couldn't get enough of you, and your body’s twitching and the sound of your heavy breaths was such a thrilling sensation that he was consumed by it entirely.

“Jason…” You pant out his name as you experimentally grind your body against his, whining when you feel his hard cock rub against your clothed cunt, your hands holding him tighter. 

The sound drove him crazy with arousal, his body wracked with longing. You felt so good and he couldn't help but lean into you more, allowing you to press against him over and over and over. The feeling of heat was flooding his entire being, his cock throbbing beneath his cloak.

He worships the feeling of you grinding against him for a few more moments, his breath coming out in husky pants before he rolls you onto your back, hovering above you. 

"Just be a good girl and let me do all the work, now." His voice is husky, needy, as he leaned down and kissed your neck again, his breath hot and his body trembling with anticipation. 

You whine again, rubbing your thighs together to relieve the sudden ache between them. Your eagerness spurs him on, he presses a peck to your cheek before sitting back on his knees to gaze down at you. 

“Gods, you’re gorgeous.” He mutters, his hand slips up your shirt a little, and he shivers at the instant warmth of your skin. “Can I take this off?”

You nod rapidly, quickly pulling off your top and tossing it aside, revealing yourself to him.

Jason responds by leaning down to litter kisses over your body, a flush on his cheeks. His lips are soft and reverent almost as they softly touch your heated skin. He takes your nipple into his mouth sucking slightly, as a hand comes up to tweak and roll the other one. 

“Jay…” You call out his name, your back arching slightly,  and he never wants to stop hearing your voice. 

“I got you, princess.”

He lowers his mouth, trailing down your body until he reaches the hem of your bottoms. “Can I take this off, too?” 

“Do anything you want, Jay.” You breathe out, head dizzy with your need.

“You sure?” He asks, fingers hooking into both your pajama pants and underwear, dragging them down your body, uncovering inch after inch of your naked body. 

You look like a dream under him, eyes blown with lust, lips parted, body bare for him as you nod. He sets your clothes aside, going back to relishing you. 

You look away softly from embarrassment, “You take off your clothes, too…”

Your shyness got to him and he could help but laugh softly. You were so cute. He took a step back and off the bed, pulling off his cloak. He could feel your eyes watching his every movement, could feel your eyes rake his form as you settled on the bed. 

His gold adornments drop to the floor with a ‘clunk’, quickly followed by his black trousers. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You softly praise. You can’t help but to stare at him, eyes lingering on every sculpted muscle or coloured scar of his frame. 

He couldn't help but feel like you were the beautiful one. The way your eyes traveled over his body made his heart beat fast. He felt like he was on top of the world, knowing you admired him.

He climbs back onto the bed, taking his place between your legs as he lays on his stomach. His hands come to grip around your thighs, pulling you closer to him. 

“Oh.” You gasp slightly at the intimate position, gulping as your blood pumps faster through your veins. 

He slides a hand down towards your cunt, already slick for him. A thumb parts your swollen lips as he gently glides it up and down, before pressing it against your sensitive bud. 

“Ah-” You moan oh so sweetly for him, hips twitching as he starts rubbing your pretty clit. Your body was so responsive to him, and it makes a grin break onto his face. 

He brings his thumb away, making you frown before replacing it with his mouth, lips wrapped around the nub. 

“W-wait!” You cry out, hands flying into his hair as you do your best to not buck into his face. He smirked around you, starting to suck despite your call. Your reaction only added fuel to the fire burning inside him, your writhing body and shaky gasps were too much for him to handle. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just let yourself feel good.” He mumbles into your cunt before going back to sucking and lapping at you. He holds you close to his face, his grip firm to keep you as still as he could. 

He groans as you tug at his roots, the sound vibrating around your needy clit. Your desperate moans and whispers drove him crazy. He liked how fast you were breathing, how much you were moving. You were a squirming, twitching mess underneath him as the sensation became too overwhelming.

“Jason, oh my Gods.” You gasp.

“I’m your only God, now, right? Just me…” His hand moves to your fluttering hole, slowly pressing two fingers inside you. They slip in easily with how wet you are, dripping your desire down his wrists. He feels you clamp down on them, slick walls sucking him in further.

“Jason, Jay!” His name slips from your lips like a chant, a prayer wrapped in shallow breaths. 

“Keep saying my name just like that, pretty girl.” He loves the way you make it sound, loves the way you say it. Not Grip Reaper. Not Death. Just Jason. Your Jason. 

“Oh, Jay…” You breathe out his name like you’re struggling to even think.

“You’re such a sensitive thing, aren’t you?” He coos, starting to move his fingers in and out of you. He smirks when you squeal as he curls his fingers up, pressing against that soft, vulnerable spot inside you. His arm moves to keep you down, pinning your hips to the bed as he goes back to tasting you.

“N-not there!”

“Why not? Doesn’t it feel good?”

“It’s too much!” You’re breathless, barely able to gasp out replies as he keeps abusing that spot inside you. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Jason slows his pace, fingers dragging painfully slow against your aching, slick walls, making you let out a needy mewl, clenching on him. 

“No! P-please don’t.” You pout, softly tugging at his head to turn his attention fully on you. 

“Say my name. Tell me what you want.”

You hesitate a bit, pondering your words. “Make me feel good, Jason. Make me cum.” Your tone is so soft and pleading, it’s the best worship he’s ever heard. 

The only prayers he’s ever heard were cries for his absence, beseeching his very being and purpose, but with you - he’s found a new one. You want him, you want him closer, you want him to make you feel bliss. He can do that. He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him. 

He dives back down with a fervor, thick fingers working you quickly, the soft squelches increasing in volume and frequency. His tongue traces your clit, sucking and rolling and indulging in the way you writhe and whimper below him. 

He keeps going as you squirm uncontrollably, as your body tenses further and further, as your eyes glaze over and your heart pounds. Your nerves are frayed and begging for relief as the soft warmth of his tongue doesn’t let up. Your grip on his hair tightens, making him grunt low and husky into you. 

“Jason, m’gonna… can I please-?” You can barely make out full sentences, head fuzzy and blood searing as the dam inside you threatens to break. 

“You don’t have to ask, just do it.’ He murmurs; his cock throbs in his garments, waiting for you to release on his tongue. 

The feeling overtakes you, making you choke out a shaky cry as you climax. Your thighs squeezes his head, fingers buried deep into his dark locks as you tremble. You’re lightheaded and breathless and euphoria has settled in every inch of your veins. 

Jason removes his fingers, gripping your thigh as his mouth slots against your leaking cunt as he engulfs his tongue into your taste. He greedily laps up your slick, moaning as it blooms over his tongue - more sweet and addictive than even ambrosia. 

Your cries are so adorable as he continues to seek out every last drop of cum from you, your body pliant and weak below him as you keen and mew. 

“J-Jay…” You stutter out his name as your body twitches, sensitivity kicking in. 

“Yes, love?” He barely pauses to utter out those words, mind set on devouring you whole. 

“C-can’t!” He frowns, giving you one last lick before pulling himself away from you.

His eyes are filled with a feral like need, mouth smeared and shiny with the aftermath of your arousal. “Did that feel good?” He husks out, “You looked so divine, cumming.’

You’re panting hard under him, mind dizzy as you process his words, nodding in reply.

“I want to make you feel that way for the rest of eternity, you’ll let me right? You’ll stay with me?” Now that he’s had you, he doesn’t think he can survive on his own anymore. 

“Y-yeah, Jay.” You nod again, voice small. 

He raises himself up, licking you off his hand before he crawls over your body again. His legs slot between yours, tangling the both of you together. He leans down, sighing out in satisfaction as your damp, warm skin presses into his. 

His lips brush over yours, silently asking for permission to kiss you again. You accept him willingly, hands drifting to hang loose around his neck as you push your lips to his.

He groans, hand gripping your waist and the other running through your hair as he explores your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, spit mixing together as he groans into your lips. 

He pulls back, both your breaths lingering in the small space between your faces. He trails his nose down to the sensitive skin of your neck, teeth dragging lightly across the flesh. 

“I want all of you, so bad.” He groans. “I’ll do anything for you. Can you tell me I’m yours?”

He so desperately wants to belong to you - to know that one day you’ll accompany him in the deepest pits of Tartarus - that you’ll never let him be alone again. 

“You want to be mine?” Your tone is puzzled, words ending in a lilt. 

“Please.”

You smile, hands coming to hold his face, thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. “Who knew the God of Death would be so needy?” You tease.

“You try being alone and hated since the dawn of existence.” He sighs, melting into your touch. His eyes close, leaning into your palms. 

You giggle a bit. “We can be each other's.” Your lips break out into a grin as you bring his face down to yours, pressing pecks all over. 

He relishes your kisses, letting out a deep, happy sigh. His cock is still painfully hard, straining against his boxers, but he tries to ignore it. He opens his eyes and brushes your stray hair behind your ears, slightly damp with your sweat. 

“Jay,” You murmur his name, pulling back to look at him, “I want more.”

“More? You want me to eat you out again?” His mouth salivates at the thought of having your taste on his tongue again. He’ll do anything you ask. 

You shake your head, thumbs rubbing along his cheekbones, “I want you to fuck me, Jay.”  

“You do? Are you sure?” He whispers. 

His breath hitches as you nod, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours. 

“I wanna feel you, Jay. J-just go slow, I’m still sensitive.”

“You’re sensitive?” He huffs out an amused breath, smiling softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. I’ll make sure of it.”

You try to press your thighs together, getting excited by his promises and husky tone. He feels your legs shift around his, smirking as he takes in your desperate body language. 

He shifts back again, tugging his boxers down. Your eyes trail to his now exposed cock, standing proud and flushed and daunting. 

He’s…. big. 

Your jaw drops a little as you take him in, your mind reeling with thoughts of “Will it fit?”.

“Hm? Don’t worry. I said I was going to take care of you.” Jason murmurs, voice adoring. He positions himself back between your legs, hands lifting your legs to encourage them to wrap around his waist. You willingly follow his guidance. 

His hands come to hold your hips steady, hips canting forwards to rub the head of his cock through your folds. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” You reply softly, hands drifting to lay on top of his, gently grabbing his wrists. 

He pushes inside of you, pace steady and measured as he tries his best to let you adapt to him.

“Ohmyfuck…” You slur, words mushing together as you feel him stretch you out. You grip him a bit tighter. 

“Just relax, pretty girl.” He mutters, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down. He continues pushing himself inside you, making you feel every ridge and detail and inch. It’s slow and deliberate; he’s savoring watching the way your cunt sucks him in, the way your head tilts back, how shallow and quick your breaths have gotten. “Can you feel it? Am I too big for you?” He teases, eyes shining with both mischief and affection. He pushes forwards again. 

Your pussy flutters around the girth of him, slick pouring out with every second, making the process that much smoother. 

You try to take deep breaths, groaning softly as you feel the way he bullies into you, nestling deep inside. 

“S’it in yet?” You hiccup.

He chuckles softly, you were just so endearing. He was taking his time, enjoying the feeling of you. “It’s not even halfway yet, baby.” He coos. 

“S-still?” Your eyes widen a bit, as he laughs again.

“Just lay down and take it, princess. I’ll do everything, don’t think about a thing.” He leans down and silences your whimpers with a kiss. His lips lock onto yours as he swallows your moans, moving his hips until he feels you flushed against him. 

He pulls back, body once more shadowing over yours. His eyes drift down to where the two of you connect. “Look at that, she took me all in. I told you that you didn’t need to fret, love.” 

“A-ah, it’s so deep…” You mumble. 

“Isn’t it?” He grins. 

He starts to move back and forth, instantly groaning at the intoxicating sensation of you wrapped warm and snug around his pulsing cock. 

He keeps his pace slow, staying true to his promise. He doesn’t mind though, he’s just relishing in every little detail of you, burning the memory of how you look, feel, and sound into his mind - a treasure for eons to come. 

You’re moaning uncontrollably, hands moving to grip at his biceps, nails digging slightly into the skin. He grunts, liking the shark twang of pain that shoots through his body. 

He can feel you clamping around him desperately, like your body needed more. You’re so wet and sloppy, he can feel your slick smearing on his thighs with every thrust. 

“Feels s’good, baby.” He groans, and immediately he feels you clench on him again. “Did you like that?” He grins. 

“Uh-huh,” You nod dumbly, eyes unfocused as whines spill from your throat. 

“My pretty girl likes it when I praise her, huh?” The next words flow from him easily, he’s venerated you so much in his mind already that the flattery comes easy. He wants you to know exactly what you make him feel. “You’re so fucking perfect for me, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Everytime he bottoms out you can feel him in your throat.

“J-Jay…”

Your bodies blend together, waves of pleasure overtaking you both with each long stroke. You can feel every inch and vein and crevice of him pushing against your sensitive walls. 

He continues speaking. “You make me fall apart so easily, my love. I want to give you my everything. I’ll be at your disposal from now on, you can do whatever you want with my body, as long as you stay by my side.” His tone is deep, dripping with lust. “Your pretty pussy takes me so well, it’s like you were made for my cock, yeah?”

A shiver of arousal runs through your body at his speech, lower body getting hotter. You feel like you’re surrounded by lava, melting and wound tight all at once. 

“Your body is so beautiful, I don't want anyone else to touch you; I want you only for myself.” His hands lift your hips up a little, his cock pressing inside even deeper than before, making you let out a yelp. 

He’s hitting every good spot inside you, knocking the breath from your lungs even with his sensual pace. You feel constant spurts of warmth pouring out of you, and you notice just how soaked the mattress is beneath your shivering body. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, love?”

“S-so much, Jay,” You whine out, clutching him harder. 

“Good, I want to be the only one that can make you feel like this.”  

Each rock of his hips gets you higher and higher, dangling on the edge of release. The glide of him is so smooth and sweet as he drags against you.

“M’gonna cum, Jay.” You sigh out, voice high and whiny.

“Good girl, go on and soak my cock. Show me just how much you’re enjoying this.” 

A few more more moments and you’re letting go, gripping his biceps hard as elation sinks deep into your bones. A sob of his name escapes your parted lips, body tingly and twitchy as endorphins rush through your veins. He groans as he feels your slick walls convulse around him. His grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he pulls out, his cum instantly spilling onto your stomach. Relief floods his system as he pants hard, chest heaving as he catches his breath. 

The both of you bask in the afterglow of your climaxes, the soft sound of breathing drifting on the heated air. Jason thinks you look divine with your hair spread on the bed, his seed marking your skin as sweat glistens your body. You think the view of him above you, satisfaction prominent on his face, is just as sacred. 

When Jason’s body settles he gently slides out of you, smiling apologetically at your small wince. He goes to your bathroom, having memorized the layout of your house from all the times he’s visited you. He returns with a damp towel, mournfully wiping his traces off of you. He throws the rag into your laundry basket, crawling beside you in bed and pulling you into his chest.

“How ya doing, princess?” He whispers into your hair.

You give him a small, happy hum in return, scooting yourself even closer into him. 

"You're so soft," He mumbles, nuzzling into you. "This is where I want us to stay, for eternity. Nothing else, forever."

“That sounds perfect, Jay.” You reply, yawning slightly. 

Jason’s smile grows even wider, his arms tightening around you. He looks down at you with an adoring gaze, your warm and tender body slotting perfectly against his. "There is nothing, and no one in this world that I want more than you, my dearest."

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

ミ☆ masterlist

requested tags: @a-deadbeat-fucking-valentine @in-som-niyah

#sumi — dc. #sumi — my love. #sumi — works. #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #dc smut #dc x reader #red hood x reader #red hood smut

[moony-2001]

The real-world impact of Lore Olympus

i.e. do your research Rachel

Trigger warning: racism, fetishization, appropriation, mentions of SA

Long post ahead

A while ago, someone told me that Lore Olympus was just a silly little comic written out of boredom. That it was made to be "funny". They told me that "[I] can't hope [for] an extremely [well-written] story when it was just made with the intention to make something goofy" and that if Rachel actually wanted to make something serious like I had, she would write a book and not a comic.

At the time of this exchange, it was past 1 a.m. and I was exhausted. I did not want to argue with this person and it simply wasn't worth my time or energy in the moment.

But looking back at that (mostly one-sided) interaction, I can't help but think that there is so much wrong with that point of view. Of course, everyone is entitled to their opinion about Lore Olympus, whether good or bad. But Lore Olympus isn't just some silly little nothing comic about nothing important. It is a comic that actively appropriates and erases Greek Culture. It is a comic that has no respect for the actual stories that have been passed down over thousands of years whether by word of mouth or written text. It is a comic that perpetuates a false narrative and harmful stereotypes about characters or certain groups of people. So, no, it's not just a silly little comic.

Incorrect information

Here’s an example of what I mean:

When I was doing research for my post about the 10 year time skip, I looked up Leuce to reconfirm the little information I knew about her. Wanna guess the first thing that popped up about her?

A Lore Olympus Wiki article.

Okay. How about Minthe? Hundreds of pictures of her from Lore Olympus and a LO Wiki article as one of the top 3 results. Both character are horribly represented in LO and unfortunately there isn’t really any documented stories or records that can refute how LO paints them. Because of this, other characters in Greek Mythology like Leuce and Minthe, whose stories have little to no documentation, stand to suffer the most harm from deliberate misrepresentation on Rachel’s part.

Of course well-known and better documented figures in Greek mythology face slander as well. What about Thetis or Leto? How about Apollo? All of their portrayals in LO are HORRIBLE. I have seen people online absolutely drag them to filth not because they're upset about how the character is portrayed compared to their mythological counterpart, but because they have no knowledge of how they are actually portrayed outside of LO. They just assume that's how the characters are. Similarly, people who have either very little or no prior knowledge of Greek Mythology and Culture would look at the comic and go "Yep, sounds legit. It must be true." and go about thinking that what is portrayed in LO is accurate to what was transcribed thousands of years ago.

Creative interpretations and racism/fetishization within LO

Don’t get me wrong. Creative interpretations and artistic liberties can be great. When they’re done tastefully. I personally think if done correctly, a Greek myth spun in a modern way has the potential be very good. But that's not what we were given.

Characters like Minthe, Leuce, and Thetis (all nymphs btw) are portrayed as trashy tramps who put out and are used as a foil sabotage Persephone and/or her relationship with Hades. Compare that to Greek Mythology where in the Iliad, Thetis is very well-respected by the gods, particularly Hera. Unfortunately, other similar characters like satrys (and basically any character that isn’t a god) are usually portrayed as a low-class POC that can be easily exploited, manipulated, or used as a temporary villain/lover/pawn to “get back” at Persephone, our white-coded protagonist who can do no wrong.

Additionally, there is a clear race/class bias against characters like nymphs in LO. We see many cases scattered throughout the comic of gods like Hera or Aphrodite referring to nymphs as "trash" or "low class" or the idea that nymphs do not belong with gods being heavily implied if not outright said. I cannot tell you how often I've seen Minthe be called some variant of "cheap" by the readers of LO. Even Persephone (who created the flower nymphs) treats them with such disrespect. She frequently calls them some variant of "stupid" or "simple" like saying how they're not the sharpest crayons in the box even though she's the one WHO MADE THEM. However, it's so odd not really to note that nymphs like Echo, Amphitrite, or Psyche (who was previously disguised as a nymph) are not discriminated against. This is because they are liked or trusted by the gods they are around and ergo are often portrayed as the "good ones", which is a disgusting mindset to have.

We also see the fetishization of nymphs in the comic that is disturbingly similar to the fetishization of women who are Black, Asian, or Latina. It is a known fact that Hades has a flower nymph fetish. Not only is this implied in the comic, but Rachel stated it outright in an old Patreon post. Nymphs are also generally treated as sex-symbols, disposable, and as a lesser-than. Zeus frequently displays this behavior by abandoning nymphs he knocked up in the mortal realm.

For example, when Persephone finds out Apollo is dating Daphne, she isn't upset he's dating her friend. She's upset he's dating a flower nymph, beings that are generally considered to be "rare", "dumb", and objects of sexual desire. Ew.

Even on the Lore Olympus website (loreolympians.com) nymphs are regarded as "beautiful", "desirable", and "very exotic". And when they're not described in a sexual manner they're say it with me now regarded as "low class" or "workers" for some kind of god/goddess.

Final thoughts

So not only is the characterization of characters like Minthe or Thetis harmful to Greek culture and the stories that are so ingrained in their society, but it is also perpetuating harmful stereotypes about people of color and women who are confident in their sexuality.

Of course, the characters within Greek Mythology had their own issues. Zeus was a serial rapist, many of the goddesses deemed to be "feminist" by today's standards were actually horribly misogynistic looking at you Athena. But 1. that's just how things were back then (but that does not make it right) and 2. all of the good, the bad, and the ugly is still there in Greek Mythology. They're not denying how fucked up it is, but they're also not changing their history to better fit their own narrative or the narrative of the modern world. It exists, it happened, but now it is studied and called out by historians.

Rachel, on the other hand, is doing exactly that. She is actively changing the Greek's cultural history to better fit her fic's narrative. She is constantly sweeping things under the rug or going "No this is how it ACTUALLY happened". Lore Olympus is marketed as a "feminist retelling" yet somehow, it takes allllll the ugly parts from Greek Mythology (rape, incest, problematic age gaps, dubious consent, etc.), mixes it with a majority of the issues we have in the modern world (white feminism, rape-apologists/rape culture, grooming, fetishization of certain minority groups, etc.) and then amplifies the concoction to 20. Lore Olympus cannot be a "progressive, feminist, retelling" and also have characters that are morally apprehensive/come straight from the ancient myths. It does not work. In fact, IMO it makes all the problems from both eras worse.

News flash: actual cultures that are still thriving today are not your toys. They are not "made up". They matter. Do better.

#anti lore olympus #lore olympus #anti lo persephone #anti lo #lore olympus criticism #lore olympus critical #lo critic #lo critical #unpopular lo #unpopular lore olympus #appropriation #greek mythology #if anyone who is actually Greek wants to comment on this or share their thoughts please feel free #I'm not Greek but I have a deep love for mythology/Greek culture so this is just my take on things

[tossawary]

I saw "Hadestown" a while ago and found it pretty fun, especially because while it is a retelling of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth, it is also doing its own thing. It sets the story in a company town and presents a Hades in his aspect as the god of wealth. Though, it's not always clear in "Hadestown" what is figurative and what is literal. It plays with that mythological line a lot.

Hades is a wealthy businessman who owns mines and factories, which exhaust and trap (and presumably kill) the workers, a "god" among men, and Eurydice comes to work for him out of desperation. She doesn't actually die in this story... uh, I'm pretty sure. You can interpret the musical's ending a lot of different ways, I suppose. But when Eurydice first ends up in "the Underworld", in Hades' clutches, and signs a work contract to survive, her "death" is figurative.

So, when Orpheus comes to retrieve Eurydice, "Hadestown" is presenting us with a version of the story in which Eurydice can actually get away. She's not trapped by something as inescapable as death. When Orpheus appeals to Hades' love for Persephone and convinces this "god" to release Eurydice, I was watching the couple walk away together and thinking to myself, "What if they made it? What if they get to live together this time?"

I knew they wouldn't.

It still hurt.

And it later occured to me that a happy ending would betray not only the original myth, but also betray the new story that "Hadestown" presents to us.

"Hadestown" is a story concerned with poverty, with the fear of starvation and freezing to death, with the labor and rights of workers, with the oppressive power of wealth, with the selfishness of the rich. It's not subtle about it. At all. Hades is here as a figurative god of death, but he is very much present in his aspect as a god of wealth.

Hades releases Eurydice, but makes it conditional, because while Orpheus' song has softened him, he immediately becomes worried that this kindness makes him look weak and will set a bad example for all of his other workers. He doesn't want other workers to try for freedom or for other people to believe his workers can be set free. He curses Orpheus with doubt in order to make him look back.

Personally, I thought that the ending became a little messy, regarding what was figurative and what was literal. It fell back more into mythology, with how arbitrary Hades' condition is and how looking back automatically took Eurydice away. But I still liked it. Musical theatre is very well suited to that kind of blurriness in its lines.

If Orpheus had suceeded in saving Eurydice in this version, then the story would be saying that you can have your happy ending if you just work hard enough for it, if you're special enough, if you believe in yourself. The story would be saying: Orpheus' beautiful voice convinced a powerful, wealthy man that he and Eurydice were unique, that their love story was different, that their tragedy was unfair, and that they shouldn't be treated like the other poor workers. You just have to sing the right pretty song and people will listen to you out of the goodness of their hearts.

It's kind of what a modern audience expects: the heroes will succeed. They will succeed because they worked hard and they were special. The fact that Orpheus fails here too, even though Eurydice wasn't dead in this story, feels like a song getting stuck in your head because the ending is missing. It feels wrong. It's upsetting.

It made me think about how their ending was unfair. It made me think that their tragedy shouldn't have happened. That they could have been happy if only Hades hadn't taken advantage of Eurydice's poverty, if he wasn't so cruel to his exploited workers who create his wealth, if he didn't hoard his wealth instead of sharing it around, and if the wealth hadn't been allowed to go to one person in the first place. Orpheus and Eurydice were not without flaws, sure, but they were ordinary people just trying to make their way in the world. The "don't look back" condition is so arbitrary and unfair and disrespectful.

Everything happened at the unkind whims of a wealthy businessman who was scared of looking weak and losing power. It's not fair and it's all Hades' fault.

To me, though they tell you from the beginning that this is a tragedy, it seemed like "Hadestown" wanted you to think, "Maybe Orpheus and Eurydice will make it this time," and then wanted you to feel let down when they didn't. And maybe then wanted you to think to yourself, "As long as this same story keeps happening, they're never going to make it. Maybe there shouldn't be gods of wealth putting conditions on freedom, and deciding who lives and who dies. It's not fair."

#tossawary musicals #hadestown #character death #spoilers #tossawary watching

[melrosing]

a while back you mentioned bran being a fisher king type of figure if he becomes king. i am so intrigued by that concept. can you tell us more?

so full disclosure, I don't have a great deal of familiarity with Arthurian legend or British/Welsh mythology, which is what the Fisher King really draws upon, so I don't think I can say anything of real substance on this subject! i keep meaning to just sit down and swot up on this stuff but it's. not really something you can do in one sitting lol

HOWEVER i think even to a wiki peruser it's patently clear that GRRM is drawing on the Fisher King concept with Bran (as in, once you know he's doing that, you realise he isn't even trying to hide it). and I do tend to think that GRRM is more likely to stick with the top line of a myth or historical event he means to parallel rather than get lost in the minutiae - e.g. Matilda v Stephen succession crisis inspiring Rhaenyra v Aegon, the Black Dinner of 1440 inspiring the Red Wedding, this is GRRM taking the substance of an event but not the details of how it came to pass.

I'm going to guess that rather than getting into the finer details of the Fisher King mythos, GRRM is going to utilise it much like he's used Shakespeare's Richard III for Tyrion, which is another inspiration that seems painfully obvious from the moment you spot it, but is hardly lifted beat for beat, and I seriously doubt that Tyrion's story ends up anywhere like the end of RIII. but you can see GRRM taking the bits and pieces of RIII he finds interesting and twisting them for Tyrion in ASOIAF.

so with that in mind, I'm just going to quickly list the key points I can personally gather from the Fisher King myth that seem to gesture to Bran, and why I think these are probs interesting to GRRM as a writer (but as I say there are people who know lots about arthurian legend and british/welsh mythology who would probs have a lot more to say here):

the Fisher King is usually depicted as being wounded in the groin/legs/thigh - this is considered synonymous with his inability to have children and so propagate his line. immediately obvious parallel to Bran, and I think through both ASOIAF and F&B, GRRM is trying to show that ruling through dynasties where everything hinges on how the next guy's son turns out, is not a viable way to run a country. Bran will not be succeeded by children of his own blood, but I think much in the way that he himself has succeeded Bloodraven

the Fisher King is one with his land as such: his welfare is the welfare of the land, and when he takes a wound (and becomes infertile), the land too becomes barren. the Fisher King awaits a hero who will heal and restore him and so the land (but I can only imagine GRRM would subvert this - it's clear through GRRM's writing of disability that he doesn't see value in just 'curing' his characters. he wants to actually write them as disabled people). and I think there's a lot in Bran's story about man learning to respect the land he lives upon - the children and the first men's peace pact was agreed upon the grounds that the first men would essentially preserve Westeros and its weirwoods etc, and so I think it's generally agreed ASOIAF could end with a similar kind of pact to end the Long Night (or after the end of TLN)? so again, think this point is about Bran representing a renewed relationship between the lands of Westeros and its peoples - the welfare of all is tied together through him

the Fisher King is guarding the Holy Grail. im way out of my depth on this point, someone with more knowledge re. the Holy Grail needs to weigh in here lol, but I would guessssss that maybe this has something to do with Bran ending the story on the Isle of Faces, protecting the peace from there or SOMETHING idk

then the most obvious point: the Fisher King as he appears in Arthurian legend is thought to draw on the figure of Brân the Blessed, a character of Welsh mythology - which immediately recalls Bran the Broken (something Bran literally calls himself several times). the name 'Bran' also translates to crow or raven in Welsh, so, duh. and Brân the Blessed's story ends with his requesting that his head be buried on the White Hill of London - and as long as it remained there, Britain would be safe from invasion. more about Bran being tied directly to the welfare of the land and its peoples

(again there's doubtless a lot more that could be added here by someone who understands the Fisher King myth better than I do, but these seemed like the most obvious points that anyone could draw on)

anyway I absolutely take it as a given that Bran will be King at this point, and whilst it's really hard to imagine what that looks like, I do think it resonates. GRRM likes writing about dynasties but I don't think he believes in them. I'm sure he feels much the same way about feudalism, but I doubt that will be gone by the end of ASOIAF, too, so this is how I picture it??

KL: destroyed. red keep: fucked. some level of politics may continue here post-series, but I think it will no longer be the heart of westeros. the fact that it is in AGOT is I think GRRM trying to show the corruption at the heart of this country - KL is constantly described as a cesspit where the rich play their games and live and eat luxuriously directly atop the shoulders of the poor and downtrodden, divorced from what's happening in the rest of the 7K.

the new heart of Westeros will be the Isle of Faces. this is where I think Bran will end up. we don't know much about it, bc noone is able to sail there, but this was where the pact between the COF and the First Men was created, and it's one of the last places in the south where weirwoods still grow (here, in abundance). and apparently there was once a Green King of the Gods Eye?? if the Green King, of the Rivermen, is in any way the role Bran will soon be occupying, maybe this is where his Tully heritage is somehow relevant. and also like 'god's eye', Bran's whole thing is about learning to see all, so. likely place for him to be. ultimately, I don't think Bran will remain in Winterfell; the story is supposed to be about unity I think, and not northern exceptionalism, so a remaining Stark sibling will take up that seat and as I said before, I tend to think that will be Sansa.

and I guess the most I can imagine beyond this point is Bran living alongside the COF (perhaps in the company of Meera idk?), functioning less as a political entity and more as a figurehead, perhaps an oracle, who lives for the welfare of his people. there will still be politicians to run the country, but they will be guided by Bran in some way, and like Bloodraven, Bran will choose his own successor. what the intricacies of any of this look like i have no idea, but this really does sound to me like the start of GRRM's answer to all his concerns re. dynasties and corruption etc etc

sorry this was all garbled as hell but this is basically what the Fisher King endgame means to me for now. in short, not a whole lot that I can make sense of but I like the feel of it, I think it's consistent with the themes of the text and suggests the start of real change at the end of the story, rather than the start of yet another dynasty.

#ask #bran stark #i would link a better essay here but i've lost track of the one i remember reading.... it was on some old asoiaf forum #and was written before the show too so well done to that person lol #anyway yeah my lit studies were very definitely modern and early modern lit i do not know much about this stuff at all #so where ive got shit wrong or missed something glaring. CALL ME OUT #im p sure jon factors in somewhere here but like i know how #asoiaf

[visenyaism]

to what degree do you think jaehaerys is supposed to have a good or bad legacy from GRRM’s point of view? like the books paint him as having this legacy of being a wise pragmatist, and the perspectives in fire & blood back that up superficially even if it’s not hard to see how his decisions directly led to civil war and oppression. is that intentional or just an accident of asoiaf being a good critique of monarchy in general? is the text saying that monarchy is bad because not every king is jaehaerys, or is it bad because even its greatest mythologized figures worked towards its corruption?

genuinely no clue. to me it is one of the biggest points of dissonance both plot-wise and thematically in the whole series. If i want to be generous id say that it’s clear that Jaehaerys is remembered as a Good King, like the best possible ruler in the monarchical system, and this is BECAUSE he is unambiguously just a terrible person to his family because that’s what feudalism mandates and that familial destruction causes the civil war? To me this SHOULD be the point, but somehow it is NOT because fire and blood and the main series don’t really draw any particular conclusions about the ethics of Jaehaerys’ rule.

You get to fire and blood and he is just not singularly a standout politician despite everyone saying he is? as a ruler he is not fantastically distinct from maegor the cruel other than their relationship to the faith. He built a bunch of stuff, but most of the reforms were his wife or his septon’s idea and he doesn’t really get enough to demonstrate competence as a ruler. One standout is that he’s so inexplicably terrible at making marriage alliances like he somehow seems genuinely surprised any time one of his kids comes of age and needs a spouse and the only logical explanation for the bonkers matches he makes for his children seems to be active malice against them. His actions specifically his misogyny against Rhaenys literally caused the dynasty destroying civil war.

and if the similarities between the two were the point, the book was making, I would be pretty interested. like yeah they both build all these things but their entire legacy is built on reproductive coercion and violent misogyny. Jae and Maegor both got their start by usurping Rhaena. Jaehaerys is actually worse in terms of how he treats his mother. Maegor actually named a female heir at one point while Jaehaerys refused to do so at multiple points. Like his uncle Jae was also obsessed with making children and forced his wife to have THIRTEEN of them even though she begged him not to. Jaehaerys had someone hold his teenage daughter down and make her watch as he chopped her boyfriend into small pieces with a sword to punish her for having premarital sex.

all of this is just the plot- not atypical for ASOIAF which really focuses on gender violence as a theme and condemning its entrenchment in the setting. except it’s just depicting a lot of violent misogyny without the commentary or making a point about it because Jaehaerys is Good which is really weird unusually shallow writing.

TLDR: there’s so much dissonance in how he is written: he is described as this fantastic ruler, but doesn’t do a lot of big political moves that maegor didn’t, he’s a terrible person, but is never really called out for this by anyone in the text in ways kings like Baelor are. What’s the point? What IS the text trying to say about Jaehaerys? I would also like to know.

#asoiaf #if they had explicitly made him a maegor parallel i would be so interested omg. but no it’s just this tonally dissonant grab bag of ?????

[hollowed-theory-hall]

what's the one harry potter pairing u like that u mentioned in the tags of your hinny post?

Anonymous: Can I ask who that minor character you ship with Harry is? For some absurd reason my mind jumped to Stan Shunpike lol but it's probably not him.... Or is it?

Okay, so this is kind of a funny story. Like, my pipeline through hp pairings was a weird one. Like, I used to read a lot of Harry pairings, still do on occasion (some make more sense than others). None of them were ones I would point at and say: "that should've happened in the books"

One day, I was innocently writing a fic (canon divergence of GoF), and it was just for me, for funnsies, never posted it anywhere and not planning to. And I planned to pair Harry with someone there (honestly, I don't remember who because I didn't write the plan down) but when writing, Harry ended up with a different character. And it was so strange to me because that never happened.

Like, how do you write a ship accidentally?

But I did. I wrote Harry into a ship by accident. So I went back to the books to try and figure out why the hell would my subconscious decide that's the way to go.

I'll also preface it by all this being my subjective opinion and I do read other Harry ships in fics, this one just quickly became my favorite to write (and the only one I write). Also, I don't actually think this is a pairing that should've happened in the books, it's place is in fic and that's where I like it.

So, the character I accidentally shipped with Harry is... *drumroll*

Stan Shunpike!

Not really, it's:

Theodore Nott

Now, you might look at the name and go: "Who the fuck is that?"

And you'll be correct. Theo has 0 speaking lines in the entire book series. His name appears twice. He, himself, as a person, only appeared on page, like, 3 times in the background. The scene that gives the most information about him is other characters talking about him. He isn't even present.

That being said, I'm very good at extrapolating a lot of information from very little evidence. So allow me, to walk you through who is Theodore Nott and why I ship him with Harry.

Basic Information

So, let's start with the most basic overview before I pull out the quotes and go any deeper.

We know Theo is a Slytherin student in Harry's year. So he likely shares a dorm with Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Theo's father is both at the graveyard at the end of GoF and in the Department of Mysteries at the end of OotP, so we know he is a Death Eater. We also know Thoe's father was one of the first and closest Death Eaters to Voldemort, who waited for him during his interview with Dumbledore in 1967:

“Then if I were to go to the Hog’s Head tonight, I would not find a group of them — Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov — awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed...”

(HBP, page 444)

We also know the Nott family is "as pure-blooded as the Malfoys" according to JKR in an interview. We also know Theo's great-grandfather (maybe? the family relation isn't clear), Cantankerus Nott, is suspected to be the one who wrote the Pure-Blood Dictionary, the book that coined the term "Sacred 28" and made that list (which the Nott family are on).

The name Nott is potentially to be derived from the name Nótt, which is the personification of the night in Norse Mythology. So it has been theorized the Nott family have a Nordic origin. Possible, but it doesn't really matter for this post.

What does, is that he comes from a dark, Death Eater, blood-purist family similar to the Malfoys. Even so, Theo never took the Dark Mark and never joined Voldemort in the books.

Now, that we have the basic information out of the way, let's look at Theodore as a person.

All the details I could gather from the books

Alright, now we get to the fun part. That is, me going through all the relevant scenes that mention Theodore Nott and actually creating a character psychoanalysis out of basically nothing.

So, the quotes aren't organized in a particular order. I'm just going to explain Theo and then explain why all this makes me ship him with Harry.

“Well, I pity Slughorn’s taste. Maybe he’s going a bit senile. Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his. Slughorn probably hasn’t heard I’m on the train, or —” “I wouldn’t bank on an invitation,” said Zabini. “He asked me about Nott’s father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he’d been caught at the Ministry he didn’t look happy, and Nott didn’t get an invitation, did he? I don’t think Slughorn’s interested in Death Eaters.” Malfoy looked angry, but forced out a singularly humorless laugh.

(HBP, page 150)

This is a part of the conversation between Draco, Pansy, and Blaise, Harry overhears when he is hiding in their compartment at the beginning of HBP. I have a few things to note regarding this scene.

Firstly, throughout this conversation, Pansy, Blaise, and Draco all call each other by their first name. This shows closeness, they are all friendly and familiar enough to use their first names with each other. Theo, though, is referred to as "Nott" by all three in the compartment.

He doesn't actually sit in their compartment which is in itself a sign about how he isn't really friendly with Draco's group. Considering the group is most of his year from his house, Theo is likely very lonely, and it will be apparent from other scenes I bring up later.

Secondly, Theo's father is in Azkaban. We know Draco is bothered about his own father's predicament. He mentions it to Harry and bothers him over it, Theo doesn't though. Theo doesn't seem to be bothered by Harry or his father's incarceration.

The only conclusion I can draw from this is that the relationship between Theo and his father is not a good one.

(I know some fics like to have Lucius be abusive towards Draco, for some reason. But the books really don't back this up. Lucius loves Draco and Draco adores his father)

Theo, though, Theo seems to be the one with a very strained relationship with his father. Strained enough that he isn't bothered the man is in Azkaban. What I'm saying is that Theo's father likely abuses or mistreats him in some capacity.

If anything more was needed to complete Harry’s happiness, it was Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s reactions. He saw them with their heads together later that afternoon in the library, together with a weedy-looking boy Hermione whispered was called Theodore Nott. They looked around at Harry as he browsed the shelves for the book he needed on Partial Vanishment, and Goyle cracked his knuckles threateningly and Malfoy whispered something undoubtedly malevolent to Crabbe. Harry knew perfectly well why they were acting like this: He had named all of their fathers as Death Eaters

(OotP, page 583)

This is a scene at the end of OotP after Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Theo's fathers were caught at the ministry and sent to Azkaban because they are Death Eaters. There are a few important notes about this scene.

The first, Hermione knows Theo, while Harry and Ron don't really. This means she likely knows him from the classes she takes and Harry and Ron don't — Arithmancy and/or Ancient Runes.

The second, he is sitting with other Death Eater children, but I don't think it's by choice. I mentioned in the previous quote how he isn't close to Draco and his crew. He sits with them here mostly because he doesn't have another choice. Theo doesn't seem to really have any friends, so he sits with the closest people he has to friends — kids he has known since he was young because their fathers were in the same circle.

The other note about this is that Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco are all mentioned as being threatening and malicious towards Harry because they don't like that their fathers are in Azkaban. Theo, though, Theo doesn't threaten Harry, he isn't part of their whisperings. As I mentioned above, he's likely happy his father is in Azkaban.

A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck, and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It looked around at the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs. A great wave of relief broke over Harry. Here at last was proof that he had not imagined these creatures, that they were real: Hagrid knew about them too. He looked eagerly at Ron, but Ron was still staring around into the trees and after a few seconds he whispered, “Why doesn’t Hagrid call again?” Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as Ron’s and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse standing feet from them. There were only two other people who seemed to be able to see them: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face, and Neville, whose eyes were following the swishing progress of the long black tail.

(OotP, page 445)

“The only people who can see thestrals,” she said, “are people who have seen death.”

(OotP, page 446)

The stringy Slytherin boy mentioned here is Theo. This scene proves that:

He takes Care of Magical Creatures

He saw someone die

Let's explore the second one for a moment. The fact Theo can see Thestrals means he watched someone die and was old enough to comprehend what he was seeing. We also know Theo's mother is dead. So it's likely the person he watched die was his mother.

I also want to draw attention to Theo's distaste towards Thestrals. He could likely see them carrying the carriages every year since 2nd year, it's not his first time seeing them. But it doesn't stop his displeasure with their sight from showing. Which says something about him. It means he likely recalls his mother and her death whenever he looks at the Thestrals. and these are memories Theo rather not experience.

We don't know how his mother died, but I'd hazard a guess it wasn't natural. After all, wizards have long life spans, they are more durable to illness and injury, and don't usually die from accidents unless very extreme or magical. And there was no epidemic of dragonpox (a disease that does tend to kill wizards) in the time since 1980 and the books. So, she was more likely killed at some point between 1985(ish) and 1991.

“No, I don’t think so, sir. I’m Muggle-born, you see.” Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to her.

(HBP, pages 185-186)

First, Theo is an O student in potions since he is in the potions NEWT class, and was probably meant to be there even if Snape was the teacher.

Second, again, Theo doesn't really have friends. He sits next to Draco as the only other Slytherin in the class. Also, they share the circumstances of being sons of Death Eaters currently in Azkaban. Although both of them seem to deal with it quite differently.

Third, Theo joins Draco in making fun of Hermione's blood status, but he does not initiate it. Considering the environment he was raised in and is in, it makes sense he would make fun of it. Whether he's a blood-purist or not, he would want to keep his image considering he doesn't have many allies. Hanging out with Draco is survival, not friendship. They aren't even on a first-name basis with each other.

“Amortentia doesn’t really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room — oh yes,” he said, nodding gravely at Malfoy and Nott, both of whom were smirking skeptically. “When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love. . . .

(HBP, page 186)

The final quote I have about Theo is from the same potions class as above. Both he and Draco are portrayed here as underestimating amortentia and its potential damage. It makes sense for their upbringing in the Wizarding World, which has no real laws or regulations regarding love potions that are seen as harmless fun more often than not.

I'll add Theo likely didn't witness a healthy romantic relationship. Considering his father is a Death Eater who is likely abusive and may or may not have killed his mother. With this as his reference to a marriage, it's clear why he'd look down on love and love potions.

Why I think Theo and Harry have potential

Okay, so now that we know who Theodore Nott is, let's talk about why I ship him with Harry.

I think Harry, in general, would get along best with a clever partner with the ability to be ruthless (Slytherins or Ron fall into this category). Because Harry isn't some golden savior; he casts unforgivables, and is very willing to poison Umbridge or Crocio Snape if he could get away with it. He needs a partner that won't be horrified by these thoughts.

Also, Theo literally never speaks on page. Even when spoken to, his reactions are silent. I think this quiet and no need to talk, the ability to be comfortable in silence, is something that would be comfortable for Harry. Harry in the books finds himself annoyed with Ron and Hermione's constant banter on occasion, so I think it fits well.

Theo would also be comfortable around Harry without a need to play a certain part. Because Harry wouldn't care about that. He would honestly rather Theo forgo the pure-blood Slytherin act.

I feel like Harry and Theo, have a good potential to understand each other. Theo lost his mother and likely experiences abuse from his father. It makes them very likely to trauma bond over their crap life and shared experience. Two out of three only ones who could see the Thestrals in the entire class.

The other thing I feel they could connect over is being lonely. Harry spent all his childhood until Hogwarts basically being on his own. Theo stayed on his own. Draco at least has his parents, he has other students he's closer to, not that he shares everything with them, but he has some support network. Theo has none. And this is something Harry knows well.

Theo, I think, wouldn't expect anything specific from Harry. He doesn't even interact with him, not to mock him, and not to idolize him, he doesn't care at all. And we know how much Harry appreciates being thought of as Harry and not as the Boy-Who-Lived. Theo would allow Harry to be himself without some mold he wants him to fit in.

The fact Theo never becomes a Death Eater, even though he was in Draco's year and his father was a Death Eater before Lucius (and in better standing than Lucius with Voldemort) is so interesting. It's somewhat surprising Theo wasn't marked. It means he didn't want to be. It means that Theo Nott didn't want to torture and kill muggleborns or blood traitors, or anyone really. And he didn't want to swear his allegiance to Voldemort. This is just a fascinating fact to me and something I enjoy considering. What life experience made him come to that conclusion? Was it just his dislike of his father that pushed him away? Could he have been another Sirius Black (Gryffindor in a Slytherin family) under slightly different circumstances? I mean, Voldemort likely wouldn't force him to become a Death Eater, but would his father? I don't know what at all went down there, but I like that potential story.

We also know he wasn't part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, even though some minor Slytherins were mentioned to be part of it. He just seems to be an actually decent guy (I don't care what Cursed Child says about him, I know he's there but I avoided almost anything to do with Cursed Child so I barely know the plot).

Finally, this is a character Harry doesn't have as much drama to get over with. Yes, sometimes I want to read overcoming drama between characters before it becomes a romance, but sometimes I want something chiller than that. And Theo is a really chill, safe, Slytherin option for Harry.

#harry potter #harry potter thoughts #hollowedtheory #hollowedheadcanon #hp #hp thoughts #harry james potter #asks #anon asks #anonymous #theodore nott #theo nott #nottpott

[gracexthoughts]

Okay, I have a lot of thoughts about the Percy Jackson show and the discourse I have been seeing about it. This is going to be long and possibly all over the place but I just want to share. If you disagree, that’s fine. Just don’t hate because you have a different opinion. Deal?

I want to start this by saying I am a new fan. I did not read the PJO books when I was a kid. I watched the first two episodes when they came out in Dec purely out of curiosity and was just immediately in love with the world. So in true ADHD hyperfixation fashion, I devoured Percy Jackson and the Olympians and Heroes of Olympus books and I am currently on Book 1 of Trials of Apollo. And maybe it's because I am a newer fan but a lot of the gripes I see about PJOTV just don’t make sense to me and I feel like they really are just rooted in nostalgia. Watching the show and all the interviews of the cast and crew, it is clear to me they wrote this season with the intention and hope that they would get to make all 5 seasons, and possibly even further. I can see how all the changes make sense when looking at the narrative as a whole. They are really setting up this world and this story in a way that I think lends more to the future of this narrative better than The Lighting Thief book does.

I also want to say I have yet to find a book to screen adaptation that is beat for beat accurate. So much of what works in novels, especially novels told in first person, just does not translate to third person screen adaptations. Ultimately, literature and film/TV are art forms and what works for one may not work for another and the creators are allowed to make changes, especially when it is for the overall good of the product.

To start, the exposition dumping didn’t really bother me that much although I agree it is there and noticeable. Now, I watched the first two episodes before reading the books but after reading the books, I think the exposition is just as noticeable in the books as it is in the show. Percy walks into this world without knowing or believing in any of it. In the book, he learns about this world through the people around him explaining it in dialogue. It is just condensed a little more in the show which makes it feel a little heavier. Nonetheless, fantasy tends to have a lot of exposition because there are a lot of things you as a reader/ viewer need to know at the start of the story. It is part of the nature of the genre, especially when it is intended for a younger audience. Exposition that seems clunky to an older viewer is probably not going to feel the same way to a younger audience member (which is the target audience).

The biggest complaint I see, and disagree with, is that the kids are “too smart which ruins the suspense.” Annabeth has been at camp since she was 7 and it is clear, both in the books and the show, she is determined to prove that she is strong and capable and intelligent. She has been training to go out on a quest since she was 7 years old. Annabeth would have been studying these monsters and these myths so of course she can figure out the traps. They aren’t that hard to figure out, even for someone who isn’t super knowledgeable about Greek mythology.

Grover’s job is a protector of demigods. It makes sense he knows these myths like the back of his hand. I imagine that after Thalia, Grover would have studied and worked so hard to prove he was ready for another chance. Grover in the books also fell a little flat in The Lighting Thief to me because it seemed like most of his personality was just to be scared and funny until later books. I love what they did with Grover in the show because he feels like an actual character with his own goals, intelligence, trauma and authority.

Now onto Percy… I have so many thoughts about Show Percy so bear with me.

While I was reading the books, I was confused as to why Sally didn’t teach Percy about Greek mythology. Book Sally seemed to just hope Percy being attacked by monsters and going to camp isn’t going to happen or just assumes that when it does happen, Percy will figure it out. Sally always knew what would happen to her son, at least to some extent, so why wouldn’t she do everything in her power to prepare her son for this life she knows is inevitable? I loved the addition of her teaching Percy about Greek Mythology and Ancient Greek because it makes so much sense because I never saw her as a just “sit back and wait” kind of character. Percy is her son, her baby, her miracle. She is terrified for him (which we see in EP 7 in the flashbacks) and, to me, it makes sense she would do everything in her mortal power to prepare him in a way that doesn’t scare him or reveal to him who he actually is. (It is also such a beautiful call back to Rick telling his son these stories as a kid, like I just think that is beautiful).

While on the subject of Ancient Greek, I saw someone complain how Percy doesn’t inherently know Ancient Greek in the Olympus scene in EP 8. “Poseidon and Zeus looked at each other. They had a quick, intense discussion in Ancient Greek. I only caught one word. Father.” - The Lightning Thief, page 343. This moment was literally pulled straight from the book! Percy talks about Annabeth tutoring him in Ancient Greek in the book (The Lighting Thief, page 107) and I loved how the show changed it to be his mom that taught him because of the previous reasons I gave above.

In general, Percy is an unreliable narrator. We see that in The Last Olympian when Rachel painted him defeating Antaeus. Percy is shocked at how he looks. We also see this in Heroes of Olympus where he is constantly talked about as this powerful and sometimes scary person whereas Percy never describes himself as anything other than kind of mediocre. Percy is constantly underestimating his intelligence and power in his POV because at his core he is still an insecure kid who was bullied and uses humor as a defense mechanism. But no matter what he thinks, he is smart and powerful and capable and I love that we get to see that in the show because it isn’t in first person.

In the books I was constantly frustrated that they weren’t seeing the traps. Aunty Em’s is so clearly out of place and weird and creepy but the Book Trio just ignores it? Also the Medusa story change was beautiful and needed and added so much depth to what was a very simple scene in the books. The Crusty’s scene was jarring at first, but in hindsight it didn't bother me either because Hermes told them about the entrance. Why wouldn’t he tell them about the trap too? The way Hermes is portrayed, I get the sense that he really wants Percy to succeed, in the books and show, and that he is holding onto hope that somehow, someway, he can still save his son. Why would he send them somewhere just to lead them into a trap that does not benefit Hermes in any way? (And us not seeing that conversation happen is showing and not telling BTW)

Also, the overall claim that Percy, Annabeth and Grover know everything is just… wrong. (@pareiwheeler made a post about this that really made me realize this so go read their post too: https://www.tumblr.com/pareiwheeler/740600563986808832/theres-know-mystery-or-suspense-they-know) They know the small things but the big things? They didn’t think Luke was the thief, they didn't know it was Kronos, they didn’t know they would lose the fourth pearl, they didn’t know the casino would mess with time, they didn’t know the shoes were a trap, etc etc. They walk into these situations thinking they are prepared, thinking they know everything they need to but they DON’T And that is where the suspense lies, in the overarching storyline that is the driving force of the plot. Not in these moment to moment scenes that are not the main conflict.

Now onto the smaller changes that, in my opinion, benefit the overall narrative of this story.

Missing the solstice deadline: Not only is Percy choosing to continue the quest despite missing the deadline such a great character moment for him but this ups the stakes so much!! Zeus and Poseidon are currently at war for the last two episodes of the show and even if they don’t talk about it much, that knowledge is still there in the characters' heads and in the viewers’. Every moment they take in the Underworld, you are watching with the knowledge that war is raging above. And it's a great way to show the kind of hero Percy is and what he will become. Percy doesn’t care he “failed” because he didn’t come all this way just to run back to camp with his tail tucked between his legs because that is not Percy. Percy sneaks out of camp twice to go on quests he was not invited on because he will not let someone’s rules get in his way while he is protecting people he cares about. Percy doesn’t want war to happen so with even the slightest chance he can stop Zeus and Poseidon, he takes it! Also the addition of Poseidon stepping in and saving Percy from Zeus was beautiful.

I also loved that Poseidon gave them 4 pearls instead of 3 because such a small detail shows how Poseidon cares about Percy and Sally. And, plot wise, it didn’t change anything. Percy still left the Underworld without his mom. But starting with 4 pearls gives them hope that they actually can complete the quest AND save Sally. Percy leaving the Underworld without Sally is so much more impactful in the show than the books because of this tiny detail change.

The fact that the pearls take them to the east coast rather than the west coast works well too. I loved that they returned to the cabin because of how important that cabin is not only to Percy and Sally but also to Poseidon.

Hermes being added to the Lotus Casino and bringing in Luke’s background earlier on was beautiful and Lin Manuel Miranda’s performance was one of the standouts for me. It is such a beautiful moment and you can see the anguish in Hermes at his feeling powerless and I think it sets up Percy learning about Luke’s family in The Last Olympian in a great way. This is one of those moments where you can tell the writers and showrunners are playing the long game with this series.

Last but not least, the change in the betrayal scene. I love it. I do. Not only in the changes in the way it happens but how they characterized Luke. Luke clearly does not want to hurt Percy, he wants Percy to help him and to come with Luke because he cares about him. The prophecy states “You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend” and Luke in the book didn’t really seem to care about Percy or view him as a friend at the end of it. But Show Luke? He cares about Percy and he is heartbroken that Percy doesn’t side with him. Also the addition of Annabeth hearing Luke’s betrayal first hand was brilliant, in my opinion. Not only were Walker, Charlie and Leah ACTING but it was so much more impactful that Annabeth sees Luke turn and chooses Percy in that moment. And I don’t think it will change much of Annabeth’s actions in the future because you can see how hurt she is and how desperately she still wants him to come back and be good.

Anyway, I think the show is brilliantly done. That isn’t to say it doesn’t have its faults but nothing is perfect and if you were expecting this show to be 100% perfect then I think you just set your expectations too high because that is not realistic.

If you made it to the end of this, I love you. The Percy Jackson brain rot is real and if we don’t get an S2 announcement soon I’m going to riot

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjo spoilers #pjo #pjo disney+ #pjoverse #percy series #annabeth chase #grover underwood #poseidon #sally jackson #percy jackson and the olympians spoilers

[punksocks]

Lilith square Ascendant

Lilith square ascendant is an interesting placement. It’s packed with energy that often seems excessive and uncontrollable. Lilith energy is always tied to the mythology of Adam’s first wife, Lilith. She was an unfit wife because she saw herself as equal to Adam and could not be “tamed” to follow him as her husband. Lilith the figure is filled to the brim with complexity, s*xual energy, and intrigue just like the placement is.

Lilith can be felt powerfully in the angular houses (1st, 4th, 7th, 10th) as these are the houses tied to how you are perceived and received by others (self, childhood/family, spouse/partners, public). Personally I have Lilith in my 10th house squaring my ascendant which is why I wanted to dive into some of my observations with this placement.

Lilith aspecting the ascendant is often observed as an alluring placement. Lilith is impactful, often others will have a strong reaction to you. When you walk into a room you will have people that immediately love or hate you no matter how neutral you attempt to be.

Individuals with Ascendants that are Trine/Sextile to Lilith tend to enjoy and find empowerment from the often sexual attention they receive. While Asc Conjunct/Square/Opposition Lilith individuals tend to feel disgusted or turned off by these strong reactions.

In all honesty, strong Lilith placements are in the individual’s birth chart to encourage them to come into their own without shame or making themselves smaller for others.

Lilith square ascendant is said to be the most alluring and untamable placement because of the strength of the tension of energy of this aspect.

In addition to that, there’s something startling about the energy of strong Lilith placements/aspects, not because of Lilith herself but because of the reactions of others.

People often assume that the version they perceive of you to be all that you are. They also tend to be quite possessive and controlling of you. Either they shame and avoid you because they feel especially overwhelmed by your energy. Or they try to capture you, as if they could be the one to assert total control and dominance over you and to make you up in whatever image they view as “respectably feminine”.

This is obviously a trap, because Lilith’s energy cannot be muted, so when controlling people cannot change your essence they will sometimes react badly. As if they are following dark impulses, something snaps and they simply cannot process you being so uncontrollable.

Personally with my Lilith in 10th house in Leo squaring my ascendant in Scorpio, I find I usually get a certain set of reactions. From feminine energies, I often get femmes that suddenly get very competitive with me. For attention, skill, or otherwise, especially at work. (Check your 11th house to see where competition tends to come up). I usually have an easier time making friends with femmes with Lilith energies who are more aware of and embrace their “alternative” or “dark feminine” sense of expression and social s*xual power/identities.

For masculine energies I often get contempt or infatuation. Contempt in the form of avoidance and belittling. Or infatuation in the form of pushing boundaries with leery behavior. Something about Lilith makes some men really uncouth in a jarring way. It’s like the socially polite part of their brain just shuts down and they devolve in front of you.

Lilith isn’t a bad placement, just to be clear. I don’t believe any placement is bad, I know that every placement has its disadvantages and advantages and your lesson is to use them accordingly. Lilith is just a litmus test. If someone is an envious, possessive, abrasive sort of person, their behavior will be shown to you almost immediately. Especially with very masculine or very “traditionally” feminine energies.

I’m synastry too, Lilith overlays will show you a lot about your partner and their behavior towards you. Lilith shows if people around you are developed or undeveloped the easiest of most placements I believe.

This is definitely a placement to be careful with because you can’t really tell how far into scary behavior other people will go once they’ve made up their minds about you.

Day by day, I’m learning Lilith’s lesson of not letting people control you by gaining means to be independent and have my autonomy supported throughout my relationships always, but I’ve definitely gotten through some scary situations by having to get away from people that want me to submit to them.

#astro observations #astroblr #astro community #leo #scorpio #lilith square ascendant #lilith #lilith aspects #black moon lilith #astro notes

[interlunium-opus]

► TEMPESTUOUS DESIRES [Jake.]

Abstract: For a messenger of love who effortlessly intertwines hearts, Jake himself remains untouched by the desires he kindles. This wasn’t a problem until he met you. Being disinterested in love and somehow always able to evade his shots, you soon became the object of his fixation but those very pure intentions to find you a good match soon gave way to obsession and temptations. As his golden arrows can’t be used to bewitch you to him, he ended up delving further into darkness where the lines between love and obsessions becomes blurred, corrupted by the insatiable need to own and possess you for himself. As he spirals down this treacherous path, he becomes entangled in a web of deception and manipulation, forsaking his once noble purpose.

Genre: fantasy | forbidden romance | supernatural | mythology | wc: 13k

a/n: inspired by New Jeans “Cool With You”. This has been marinating in the drafts for who-knows-how-long now. My brain can't shut up so here it is finally. Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing it. Do leave me some feedbacks or comments, it keeps me from sliding back to hiatus and descend down the writer's block hellhole lol.

© 2024 interlunium-opus. All rights reserved. Do not plagiarize, post or translate anywhere.

— i.

Figuratively and literally, Jake leaves trail of attraction and desire in his wake. As a messenger of love with unparalleled mental acuity and formidable archery skills, every arrow he draws from his quiver meet its target with unerring accuracy, ensnaring the unsuspecting victim with someone who is best matched, trapping them in a web of attraction and desires that would last the test of time. But it is not just his archery that captivates; Jake's ethereal presence, striking good looks, and flirtatious nature are a force of nature in their own right — captivating both humans and non-humans, leaving trails of attractions, desires and temptations in his wake.

He would have made the perfect Messenger of Love — one who is poised to go down in history. After all, the prevailing modern mindset which glorifies individualism and instant gratification has put lasting love in the backseat, making the job harder for the other Messengers of Love who could only strike attraction and lusts that lasts for one night. Hence, with every union that Jake successfully brought, he had become somewhat of a legend — someone with an innate, perhaps unlearnable, understanding of what makes love lasts.

Except, the truth is not as rosy. 

While beings like him are capable of feeling the emotions and desires that humans feel, Jake himself remains untouched by the all-consuming desires he sparks in others. His mental acuity helped him understood the mechanics of love — an intricate dance of personalities and the delicate balance of emotions — but the feeling itself eludes him. While he used to see it as a flaw when he was young, he now understood that it was this very detachment that grants him an edge in the field. Unburdened by personal biases or the clouding of intense emotions, Jake is able to navigate around with a clear and calculated mindset that allows him to dissect the intricacies of human nature, identifying the traits and compatibilities that foster enduring connections. 

Such mental acumen however, while providing him with a detached understanding, fails to bridge the gap between intellectual knowledge and the visceral experience of love’s consuming fire. In fact, despite all the flirtatious banter, sweet nothings and passionate touches he is capable of engaging and eliciting — his feelings remain only surface deep, that of attraction and lust which dissipates as soon as his conquests are bedded.

Perhaps it is exactly this lack of attachment that fuels his libertine tendencies — one that has been increasingly trangressed boundaries as he sought to not just bed his own kind but also humans, despite such liaisons being frowned upon. Perhaps the excitement and thrill of forbidden liasons is what he revelled in or perhaps, without him realising, he was seeking to fill in the void within himself which grows with each connection he forged.

Regardless. Tonight, was one of those days.

Assuming his human form — which is similar to his usual form except for the lip ring, gigantic wings and laurel wreath — he crashed into an after-party of a prestigious award ceremony, eyes immediately set on the apple of everyone’s eyes: the current IT girl of the industry whose looks could rival those from his realm. She was like a vision of ethereal beauty. Her doe-like eyes were large and expressive, capable of softening the hardest of hearts; her lips was full and luscious — both innocent and tantalizing — inviting unspoken desires; her slender frame, with its graceful lines and subtle curves, captured the essence of feminity, evoking not just attraction but a sense of protectiveness.

Jake smirked as his mind parsed her life history and pieced out the kind of person she was, finding his competitiveness instantly triggered the moment he learned of her iron-clad discipline and control when it comes to romance. As a young woman in a competitive industry that is still plagued with double standards against women, she knew her success stands at a precipice so despite all the love interests showered towards her over the years – she managed to stave them off, no matter how tempting. She had it all under control and she was poised for greater things given her diligence and discipline. 

But then she met Jake’s eyes and for the first time in her life, she felt her guards threatening to crack especially at the weight of Jake’s unflinching and seductive gaze throughout the night. Jake didn’t even need his poisoned arrows for he, himself, was almost like the poison that is laced over his arrow tips — the very object of desire for almost anyone he decides to charm. 

The next thing you knew, they were already locking lips in the hallway, the act of which quickly escalated as they moved to the van, hands absolutely glued to one another, roaming freely and wildly, before it all culminated in throes of passion that lasted for hours on her bed — a place she vowed never to bring a man over. Like the torn designers over the floor, all traces of controlled perfection she had masterfully maintained over the years crumbled under the weight of Jake’s intoxicating touch and seductive sweet-nothings. She was absolutely moonstruck and Jake did not even need his arrows for it.  

“You’re going to have to call in sick tomorrow if this goes on-” Jake mumbled in between the soft kisses that he trails down her neck as she whimpered his name again and again, delirious in pleasure while begging him not to ever let go, promising him absolutely everything — from her money to her career.

“Look at the industry sweetheart,” Jake cooed, eyes adoring what he had made out of her: a whimpering and clingy mess that is completely seized in desires and lust, “what would they say if they see you like this?”

She shook her head, breathing ragged from the umpteenth high she had raked with Jake, before pulling him into a hungry and messy kiss. “Love,” Jake mumbled in between kisses, saliva stretching between their lips, “you’re tired. It’s time to go to sleep.”

“You’re not going to leave me right?” she stared at him all bleary-eyed. Jake simply smiled, rubbing her cheeks softly as she tried hard to keep her lids open against the enchantments that Jake had justwhispered into her system, “this is all just a dream.”

And just like that, he would become a mere figment of a dream for her — just like all the other human he had bedded before. Sure, it was hypocritical of him to play around with them like that but he always reassured himself sickeningly that he wasn’t doing any harm by doing so. If anything he just gave yet another human a good time — a time they would never find in the touch of any other human. He also induced partial amnesia in them so that they would not go insane from longing for him. It’s a win-win, Jake thought to himself, smirking, as he pulled his suit over, fixing the placement of his lip ring with a flick of his tongue.

As he climbed out of the window ledge however, he heard the familiar sound of wings fluttering.

“Sooner or later, they’re going to catch on Jake.” Jake knew who it was immediately.

“Stalking me isn’t going to rake you scores Sunoo,” Jake scoffed as he turned around, meeting the eyes of the pale messenger who used to be his deskmate during his training days, “you’d be better off striking hearts instead. Your scores last quarter is dangerously low – you know you’d get demoted if you keep at it right?”

Sunoo swallowed thickly, “I can’t help it, love doesn’t last that long anymore these days. I can’t strike their hearts to one another knowing that it will only end in heartbreak.”

“That is exactly your flaw. You care far too much,” Jake sighed, “Come on, our threshold for successful matches is only in love that lasts for 5 years. Just keep that as a goal — ignore what happens within and beyond and you’re on your way to glory.”

“Not all relationship that lasts 5 years is love,” Sunoo’s voice hardened, eyes quivering as if trying to not believe the words that came out of Jake.

“Does it matter?” Jake shrugged, “love takes various forms. Innocent, tempestuous, scandalous, obsessive, toxic. Whatever happens, heartbreaks are part and parcel of life isn’t it? If it’s too much, we can always mend their heart by latching them onto another which then counts into our tallies and-“

“They’re not mere scores Jake. Hearts can break irreparably,” Sunoo interjected, brows twitching in what looked like a mixture of disbelief and disappointment, “you’ve changed.”

“As if you haven’t,” Jake winked as he slipped off the windowsill, his large wings fluttering open, keeping him afloat, “I know you’ve ventured down the Abyss to procure certain spells to alter your scores every quarter Sunoo,” Jake smirked, feeling triumphant at the hint of guilt evident on Sunoo’s gaze, “you’re not anymore moral nor ethical as I am. It's okay, we all got our vices. Just keep out of my affairs Sunoo and we’re cool.”

And just like that he disappeared, feeling re-energised from his night-long endeavour. In fact, he raked more scores than normal that day — the success of which was also aided by the fact that it was the first sunny day after weeks of torrential rain, bringing more people out and about, all in their Sunday best and in the brightest of moods, making it easier for his poisoned arrows to work its magic.

That was probably why you stuck out like a sore thumb to him when he was lingering at the traffic intersection for in the midst of people in bright and colourful get-up, with a delightful expression to match, you were decked in monochrome, with expressions so somber and eyes on your phone screen. When you finally looked up, your face contorted into a grimace, absolutely disgusted by the couple who was kissing in front of you.

The so-called Love cynics, Jake remembered a lesson back then, someone who is aversed to love. Could be Asexual, could be a product of trauma, could be just hardened by age and cynical outlook. They will be the hardest to bend but the biggest of catches. Jake’s hand was already reaching for another arrow in his quiver, his mind working hard in analysing your personality and trying to match it with dozen of other men within the vicinity — the perfect match of which he found in no time at the PhD student just across with whom you could share your intellectual interests with and with whom your more rational and logical tendencies could live in harmony with.

“Perfect,” Jake thought to himself as he directed his arrow in your direction, the strings taut in his fingers. Just 2 seconds after the light had turned green, Jake let his arrow go. That was an easy kill, Jake smirked triumphantly, confident that his calculations on timing, distance and strength, would have struck you precisely when the other guy would have come into your direct line of sight.

But then you suddenly ducked and all hell breaks loose for not only had Jake missed but his arrow struck the worst of targets: an expecting mother and, just across, a man who was on his way to his own wedding. It was a potential multiple breach of ethics that would have summoned him right to the Court Office.

“Fuck,” Jake cussed, blazing past the throng of crowd, scrambling for a lead-tipped arrow that is meant to reverse his magic, and stabbing it onto the woman just seconds away before she lurched towards the man.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, puzzled, as the lady who had stopped right in front of him with arms outstretched paused, looking dazed, before apologising. Jake exhaled sharply at the close call. Brushing his hair back in annoyance, he looked around, eyes frantically scanning for the you - the troublemaker - though by then you were long gone, swallowed by the bustling crowd.

“That’s a bit annoying,” Jake grumbled, shooting another arrow at someone else whom he quickly found a match for on the other side of the road. That union, he projected, would last at least 9 years but even that couldn’t quell the distaste he felt in his mouth after his near-miss – the distaste of which lasted almost all day despite the successes he raked.

And so that night, he stayed back in the human world during forbidden hours, finding you very easily through his network of friends. While you weren’t his first miss, you somehow continued to linger at the back of his mind, haunting him all day.

Sitting by your windowsill, he observed your every move as if you were a specimen to behold. He watched you get so engrossed in your report; watched you get annoyed by how your regressions didn’t come out the way you expected; watched in amusement at the way you’d accidentally dozed off, only to spring back to typing when you jolted awake.

“What are you so engrossed in?” Jake wondered out load as he floated inside, peeking over your shoulders, “Aww,” he cooed, “look at you, burning the midnight oil to finish up a policy paper to save the poor,” he sat onto the empty space on your table, next to your screen, “but who’s going to save you, you miserable poor loveless thing.”

“I could I guess,” he brought his knees up, hugging it close to his chest, “I do love a challenge,” he mumbled, chin resting on his knee as he watched you with a specific glint in his eyes, “I’ll make your first your last, how’s that?” 

It shouldn’t be hard, he thought, after all, there are 8 billion of people in this world. There are already about a hundred in your apartment building and a couple of hundreds more in your office block, and a couple hundred thousands more between your journeys. The probability is enormous, the possibility is endless, he smirked to himself as he lowered his face towards you, leaning in so as to whisper something in your ear, “you’ll thank me.”

Such optimism and excitement however quickly dissipated in the span of a few days as you somehow magically always evaded his golden arrows in time, causing him to have to use his expensive and hard-acquired lead-tipped arrows to reverse most of the effects. 

“You can’t see me right?” Jake floated in front of you, waving his hand maniacally before inching his face so close towards you as if trying to confirm whether or not you had a built-in radar for him.

As he parsed your history more, it became clearer just how difficult it would be to match you with anyone. Not only was your interest in a getting a partner or dating almost nil but you minimise any opportunities to find one as well: not engaging in social niceties beyond necessary; being oblivious to any interests towards your way; distancing yourself when you detect any hint of interest; and the list goes on. Indeed a ‘Love Cynic’ to the T.

The thing about hardened love cynics is that, while they are the biggest catch, they could also be your biggest downfall if you fail. This is because love cynics, once heartbroken, would feel despair and anguish like none other which just serves to fuel their skepticism and opposition to love afterwards – the result of which would burn holes in the records of any messengers who was in charge of them. Hence, they are always avoided especially by the average messengers.

But then again, Jake was not just your average messenger. He was amongst the best, rivalling some of his predecessors even with some scores made in turning love cynics around. So it was not all surprising just how obsessed he was with getting you a match.

One day, an opportunity came in a silver platter for him as the elevator you guys were in opened to a lad from IT, whose attraction for you was very evident from the way his face lit up, “y/n, it’s a been a while!”

“Well would you look at that,” Jake sung as he pulled an arrow from his quiver, grinning triumphantly. Jake did not even need to parse his mind to see the interest he had for you as it drips from his gaze to his voice. But as he looked back at you, who had shot the other guy the briefest of smile before whipping your phone up to mindlessly scroll your email, Jake’s grin immediately faltered. “You are seriously helpless y/n,” Jake sighed, looking almost as if he was in a trance as he inched closer, pressing the golden-tipped arrow against your back – the puncture of which would have struck your right through your heart, “your attitude needs fixing y/n or else you’ll never find someone—”

Jake was really just 3 seconds away from puncturing you when you recoiled. He initially thought you might have somehow felt the sharpness of his arrow but turned out the guy’s hand was just trailing languidly down your arm.

“Are you still angry about last time?” the man scoffed, the seemingly-warm smile fading almost immediately, “I told you last time, that night was a mistake. I was drunk and I tried to kiss you. That was it. I didnt even managed to do it since-“

“I don’t care about your reasons, you crossed the line,” you replied curtly, “and right now you are one step away from crossing another line. Remember what HR said last time? The next time it happens, they’re just one visit away and you’d immediately be out of the Ministry.”

His lips contorted into a wry grin, the annoyance becoming evident in his voice and face, “you must feel all high and mighty just because you’re in a more superior position than me,” he inched closer, looming ominously, “do you really want to know what true assaults are like-“

Almost too calmly, you hit one of the elevator buttons, its door opening just 3 floors before your destination as you turned your phone towards him, the screen showing a recording in progress, “show your face to me once again and this recording will get sent straight to a public forum. You won’t just be laid off here but this would burn holes in your record making it hard for you to find a new job.”

The man backed away finally, looking every bit flustered, “no wonder you’re still single, you’re a fucking witch-“

“And you’re just one fucking phone call away from being hauled off,” you interjected as you stepped out of the elevator despite it being 3 floor away from your destination. You hear him mutter curses loudly as you walked away. 

Jake was still open-mouthed as he trailed behind you, “that was,” he caught up, hands clapping, “pretty badass. I really thought I needed to step in for a second there but you,” he slipped through the closing door of the emergency staircase which you had just opened, “you were fearless. You were-“ he stopped short as he watched you stood immobile as soon as you entered the emergency stairwell. As if losing the strength in your knees, you leaned weakly against the door, head bowed down.  

Jake watched in confusion as you slid down, your breathing growing rapid, chest heaving, hands trembling as you muttered through gritted teeth, “get it together, y/n. It’s nothing.”

Jake knelt next to you, his mind delving into a specific parcel of memory from the night when you first met the guy earlier — the night when, under the pretense of drunkenness, had tried to corner you into an empty meeting room and tried to kiss you. “Shit,” Jake finally said, brows furrowing in a mixture of concern and guilt. Just moments ago, his competitiveness could have gotten you ensnared with the guy who almost assaulted you — the guy who had caused so much terror in you.

“I’m sorry,” he scooted closer now, feeling guilty. Now Jake may not be a saint nor would he call himself virtuous by any means but he was no devil either. As much as you grinds his gears with your aromantic and callous ways he would never match you with someone like that. 

He sunk beside you, forlorn, his hands ghosting your shoulders. He wanted to apologise but it's not like you could hear him anyway. He wanted to comfort you but his hands would just go through you. He felt oddly powerless. So instead, he stayed next to you in silence, straining his muscles so that his arms just ghost around your shoulders. When you finally calmed down, you leaned back against the door, exhaling sharply. 

Jake watched you intently, his gaze softening. “You know what,” he muttered quietly, “I’ll find you a really good guy — someone who will give you the world. Give you everything.”

For the first time in a while he didn’t see a mere tally to be crossed off the list. Instead he saw a person — a person who deserved the best and most purest form of love he was capable of finding. He rose up, his body curling over your back, leaning down to whisper a promise in your ear, “I give you my word.”

— ii.

Days turned to months and still Jake Sim could not find a match for you. Except this time, the fault lay mostly in him for he could not find anyone good enough for you. They are always lacking or excessive in something and he didn’t want to risk it falling apart. 

Not for you at least. 

And so in between entwining others’ hearts, he would linger around you, following you closely wherever you go, whatever you do. Like a specimen to behold, he watches your every movement and ponder over it up to the point that he remembers your habits and quirks like the back of his hand: how you like your coffee; how salty you like your food to be; the detours you take; your music tastes; the changes in your jogging routes; when you will get cold; when you’d start getting bored of something; and so on.

Eventually, it all fell into a routine. As you settle into your home, he settles with you – as if he belonged there. As you try things out and push boundaries, Jake was also always around, cheering you on – as if his morale support counts. As you considered your choices such as during shopping or working, Jake would share his thoughts and opinions about it to you as well – as if you could even hear him. 

Soon he begun to fill in the silences with you, telling you of his day; the matches he made; the realm he is from; his past and so on – venting on and on, as if you could hear him. 

And whenever you retire to bed at night, he no longer takes it as his cue to return to his realm. Instead he settled right next to you — watching you over like a Guardian Angel.

At least that’s what he deluded himself of until his eyes begun to wander farther each nights, pulling his mind deeper into the recesses of which he never ventured to before with you. It started slow, from eyes wandering, tracing the outlines of your face and body; to gaze lingering at your lips and your exposed skin, heartbeat racing as he wondered how they would feel under his. Soon he would find his hands balling into fists, fighting an invisible battle between desire and duty. Still he could never tear his gaze away from you.

The true test however came one night when you suddenly rolled over to his side, your face perfectly aligned with the crook of his neck and your hand perfectly landing to where his hand was. While this was nothing major compared to whatever he had gotten up to in the sheets, it sent his heart racing like none other. Almost automatically, he brought his hand up to your face, ghosting the outlines of your jaw, pausing by your chin as his gaze become fixated on your lips which was plush and parted slightly — so innocent yet so tantalizing and inviting. 

Desires begin to muddle his mind, self-control cascading as he transformed himself to his human form. The space he occupied sinking instantly with his weight, causing you to stir in your sleep. Alarmed, Jake immediately hovered over you, his hand gently covering your eyes as he whispered words laced with enchantments in your ears, “it’s all just a dream love.”

He slowly slid his hand down your face, thumbs caressing your cheek softly as he watched how your brows furrow as your instinct and will to wake up warred with his enchantments. Jake leaned down, planting soft kisses on your neck, “go back to sleep.”

Finally you eased up, gradually laying limp in his embrace. Jake smiled softly at the sight, that was close. He should have pulled away then but as if there was a magnetic pull, Jake could not tear himself from you nor did he want to. As if his senses were on overdrive, he could feel everything amplified. The way your body was perfectly dwarfed under his larger frame was evoking something primal and protective within him. The warmth emanating from your body was warming his own, enveloping him, making his skin tingle in anticipation. The scent of your hair and the lingering fragrance of your soap — a mélange of florals and greens — enticing him, intoxicating him to draw closer.  

His fingers begin to trail down, tracing patterns along your jaw, down your neck, to your collarbones. Your skin was soft and smooth and he marvelled at the sensation of it all against his fingertips. Every touch sent jolts of electricity through his body, igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole.

Eventually his eyes returned back to your lips — these damned lips, he thought as the pad of his thumb brush softly over your lower lip, watching the soft flesh softening and bending under the subtle pressure of his fingertips before springing back to its plush and supple form, plunging his mind to treacherous depths where he envisions that it was his lips doing the undoing, mouth devouring yours, tasting the sweetness that he knew could be savoured on his tongue.

That was when something snapped and the next thing he knew, he had lowered his mouth to yours, gently pressing his lips against yours, intoxicated by the softness of your lips and the warmth which was enveloping him whole.

That should have been it. He should have pulled away then. After all, he just wanted a taste. But the more tasted, the more he craved and soon he found himself claiming your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. As your lips parted under his insistence, his tongue plunged deep inside your mouth, as if seeking to devour you whole. You tasted like honey and sin and Jake just couldn’t get enough, yearning for more.

Desperate for more contact, his hand was already gripping your clothes, tugging it down, resulting in a slight tear – the sound of which knocked him back to his senses. He pulled away, breathing ragged, startled by the state he had reduced you to. Your hair was slightly disheveled, lips swollen, and shirt hung loosely off one shoulder, exposing a bruise that was blooming on your collarbone – physical manifestations of the intensity of his desires. Guilt seized him as he realised the extent of his actions and almost immediately, he backed away from you, recognising the depths of depravity he was capable of reaching. With self-control hanging by a thread, he knew he would lose all forms of control if he stayed any longer so with a heavy heart and mind still reeling from conflicting emotions, Jake teleported himself back to his realm.

You jolted awake not long after, your heart pounding in your chest as you sat up in alarm. It must have been another nightmare, you thought, trying to shake off the lingering sensations of paralysis that still clung to your body. With a dismissive shake of your head, you laid back down, your lips feeling strangely sore and dry. As you licked your lips, your eyes flickered open, tasting something metallic on your tongue. Curious, you brought your fingers to your lips, probing the spot that throbbed. To your surprise, your fingers came away smeared with blood.

— iii.

Back in his realm, Jake wasted no time in seducing a couple of others, spending the rest of the night in a blur of ecstasy in a bid to distract and numb himself with pleasures. Perhaps, the temporary pause in his libertine pursuits had led such desires to fester dangerously, he thought.

Except when he woke up the next day, you still bore at the back of his mind. Almost as if scalded, he could still feel the warmth of your skin in his hand, the softness of your lips on his lips. Worse, he yearns for it – yearns to feel more.

Something was going wrong, he thought to himself as he lingered around the market just outside of the apartment where he had spent the night at. Eager and desperate for a distraction he wandered further, letting himself be lost in the hustle and bustle of the morning crowd, looking aimlessly at the selection of fruits and flowers being sold.

As he passed by one of the exits however, he caught a glimpse of an archway materializing at a desolated corner, dark and thorny vines crawling out from within as if calling him. He had passed by this corner of the street a billion times before but he swore he had never seen the archway.

He called upon one of the boys playing nearby, “Hey, is that like the entrance to a new market or something?”

The boy squinted to where he was pointing but only looked back at Jake weirdly, “what do you mean? What archway? It’s just the unsightly brick wall-“

“There,” Jake pointed again, adamant, “the alley-“

“Sir, you’re either trying to scare me or you need your eyes checked because I’m seeing nothing but a dead-end,” the boy grimaced, shaking his head as he rejoined his friends in the crowd.

“What an insolent bast-“ he stopped short, looking back at the alley, the vines getting longer and longer. He suddenly realised what it was and why no one was seeing it. The Abyss, he muttered to himself, recalling all the tales he was told during his schooling years about a portal to another dimension – a dimension that is akin to a black market, having absolutely anything one could ever desire especially the most forbidden and illicit of desires. Hence why entering the realm has been forbidden, especially to those like Jake who hold official positions and is considered amongst the most noble and elite of beings.

But curiosity got the best of him. After all, the Abyss cannot be sought for it seeks on its own instead. In fact, rumours has it that only those with dark desires could open up the portal and Jake was confident that he had none of that. After all, he has absolutely everything anyone covets: good looks; wealth; reputation and glory. If he wanted he could get promoted; get the hottest girl in town; get the most lavish manor in the realm; and so on. Feeling haughty, Jake pulled his cloak over his head, slipping past the crowd towards the archway, "let's see what you think you can offer me then."

To Jake's disappointment, nothing had materialised so far no matter how deep he ventured. It was just an misty alley with faint cacophony of noises like murmurs, bells, and chatters. Jake scoffed, see, he thought to himself, no dark desires.

When he turned around to go back however, his grin faltered as the alley now disappeared, replaced by a literal abyss.

“Everyone has dark desires young man.”

Jake jumped, startled. Behind him was an decrepit old man, face hardened with wrinkles, “you’re not the only Elite who has walked these paths,” he grinned lopsidedly, “I can assure you they all thought the same way you did. Head held high, face grimacing in contempt as if they had just walked into muck. But in the end, they were always the ones who went so far as to trade their powers and long life – always the one ended up becoming the most wicked. Exactly the ones tragedies are made about.”

Jake swallowed thickly. He can see shadows forming behind the man, making the outlines of a mass of people congregating as if he was an exhibit. The muffled sounds now growing louder – almost like a bedlam. “Nothing is materializing though,” Jake managed, trying to cover the fear that was brewing within.

“Young man,” the elderly scoffed, “you being able to open up the Abyss alone is a feat no ordinary goodie can do.”

Suddenly a gust of wind hit him, causing Jake to cover his face with his cloak. By the time he pulled his hand away, he was back in the market – right where the arch was – except this time, there was no arch. Like the boy from earlier said, it was a dead end. There was a sudden ringing in his ear, causing him to double down, before everything quietened almost too deafeningly.

Come again once you know what is it that your heart truly desires boy.

Jake spun around, alert. But the old man was nowhere to be found.

— iv.

Troubled and unsettled, Jake went back to the human realm to find you. You had, after all, became his own little solace – like a home to return to. Even if you couldn’t see, hear nor feel him — all he needed was you close by. 

Except just when he needed you the most, he couldn’t find you. You weren’t anywhere you were supposed to be nor anywhere you could be. This would not have alarmed him so had he not also been able to sense you.

Fuck, he panicked, wings almost set ablaze as he rushed from one place to another at impossible speed. There could only be one reason as to why he could not sense someone he had 'targeted': the target had been struck by others.

“No no no no no,” he muttered in disbelief, chest heaving in panic. Jake never lose control nor composure but right now, he was spiralling. Gone was his pride by the time he appeared by Sunoo’s doorstep, dishevelled and manic, spitting out his version of events.

“You weren’t supposed to go down the Abyss!” Sunoo chastised him the moment Jake told him about it, “you know just venturing there robs you of your power – albeit momentarily.”

“Is that what this is?” Jake paced back and forth, “must be right? that I can't sense her simply because of whatever curse the Abyss had put on me?” He grasped Sunoo by the shoulders, eyes wild with fear, “–not because she has been struck?”

“Jake–“ Sunoo croaked, caught off guard by Jake’s sudden outburst and outpour of emotions, “–just, please calm down first. Since everything seems fine to you, it’s possible your loss of detection is the momentary punishment for going down the Abyss but... we can’t also be sure that she has not been struck yet.”

Jake knows that very well. Except, he didn’t expect that the loss would have impacted him this greatly. It was true what they say then. That the Abyss is so wretched and cursed, just venturing down will rob you of something that is very valuable to you. He never considered it before, thinking that losing his ability momentarily would probably do him good – giving him the respite he so badly needed after working so hard. Little did he know, it struck him exactly where it hurts.

“When will it come back?”

“If it’s your first time down there, probably a night. But the more you go, the longer the effects last,” Sunoo sighed, “Just wait until tomor-“

“I can’t fucking wait until tomorrow,” Jake bellowed, infuriated, before sinking onto a nearby couch, head buried in his hands as he tried to calm himself down. Sunoo sighed. It was the first time he saw Jake so wrecked, it almost pained him. "The Royal Scotts Rooftop," Sunoo muttered quietly, guilt evident in his voice, "I followed the girl earlier, hoping to find you. When you weren't around, I thought maybe you've lost interest- that'd be good-" he paused, "but I guess, you've never lost it."

Jake rose up immediately, he wanted to berate Sunoo for not telling him sooner but at that time nothing could top his desire and urgency to find you so before Sunoo could even finish, Jake had taken off.

— v.

Despite the sea of people on the rooftop of the 5-Star hotel, he could immediately spot you.

His face immediately lit up, materializing behind you within seconds. “I’ve searched everywhere for you,” he sighed, gaze softening, before suddenly feeling a hand go through him towards you. He turned around, seeing that the hand belonged to a well-dressed man with ‘Jay’ on his name tag – a consultant from another company who had worked with you on a project a year ago, “the confettis,” Jay mumbled, inching unnecessarily close – at least by Jake’s standards – towards you to try and ruffle some from your hair.

“Oh thanks,” you reached over to your hair, trying to take them out yourself, before breaking into laughter over the fact that Jay had a lot of glitter in his, “dude – you’re worse-“

Within seconds Jake had already parsed Jay’s character and his history – finding that, despite the clash of characters, Jay would be good for you. He was very giving, affectionate, and selfless – something you, Jake thought, definitely deserve. Jay definitely is the best match out of all the potential matches so far, Jake thought to himself.

This should have been enough for him to rejoice at, for him to start reaching for the arrow in his quiver. After all, it’s rare to see you interact socially with men and have a good time with them — even rarer to find that particular man to be one of the best match he had come across for you. Sure, you two had really strong characters that would square the other at times but Jay would ultimately always be willing to break himself for you and give you the world. 

Had you been any other person, Jake would have already struck you both in seconds, latching you both together. But peculiarly, his mind was working on overdrive finding 1001 reasons not to instead. “Come to think about it,” Jake reasoned, feeling irked by the second, “this man is too affectionate and too selfless. You wouldn’t want someone like that right?” he materialised behind you, whispering in your ear as if you could hear him.

When you excused yourself to get some refreshments, Jake continued trailing behind you, ranting on and on as if trying to justify his actions. Or lack thereof, “I mean, eventually people like those will just bog you down,” he overtook you, stopping right in front of you, gesticulating wildly, “the kind that will make you stay out of guilt – make you second guess your own personality and character. I can see it happen y/n.”

He could see then that a tall guy near the podium was staring right at you — the interest and attraction evident in his eyes. “Heeseung-“ Jake read the name on his tag, his mind already parsing through him, seeing that Heeseung was one of the senior officers in the department just across of yours to whom you had always held high regard of. Him to you too. Again, this would have been a perfect match. Unlike Jay earlier, his personality and character would hardly ever square yours. He’d always relent to your choices and your ways, letting you call the shots. 

You caught a glimpse of Heeseung, giving a quick nod of acknowledgement and almost immediately Jake blocked your view, as if it even does anything, “not him either y/n,” he argued defensively, “he’s a hopeless romantic. You’d get sick of him in the long run.”

Just next to Heeseung is another guy who also by then kept throwing glances at you. Ni-Ki, an intern who was under your tutelage just a year ago but has since then moved on to other department. Jake grimaced as he parsed through the young lad’s memory, “definitely not him. Too young, still childish.”

Eventually, you turned away from the crowd, and looked out at the street below, your mind reeling from all the socialising you’ve had to do earlier. As your mind wandered, you find yourself becoming increasingly lost in your own thoughts, unaware of the intense gaze fixed upon you. “No one here is deserving of you y/n,” Jake murmured softly as he leaned sideways against the baluster, his eyes transfixed on your profile. 

As if spellbound, Jake studied your features as if you were a work of art. His eyes traced the delicate lines of your face, the curve of your cheek, the gentle slope of your nose, and the soft fullness of your lips. He inched closer, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, until he was so near that you could have felt his breath on your skin, had he been tangible.

And then, in a sudden twist, you turned your head abruptly in his direction, your eyes locking with his in direct precision almost as if you could sense his presence and see beyond the veil of invisibility that cloaked him. He watched, completely paralysed, as your brow twitched ever so subtly, hand raised close towards where his cheek were as if you could really perceive him. Jake’s breath hitched — enchanted — as he gently angled his face towards your palm, slowly resting his cheek against your hand, imagining the warmth of your touch, the softness of your skin. 

Lulled by the possibility, Jake's throat tightened, bringing his invisible hand up to yours, ghosting over it as if cupping it — yearning for the connection to be tangible, for you to see him, to feel the touch that he so desperately wanted to give.

He still have not fully understood the swirl of emotions and feelings he harboured for you but in that moment — when it felt like there was only you two in this world — he knew he wanted this. You for him, and him for you. 

He wanted to freeze time, to prolong this moment of connection that felt so right, but a voice broke through the intimate silence, shattering the fragile bubble he had created.

“You haven’t changed a bit-“

Jake felt a large hand pass through his, taking hold of yours, and his heart constricted with a pang of longing. The hand he had wanted to grasp, to hold, was now in the possession of another man — a tall and pale senior coworker who was supposed to still be on an overseas posting. Jake's breath hitched as he looked up and witnessed the smile on your face, a smile that he had never seen directed at anyone else. 

"Sunghoon?" your voice lit up with surprise and delight, and Jake felt a stab of jealousy at the warmth in your tone, "I thought you won’t be back for another two years!”

Jake stepped back, his invisible form fading into the shadows as he witnessed the reunion between you and Sunghoon. The hand he had longed to hold was now entwined with someone else's, and the smile he had wanted to claim for himself was shining for another. The warmth, familiarity and endearment between you and the man was so evident that it begun to stir something unfamiliar within Jake — a mix of protectiveness and longing that he couldn't quite name.

“Thought life here was much better so I sped the contract up,” Sunghoon shrugged haughtily.

“I bet it's because I wasn’t there,” you joked, trying to match his playful haughtiness. Usually Sunghoon would have replied with something equally as smug but somehow, something has changed and you could feel it in the way his eyes bore into yours and the way his hand had tightened over yours, lingering purposefully far too long for it to be casual. “Exactly,” he answered almost too genuinely you find yourself at a loss for words so you do what you do best — feign nonchalance, “oh bugger off,” you playfully yank your hand away, “What have America done to you!”

He grinned mischievously, “well, you know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

You shook your head dismissively though the smile that has never left your lips and the way your eyes never broke his conveyed more than words could ever.

“Can I get a hug now? You never visited like you promised you would,” he extended his hands, brows wriggling playfully.

“I never made such promises but fine-“ you shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance, as you let him draw you nearer, let him engulf you in his large frame. You have hugged him before but this time, this too, felt different. “I’ve missed you y/n,” you feel him bend lower so he could bury his head in the crook of your neck and you feel his hand slide over your waist almost too intimately for it to just be a friendly hug. 

This time however you didn’t feign nonchalance, deflect nor playfully reject him. Instead you let yourself sink fully into the warmth of his embrace, your hands reaching up to hug him back as your head leaned against his chest, eyes shut as you murmured softly, “me too.”

Jake had never seen a more perfect pair. Sure you two had your differences but together, you guys complement each other seamlessly like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. Your strengths balanced each other''s weaknesses, and your personalities would harmonize in a beautiful and enviable symphony of love and understanding.

Now would have been perfect, Jake found his rational self thinking, his hand automatically reaching for a golden arrow from his quiver. But instead of nocking the arrow and releasing it toward its intended target, he found himself hesitating, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip.

In a surprising twist, Jake turned the arrow on himself, driving it into his own chest, directly over his heart. Immediately, the arrow exploded into a shower of glittering dust, as was its nature. Although the arrow had no physical effect on beings like him, with the way his interest and attention on you has dangerously warped with a mix of attraction, desire, and lust — he might as well have been shot with one. 

How peculiar, he thought. He had always wondered how does such intense love which human shared with one another feel and yet now that he felt it rising from within, all he felt was bitterness rather than joy. 

The glittering dust that lingered in the air seemed to mock Jake, serving as a tangible reminder of the complex emotions swirling within him — emotions of which was increasingly blurring the lines between duty and desire. While usually symbolising some sort of celebration, the glittering particles which was still dancing around him now felt like a warning, a sign that his path was veering into uncharted and potentially dangerous territory.

He knew then, perhaps a little too late, that he wanted you. Wanted you for himself.

— vi.

Since then gone was the desire within him to match you with anyone. In fact, gone was his desire to match anyone at all as he becomes increasingly preoccupied with you — more specifically, his desires for you.

He had begun to take on human forms longer than usual, trying to get your attention, trying to slip himself into the fabric of your life. But the task, which usually had been easy for him, was difficult this time because apparently his face and charms weren’t enough.

Having observed you for a long time he knew that blatant attention and attraction would put you off so he made sure to lay and play each parts carefully and strategically, making it seem as if everything was coincidental.

“Hi, I believe this is yours?” You asked innocently when Jake opened his door. In your hand was a parcel which had his name and address but somehow wrongly delivered at your doorstep.

Finally, Jake thought to himself, his heart almost leaping out of his ribcage. He had been waiting impatiently the whole day for you after having paid someone to deliver the package wrongly at your doorstep.

Almost effortlessly he feigned surprise and confusion, “right, sorry about that, I’m new in this apartment block so maybe there's a mix-up," he shrugged, careful to not look overeager, "been waiting for this limited copy of 1984 to arrive, thank goodness it got wrongly delivered in the right hands otherwise it would probably get resold in ebay or something—"

“1984?” Your face lit up. Of course my dear, it’s one of your favourite books isn’t it, Jake answered in his mind. Oblivious to the glint in his eyes and the subtle twitch of his lips, you continued excitedly, “I rarely see anyone around me read 1984!”

“Now you do,” he said charmingly as he offered his hand, satisfied at the way you have eased up, “my name is Jake. Jake Sim. I’ve just moved.”

“Oh I’m y/n,” you introduced, “I live in the apartment right under yours.”

I know, he muttered to himself in his mind, “thank you for this y/n. I’ll see you around.”

You nodded enthusiastically, oblivious to the way his words seemingly had double meaning.

The next few weeks Jake busied him by encroaching your life ever so subtly and strategically. You bumped into him in the same aisle at the bookstore and ended up chatting in a nearby coffee about your favourite books which somehow is similar to his. You bumped into him at dawn just outside your apartment complex before you go on your run, he himself was warming up for his, and that ended up with you two going on a run together.

Eventually you two became closer than mere neighbours that he could somehow orchestrate to get himself inside your place, “sorry about that-“ he apologised, coming out of your shower with the robe draping loosely and casually over his shoulders, making a poor effort of covering his chiseled chest and abs. 

While Jake was indeed very good-looking, you’ve always thought something about his looks seems so ethereal. But now, shed of all the sleek suits and tidy hair, he looks humanely good-looking and you found yourself almost stuttering in surprise when he got out.

“You should report it to the Head Office tomorrow," you averted your eyes towards the kettle in your kitchen, "I mean it's an expensive penthouse, how can the hot water be broken so soon? must be shoddy construction job or lack of maintenance."

“Burning the midnight oil?” He asked, leisurely leaning against the counter as he dried his hair.

“Yeah,” you sighed, pouring it into the flask where you had already added some coffee grounds and sugar. You felt the weight of his stare and out of pure courtesy, offered him as well, “oh, would you like–" you hesitated, "maybe not right? It’s almost 12.”

“Actually, yeah, that would be great,” he smiled, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that felt almost spellbinding. While Jake wanted nothing more than to bridge the physical gap in between you and him, and take your lips right there and then, he knew better than to submit to his desires this early. With others, it might have worked but with you he definitely had to take it slow. It pained him but like a prized conquest — he was willing to go through it.

Except regardless of how well-crafted his plans were, nothing could outpace what is really written. While he struggled to escalate the friendship he had built with you, Sunghoon had gotten closer and closer to you. 

When you did not come home one night, Jake re-assumed his non-human form, immediately locating you back in your office where you were burning the midnight oil with Sunghoon. 

Jake feels his anger simmering as he watched how Sunghoon latched onto you, following you wherever you go. He watched in frustration as Sunghoon hands hover close to you, as if being territorial; how his hands would even sometimes linger over yours more than necessary.

But it was the sight of you seemingly reciprocating him that was the most painful to bear: the way you let his hand lingered; the way you held his gaze instead of staring away; the way you never shifted as he drew nearer. 

The next thing he knew, Sunghoon had closed the distance between you and him, his lips gently pressing against yours, his hand snaking up your back to hold you ever closer. Jake was mortified. When you pulled away not long after, seeking a moment to catch your breath, Jake was sure then that you would have shoved Sunghoon off, perhaps even slap him for his boldness. But nothing of that sort happened for when Sunghoon re-attached his lips to yours, you didn’t resist, surrendering to the sensations he elicited, letting him devour you as you melt slowly into his embrace and touch.

Jake could feel the fury consuming him as he trudged up behind you, stabbing you with a lead-tipped arrow which would have sowed seeds of dislike for the other person but to his surprise, the arrow dissolved into dust the moment he stabbed it onto your back – telltale signs that the arrow will not work on you and nor Sunghoon.

That was when Jake knew that you were already written for Sunghoon and when that happens, nothing can usually be done because messengers are just really lower spiritual beings. That should have been Jake’s cue to give up but instead, it became a tipping point of when it all started going awry.

As his feelings festered in the worse of ways, he became more relentless and persistent in his pursuit of you. Except any small space he could have slithered himself ‘coincidentally’ into was becoming narrower as it becomes increasingly filled by Sunghoon. Soon it was Sunghoon who accompanied you running; Sunghoon who ate lunch with you; Sunghoon who accompanied you at bookstores; Sunghoon who sent you home; Sunghoon who stayed in your place until late.

There was absolutely no space for Jake anymore.

“Yes?” Sunghoon answered your apartment door one evening, not even bothering to conceal the distaste he felt within to see Jake at the door.

“Is y/n in?” Jake asked shamelessly.

Sunghoon shook his head, “she’s in the shower.”

There was an almost casual and domestic vibe to which Sunghoon was answering that question and Jake did not like it one bit. "There was a party at my workplace earlier," Jake passed on the box of cake and bouquet of flowers to him, "thought I'd share."

"Roses?" Sunghoon raised his brows, "She actually doesn't like roses. While she does like flowers, she actually doesn't like receiving them". Jake had to muster an insurmountable amount of energy not to let Sunghoon's words affect him even when he can clearly feel the venom laced in every words, "Oh and cake?" Sunghoon went on, "don't bother, she just like a spoonful or two, not the whole box."

You bastard, Jake muttered in his mind, wanting nothing more but to punch Sunghoon squarely in the face. More than that, he hated how Sunghoon knew the nuances of your likes and dislikes, making anything that Jake knew felt surface-level. If Jake knew your favourite colour, Sunghoon would probably know the exact shade of it; if Jake knew your favourite book, Sunghoon could probably cite your favourite quotes from it; if Jake knew you couldn't handle the cold, Sunghoon would probably know the precise timing of when to turn the heater on and off like an automatic thermostat. It was a sickening testament to the history and nature of your relationship with Sunghoon – of how far and deep it goes, the gap of which Jake could probably never bridge.

But Jake knows the subject of love well. With a mastery over the mechanics of love, he therefore knows exactly where the weakest links could be; where doubts and concerns can be sowed over time to topple the whole structure. In between you and Sunghoon, Jake knew your aloofness and romantically-inept nature can be a problem in the long-run with Sunghoon's possessive tendencies and predisposition towards jealousy. So Jake wanted to capitalize that.

"I mean, I just wanted to also thank her for the other night," Jake emphasized, noticing the way Sunghoon's jaw was already tensing, "when she let me shower at her place. It was so late but she was such an angel."

Jake could see the way in which the poison in his words worked it way through Sunghoon's system from the subtle ways in which Sunghoon's brows twitched and the way his jaw ticked though he tried to mask it with a diplomatic grin, "she has always been such an angel to the point of not sensing the ulterior motives in others," Sunghoon remarked with a hint of diplomatic sarcasm, "I'll make sure to pass the message. Next time it happens, let me know instead, I'll send a plumber right to your doorstep."

With that, the door closed and Jake's grin widened in triumph as he walked away, certain to have sowed instrumental doubts between you two. Except, as he lingered around the common area of your apartment floor, Sunghoon showed no signs of leaving. When 2 hours passed, he got even more agitated, impatience taking hold. It almost felt as if he was the one that has been toppled out of control. Jake had to do something though knocking at your door again is probably not the best idea.

So Jake transformed back to his non-human form – the ability of which was diminishing as days passed, the result of slacking in his duties and staying too long in his human form.

When Jake slipped inside your apartment, he could feel the dread rising, seeing the hallway too dimly-lit. “y/n,” he sighed in relief as he entered the living room and see you seated at the couch but soon the smile faltered as Sunghoon, who was beside you, leaned in and pressed his lips against yours – kissing you softly and tenderly. It was all cute and lighthearted – something Jake would have rejoiced seeing had it been any other person. But this was not just any other person. It was you. His you.

His hand gradually balled into a fist as he watched Sunghoon curled his hand over your nape, seizing you in place as he leaned in further to deepen the kiss. As the moment lingered, there was a palpable shift in the air – the sizzling tension of which was only mirrored in the way the kiss was escalating beyond it ever has with Sunghoon’s passion and desire growing more intense by the second as if he had been struck by countless of golden arrows.

Jake’s gaze hardened and as if possessed, he took out countless of lead-tipped arrows, stabbing it onto Sunghoon’s back in a desperate effort to stop him – only for each arrow to dissolve into black dusts – leaving Jake with no choice but to watch the horror unfold before him.

“Stop,” Jake croaked, hoping that you would pull away, that you would resist. But you didn’t. Instead Sunghoon’s body surged forward with urgency, forcing you to lean back onto the couch, his lips still glued onto yours. His movements were almost territorial now as he caged you in, his figure dwarfing yours completely while his hands rove possessively down your waist and up your back, tracing every curve and contour of your form, causing shiver to run down your spine.

Breathless, you pulled away, eyes locked into each other, breathing ragged, hearts racing wildly — the air almost catching fire from the sizzling tension. Sunghoon’s gaze, usually soft and doe-like, had darkened with raw passion and desire. Without anymore pretense nor hesitation, he plunged back in, crushing his lips down upon yours with fierce hunger, leaving you reeling from the force of his kiss. 

In a clear display of dominance and possession, Sunghoon pressed himself firmly against you, his lips parting yours, tongue slithering in to delve deeper, devouring you whole. It was clear then that this wasn’t just a simple kiss anymore. Jake knew exactly where it was all heading. 

And yet Jake was powerless to stop it.

— vii.

Jake re-entered the Abyss easily now for this was his 4th time. The 2nd was when he converted almost all of his riches for human money just so he can buy his disguises and play pretend in the human world. After all, the designers he wear and the penthouse above yours cost a fortune. The 3rd was when he bought more energy so he can stay longer in his human form. 

By now, the Abyss was no longer just a hazy dark alley of market with only one or two sellers visible. As Jake begin to understand and embrace all the dark desires he harboured for you, the place was now teeming with sellers.

It was true what the old man had said then, that the Abyss only reveals itself and the fullness of its world when you acknowledge your dark desires. In fact, the sellers that he can see are those who sell anything related to love and hate – as if the Abyss perfectly curates what you can see according to what your heart desires.

Jake marched to the corner where potions are being sold, the lady materialising out of nowhere, slithering in and out of the colourful fumes like a serpent. He reached for a ‘love potion’ — a bubbling concoction in deep red, “I want this but the strongest one. Get me the strongest hate potion too.”

“Gladly,” the seller cackled when suddenly the old man from the other day appeared behind Jake, “a messenger of love buying a love potion – do you, yourself, not see the irony in that young boy?”

Jake glowered at the man.

The man continued, “if someone like you can’t change her feelings, what makes you think potions can?”

Jake balled his fist, “tell me what to do then,” he lurched at the man, crumpling his collar, “you said this place has everything I could want, tell me where I could go then- who I should find- what I should buy-"

“What you want,” the man smirked, his eyes a pool of darkness, “carries a hefty price beyond all the wealth you’ve amassed.”

“Anything-“ Jake pleaded, memories of earlier replaying in his mind like a broken record, “I want her.”

Suddenly with a snap of a finger, Jake found himself transported into what looked like an underground cistern. Everywhere he looked were stretches of gigantic columns, dimly illuminated by an eerie red glow. 

Jake almost jumped, startled, when he turned around to see the old man sneering, his face contorting oddly. "The Netherworld?" Jake asked almost spitefully, "you've brought me to the Netherworld?"

“Get off your high horse young man,” he brushed past Jake, “entering the Abyss was one thing but being able to follow me into the Netherworld is another. You remember all the cautionary tales don’t you? It takes a very corrupted heart for a being like you to break through the veil and enter here-“

Jake watched the man descend down the stairs, alarmed when he saw his shadows bearing horns. When his eyes snapped back up the old man had turned into someone younger and taller — more than 2 ft — with horns curving out of his head and robes that seemed to be made entirely of black smoke, “what? you didn’t think I was an Angel did you?”

Jake took a step back, “you must be out of your mind to think that I would want to work with you, a wretched Evil Spirit of some sort?”

“You say that as if you’re spitting venom and yet the desires you have are just as wretched,” the man cackled, the shadows behind him growing imposingly large, “face it, their fates are written to be intertwined, how else do you expect to win her then? Parade as human? For how long exactly? You know you cannot overstay in the human world.”

“I saw a spell for partial mortality earlier,” Jake reasoned, startled when the man suddenly reappeared behind him, his long bony fingers gripping Jake’s shoulders, immobilising him from any attempts to run away, “right, at the cost of what Jake? Half of your wings? Entertain me then, how does mortality make you any more attractive to her.”

Jake opened his mouth, ready to answer but found no argument left. He heard the demon scoffing, his slender fingers brushing over Jake’s large wings which had by then turned a weird shade of grey from its original pristine white — symbolising the gradual corruption that had took hold, “in fact all of your converted riches would soon be used up before you can even get an ounce of additional interest from her. She is after all written for him.”

The demon snapped his fingers, reflecting you and Sunghoon at your most intimate moments on a dark pool nearby. It was a picture he had often been fantasising as of late except, the man that was taking you right now wasn't him. Consumed in fury — the emotion of which seemed to have amplified now that he was in the Netherworld — Jake shot his arrow against the reflection, the ripples causing the images to disappear. 

“Ooo, calm down lover boy,” the demon cooed, feigning fear by backing away, “I didn’t just plunge you down the murkiest of depths just to taunt you”.

“Then what?” Jake’s chest heaved in anger.

The demon smirked, suddenly looming larger than life, “there is possibly another way for you-“

“Spit it.”

“Take her away,” the demon suggested almost too lightheartedly, “bring her to this other plane. It's the only way you can fortify against the string that connects them. Wipe her memory clean, keep her preoccupied and just like that, she is all yours."

“But humans shouldn’t live in our realm.”

“Shouldn’t not can’t,” the demon corrected, “though no sooner than you can make love to her will you have the guards on your doorstep, sentencing you to death for breaking laws and ethics.”

Jake’s brows furrowed, "you call that a solution?"

The demon floated towards him, stooping to Jake's height as if wanting to appear as an ally now, "of course not, I'm just laying out all the options for you because I want to make sure that the choices you make are informed."

Jake's brows furrowed, patience wearing thin, "stop with the dramatics. You're a fucking demon, you will never make a deal that would be of the best interest for the other party."

"Well, I can shelter you both in this domain," he gesticulated wildly, "it's the only place that the guards don't venture into." The demon's grin widened as he watched the muscles in Jake's face easing, "told you I am on your side."

Visions of you in Jake's arms swirled in his mind. If he brings you here then indeed nothing else could come in between. Not Sunghoon, not anyone. There would just be him for you and you for him. Jake exhaled sharply, “what’s the catch?”

“Good boy,” the demon cackled, a throne materialising behind him and he sunk on it, “just work for me.”

Jake watched him in confusion as he looked around, wondering what would he need an extra hand for. The demon continued, “your arrows,” he motioned and suddenly his golden arrows turned black, trail of black smoke emanating from it, “use it to sow hatred and chaos. One strike on someone and his darkest desires would amplify to the point of action.”

“You-“ Jake swallowed thickly, the fables of when he was young ringing deafeningly in his head. He had heard of so many tragedies during his lifetime but he didn’t know he’d end up as the very man people cautioned him against: the elites who held the most potential but eventually turning to the dark side. Jake always thought of himself as incorruptible and yet here he was in the Netherworld, about to give up everything just to strike deal with a demon.

As if sensing his hesitancy, the pool nearest to him begin to reflect an image of you and Sunghoon in yet another intimate moment and just like that, something within him snapped. "I'll do it," Jake muttered in a low, yet steady voice, eyes glinting, "but you have to make her mine. Completely mine.”

The shadows that emanated from the demon's robe grew thicker, consuming him, leaving only loud his loud cackes echoing deafeningly throughout the cistern, "deal."

— viii.

You felt Sunghoon's hand seized your wrist, his touch firm as he pulled you onto bed. His lips found yours, tangling it in a passionate kiss, as his body clambered over yours, his touch possessive as he held you captive in his embrace. It took a considerable effort to pull away and break free from his grip which was almost like talons, "Sunghoon, come on now, I'll be back after my run-" you wedged an arm in between, stopping him as he attempted to reclaim your lips again. He sighed, burying his head lazily in the crook of your neck, "do you have to?" he murmured. There was a hint of plead in his voice, "it's not even sunrise yet."

"Exactly," you chirped, "best time to run."

Sunghoon sighed again, his grip reluctantly loosening as he rose from the bed, his hand gently snaking over your back to help you up. He hated letting you go alone for all he wanted was to keep you safe and close, by his side. But if there was anyone who understood you best in the world, it would be him. He knew how much you cherished your independence and freedom and he respected that, willing to give you the space and the alone time that you need, "promise to stick to well-lit and well-trodden paths?" he murmured softly with a gaze that is so soft and tender while his thumbs drew circles on your back, his touch both soothing and protective.

"Always," you reassured him, voice steady and calm.

You got off the bed, Sunghoon trailing closely behind, his hand never leaving yours. Once you had put on your shoes, you tiptoed towards him, planting a kiss on his lips as a reassurance. You could feel him smile into the kiss, his hand gently cradling your nape to stop you from drawing back, wanting to make the moment last longer. "Seriously," you hit him playfully and he captured your hand in his, holding onto it until you slipped out the door, lingering up until the very last moments.

Little did you know that your little kiss — an act you'd rarely initiate — would be your goodbye and little did he know that his reluctance, which was oddly so strong and defied all logics that dawn, was almost like a premonition of the tragedy that would befell you both.

— ix.

When you arrived at the park where you usually run at, you remembered feeling the dread rising. The trail was too foggy, the lights flickering doing nothing but making the whole place looked like a copy of Silent Hill. But you were always so fearless for your good, so you quell your doubts and anxieties — putting them aside as baseless.

Except when you began running, the fog only grew heavier and as you approached a bend, a massive black dog appeared out of nowhere, barking wildly at you. Startled, you veered off the main trail, hoping to outpace the menacing creature. As you hurried, your foot caught on an exposed root, and you stumbled. Before you knew it, you were tumbling down a steep embankment, the world spinning around you in a dizzying blur. You tried to grab onto something, anything, but your descent was swift and uncontrollable. Finally your tumbling ceased, leaving you in a crumpled heap, your body throbbing in pain.

As you lay there, numb and in pain, blinking against the dizziness, you noticed something peculiar about your surroundings. The familiar pine forest had transformed into a grove of ancient trees, their massive trunks reaching high into the sky. The sky, starless and moonless, was bathed in an eerie shade of dark blue as if suspended at dawn.

A sense of unease washed over you as you realized something was amiss. The air was heavy and thick with an aura of mysticism with an eerie silence enveloping the forest. You knew instinctively that something was wrong, and the urge to flee began to stir within you. But as you tried to gather your bearings and rise to your feet, your head began to reel, and your eyelids grew heavier. It was as if an unseen force was lulling you into a deep slumber.

You fought against the encroaching darkness, but your efforts were in vain and the last thing you remembered before your world turned black was a huge mass of shadow drawing nearer, its presence filling you with dread.

— x.

You woke with a start, your heart pounding in your chest as the familiar nightmare plagued your sleep once again. The dream was always the same—a black mist enveloping you as you ran, the sense of something sinister chasing you through the darkness. You sat up, burying your face in your hands, when you feel the space on the bed beside you dip. You feel a strong hand wrapped around your waist, its body curled protectively around yours. You feel him bury his face at the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses against it to calm you down. You turned your head, "Jake..." you whispered softly, meeting his warm gaze.

"Nightmares again?" he asked, voice soft and concerned, "you know dreams are just the Devil's plaything."

"Yes but-" you struggled to find the words, your mind still clouded with the remnants of the nightmare. Before you could say more, Jake hauled you onto his lap, his lips claiming yours in a passionate kiss, stealing your breath and your thoughts away. It was a kiss that made you forget the nightmare, a kiss that always felt like the first, no matter how many times he had kissed you before.

His hands roved hungrily over your back, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume all rational thoughts. You kissed him back, surrendering to his passion, feeling him press forward, his lips parting yours with a gentle urgency as his head tilted to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking yours. The kiss consumed you, sweeping away the remnants of the nightmare and replacing it with a different kind of darkness—one that was intoxicating and exhilarating. You finally managed to catch your breath when he began trailing kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at certain spots, marking you as his own, claiming your skin with a possessiveness that sent a thrill through you. You could feel his desire, his need, and it only fueled your own.

Jake could himself hardly believe the moment would ever come: of him being able to call you his, of him being able to hold you close, of you actually reciprocating his love and touch. But indeed, this had become his every day now. Yet still, he could never get enough of you, wanting to imprint every touch, every kiss, onto your skin. You could feel yourself about to fully lose yourself to the overwhelming intensity of his touch when your eyes drifted to the window behind the bed, where the grove of ancient trees stretched as far as the horizon.

"Those ancient trees outside—" you stammered, trying to fight the overwhelming sensations, "it kept on haunting me in my dreams. Like a memory—" your voice trailed off as you felt yourself thrown back against the mattress, Jake hovering over you, his eyes burning with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You know you can't go out there," his voice was calm but there was an unmistakable warning in his voice, an edge to his tone that you hadn't heard before, "it's too dangerous."

You opened your mouth to protest, to ask why he always cautioned you against venturing into the forest, but any form of protest was muffled by another searing kiss. This kiss was different, hungrier, more primal, making you breathless and weak in the knees. "You're only safe with me y/n," he muttered in between kisses, "you're mine after all," his hips pressed against yours, his hands slipping under your shirt, making you shudder.

Jake had always been gentle towards you so the aggressive and almost primal way in which he was taking you right now was making you feel uncomfortable. The warning bells in your head rang faintly, but the sensations he elicited drowned them out. His kiss was like a drug, clouding your judgment and leaving you helpless to resist. As you felt him press you further into the mattress, your hands instinctively tangled in his hair, pulling him close, your body responding to his touch with a will of his own. Just like the clothing that were shed one by one, any remnants of doubt and hesitation begin to disappear. The morning after, you would wake up as if this castle had always been your home, as if this bed had always been the one you slept on, as if Jake had always been the love of your life.

But sometimes, when the nightmare comes, striking the deepest fear in your heart, a flash of images would surge through your mind, offering a glimpse of another life. Through it all, one constant remained — a man. His face was unclear, his features blurred by the haze of dreams, but his presence loomed large, leaving you with a sense of longing and an ache in your heart that you couldn't quite explain. It was as if your soul recognized him, even if your conscious mind could not recall his name or his face. The man may not possess Jake's gentle and warm nature but he oddly felt so safe. Like home. In fact it weirdly occurred to you that even if you didn't know him, you felt like you'd run towards him on instinct if you were made to choose between him and Jake — as if he's a sanctuary.

But then you wake up, and your heart would pound from the terror of being chased while your heart ached from what felt like loss and longing. While the terror would eventually dissipate throughout the day, the ache lingered, as if a void had opened up within you. That's why you always surrendered to Jake eventually for only it was under his soothing words and tantalizing touch could you fill the void and the quiet of yearning.

Until the next nightmare strikes.

a/n: damn writing the goodbye with Sunghoon made me ache lol. Hope you like this one. I actually enjoyed writing this one even though it did took quite some time to finalise. No, there won't be a Part 2 because I suck at writing continuations lol. And yes, there will be a Part 4 for Dancing with the Devil but patience friends.

>>> | Masterlist |

#enhypen imagines #enhypenwriters #enhypen jake #enhypen jake imagines #jake sim #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #jake imagines #jake cupid #kpop imagines #jake scenarios #enhypen jake scenarios #kpop scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen supernatural au #enhypen supernatural #enhypen greek #enhypen greek mythology #enhypen fantasy

[lunareiitic]

Ahead of 2.2 tonight, I'm thinking about prisoners.

2.1 Spoilers ahead: be warned.

It was pointed out to me earlier today that when Sparkle references "two mutes" to Aventurine, that she could be referring to several people. The other mute initially appears to be Robin, since she's dead and a singer who can no longer sing. But, on reflection, Sunday has been muted just as much. In Concerto For Two, she notes with bitterness that she feels that "their" dream hasn't been realized, perhaps implying that her dream was always to share the stage with Sunday as equals.

Aventurine is a prisoner in many respects: this is simple and easy to understand. One of his Eidolon's is literally called "Prisoner's Dilemma". Penacony used to be a prison complex, and it still is, after a fashion. As I often say "if you wish to escape, but cannot, it is a prison. If you cannot escape but do not wish to do so, it is a fortress." Sunday, who seems so preoccupied with the past: he keeps a framed Concerto For Two light cone in his office, he's the first to call out Gallagher's trait amalgamation of every person he's ever loved, he's the nominal head of the Oak Family: Penacony's administrative branch. He wants to preserve the life he's built up for himself and his sister, and now is suffocating under the bureaucracy he so longed to control. Now, with the one thing he was so desperate to keep lost, he isn't even allowed the space to publicly grieve. Muted, not unlike a jazz trumpet. Firefly, trapped in her own body, slowly but surely losing herself. It's clear that the SAM armor might be some kind of stopgap measure (or perhaps its her unique condition that allows her to pilot it), but her confession in 2.0 didn't seem to be lies. She gains nothing by lying about that. Penacony is a paradise for someone like her, whose reality is so bleak. There's a reason she doesn't play her hand as early as she could: and part of that is probably plot reasons, but part of that feels... sentimental. She didn't want to tarnish the Trailblazer's memory of her: preferable to die and be replaced than to betray them. That's very natural, isn't it? That desire to prolong something sweet, even though it's impossible. And then there's Robin: prisoner in ways that reflect the three we've already met. Her trailer makes key note of this: the celebrity, the sexualization, the objectification, the derealization that comes with being such a pivotal cultural icon. If she feels that Sunday doesn't share her dreams, it's clear that he doesn't realize this: look and see his arm shining her halo in the opening of her trailer. Her very own brother, her closest guardian, being the architect of her torment. He's rather mythologized her, hasn't he? Even to her only family, Robin is a legendary figure, a perfect angel that cannot do wrong, on whom all of Penacony rests. It's interesting how once she starts fantasizing, all of the people in her mindscape become puppets or shadows: people about as real to her as she is to the masses. Sunday isn't there at all: nobody is. How much has happened since he joined the Oak Family and she (assumedly) joined the Iris Family?

A popular theory: what if Robin isn't dead? What if she faked her own death, as Firefly did? She clearly couldn't escape on her own, with her fame and importance to the Family's public image. Gallagher doesn't give Sunday an answer about why he used Death on Robin. What if she felt it was better for him to think her dead, than to think of her as a traitor?

#hsr #aventurine #robin hsr #sunday hsr #firefly hsr #hsr spoilers

[general-cyno]

I've been musing about it for a while, thanks to some posts I've read recently too, and honestly... one of the (many) fascinating aspects of zolu to me is the way they share parallels/connections and or similarities to important figures in OP's world. spoilers for the most recent arcs and reveals ahead!

perhaps the most blatant and one of my personal favorites, are luffy and zoro's similarities to roger and rayleigh. as OP's mc and someone who's on the road to become the pirate king, luffy's own similarities to roger have come up a lot throughout the story and they've been acknowledged or pointed out by other characters like shanks, rayleigh himself and yamato, for example. from the goofy parts of their personalities, to the strength of their wills, and their dreams, luffy and roger's parallels are consistent in OP,

and as seen in rayleigh's brief memory of their first meeting, the straw hat luffy received from shanks was originally worn by roger back when he was young.

albeit the circumstances are a little different - with them stumbling upon each other by chance vs luffy going out of his way to meet zoro after learning of his name and reputation - this first meeting is still reminiscent of zoro and luffy's, with both ray and zoro initially rejecting roger and luffy's invitations to join them in their journey.

as for rayleigh and zoro, there's also a bunch of parallels between the two!

due to his previous time as a bounty hunter in the east blue, zoro made quite a name for himself and as OP progresses, his renown as the pirate hunter and the straw hats' swordsman is only second to luffy's. he was also the 2nd straw hat to get a bounty, and he's usually right behind luffy whenever their bounties go up. similarly, rayleigh was (and still is) considered a legend second to roger himself, strong enough that garp still views him as a powerful foe the marines can't easily defeat and managed to scare blackbeard away from amazon lily without an actual fight, despite the latter's strength.

there's other stuff too: the eye scars, both zoro and ray being greatly skilled swordsmen, their love for booze, being users of all three types of haki and even their epithets! from what I've read from other OP fans in discussion threads and through some internet search, rayleigh's title of "dark king" in jp is actually the name or word for pluto (the god of the underworld, roman mythology's equivalent to hades) in said language. in comparison, "enma", the name of zoro's most recently acquired sword and the "king of hell" title that he claimed after defeating king in wano, are a direct reference to the buddhist deity of the same name in jp mythology, also known as yama - a god of the underworld in charge of judging souls.

from the most recent flashbacks of the god valley incident, too, you can see the physical resemblance between these duos:

(as a bit of a side note, I think it was nice that rayleigh not only took it upon himself to mentor luffy, he was also the one who protected zoro from kizaru in sabaody and after the timeskip, during the straw hats' reunion in the archipelago and as they bid their farewells, zoro went out of his way to thank him for everything too.)

all in all, considering how close roger and rayleigh were (to the point roger called him "partner"), their strength, reputation and their overall journey with the roger pirates crew - the fact that luffy and zoro share more than a few clear similarities/parallels to them is really good imo, and it speaks both of the importance of their relationship and of the kind of figures they're bound to become, or are already becoming, in OP's world and ongoing history.

although it'd be sweet to have zoro and luffy directly refer to each other as partners as well (which kid and killer, another captain/first mate duo, have done too) I'm not sure it'll happen, if only for the sake of keeping the relationships between luffy and the crew balanced, so to say. still, like I said, knowing how close luffy and zoro are and that they share parallels with other captains/first mates, I think that says a lot about them regardless and the importance they hold for each other and the story as a whole.

another interesting resemblance between zolu and characters who are connected to one another involves, of course, shanks and mihawk - both of which are not only acquainted with each other, as rivals and friends of sorts, but also served as luffy and zoro's mentors/guides at different points of their lives and presently stand as their eventual foes to face in order to reach their goals of becoming the pirate king and world's greatest swordsman.

aaand last but not least, because it's yet another favorite of mine: joy boy/nika and shimotsuki ryuma. I sort of talked about it in another post, and I find it pretty cool. nika and ryuma come from different eras and don't exactly have much to do with one another but luffy's DF awakening and defeating kaido led to "joy boy" (since luffy refused to take credit for it directly by name) being hailed as a hero to wano that's comparable and only rivaled by ryuma, who in the past defended the country and was considered a legendary swordsman, whose sword shusui (that zoro wielded for a while) is a national treasure even.

since the hito hito no mi: model nika is a mythical zoan and vegapunk's speculated that devil fruits come into existence as manifestations of hope and wishes (or a potential for human evolution someone's desired), among other things, nika's existence as an actual god is kind of a subject of current debate in the fandom BUT. the fact remains that whether real or myth, he's still mentioned in old texts and his story has been shared among those enslaved by the WG, as a call for hope and freedom. in addition, even though he was human, ryuma also became revered as a savior figure and a sword god by the folks of wano.

so when you have luffy embodying the sun god of joy and liberation,

and it turns out zoro is none other than a descendant of the shimotsuki (frost moon) family, who resembles the former daimyo of ringo and the god of the blade ryuma,

well. those are some crazy parallels luffy and zoro share outside of their equally kinda crazy and meaningful relationship, as individuals and crew.

#zolu #tp #long post #idk what oda was/is cooking with these two but it's insane lmao #as if the braincell sharing; nearly telepathic communication and almost ridiculous levels of loyalty and faith in e/o weren't enough #the manga is like. here. have all these narrative and thematic reasons as to why zoro and luffy are pretty much soulmates #love to see it #I also have Thoughts about how ray lost his home and lived on a ship when roger found him #while zoro got lost and couldn't return to his home village; which he tells luffy about after joining him #smth smth true north soulmates fate #jay reads op

[silly-goofy-vibes]

i love that they're really emphasizing that even though annabeth is "the smart one" grover and percy are both REALLY smart. and that they all bring something different to the team.

percy is really really good at figuring out all of the stuff as it relates to actual mythology. he's been here like. a week??? and he is figuring stuff out as fast as (if not faster than) annabeth. he is also really good at assessing those situations and figuring out what needs to happen in order to get to the next step and absolutely always willing to put the quest first even when it means he Will die because mr. fatal flaw of loyalty. also like i said earlier he has been thrown into this world for a week and is just completely content to go with the flow and different changes and he is so adaptable to each situation. he said it himself, he is figuring this out as he goes. the fact that he has enough control over his powers to (even if it was inadvertently) pull himself and annabeth out of the water in the tunnel of love is incredible considering that he has known about being a child of poseidon for so little time

grover is SO socially intelligent. he proves time and time again that he has the best understanding of the group's dynamic as a whole and how they best fit with each other. he is the one who has been able to help percy and annabeth best figure out how to get along and he uses his third-person perspective on their relationship to help them and provide a different viewpoint from how they're both seeing it. and in addition to that he knows how to best phrase these things to both of them in order to actually be effective instead of starting MORE arguments. and then there was the conversation with ares. grover got a LITERAL GOD to spill details to him just by knowing what cards to play when. grover has the best social intelligence out of the main three by FAR and he is single-handedly keeping percabeth from killing each other sometimes

and then there is annabeth. we all know that she has a lot of experience and knowledge about the world and the mythos, but her ability to recognize it, form a plan, and then execute it is phenomenal. and leah is playing her so well, all of the small tells that she is figuring something out before even the audience can get there make her so believable and show that her intelligence is book and strategy centered. she also keeps beliving in the quest and that there is a way that percy will be okay no matter what happens. and she is willing to do whatever it takes to figure out what needs to happen in order for him to be ok. AND THEN SHE DOES FIGURE IT OUT. she was able to get a GOD to change his mind and let percy free just because she was so stubborn and so loyal to him and was able to figure out what needed to happen for him to be safe

i just absolutely love this show so much and i'm so glad that it is highlighting each character's individual strengths and making each of their uses to the quest and each other clear

#percy jackson #pjo series spoiler #pjo series #pjo series episode 5 spoiler #annabeth chase #grover underwood

[t4tpumpkinduo]

um. cschlatt finds out shes transfem post revival. is this anything.

AUGH IT'S EVERYTHING it'suwgwudgdhgh. hold on let me explain.

i think the cschlatt transfem throughline is, again, soso easy to read theres sm to dig into and chew on. i'm genuinely bewildered it's not smthng ppl hve picked up on more because it seems so v clear to me.

guy refuses to accept help bcs he sees it as weakness makes it v clear his narrative lesson is -> he should allow himself support and compassion w/o recoiling, because he's allowed to want it and need it, w/o masking it in disgust or irony.

on that point, guy refuses to see himself as disabled despite having very very blatent disabilities that leave him in horror of himself -> a panicked assertion of power to take back "control". ok ,what is he in "control" of, what can he wield, what can he have a narrative over.

guy likes being called a pretty princess and wears dresses "as a joke", using that same irony coated sheen he uses w a Lot of the things he's afraid of being more earnest in, like his care for other people or his wants. he likes being wined and dined and cooed at, and then reacts to "feminine" things, the possibility of being "not a man", in the same wild rejection as the other two, the rejection of the body. a real man doesn't care if he's betrayed, that's why he takes it so personally. a real man doesn't care abt sm partner, who needs 'em, and thats why the bow shot becomes a canon death that he feels personally heartbroken abt. a real man isn't scared and panicked and a real man isn't disabled and isn't needy. and he definitely isn't afraid. and he doesn't like the dresses. -> well. yknow how it is.

even the gym...we don't know his limbo specifically but i think it's pretty easy to infer that the gym is at least partially a manifestation of it? ghosts are confirmed to be able to be tied to locations, like mexican dream w el rapids. and in his, he has that "control", surrounded by that ideal figure, here he's powerful and on top and sooooo intouchable. the mask worked. and it doesn't actually because it still doesn't match up w how he acts. a "real man" doesn't need anything, doesn't care about anything, and glatt is still still still so deeply needy and clingy and longing for connection, and still tries to mask it w things like "spanish lessons" and "horror mansions" tht end up just being an excuse to throw little parties in. uuwgh. who even ca(blows up 320 walls with my mind)

additionally ppl forget that limbo is supposed t like..not actually be hell lmao? it's torturous for sure but it isn't like. supposed to represent their worse nightmare? it's supposed to, i think, represent a state of being unable to move on. the train that won't ever pick you up. a existence of blankness where you can't feel a thing except waiting for the other shoe to drop. a gym full of idols that you will never be able to "live up to".

bcs of that schlatt is bigender (✌️) to me specifically...cuz he clearly likes Parts of masculinity. the little conman shtick, the big guy-isms. it's smthing he enjoys, but he's v clearly fearful and panicked abt the "Ideal Masculine Figure™️", the mythologized toxic version in his quest for control. the conman thing is fun and easy, and the freaked out assertion of "i'm a man, i'm not weak or scared, i'm not like them." is smthng else entirely.

(and again the symbolism WHATT the fuck was going on in the writer's room. the gym is handled like a trap that he can't get out of by himself, and being in the sun, being visible is tangibly equivalent to being burned. Fucking Excuse Me? Answer My Emails.)

anyways this is very brief and i could talk abt this for 53 years and counting but the thesis statement is estrogen and anti psychotics could've saved her 👍and she does eventually get revived and accepts it abt herself and he's so happy and loved. forever and ever. happy tgirl cschlatt tuesday‼️

#(guy who's insane) i'm not insane. neither are you. #n shout out to my beloved lyric fr helping me draw this up she's the ceo of this topic fr sure!! hope i could do it justice at all mwahmwa! #huri.txt #askatraz #cxyotl #c!schlatt #jschlatt

[our-lord-satanas]

FREYA / FREYJA

WHO IS SHE?

Freya is the Goddess of love, beauty, fertility, and war in Norse mythology. She is often portrayed as a beautiful and powerful Goddess who rides a chariot pulled by cats. She is known for her immense love, warmth, and affection, especially towards her close friends and loved ones. She is also known for her fierce and protective nature, which she uses to defend her loved ones and those who are innocent and vulnerable.She is one of the main Goddesses, and is associated with several domains of life, and also plays a role in war and wisdom.

BASIC INFO:

Appearance: Freya is described as a beautiful and ethereal goddess, with blonde hair and a slender body. She is often portrayed as a symbol of fertility and femininity, and she is often depicted as wearing a thin scarf or veil called a völva cloak.Sometimes she is described as having red hair and a bright, youthful face. In other depictions, she is described as having long, wavy hair and a delicate, feminine physique.

Personality: she is described as being a very loving, kind, and caring figure, who is associated with fertility and femininity. She is seen as a deity of love and passion, and is often likened to a mother figure. She is also seen as being a very compassionate and generous goddess, who is willing to help and support others.

Symbols: her chariot pulled by cats, brisingamen necklace, the boar Hildisvíni, and cloak of feathers

Goddess of: love, beauty, fertility, sex, war, battle, gold, and sorcery

Culture: Norse

Plants and trees: daisy, linden, snowdrops, lily of the valley, cowslip, columbine, pimpernel, and strawberries

Crystals: amethyst, amazonite, lavender quartz, rose quartz, moonstone, and clear quartz

Animals: horse, cat, falcon, hawk, rabbit, oxen, ladybug, swallow, and boar

Incense: dragons blood, frankincense, lavender, rose, jasmine, and other sweet and/or floral-scents

Colours: gold, yellow, white, green, red, pink, and light blue

Numbers: 9 and 12

Zodiac: Taurus

Tarot: The High Priestess, The Empress, The Lovers, The Chariot, Death, and Suit of Swords

Planets: Venus and Mars

Days: Friday, Tuesday, full or new moon, the spring and summer solstices, and Beltane

Parents: Njörðr and unnamed mother

Siblings: Freyr

Partner: Odin

Children: Hnoss and Gersemi

MISC:

• The moon is a symbol of Freya's divinity.

• The Vanir Queen is a common title given to Freya.

• The völva cloak is a symbol of Freya's power and authority.

• Heifer's milk was traditionally offered to Freya during rituals or spells.

• Freya was associated with the day of Friday.

• Many people have the belief that Freya is a Goddess of nature, but this is not necessarily accurate in Norse mythology.

FACTS ABOUT FREYA:

• In some sources, she is known as the leader of the völva, which are the female seers and mystics of Norse mythology.

• Freya is said to be the creator of the Vanir tribe of gods.

• She has given the gift of fertility to the Vanir.

• In Norse mythology, it is said that Freya received the golden ring Brisingamen from the Dwarves in exchange for her favor, which leads to the story of her affair with Odin.

• Freya is said to have gifted Skádi a necklace called Érfárátr which gives eternal youthful beauty.

HOW TO WORK WITH FREYA:

Working with of Freya involves taking time to set up a sacred space, cleaning and dedicating this space, offering prayers of reverence and gratitude, showing care and thought with offerings, asking for guidance and wisdom with your prayers, being open to messages she may send, and being mindful and attentive throughout the devotion.

PRAYER FOR FREYA:

To begin, you can address her by name and say something like: 

"Mother Freya, Queen of the Vanir and holder of golden Brisingamen, I come to you seeking your guidance and protection.

I respectfully ask for your blessing and your help in whatever I undertake. I offer you our prayers and our devotion, with respect and reverence. Please look upon us with your gentle mercy and your grace. I give myself to you, for I trust you will use me as you see fit. I ask this in your name and I pay this tribute in your honour.”

"Thank you, Mother Freya, for your wisdom and generosity. I have received your blessings and your guidance, and I ask for your continued protection and support. As you see fit, I humbly beg your favor and your grace. I give ourselves to you, and I worship you with devotion and respect. So be it. Hail Mother Freya.”

WHAT ARE SIGNS THAT FREYA WANTS ME TO WORK WITH HER?

If your request to work with Freya has been accepted, here are some signs that you can look for:

• Finding yourself drawn to her energy and feeling a strong connection.

• You feel a strong sense of devotion and reverence towards her.

• You experience synchronicity or signs that seem to indicate her presence.

• You have an urge to work with her, and you feel an overwhelming need to reach out to her.

• Freya comes to you in a dream

• She comes to you in meditation or journeying

• Cats follow you or seem to be everywhere you go

• A ladybug lands on you

• You see ladybugs or cats constantly – on TV, online, etc.

• You hear her name in random conversations or on the radio

• Open a book and her name pops up

• Another witch or psychic tells you Freya is calling you

• She sends you these 3 runes repetitively: Fehu, Berkano, and Sowilo

If your request to work with Freya not been accepted, you may notice the following signs:

• Sense of confusion or uncertainty.

• Lack of direction and purpose.

• A lack of connection and familiarity with her energy.

• A sense of doubt, confusion, or even anger.

• Feeling that something is off, or that something is missing.

• An overwhelming sense of disorientation and helplessness.

• Strong sense of frustration and even despair.

Overall you need to be respectful of deities denying your request.

OFFERINGS:

• Foods and drinks: ale, apples, barley, honey, mead, pork, chocolate, and sweet liquors

• Lavish jewelry

• Perfume

• Feeding stray cats

• Amber

• Roses

• Cinnamon

• Flowers: primrose, mugwort, bird berry, bedstraw, and flax

• Love songs

• Dancing

• Divination

•Weaponry

DEVOTIONAL ACTS FOR FREYA:

• Pray or meditate in her name on a daily basis.

• Keep a journal, record your thoughts and feelings about her.

• Create an altar or sacred space for her.

• Do not declaw her for being a Goddess of love and beauty. Recognize her for the god of war that she is, Queen of the Valkyries, and god of the Vanir.

• Decorate your home or altar with cats, honey combs, horns, or bones.

• Practice self love in it’s totally, look at where you need to grow but recognize and appreciate your strengths.

• Carry the crystals (or keep in your home): amber, rose quartz, snow quartz, gold sheen obsidian, labradorite, orange calcite, tangerine quartz, and peridot.

• Dedicate a piece of jewelry to her in honour of her Brisingamen.

• Drink floral teas like lavender, chamomile, rose, or jasmine with honey.

• Read the stories that mention her: Völuspá, Lokasenna, Oddrúnargrátr, Gylfaginning, Skáldskaparmál, Egils saga, Njáls saga, Hyndluljóð, Hálfs saga ok Hálfsrekka, Grímnismál, Sörla þáttr, and Þrymskviða.

• Use the runes Fehu, Kaunaz, Jera, and Uruz in your craft or altar.

• Plant alder, apple, birch, bramble, elder, vervain, rose, tansy, lavender, yarrow, or belladona.

• Dedicate a leg shakin’ orgasm to her.

• Take a bath in salts, roses, and lavender. Decorate accordingly.

• Enchant your make up to make you feel beautiful, confident, and strong.

• Learn self defense or kick boxing; or just do something to help you stay active and strong in her honor.

• Light incense or candles of rose, honey, jasmine, amber, strawberry, dragon’s blood, or musk.

• Learn about or listen to kulning and Norwegian throat-singing.

• Pray to her for your loved ones in battles whether it’s oversees, a disease, or an abusive relationship.

• Leave her offerings of mead, weed, wine, red velvet, roasted nuts, honey, pork, bread, or chocolate.

• Explore yourself and your body.

• Watch movies/tv shows with strong female leads (preferably with none problematic actors) like Wonder Woman, How To Get Away With Murder, Mowana, Queen of Katwe, etc.

• Spend time in nature, as she is often associated with the natural world.

• Talk to her openly and honestly about your thoughts, feelings, and concerns.

• Read or study books on Norse mythology and the Goddess, Freya.

• Consider growing some of Freya’s holy plants: primrose, mugwort, holly, hemp, or flax

• By adopting a cat (if you don’t already have one), you uplift Freya’s sacred animal. And if you can’t adopt a cat, consider donating cat food, toys, etc. to a local rescue or shelter. OR volunteer. Doing these things in Freya’s name brings her great joy.

IS IT SAFE TO EAT OR DRINK AN OFFERING I GIVE TO HER?

It is generally considered safe to consume offerings given to Freya, as she is a benevolent and merciful goddess. However, you should always proceed with caution and follow proper safety precautions when handling offerings given to deities. If you have any doubts about the safety of eating or drinking anything, it's best to err on the side of caution and not consume it.

#fyp #fypシ #fypシ゚viral #fyppage #tumblr fyp #satanism #satanist #deity #deity work #deity worship #occult #freya #freyja #norse mythology #goddess #information

[shintin]

The Dark Side of The Sun

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

One-shot 

Summary:  It hurt Satoru how Suguru could be his best friend, his companion, and his most trusted person in his life; however, he could turn and become his bitterest enemy who knew how to hurt him by using you, because he was once his closest confidant.

Word count: 5.4 k

Warnings: Jujutsu Kaisen 0 Spoilers, Angst and Fluff, Mild NSFW content.

Notes: 

According to Greek mythology, Daedalus, a mythical inventor, created wings made of feathers and wax to escape from Crete, where he and his son, Icarus, were held captive by King Minos. However, Icarus ignored his father's warnings and flew too close to the sun. His wings melted, and he fell into the sea, where he met his end. The saying “don't fly too close to the sun” references Icarus' recklessness and defiance of limitations.

The story's title was suggested by my friend, who believes that we are seeing the dark side of the sun (my beloved Satoru Gojo) here. Yeah, I'm aware of that! It's impossible for the sun to have a dark side! But that shiny yellow ball in the sky doesn't have a best friend named Suguru Geto, does it? As a result, anything is possible.

If Geto had read my story, I would have been executed as the Queen of Monkeys.

Song Recommendation: All I Ask - Adele

You can read my stories on AO3 and Wattpad and talk to me on Discord.

Go back to the master list.

It was nothing but a dream.

But,

Your lungs didn't expand. Your breaths kept coming in short bursts. A tight feeling spread through your chest, and you could feel your throat closing. You tried to scream, but you couldn't. You thrashed your arms and tried desperately to breathe, but the effort was futile. Your voice was unheard by anyone. Nobody would ever know you were dying, that your chest was filled with blood and pain, and you were in such an unbearable state of agony.

You couldn't breathe, you couldn't, you couldn't breathe—

In a flash, your eyes opened in terror, and you awoke. You were heaving in deep, harsh, gasping breaths, so overcome, so relieved to get oxygen into your lungs that you couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but try to inhale as much as possible. All your body was shaking, and your tremors were clammy, going from hot to cold too fast.

Gasping for breath was all you could do. 

Your body was drenched in a cold sweat, your brain swimming in waves of pain. Despite your best efforts, you could not shake the nightmare.

Curses dancing in the streets; sorcerers falling before your eyes; red tulips of blood blooming on the ground, wounds of love all over your body, the smell of death in the air, his dead body in a corner, and then blood again.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream; you kept telling yourself.

You shook your head to blot out your thoughts but immediately noticed your mistake. Your mind was still dense and foggy, bathed in confusion. You blinked slowly, timidly, but no matter how far you forced them to open, you couldn't seem to take in any light. In silence, you stared up at the blank ceiling. It took you too long to figure out you had woken up in the middle of the night.

A sharp gasp.

It was you, your voice, your breath, your heartbeat. Where was your head? Why did it get so heavy? You tried to clear the haze and remember, but parts of you were still numb, such as your teeth and toes and the gap between your ribs. Hmm?!

You felt strange and slow, like wandering around in the mud, as if your bones had been filled with lead.

God damn it! Neither your head nor your shoulders had ever felt heavier.

You wondered whether it was the last drop of the hangover still haunting your veins. You shouldn't have drunk that much last night, but how were you supposed to stomach your dear brother, Suguru declaring war against Jujutsu High?

Idiot!

He left everything behind just because he believed his impossible ideas would become possible if he were stronger.

Then, a series of events followed.

He was accused of killing your parents, but of course, you didn't believe it. There was no way he would hurt jujutsu sorcerers. Despite his failure, he was honorable, and you hoped he would find a way back.

Years and years passed, and for you, he became a drop of water in a desert—rare and precious. Until he showed up after ten fucking years only to throw a bunch of threats, let's curse each other on the night parade of hundred demons and cursed spirits on your face. Clearly, he had changed. Having seen his tone firsthand, you can attest to its coldness. He no longer cared about you or his once best friend because he had formed a new, better family. It seemed as though you were dead to him when you refused to leave Shinjuku with him.

Suguru thought you betrayed him by staying with Satoru, by choosing the death of your own kind over non-sorcerers or monkeys, as he referred to them. And once again, your eyes watched him walk away until no trace of him remained.

Deja vu.

Asshole! You don't need to reach the sun to enjoy its warmth! We can solve the—

Hang on a minute! Something didn't feel right. How come you were in the infirmary? Why was this gauze stretched tight across your palm?

As far as your memory helped, you didn't get injured while exorcising Suguru's souvenirs. Huh, fucking alcohol! You scoffed.

You thought it wouldn't hurt, so gingerly, you began to remove the bandages, but as soon as your finger touched it, you shuddered unintentionally. You felt so solid with blood and bones, and suddenly, you were freezing. Your skin was cold rubber against the metallic bed.

The cold, the metal, the pain, and the delirium all confused you.

Another sudden jolt to your senses, and you were more alert, more yourself. Panic erased your illusions for a single moment of clarity, and you were able to push yourself up on one of your elbows, head spinning, eyes wild as they scanned the darkness.

The wind was gnawing at the window, straining against the walls. A far-off light caught your eye. How come there were lights out there like Christmas? People! You shook your head. The rain was falling on the roof like popcorn against a pane of glass. The sky was pissed, as if the world was torn apart.

You were about to lie back down, worn out, when you saw something move.

Someone placed a blanket on you, and you inhaled sharply, confused, trying to make sense of the person. The face was warped like you saw it from underwater and swam toward it, trying, trying till your chin fell against your chest as you lost the battle.

"Drink this," the voice said. It was clear but kind of vibrant, resonating through the walls. Your ears kept buzzing. You squinted to see the face but felt dizzy suddenly, disoriented.

You couldn't keep your head straight, so without question, you grabbed the cup with your other hand and gulped the water quickly, surprised by your own thirst. When you started to feel normal, you looked at the person's face.

You saw Satoru.

He stood at a distance, eyes red-rimmed, bloodied clothes rumpled on his body. He stared at you with an unmasked look of sadness that startled you. It wasn't anything like him. Satoru would rarely stop grinning or smirking. You would think he had been crying if you didn't know him any better.

God damn you, Suguru!

He didn't blink, his hands in fists pressed into his thighs. His eyes had tragedy and beauty, something stoical which refused to be moved. He stood and stared at your pale face and your eyes. Your once bright eyes were weary, tortured, bottomless.

You didn't know what was going on in his brain, but you couldn't stomach the look on his face, the dreadful, awful pain he made no effort to conceal.

You felt like you should say something to make it right.

"Are you mad at Suguru?" you asked, forcing yourself to smile.

Satoru's eyes got widened, and he barely shook his head. He only stared at you; somehow, his reaction wasn't enough. You wavered and frowned as you looked at him.

He felt his lungs malfunction. His mind was ravaged. Hysteria had been clawing at his insides for hours now. He had no idea what you would tell him or how you would react upon seeing him. He was horrified by what was going to happen next.

"We'll find a way to deal with him."

Blood rushed through Satoru's veins, hot and fast. What? What was happening? Why did you say that? He took a step back. He seemed petrified, looking at you like he wasn't sure how to act.

"Hey," you said sweetly. "Suguru is like that, you know. Maybe I should talk to him."

He looked up, stunned, his blue eyes round. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. Had you forgotten? You insisted on having a conversation with him. Yesterday. That's how you got here. It seemed he was serious when he said his family was no exception. How dare he! It hurt him how Suguru could be his best friend, his companion, and his most trusted person in his life, however, he could turn and become his bitterest enemy who knew how to hurt him by using you, his own sister, because he was once his closest confidant. The worstl betrayal.

"I was worried for nothing last night. I wish I'd listened to you," you said. You tried to smile again, convincing him that it wasn't the end of the fucking world if your brother had made empty promises and you'd quaffed a bottle or two. After all, special occasions require special celebrations. Huh!

But Satoru seemed incapable of speaking. All he could think about was what he had to say to you and how you might react. There was a small, desperate hope in his heart that was trying to be optimistic about the outcome.

Maybe you would understand.

He swallowed hard, stared at the floor, and you were suddenly compelled to ask a question. "Are you alright?"

When his eyes became abruptly glassy with emotion, when his shoulders trembled, even as he tried to hold himself still, you felt your own bones rattled.

Something terrible had already happened, or something terrible was on the verge of happening.

You tried to crawl out of bed and failed. It was as though two anvils were sitting on your knees, everything heavy, messy, confusing, and exhausting, and you couldn't but discern the general circumstances of your situation.

Vertigo flushed across your face, and pain gripped your mind, a vague realization that you had left something overlooked. Dusty emotions quivered within you. You couldn't even remember what you had forgotten. It was too hard to pay attention to something other than his burning eyes.

"Why are you standing there?"

"I…I—Y/N," he said, his voice husky with restraint as he watched you. His eyes dug into you as if to make sure you were still yourself. He only eased when you stepped into the sea of blue in his eyes, dived right in, and drowned. Yet, it felt like someone had punched a fist into his lungs and snatched up all his oxygen.

You slowly extended your hand to him to take it and tried not to betray your dizziness and nausea.

"It's gonna be okay," you heard yourself say, but the words sounded distant, disconnected from your lips. You felt numb, like your arms had been hollowed out.

Satoru looked unconvinced, yet he was breathing extra hard and trying not to show it. His hands kept clenching and unclenching.

There was glue all over his tongue, stuck to his teeth, his lips, and the roof of his mouth, and he couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He was pretty sure he just had a seizure or an aneurysm or heart failure or something equally as terrible, but he couldn't explain any of this to you because he couldn't move his jaw even a bit.

No one ever imagined he could be so sad, so human, and vulnerable, but it was there. It was right there. Raw, written across his face like it had been ripped out of his chest.

After all, the man blamed himself for everything. This was a burden he was born to carry—the guilt.

The pain was so plain on his face that it was killing you. You felt it. You felt it was killing you.

"What's wrong?" You asked and studied his eyes; your gaze locked onto him as if trying to read him for clues. But he broke the connection too soon. He looked as if he might speak, but he changed his mind. He took a deep breath, tightening his lips to keep the words from escaping.

You gently held his hand, brushing it with your thumb as his pleasant, masculine scent filled your head, and you breathed him in almost unwillingly. It was painful to be so close and far away from him. You wanted to bridge the gap between your bodies desperately. You wanted to press your lips on every part of him and savor the fragrance of his skin and the strength of his libs. You wanted to be enveloped in the warmth and assurance of his body. It was like you had died and found your way back to him.

"We're going to get through this together." You looked so deeply into his eyes that he was surprised he hadn't cracked under secrets and lies.

You didn't remember.

"I have to talk to you," he said quietly, still looking at you as if he was trying to find something, like searching for an answer to an un-asked question.

You felt your stomach flip. Your instincts told you to panic. "Is everything okay?"

It took him long to answer, "I don't know."

You stared at him, confused. His words were just a whisper, but something wobbled through your skull. Your mind spoke in a thousand different languages that you couldn't comprehend. Satoru was so close; he was so close, and you couldn't care less about any of it. You felt neither your pain, coldness, or emptiness of the room because you felt only him, everywhere, filling everything. You disregarded the warnings from your brain.

You struggled to your feet, and when Satoru met your eyes again, he took a sudden, sharp breath. You were so close he could feel your exhalation against his chest.

There was something off about you, and he could turn his Infinity on to avoid what was about to happen, but when it came to you, Infinity, what? His entire life revolved around you, days and nights, for years. You knew every inch of his insides and outsides, and if you thought he deserved it, then he believed this was the way to die.

An overwhelming urge to kiss you overtook him, and he thought about it for a moment. Just the idea sent a thrill into his spine, a dizzying feeling that inspired his mind to jump too far, too fast. He could picture it with terrifying clarity.

His gaze swept across your face, down your neck and arms, and stopped at your waist. The memory of his kisses along your torso, his hands exploring your back, your bare legs, the backs of your thighs, his fingers hooking around the elastic band of your underwear, your soft—

Oh.

It was like you could see into his thoughts. You grazed his bottom lip with your thumb, tracing the shape of his mouth. His lips parted even though he asked them not to. You stepped closer. He tried to move, but your hand slipped behind his neck and tightened. He shook his head desperately, but the sensation was so comfortable that you could no longer feel the strange creak in your bones, the ache in your heart.

"You said you wanted to talk to me, right?"

"Yes," he said, mumbling the word. "Yes." He felt dazed.

"Can it wait?"

He didn't know what came over him.

Desperation.

Desire.

Fear.

Love.

It hit him with a painful force, the reminder of what he had done. Then he looked at you, standing in front of him, a question in your eyes, and he couldn't think of anything but how much he wanted you in his life.

"Yes, of course," he said quickly. "Of course, it can wait."

You smiled and met him here, at this moment, in an instant, then kissed him without restraint, without hesitation, and clutched your arms around his neck.

His dark uniform was all blood, while your hospital gown all white, making the scene even more surreal.

His mind was blown, lost in an emotional surge, but he backed away. His heart was pounding fiercely in his chest. He barely remembered what he was trying to do. This wasn't right. Not right now. Not when he—

You stepped forward, stood on tiptoe, and reeled him in, all warmth, heat, and sweetness. You pressed your lips to his. For a moment, he wanted to pull you against him, get drugged by the feel of you, but he didn't. He tried to break the kiss, but you held him tighter, even as you continued to kiss him, even as you touched the secrets of his body through the dirty fabric.

Soon, the whiteness and redness mingled on your gown, but you didn't care. It never occurred to you to ask whose blood was that. Why should you question it, when as a sorcerer, you were born into blood, midway through death and hell?

Seconds later,

A zippered sound and the jacket was on the floor.

He felt your hands on his arms, and he held his breath. It was wrong, but he never moved an inch. He didn't object as your hands dropped to his waist to caress the material attempting to cover his body. Your fingers grazed the skin of his lower back, right underneath the hem of his shirt, and he lost count of the times his heart skipped a beat.

Your lips were soft, still slightly parted, and now the air in the room was too tight, too full of cotton. He felt the blood pouring into his head, encroaching on every rational region of his mind.

He wanted someone to remind him what he had done, what he had to do. But he had lost his goddamned mind.

He could drown at this moment, and he would never regret it. He could catch fire from this kiss and happily turn to ashes. He could live here, die here, right here, against your hips, your lips, in the emotion in your eyes as you sank into him, your heartbeats indistinguishable from his.

This. Forever. This.

He realized at this point that this was probably the last time he would ever get to feel your love. This may never happen again. The memory of his betrayal would never allow you to forgive him.

He thought again; maybe you would understand. You had been through so much together. You had overcome so much. It may be possible to overcome this as well.

The lines of your bodies merged. It was wave after wave of ice and heat, melting and catching fire. His mouth was on your skin, his strong arms surrounding you with love and warmth.

His muscles were taut, his body rock solid against yours. He had one hand around the back of your neck, the other around the back of your thigh, wrapping you together, overwhelming you with pleasure.

There was something wild and beautiful in him today, something you couldn't explain in the way he touched you, the way his fingers lingered along your shoulder blades, down the curve of your back, like you might evaporate at any moment, like he had to have you, like this might be the last time you would ever touch, and he was dying to memorize the feel of your lips against his own.

You closed your eyes.

Let go.

You lost track of time.

You lost track of your mind.

You only knew you wanted this forever.

The pain twitched your senses, but you couldn't let go of him. You wanted him closer, impossibly closer, because you had never felt so secure, loved, or protected as here, in the intimate fusion of your bodies.

He kissed you again and again, deep and urgent. He could no longer afford to lose time. There was so much he wanted, and there weren't enough years. He had a hundred million kisses and wanted to give them all to you.

He kissed your top lip.

He kissed your bottom lip.

He kissed just under your chin, the tip of your nose, the length of your forehead, both temples, your cheeks, and all across your jawline.

His hands seized the length of your back, memorizing every curve of your figure. He kissed your neck, your throat, and the slope of your shoulders.

He was saying something to you, running his hands down your body. His words were soft and hopeless, silky against your ear, and you could hardly hear him over the sound of your heart beating against your chest. But you could see it, when the muscles in his arms strained against his skin as he fought his thoughts to stay here, with you.

He gasped loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as he reached out, grabbing a fistful of your hair. You turned your face into his chest, trailing your nose up the line of his neck and breathing him in.

"I love you," you whispered and glanced at him from below.

"Y/N—" he said, and something broke inside him.

You loved these quiet, vulnerable moments. These brackets of time stapled between dreams and reality were your favorites.

Slow motion.

Satoru was so still. So unguarded. His face was smooth, his brow unfrowned, his lips wondering whether to part.

The First seconds after he opened his eyes were the sweetest. Some days you were lucky enough to look up before he did. You knew everything about him that mattered, and today, something was different. Today you watched him stir. Today when he opened his eyes, he looked suddenly disoriented. He blinked and looked around, backtracking too quickly as if he wanted to run and didn't remember how.

Today something was wrong.

And when you took his chin in your hand, he turned away. When you kissed his cheek, his neck, and the hard line of his jaw, he closed his eyes, and something inside him thawed; something broke loose in his bones. And when he opened his eyes again, he looked terrified.

You felt sick to your stomach.

"What is it?" you asked, your words scarcely making a sound. "What happened?"

He shook his head.

"Is it me?" Your heart was pulsating. "Did I do something wrong?"

His eyes went wide. "No, no, Y/N—" he said and gripped the back of his head, looking at the ceiling.

"Then why won't you look at me?"

He met your eyes, and you couldn't help but marvel at how much you loved his face, even now. He was so conventionally handsome, so remarkably beautiful. His eyes were an impossible shade of blue. Bright. Blinking. Then there was something in them that stung your heart.

And then—

"I have to tell you something," he said quietly, looking down. He lifted a hand to touch you, and his fingers trailed down the side of your torso. Delicate. Terrified.

He hesitated for too long. Exhaled. He dragged his hand across his mouth and his chin, down the back of his neck. Then, he stared at his hands, waiting for the part where someone would tell him this wasn't real. But he had woken up to discover all his nightmares weren't just bad dreams.

He was a horrible, self-serving, pathetic monster. He did what he could avoid. He knew better, and he did it anyway. You couldn't have known. You could never have known what it would be like to really suffer at Suguru's hands. You were innocent to the depth of it, of the cruel reality of it. Yet, he didn't hesitate to step on you when you stood against him, when you tried to protect the students. He wounded you easily, someone from his own bone and blood. No mercy was left in his heart, and he had to be stopped.

"I didn't want to do it," he said, breathless, his fingers pushing a stray strand of hair away from your face while leaning his forehead to yours and cupping your face. "But I had to."

Silence.

No other words.

You were scared.

Every instinct in your body was telling you to run.

But you couldn't. You were frozen.

"Satoru." You were about to call his name, but something about this stretch of silence confused you. Something about this moment and the feel of his name on your tongue were unlocking other parts of your brain. Something was pushing and pulling at your skin, trying to remind and tell you.

Suddenly, the truth slapped you in the face; it punched you in the gut and threw you right into the ocean. Your brain was screaming, raging against what you slightly remembered.

Your brother's dead body. Satoru standing beside him. Blood splashes on the wall.

It couldn't be true. You shook your head. Satoru would never harm him. He would never hurt you.

Your bones were full of ice. Your entire being wanted to vomit. This feeling, this overwhelming feeling of absolute self-loathing, remained in your throat as a slice of a knife too sharp, too thick, too deadly to keep you steady.

You pulled yourself out of his arms, and Satoru knew it. He didn't need six eyes to read the hatred written all over your face. 

"It wasn't a dream," you managed to whisper, your eyes unfocused, remembering. Your head was swamped by confusion. Broken images filled your mind: blood and death.

"Suguru," you choked on his name.

"Y/N, please—"

"Oh, God." You covered your mouth with one hand and stared, unblinking, at the wall. You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what you could ever say. A wave of pain inundated your body so rapidly that you didn't even realize you were shaking until you had to grab the footboard for support.

This was the source of the agony that had been drowning him. He had murdered his best friend, your only family.

You should have known when he appeared in the room, standing there, waiting for something to explode, when you couldn't pinpoint it. This was the data you were missing.

Maybe, part of you did, but you tried so hard to repress the memories of yesterday that you refused to believe it could be possible. Because a part of you didn't want to remember, a part of you was too scared to lose hope. A part of you didn't know if it would make any difference to know that it was him, after all—the one who ended his life.

You stared at him openly, every sensation amputated, your pain a distant scream disconnected from your body. You felt the strength rush out of you, leaving you weak in the knees.

Disgust was an insult to the level of aggression at the moment.

All you could think was that you were dying. You were six feet under and searching for a window when someone poured lighter fluid into your hair and lit a match on your face.

You felt your bones inflamed.

Then, you started shaking.

Satoru was already trying to grab you, he was already trying to stop you, he was begging you not to do what he thought you were going to do, and you told him to stay the fuck away from you. You told him to get lost, but he reached for you, pleading with his eyes, and you were tempted for a second to stay here, right next to him, but you slipped out.

Tears spilled fast down your face, you blinked and blinked, but the world was a mess. You wanted to laugh because all you could think was how horrible and beautiful it was, that eyes blurred the truth when you couldn't stand to see it.

You looked as though you had been scooped out from the inside like someone had spooned out all the organs you needed to function, and you were left with nothing, just emptiness, just complete and utter disbelief.

It happened swiftly, a sudden, brief paralysis of your limbs.

The floor was hard.

You knew this as a fact because it was suddenly pressed against your face. Satoru was trying to help you, but you screamed and slapped his hands away because you knew the truth. You must already know it because you could feel the revulsion bubbling up and unsettling your insides. You were horizontal and somehow still tripping over, and holes in your head were tearing open. You saw spots, and you weren't sure you were even alive.

You wanted to speak, to accuse Satoru, to blame him, to call him a murderer, but you could say nothing, could form nothing but sounds so pitiful you were almost ashamed of yourself.

Your body, your blood, and your brain had been frozen in place, seizing in some kind of sudden, uncontrollable paralysis that had spread through you so quickly you couldn't seem to breathe. You were wheezing in deep, strained inhalations, and the walls wouldn't stop swaying before you.

You had collapsed in the corner, curled into yourself, knees pulled up to your chest, arms wrapped around your legs, your head buried in your arms, and you were shaking.

He had never, ever seen you look like a child before. Never, never once, ever. Not in all the time he had known you. But now, you looked just like a little girl. Scared. Vulnerable. All alone.

Satoru fell to his knees before you and listened to the most excruciating, ear-splitting agony ripping through you.   

He knew you didn't want to see him right now. He knew you were going to scream if he reached out. But he had to try. He touched your arms so gently. He ran his hand down your back, your shoulders. And then he dared to wrap himself around you until you slowly broke apart, unfolding in front of him.

"Why? Why did you do it? You'd promised me to let him go." You hit his chest, your taps softer than petals for him.

"He hurt you," he whispered in desperation, more tears waving in the ocean of his eyes. But you couldn't listen. Your ears had finished functioning; your heart had just expired; your mind had gone to hell for the day, and your eyes, your eyes, you thought they were bleeding.

You lifted your head. "It hurts," you said. You didn't speak at all; you just expelled letters through your lips. Your eyes were astonishing, shining with barely restrained emotions, your face a reflection of so much grief

He tried to hold you closer, to keep you together by sheer physical force, but your head fell to his lap. He bent over you instinctively, shielding your body with his own. He pressed his cheek to your forehead and kissed your temple. And then you broke, shaking violently, shattering in his arms, a million gasping, choking pieces he was trying so hard to hold together. He would hold you forever, just like this, until all the pain, torture, and suffering were gone.

"Make it stop," you whispered. It was just words, stupid and simple, but an earthquake hit Satoru's heart, then cracked it right down the middle. He tilted his head and wiped his eyes with the heels of his hand.

"Please, Satoru." You glanced at him just long enough to see the hurt in his eyes.

Satoru swallowed hard, looking at you like he wanted to say something, struggling to find the words, but nothing. He lowered his head, and for one split second, you saw the shine of emotions that you had seen in his eyes when Yaga told him that Suguru had left the school and murdered 122 non-sorcerer, including your parents.

You were always welcomed here, in the shadow of his pain, in the rhythm you remembered. He really did kill all those people, and it was here, above your imaginary clouds, that you finally understood Suguru. He, too, like Icarus, had felt the sun's warmth and was tempted to fly close to it and burnt himself. Now his ashes had no home to house.

You wanted to caress Satoru's face and tell him that it wasn't his fault, but everything you wanted to say and everything you had wished to say fell to the floor and scrambled upright.

Your words were balloons that fell in love with a pushpin that got too close and ruined them forever.

You closed your eyes and felt the weight of loss and surrender settle deep within you. Your bones shifted, rearranging to make room for these new hurts.

You felt like you had stepped outside of yourself. Like your body was on the floor, you watched as Satoru's leaned and kissed your forehead one last time, then his two fingers touched your forehead and stopped your bones from fracturing.

You were so warm now, warm and tired, drowning again in strange dreams and distorted memories. You felt like you were swimming in quicksand, and the harder you pulled away, the more quickly you were devoured. All you could think was that you felt an odd relief in the dark and dusty corners of your mind.

The blackness buried you in its folds.

Art is not mine.

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