#I slaved over these casting choices

[queenshelby]

MINI SERIES: THE SLAVE

PART THREE OF THE DARK & SEXY SERIES

NOTE: This is a series of one shots and mini series for Cillian Murphy & Tommy Shelby in which he acts totally off-canon. Most of these shots are very dark in nature and you should read their individual warnings. All of these shots are requests from readers. Co-written with @darkshelbyfiction! ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18. MINORS DNI.

PAIRING: TOMMY SHELBY X VIRGIN READER

WARNING: NON-CONSENSUAL LOSS OF VIRGINITY, CAPTURED READER, SLAVE READER, TOMMY GETTING OFF ON PAIN

NOTE: AGAIN THIS WAS A REQUEST AND I FELT A LITTLE UNCOMFORTABLE PUBLISHING IT...VERY DARK!

It had been two days since you were brought to Birmingham from your home country after promises of prosperity and wealth. 

But the cost for this was higher than you ever imagined when you were sold, by your very own father, as property to the highest bidder. 

Now you had arrived at Thomas Shelby's estate, which stood majestically against the backdrop of lush greenery and manicured gardens. The mansion, built centuries ago, seemed to command the landscape around it, much like how its owner commanded people within it.

A maid named Nadia greeted you at the entrance, leading you up the grand staircase that spiraled upwards into a series of breathtaking domed ceilings and magnificent chandeliers. Each room presented an extravagant spectacle of artistry and craftsmanship; it was as if every corner had been meticulously designed to overwhelm even the most jaded observer.

Despite the opulence surrounding you, something felt unsettling about the silence that enveloped the house. As far as you could tell, there was no one else here except the maids and yourself. This was not just a house, but a fortress - an impregnable bastion constructed on foundations of isolation and distance.

"This way," intoned the maid, gesturing down a long hallway lined with oil paintings depicting scenes of aristocratic splendor. The air smelled stale - it had been many years since anyone had breathed life into this grand edifice.

"I will show you to your room," whispered Nadia, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder.

As she walked ahead, you noticed her movements were careful, almost rehearsed, as if she had done this countless times before.

Her gait betrayed an unnatural rhythm, a pattern formed by habituation rather than choice.

She knew the layout of the house inside out, each twist and turn etched into her memory like grooves on an old vinyl record.

You followed her silently, allowing the grandeur of the mansion to wash over you.

Every now and then, you caught glimpses of your reflection in the polished marble floors, a ghostly image of yourself trapped between reality and illusion. You found yourself feeling strangely calm and collected, despite the circumstances that led you here.

Nadia finally stopped outside a door adorned with intricate carvings and gestured you into a room without windows.

"This is where you will sleep and perform your duties," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. There was something eerie about the maid, an unspoken understanding between her and the master of the house.

Slowly stepping into the dimly lit chamber, you took note of the opulent surroundings: velvet curtains hung from gold-plated rails, plush rugs lay scattered across the polished hardwood floor, and delicate porcelain vases filled with fresh flowers graced every surface.

However, the abundance of luxury did little to ease the unease that settled deep within your gut.

The maid turned abruptly, locking eyes with you. "At night, the room will be locked securely so don't attempt to leave. If you need anything, ring the bell by the bedside table," she told you before fluffing up some of the cushions on the bed. 

"I never..." You trailed off, swallowing back tears that threatened to betray your bravado. You forced yourself to maintain eye contact with the maid, knowing full well that any sign of weakness would be exploited mercilessly. "I have not done anything like this before. I was told that I had to because a lot of money was paid for my services, but understand please that I have no experience," you then stammered, knowing full well that you had been purchased to perform sexual acts for your benefactor. 

"The fact that you are so innocent, and young is precisely why Mr. Shelby has purchased you," Nadia responded coldly, turning away to adjust a lamp on the nightstand. 

"Now, let me explain to you what is expected of you around here," she continued, softening her tone slightly.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, and your palms slickened with sweat, though you managed to nod affirmatively, meeting her gaze steadily. "Firstly, you must address Mr. Shelby as 'Sir' at all times. Do not forget," she warned sternly.

You swallowed hard, nodding again.

"You will be allowed to leave your room with another maid, between eight o'clock in the morning and eight o'clock in the evening, but not otherwise unless Mr. Shelby is with you," Nadia explained, adjusting a silk pillow propped by the headboard.

You tried to picture a day spent in confinement, the mere thought sending shivers down your spine.

"Mr. Shelby will inform you directly when he requires your services. Most often he will come here to use you for his pleasure, and he usually expects to be attended to at least twice per day, occasionally more often. You should prepare yourself mentally and physically for his needs because it can get quite overwhelming sometimes," Nadia explained and your breath hitched, but you managed to control the panic rising within you.

"And if I refuse?" you asked, causing Nadia to pause and look at you. "Refusal is not an option. Mr. Shelby doesn't tolerate disobedience. You must do whatever he asks."

Your hands shook involuntarily, but you clenched them into fists to prevent further trembling. You nodded weakly, fighting back tears.

"What he wants...is it...painful?" What you didn't know, what you couldn't comprehend, was whether the physical pain of intimacy would be more bearable than the emotional agony of submitting to someone else's whims.

"Sometimes, but he's gentle enough," Nadia replied matter-of-factly. "Now, you must get ready for tonight. He will be visiting you at 8 o'clock and expects you to wear nothing but a pair of undergarments of your choice," Nadia said before directing you to your wardrobe. "You will lie on the bed and wait for him, understood?" she asked and, again, you nodded. 

"I will be back after he is done with you to change the sheets and provide food and water," Nadia then finally explained before she left you alone in the darkness, save for the faint glow of your bedside lamp. You heard the key turn in the lock, sealing you in the room. You sat on the edge of the bed, trying to process everything she told you.

On the bedside table you found a bottle of lubrication next to a bottle of painkillers, both small comforts in the face of the reality of your situation and, when you looked around the room, you also found other items such as restraints hanging neatly from hooks in the wall. You shivered, feeling your anxiety rise.

Then, just before 8 o'clock, there was a knock on the door. You flinched, jumping to your feet and nearly knocking over the lamp.

"It's time," Nadia called through the door. You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. 

You stripped off your clothes, leaving you naked in the dim light of the room. You pulled on a pair of cotton panties, their thin fabric barely covering the shame you felt.

You then laid down beneath the thin sheets and waited for your new master's arrival. The tension mounted as the seconds ticked by, the sound of footsteps echoing loudly in the silent mansion.

There was a creak of the door opening, and an intimidating figure emerged from the shadows. His presence loomed large, filling the space with an aura of dominance and power. He wore only a robe, his toned body visible underneath. You bit your lip nervously, unable to tear your gaze away from those imposing features.

Thomas Shelby, you reminded yourself – a name that would forever haunt your dreams. His cold blue eyes swept over you, assessing your worth.

You stared back, holding his gaze, refusing to cower. 

"Welcome, Love," he rasped, his voice like gravel underfoot, but you remained silent, swallowing the lump in your throat. He moved closer, looming over you like a storm cloud, his scent of sandalwood and spice filling your nostrils.

"I trust Nadia has briefed you on your duties?" he queried, reaching out to stroke your cheek.

Your skin recoiled at his touch, but you refused to pull away. 

"Yes, she did," you mumbled hesitantly, your voice cracking under his scrutiny. He studied you carefully, tracing the lines of your jaw with his fingers.

"Good girl," he crooned softly, a strange sense of pride swelling within you. Your resolve wavered at the compliment, but you steeled yourself, reminding yourself of the reality of your situation as he touched some of your bare skin not covered by the white sheet.

"Relax Love," he then said softly as the heat of his hand seared through your skin, sending quivers up your spine.  "You will get used to this after a while," he went on to say and his voice was comforting, yet the words stung like venom.

Your breath quickened, chest rising and falling in rapid succession, and your hands instinctively curled into fists beneath the thin white sheet covering you. You wanted to scream, but instead, you simply nodded, unable to find any words to respond.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes appraising your form beneath the covers. "I am going to have a look at you now, eh" he said suddenly, reaching down to lift the edge of the sheet away from your body.

You squirmed and turned red, trying to cover yourself. But he pushed your hands aside gently, staring at you with a mixture of lust and admiration. "I cannot wait to feel your tight little cunt squeeze around my cock when I claim you," he whispered, running his fingertips along your inner thigh, causing you to shiver uncomfortably.

"But first, let me have a look at this little virgin hole of yours, eh?" the man said and his words sent a wave of unease coursing through your veins. You could feel the sweat trickling down your face, mingling with the tears pooling in your eyes. You bit your lip, struggling to contain the sobs threatening to erupt from inside you.

With a gentle tug, he pulled your panties down just enough to expose your slit and your heart pounded against your chest almost painfully.

"I have been told that your opening is particularly small" he murmured, trailing his fingers over your slit before parting your labia slightly, exposing your tiny clit.

"Ow!" you gasped, wincing at the sudden stretch caused by his fingers.

"You do have a tight opening indeed," he grinned wickedly, licking his lips.

Thomas gazed at it with fascination, reaching between your thighs. You tried to close your legs, but he firmly held them open, pressing a dry finger against your entrance, probing it gently. 

"Look at that," he breathed, leaning forward to get a better view. "It's barely opened up yet," Tommy groaned as he probed deeper, widening your opening until he found your hymen—a thin membrane that separated you from being fully broken. His fingers brushed against it, sending stinging pain shooting through your core as he toyed with your opening.

"Now, be a good girl and hold still for me," he cooed, pressing the tips of one of his fingers against your entrance. "I need to stretch you out a bit, ready for later," he went on to say as his finger pressed harder, forcing its way into your most intimate space. It felt too big, too foreign. The pain was excruciating, but you did your best not to make a sound. 

"There we go," he muttered, thrusting deeper until his entire pointer finger filled you up. "That's a good girl. Now, let's see if I can get a second one in there," he told you before reaching for the bottle of lubrication he kept on the nightstand and squirting the viscous liquid onto two of his fingers.

"Hold still for me," he reminded you before swiping his fingers across your outer lips and then pushing not one but two fingers right into you.

You cried out and arched your back, biting into your own fist to stop any louder sounds from escaping.

"Shh," Thomas hushed you, rubbing soothing circles into your hipbone as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

His fingers felt cold and slimy inside you, sliding easily past your resistance, tearing at your hymen with each thrust.

You closed your eyes tightly, gritting your teeth as the sensation of being stretched and torn overwhelmed you.

The sight of his fingers stretching you like this turned him on; he couldn't help but groan and squeeze harder, making sure you knew exactly what he was doing to you.

"Such a good girl," he praised between grunts, watching your petals pulse around his digits, growing wetter and slicker with every stroke.

"See how hard you make me?" he moaned, opening his robe and grabbing hold of his erection, stroking it firmly. "I really want to fuck you now," he determined before he withdrew his fingers from you, leaving you feeling empty and exposed.

"Now be a good girl and turn over and lay flat on your stomach, face down against pillow," he commanded gruffly, pushing your upper body onto the mattress. 

You hesitated, wanting to turn over and hide your nakedness, but fear of displeasing him kept you lying facedown.

"I am going to use some lubrication, but it is going to hurt a lot more if you don't relax Love," he warned sharply, pulling your waist upwards and spreading your legs apart.

As you lay on your stomach and your heart hammered against your chest. The thought of being penetrated by him sent chills down your spine. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to block out the inevitable.

You whimpered softly, trying to prepare yourself for what was to come, and Tommy smeared a generous amount of lube onto his cock, coating it in a thick layer of slippery fluid. You flinched in anticipation as he positioned himself between your legs.

"This might hurt a bit for the first few days, but you will get used to it after a while. The more we do it, the easier it will get," he said while aligning himself with your entry point.

"Now," he continued, his tone stern. "I want you to stay completely still when I penetrate you," he added, applying another dollop of lube to his shaft. 

You remained silent, swallowing loudly as you attempted to gather your courage. You could hear your own heartbeat echoing in your ears; the rhythmic, thunderous pounding was deafening.

"Do you understand?" he asked quietly and you nodded. Your muscles tensed, ready to endure whatever came next.

Thomas placed the head of his penis at your entrance, teasing you with a slow push. You exhaled loudly, gripping the sheets in your fists.

"Relax and let me in," Thomas urged you, nudging the tip of his member against your entrance. "That's it,"  he sighed, feeling your body yield under his command. His cock slid into you, stretching you wide open, and the friction of entering you caused a shudder to ripple through his body.

"Ah," he groaned, reveling in the exquisite sensation of being enveloped by your warm, tight channel. "Such a good girl," he groaned as he savored the moment, basking in the sensations that coursed through him. Then, he began to thrust, filling you up inch by agonizing inch until every last millimeter of his erection was buried deep within you.

"So tight," he groaned, bucking into you with a force that seemed to shake the entire bed. "Fuck, you're so goddamn tight."

"You are going to be such a good little whore for me, eh?" Tommy murmured into your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck.

"You will take my cock many times a day, love," he growled, his words a dark promise that sent a chill down your spine. "In the morning, afternoon, and evening."

You swallowed loudly, unable to meet his gaze. Your heart hammered wildly against your chest, and you struggled to suppress the sob that threatened to escape.

"Every time I come through that door, you'll be ready for me, won't you?" he asked, his grip tightening around your hip.

"Because I'm going to fuck you whenever I want, Love." Tommy snarled, punctuating his words with hard thrusts. 

For almost an hour, he used you like this, treating you like a rag doll that belonged to him alone until, finally, he was ready to ejaculate inside your raw opening.

"I am going to cum inside you now, Love," he informed you, his cock twitching violently against your vaginal wall.

"Do you want me to fill you up with my seed?" he asked you, his voice laced with lust, his fingers tightening around your hips.

"Yes, sir," you managed to reply, your voice hoarse with exhaustion.

He smiled down at you, satisfaction shining in his eyes. "Good girl," he praised, pumping his cock a few more times before letting out a guttural yell and filling you up with his essence.

As he collapsed next to you, panting heavily, you could feel his warmth radiating into your channel. 

The remnants of his semen trickled down your leg, leaving a sticky trail behind.

"That was a lovely experience, wasn't it?" Tom said, his voice still coarse from exertion. "Now rest. I am going to fuck you again when I come back from my business deal tonight" he added, his gaze lingering on your tender, swollen lips. 

He moved his hands to cup your breasts, palming them gently before pinching your nipples.

"You are going to learn to enjoy it Love," he whispered, his voice harsh and commanding. "And when you do," he paused, his breath hot against your cheek, "you are going to beg me for more," he determined before putting his robe back on and calling one of the maids to help you clean up. 

[megamindsecretlair]

The King and I, Part 1

Pairing: King Ghezo x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. This is more background than anything, so mentions of violence, violence against women, brief mentions of rape, torture, murder, slave trade, and suicidal ideation. Hopefully this will be 3 parts, will lead to smut! Ya heathens, I know what you here for LOL. And you all deserve forehead kisses.

Summary: Raised to be perfect, your father has had it with your disobedience. He marches you to the palace and throws you at the King's feet. You'd rather die than be another person's property. But the King surprises you in many ways.

Word Count: 3,533k

A/N: Couldn't get this idea out of my brain and it definitely doesn't follow the canon in the movie. AH well, LOL. I love it and that's all that matters. Hopefully, my brain continues to cooperate. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion

Before you had a chance to be a little girl, you were coveted for your looks. How pretty you were. How nice your hair was. Paraded out in front of many odd, adult people who looked at you with strange things in their eyes. Things you were too young to understand.

As you got older, it only got worse. You were expected to sit there like a doll and let people talk over you or around you, as if you were no more than grass beneath their feet. Wind in their hair. Something always there and easily ignored.

So you made the decision to be seen. You gave opinions when they weren’t wanted. You stayed in other people’s business. You resisted and rebelled. It was nice while it lasted.

Your father made sure to curb you of such habits. But somehow, the punishments never took like they were supposed to. You continued to speak. To use the gifts the gods gave you. If they did not want you to speak, they should have taken your tongue.

At his end, your father gave up his pursuit of a wealthy match for you. “If you will not listen to me, I will give you to someone you have no choice but to obey!” Spittle flew from your father’s mouth.

As you were marched to the palace, that was the one thing you focused on. Your father was a proud man. Perhaps you had gone a step too far if he was letting spit fly from his mouth with abandon. This was the least of your concern, true, but being cast off on the newly appointed King Ghezo was too big to face head on.

People in the village watched as you were marched there, your father’s grip on your arm near bruising. His thick fingers were wrapped around your upper arm. He set a brutal pace and walked forward whether you were able to keep up or not. You stared at the people. You made them look at you.

You didn’t expect them to do anything to help you. No one ever lifted a finger to help little girls. You were many years an adult by now, but to everyone, you were still so young. Young in the ways of the world. But growing up, weren’t you taught the ways of the world? 

The powerful were in charge with no one to challenge them otherwise. While everyone else was sheep, forced to do their bidding. 

Your feet tripped over rocks in the dirt road. Your father continued marching. The palace gates were not far now. Dread started to inch its way to your heart. You had never seen the King, but you heard how your parents whispered about him. How he was both similar and different from his father and brother.

His father had been a cruel man, living in ways that your people hadn’t lived before. Surely, his son would be no different. When you learned that you were going to be given to the new king, you pictured how ugly he must be. How cruel. 

Your father was handing you over like a piece of meat. Handing his daughter over as if he had no hand in birthing you, raising you, guiding, and protecting you. Now you were nothing to him. You looked at him as he jostled you down the street. His eyes were set forward, a frown on his face.

Did he not feel anything at all? All these years you had been in his care and there wasn’t an ounce of feeling in him.

“Did you ever love me?” You asked. You were out of breath and it was said softly. Perhaps he didn’t hear you. You hoped. You didn’t really want to hear his answer. Hear that despite everything else, he did not share that love for you as you did for him all these years.

“You are an insolent child. I will make more of you. I will instill in them obedience where you had none,” he spat. 

You refused to cry. You had an idea that he didn’t truly love you. Sometimes he’d look at you with such…hate. As if you were a stubborn stain he could not remove. You thought it was because of your looks. Because it was all anyone could talk about. But even when it was just you and your mother, he would still look at you as if he could cast you out with a single look.

At the palace gates, the guards halted your father. The red doors were large, stretching high above you. Anyone who went in, never came back out. You heard whispered words about why the King would need so many women. There was talk of him eating flesh. If he sold it, was there a big stretch to eating it? 

You’d die before you got eaten. As your father argued with the guards, telling how he had a disobedient child that the King could do whatever he wanted with, you made the second biggest decision of your life. You will die before harm befell you. In whatever form that was. 

If the King forced himself on you, you’d kill him and take yourself with him. If he tried to put you in a stew, you’d make him watch as you bled all over his fancy robes. The guards finally opened the gates enough for you to peek through.

Women were engaged in combat. Your mouth dropped open at how fierce they looked. You were not allowed to look upon the Agojie when they returned from their battles beyond the walls of the kingdom. But now you dared not to look away. 

Your father pushed you forward. One of the guards caught you and you turned your head to your father. This was the most satisfied you had ever seen him. He hoped that the King did something awful to you. He was counting on it.

You straightened up behind the walls of the palace. You looked your father in the eyes and you smiled. You spat on the ground at his feet, that smile still on your face. His smile faltered, rage contorting his features. You turned your back on him and walked into the lion’s lair.

The guards handed you off one by one until a young guard escorted you to the front of the palace. In the training yard, men and women walked around with heads held high. It had never been your intention to become Agojie, but perhaps the mad King will let you once he found out how unsuitable for a wife you were. 

The thought of killing anyone made you ill, but it would be better than to be bound to someone who could have you killed with one word. 

The guard took you to the door that led to the inner palace. An Agojie met you there, a tall woman with beautiful features and sharp nails. She looked you up and down and conversed with the guard. You didn’t pay attention. You were marching to your death, what did the particulars matter? 

The woman took possession of you, leading you into the inner palace where it was women only. Everywhere you looked, there were Dahomey women walking freely. They laughed! They trained, they ran, and hugged each other without abandon. There were a few women from other tribes there, but…this sight robbed you of clear thought.

“You will catch flies if you leave your mouth open like that,” the Agojie said. 

The Agojie stalked forward, a hand on the hilt of her weapon. You briefly wondered how you could steal one unnoticed. You searched around you. There were weapons everywhere but there were so many Agojie, you doubted you’d be able to capture one. 

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Nanisca,” the warrior said. “You’d do well to listen to whatever the King wants.” 

You didn’t need to be reminded of the King’s cruelty. It was all your father taunted you with for days as he made his decision to hand you over. You followed Nanisca to the palace proper. There, a man dressed in bright purple robes greeted you. He was bald with lots of jewelry hanging from his nose, ears, and around his neck. He looked you up and down and then rolled his eyes towards Nanisca.

“I suppose we will have this to look forward to from now on,” he said.

“As long as our King breathes air,” Nanisca said. She left you there with the man. 

“Come,” he said. You followed him, though dread made your steps wooden and your limbs frozen. You were too deep to escape now. But escape to where? Outside the kingdom, you ran the risk of slavers. Rapists. Murderous thugs who would know where you came from and kill you just for being born in the wrong tribe.

The palace was nice, almost peaceful. There was the clank of weapons outside. Grunts and sounds from the Agojie as they practiced. The palace was big but also felt empty. As if there weren’t a lot of people there.

The King must be fat then. Perhaps he ate all the servants and would-be brides. The bald man led you through to a chamber with many chairs. On a raised dais, there was a large throne and a smaller one beside. 

“Wait here,” the man said. He twirled and disappeared down the hall. You took a step forward, looking at the displayed riches and art work. If a king was cruel, did he know anything about art? Or beauty? 

“Is this necessary?” You heard mumbling and turned towards the door, ready to face the King head on. To see what kind of monster your parents have subjected you to. 

A young man walked in, with thick curled hair and light facial hair. He wore robes of gold, his robe split open revealing a well defined chest. He stood in the doorway and gazed at you as you did him.

He certainly didn’t look monstrous. You knew that evil things often came in the prettiest packages, but he was beautiful. Strong. Solid. 

He was still your new jailor, you mustn’t forget. So you stood there and looked him in the eye. You were not a victim and you will not be treated as such. 

“What is your name?” He asked. He pressed into the room further, looking you up and down with desire in his eyes. Your parents taught you well. How to spot it in others. 

You told him your name and he repeated it. As if to savor it around his tongue. He walked closer until he was within reach. Up close, he was even more handsome. You had to fight yourself from getting distracted by his looks. He was still cruel. You remembered all the horrible stories about his brother. He couldn’t be any different.

“So your father has given you away to me.” 

It wasn’t a question, but you answered anyway. “He has, my King,” you said.

“Do you wish to be given away?” He asked.

You gasped and looked at him. You looked to the bald man for help but he was turned away from the two of you. You looked back towards King Ghezo. It was the first time anyone had asked what you wished. For it to come from a king who should not care what you wanted…you weren’t sure what to do with the information.

“N-No,” you said.

King Ghezo nodded. “I wish I could make it easier for you. But you are too beautiful to be Agojie and if I turn you from this palace, you will have nowhere to go.” He reached for your hand and you snatched it from him. He smiled patiently as he held out his hand to you.

He was only pretending to be nice. A stupid, hopeful part of you had thought he wasn’t like the stories. He was worse. Still, he was correct. If he turned you away, you had nowhere to go. Once you had been here, everyone would assume the King used you and not deemed you worthy. Cast you out like a whore. You would be forced to sell your body. 

You took his hand. He gripped it lightly and smiled. He kissed the back of your hand. “Welcome, my Queen,” he said.

The next few days were a blur. King Ghezo’s first wife saw to your preparation for the wedding. The eunuch from earlier saw to your lessons, what was expected of you. No different than what your father had wanted from you. To be on your best behavior and only speak when spoken to. 

You hadn’t seen the King since then, but you caught glimpses every now and then. You were given your own quarters and servant, someone to tend to your needs. It was odd to have someone help bathe you, but the King preferred cleanliness to all else. He was vain on top of a liar.

The feast arrived in no time and you were painted up like a doll. At the wedding, you stood there as expected. If you had smiled any harder, it would have split your face in two. You had stood there like a goat on the pasture, ready to be bought and chopped up. King Ghezo studied you, encircled you, and found you acceptable. You had been tense, near trembling. You hated every second of it.

But now you are married. You sat beside King Ghezo at the high table, while he joked and laughed with his advisors. His other wife sat on your side, quiet and dull. You pitied her. The fight had left her long ago. You were still young. There was still time for you. While everyone smiled and laughed and enjoyed the feast, you hid a knife up your sleeve. It wasn’t that sharp, but it’d do the trick when the King tried to climb in your bed tonight.

You smiled in his face and feigned an innocent routine. You waited for the casual cruelty. When he would hiss for you to shut up, eat more, eat less, sit up straight. It never came. He only gave you brief glances, each always polite. A smile on those plump lips. You couldn’t shake your resolve though. Tonight, you’d be free. Whether free in death or free in life was entirely up to him. 

That night, you lay in your bed. There was a door there that led to a small balcony overlooking the rest of the kingdom. It was mostly the trees in the forest, but they were tall and mighty and more than the view you got back home. You did not spare your father a thought, but you thought of your mother. It had not been her choice to marry such a cruel man. 

It had not been your choice to marry a cruel man either. However, you felt as if you had a child, you would have moved the heavens and the earth to protect it. To not let what happened to you, happen to your own daughter. You supposed that dream was gone now. You’d either die tonight and never have a kid, or face the wrath of the kingdom and bear one without your permission. Somehow death seemed kinder. 

You did not want to die. But how could you live within these walls? With that monster? Admittedly, you did not hear any screams late in the night. His first wife seemed unbothered. Untouched. She had borne him his first son, so perhaps he left her alone. And perhaps goats flew over the moon. 

Men were only interested in one thing from a woman. And it was not her brain. 

A soft knock tore you from your musings. You tensed up, sliding your hand beneath your pillow to wrap around the handle of the knife. Maybe if you pretended to be sleep, he’d come back another night.

The door pushed open, soft feet padded inside, and the door closed again. You lay on your side, turned towards the open balcony. If you screamed, would no one come to your aid? 

“Are you awake?” King Ghezo’s soft voice reached you. You didn’t answer. Your breaths were stalled in your chest. Your hand cramped from holding the knife too hard. 

The King poked at your shoulder before making you roll over. “I know you are not…”

You sat up and had the knife at his throat in one fell swoop. The King’s eyes widened, but he looked at you, not the knife.

“Will you kill me, my Queen?” He asked. 

You pressed the knife into his skin, hard enough to know you meant business but careful not to break the skin. You were already committing treason, but somehow, it was important not to mar the king. 

He stared at you. Those deep brown eyes set in such a handsome face. You looked for the cruel man you heard about. Where was he? You could harm a cruel man. They deserved it tenfold. Why wasn’t he making this easy on you?

“I don’t want to,” you finally admitted. “I have to.”

“Why?” 

What did he mean, why? “Aren’t you angry?” 

“Angry at a scared woman who has no one on her side? No,” he said. He was so calm, so patient. This was at odds with everything you built up about him in your head.

“Don’t pity me,” you said. You pushed the knife in deeper. 

He leaned away and held his hands up. “I do not pity you. I will not pretend to know your life. But I can promise that you’re safe here,” he said.

You scoffed. “I’m not safe anywhere,” you said. You pressed your lips together. That hadn’t been what you meant to say. You meant to throw it back on him, that he could not promise safety when he dealt in the slave trade. When he looked at his people and only saw money from white devils. 

His eyes softened and he slowly smiled. “No man intact can enter this palace. Beyond that, we are protected by the fiercest warriors in the world. Beyond them, there is a first legion still to defend this palace from enemies. Here in the heart of it, you are the safest you’ve ever been.” 

“But who will keep me safe from you?” 

King Ghezo leaned forward, making you choose between cutting him or retreating. You eased up on the pressure. “You can do a finer job protecting yourself than most women can,” he said.

You stared at him. Your arm began to shake from holding the knife for so long. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t kill him. You were weak and would never be accepted as an Agojie. You would never fare well beyond these walls. 

You dropped the knife on the bed and held out your wrists. “I’m ready for my punishment, my King,” you said.

King Ghezo let out a long breath. You noticed now that he wore a deep, royal purple that highlighted his rich, dark skin. He wore minimal jewelry. He was just that magnificent on his own. Especially when the candle light flickered across his features.

“Punishment?” 

“I’ve threatened the King. I am ready for whatever punishment you hand out,” you said.

The King ignored the knife on the bed between you. It was within his right to take it and kill you. Or take it as evidence of your deceit. He could brand it for all to see as he threw you out of the palace. 

He did none of those things. He reached out his hand slowly and enclosed yours in his. You stared at your hands in comparison to his. He watched you as he brought your hands to his lips and placed a small kiss there.

“Plot how next you’ll kill me. If I have not convinced you of my intentions, of my character by then, you may carry through,” he said.

“What? No, no!” You said. You pulled your hands back but he held on. He pulled you closer until your hands were pressed against his warm, smooth chest. 

“Keep the knife, my Queen. This will be interesting between us,” he said.

This was surely a trap. A way for him to play and toy with you while he tightened the noose about your neck. Or gathered wood to burn you alive. Or for the Agojie to sharpen their swords to take your head with it.

“My King…”

“One day, I wish for you to call me your love,” he said. “But I will earn it or die trying.” A cocky grin spread across his face. It transformed him from a king to a man. A man who you were married to, sitting on your bed, with intentions involving you. 

He placed one more kiss on your hands and then retreated from the room. He never gave you his back, but he did smile and bow. Then he was gone from your room. A chill from outside caressed your bare skin and you shivered.

Was the king truly mad? Or were you? And why did he make you want to find out which?

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Protagonists Who Would Support the Villain...of Other Cosmere Planets

As requested by @asteroidfieldgame :)

Sure, in their own stories the villains are not well-liked by the majority of the cast. But if we took those villains and had them meet protagonists of other Cosmere novels...well, then it might be different, mightn't it?

[Here there be spoilers! I would skip any entry if you're not caught up on all the books for both characters involved!]

1. Moash: Supported by Kelsier

Kelsier: [holding Moash protectively ala that one meme with Kevin Hart] Kelsier: My boy Moash has LITERALLY never done anything wrong ever! Kelsier: Ooooh, did he kill his oppressors? Is he mean to poor helpless nobility? Did someone Rich experience a Consequence? Moash: (mumbling) I did try to drive my friend to suicide. Kelsier: Shh...baby boy, it's okay! Kelsier: I made my disciple advocate for old people to kill themselves with spikes to preserve their power! Kelsier: You're literally fine.

2. Odium: Supported by Harmony

Harmony: Listen, I'm not saying I agree with everything Odium does. Harmony: But making it so that you have a planet of mighty, battle-hardened residents to prepare for the coming Cosmere-wide conflict? Harmony: Sometimes I wonder if I should have done something more like that. Harmony: Instead of giving everyone an easy life and making giraffes because giraffes are neat. Odium: Have you considered...battle giraffes? Harmony: Please don't patronize me.

3. Hrathen: Supported by Ellista (that one Ardent who was really into romance novels)

Ellista: I am not immune to a handsome man in bloodred armor with a troubled past whose hard, mean exterior is slowly worn away through love. Ellista: A man who chooses love--unrequited love!--over his own god! Ellista: Problematic for an Ardent like me, but so, so compelling. Ellista: (sighs dreamily) Hrathen: ... Hrathen: Could I have someone else's support please?

4. Riina [from Tress]: Supported by Wayne

Wayne (counting off reasons on his fingers): One, if you're gonna be the sort to be giving out curses, giving out breakable curses makes you less of an unforgivable villain and more of a garden-variety dick. Wayne: Two, rats are cute. Makin' someone a rat is better 'n' making them a grub or something. Wayne: Three, and most importantly, her penis spaceship is hilarious. Riina: IT WAS NOT A PENIS SPACESHIP

5. The Lord Ruler: Supported by Dalinar

Dalinar: I suppose I am simply more aware than most that being a king is hard and can involve less-than-ideal-choices. Dalinar: And didn't he essentially become immortal while trying to cage an evil god and save his planet? I am literally setting myself up to maybe experience that as we speak. Dalinar: I know he took an entire population and made them slaves, but I did tell Jasnah not to free our slaves so, like... Dalinar: ... Dalinar: Maybe Wit was right. Maybe I AM a tyrant. Wit: You've never done an enforced breeding program with humans, though. That I know of. The Lord Ruler did that! Like, a lot! Dalinar: ... Dalinar: Wait I want to mitigate my support a little.

6. Taravangian: Supported by Shai

Shai: That Diagram of his...well, it's pure art, isn't it? Shai: I'm not immune to the appeal of incredibly complex and well-researched plans turned into an artistic representation so beautiful that it attracts worshippers. Taravangian: It's really more science than it is art, I'd say. Shai: Hilarious that you think those things are different.

7. Nale: Supported by Marasi

Marasi: He knows the law and follows the law. Marasi: Don't think it would ever occur to him that someone could be quote unquote "above" the law. Marasi: That makes him better than, like, quite a lot of my coworkers.

8. The Machine [from Yumi and the Nightmare Painter]: Supported by Vasher

Vasher: Obviously a soul-eating machine that nearly destroys a planet and turns people into nightmares is not ideal. Vasher: But it's not the machine's fault it was given an ill-considered Command. Vasher: Hey! Bald guy! Wanna gentle-parent the machine too? Szeth: Uh

9. Raboniel: Supported by Elend

Elend: Not for nothing am I chair of the Support Women's Wrongs fanclub. Elend: Nor can I fail to support a Woman in Science. Basic feminism. Elend: And although I know my bar is on floor, a parent who will do anything to save their child from eternal suffering gets me right here. (points to his heart)

10. Straff: Supported by...no one

Straff: ... Straff: ... Straff: OH COME ON

[rainbowloveletters]

The sun hung low in the crimson skies of Greece, casting long shadows across the cracked earth. Hercules, the mighty demigod, strode through the olive groves, his bronzed skin glistening with sweat in the fading heat. His bulging muscles rippled beneath taut, olive skin as he walked, drawing the eye of every onlooker.

Lost in thought, Hercules failed to notice the slight figure crouched by a gnarled tree root. The young man, who could not have been more than eighteen, was forehead to knees, scrubbing the dirt with scrawny, calloused hands. He looked up briefly as Hercules' shadow fell across his face, then quickly averted his gaze in deference.

Hercules paused, taking in the sight of the slave boy. Despite his small stature, there was an undercurrent of strength about him, like a coiled spring waiting to uncurl. His short, dark hair stuck up in sticking sweat and dust, and his eyes, when they flickered up briefly, were a deep, burning brown. Slender, almost delicate fingers gripped the brush he used to clean the dirt. Hercules felt his blood quicken.

"Get up, boy," Hercules commanded in a low, rough voice. "Let me look at you."

The slave boy scrambled to his feet, keeping his eyes downcast. "I am called Alphaeus, sire," he said softly.

Hercules stepped closer, putting a finger under the boy's chin and tipping his face up. Alphaeus resisted for a moment before yielding, allowing Hercules to search out his gaze. "You are a pretty thing," Hercules murmured. "Too pretty to be moldering in the dirt. Come with me."

Hercules led the way, not waiting to see if Alphaeus would follow. The boy had little choice, after all. As they walked, Hercules felt his heartbeat quicken, his skin flush. Urgent, unfamiliar stirrings began in his groin.

By the time they reached Hercules' villa, Alphaeus had a hard time keeping up with the demigod's long, purposeful strides. "Fetch me a bath," Hercules ordered brusquely when they arrived. He turned to leave the boy standing in the atrium, but a sudden lurch in his groin made him turn back. "And you," he added, voice roughening, "see that you wash this dirt from yourself. You will attend me tonight."

Alphaeus bowed his head, hiding the flush that rose to his cheeks. "Yes, sire. It will be done."

The promised night fell in a tangle of sweat-soaked sheets. Hercules took his time with the slave boy, mapping out the planes of his body with calloused hands. Alphaeus' skin was smooth and cool beneath his touch, quivering at the contact. He traced the knobs of the boy's spine, dipped into the hollow of his hip, the furrow between his buttocks. Alphaeus made a sound, high and breathy, squirming against Hercules' hold.

Hercules ran his thumbs over the boy's small, brown nipples, feeling them stiffen. "You like this, don't you," he growled. It wasn't a question. He could feel the proof of it against his thigh, a long, thin line of hardness.

Alphaeus whimpered, arching into his touch. Hercules wanted to devour him. He rolled the slave beneath him, settling between his legs. Alphaeus' passage yielded easily to the press of his cock, sheathing him in silky heat. Hercules began to move, finding a deep, driving rhythm.

The night passed in a wordless tangle of flesh and sweat and the slap of skin on skin. Hercules lost himself in the tight, dripping heat of Alphaeus' body. Time fell away and the world narrowed down to the taste of the boy's skin, his needy little moans, the flex of his passage around Hercules' cock. It was a kind of madness.

They came together in a rush, Hercules emptying into the slave's passage with a last, hard thrust. Alphaeus' own release painted Hercules' stomach, his thighs. They collapsed together in a tangle of sated limbs.

From that night on, Alphaeus became a fixture in Hercules' bed. The demigod made no secret of his desire for the boy, putting a possessive hand on the slave's hip or shoulder whenever others were near. It was a kind of open boast: see what beauty I have claimed for myself.

Weeks passed in a haze of pleasure. Hercules' body came alive with lust every time he looked at Alphaeus. The boy seemed to draw it out of him, a moth to flame. They coupled in the bath, on the couch, on a discarded tunic in the gardens, too impatient to make it to the bed. Alphaeus took his fill of the demigod's cock, and Hercules emptied himself in the slave's passage again and again.

It could not last. One morning, Alphaeus woke sick and shaking, his stomach churning. He retched into a basin, feeling Hercules' hands on his back, offering support. As the days passed, his sickness only deepened.

It was not hard to guess the cause. Hercules' heart leapt with a sudden, fierce joy when he realized Alphaeus might be carrying his child. A strange, unfamiliar tenderness swelled in his chest at the thought.

He called for a physician, demanding to know if the slave was with child. The man examined Alphaeus, pressing at his belly and lifting the cup of his scrotum. "Yes," he pronounced after a moment. "The boy is breeding."

Hercules felt a grin break out across his face. "Good," he rumbled, laying a hand over Alphaeus' belly. "Good."

Alphaeus looked up at him, eyes wide and wondering. "You...you are pleased, sire? That I should bear your child?"

"Yes," Hercules said. The word came out rough and raw, edged with unfamiliar emotion. "I am pleased."

The months passed in a kind of blissful blur, Hercules lavishing attention on the softly swelling curve of Alphaeus' belly. He never thought to feel such a rush at the prospect of fatherhood, but the thought of Alphaeus bearing his child filled him with a fierce, possessive pride.

Hercules gently caressed Alphaeus's swollen belly, tracing the curve of their womb with tender loving care. At seven months pregnant, Alphaeus was positively glowing, his once lithe and supple body now ripening with new life. Yet to Hercules, he had never looked more beautiful, more alluring.

"Gods, how I love you," Hercules murmured huskily, pressing his lips to the side of Alphaeus's neck in worshipful kisses. His large, calloused hands continued their lazy exploration, skimming over the swell of Alphaeus's breasts before dipping lower to palm their pregnant stomach. "Carrying my child, my seed... You are exquisite, my love."

Alphaeus shivered and arched into Hercules' touch with a soft sigh of pleasure. "I love feeling your hands on me, even more so now with our baby growing inside," he purred, voice thick with desire. "I am so filled with our love, in every way possible."

Hercules groaned, his prominent erection straining against his loincloth as Alphaeus' sensual words stoked the flames of his lust. "You tempt me sorely, sweetling," he growled, nuzzling into Alphaeus' silken curls. "I must have you. Now."

"Yes, oh gods yes," Alphaeus gasped, reaching back to fumble with the fastenings of Hercules' loincloth. "Take me, fill me, claim me anew. I need to feel you inside..."

With a low, feral sound, Hercules pushed down his garment and kicked it aside. He gripped Alphaeus' hips and pulled them back onto his thick, pulsing shaft, sheathing himself to the hilt in Alphaeus' welcoming heat in one smooth stroke. They both cried out at the sudden, exquisite union, Alphaeus' velvety walls gripping Hercules like a silken fist.

"By Zeus, you feel incredible," Hercules grunted, beginning to move, his powerful muscles flexing as he thrust into Alphaeus' lush body. "So tight, so wet for me..."

Alphaeus mewled and undulated their hips, meeting each deep, driving plunge. "Always for you, my love," they keened, throwing their head back in bliss. "Only for you..."

Hercules set a swift, punishing pace, pounding into Alphaeus with primal need. The wet, obscene sounds of their coupling filled the room, joined by their mingled moans and gasps. Sweat slicked their straining bodies as they moved together, lost to passion, drowning in sensation.

"Harder," Alphaeus begged, nails scoring down Hercules' heaving flanks. "Deeper, I need to feel you in my womb, reaching our child..."

Hercules snarled and complied, hips pistoning, going impossibly deep. "Yes, take it, take all of me," he panted harshly, feeling his release swiftly approach. "Gonna fill this sweet cunt, paint you with my seed, mark you, breed you..."

"I'm close, oh gods I'm close," Alphaeus babbled incoherently, jerking and quaking as their peak loomed. "Come with me, my love, fill me, please!"

With a roar that shook the rafters, Hercules slammed into Alphaeus one final time and exploded, flooding their spasming channel with his thick, potent release. Alphaeus wailed and convulsed against him, milking Hercules for every last drop as their mutually devastating climax crashed over them in unending waves.

They collapsed together onto the sweat-soaked sheets, Hercules still buried inside Alphaeus, unwilling to withdraw and break their intimate connection. He gathered Alphaeus close, reverently kissing their slack, blissful face.

At last, the day arrived. Alphaeus labored for hours, Hercules at his side, gripping his hand, coaching him through his pains. In the dimly lit room, the air was thick with the scent of sweat and anticipation. Alphaeus lay on the makeshift birthing bed, his body wracked with the final stages of labor. The walls of the modest dwelling seemed to close in on him, mirroring the relentless pressure within his own body. Hercules, his towering figure usually a symbol of strength and invincibility, was now a pillar of support, his face etched with concern and helplessness. Io, the knowledgeable midwife, moved with practiced grace, her presence a calming force amidst the storm of childbirth.

Alphaeus's breathing was ragged, each exhalation a small victory against the tide of pain that threatened to overwhelm him. The contractions came with merciless frequency, each one a crescendo that tested the limits of his endurance. Hercules held his hand, his grip firm yet gentle, a silent promise that he would not let go. Io, with her wise eyes and soothing voice, encouraged Alphaeus to push, to harness the primal power that coursed through his veins.

The room was alive with tension, the silence punctuated only by Alphaeus's labored breaths and the occasional whispered word of encouragement. As the baby crowned, a new level of pain seared through Alphaeus, a fiery trial that pushed his physical limits to the brink. His body, once a vessel of grace and agility, now trembled under the strain of birth. The muscles in his abdomen contracted with a force that seemed beyond his control, each spasm a painful step toward the life that awaited.

Hercules, witnessing the agony etched across Alphaeus's face, felt a surge of admiration and awe. The man he loved was a warrior in this moment, battling not with sword and shield but with the very essence of his being. Hercules's heart ached with a mixture of fear and reverence, his own strength rendered irrelevant in the face of Alphaeus's profound struggle.

Io, ever watchful, saw the signs of the final push. She urged Alphaeus onward, her voice a beacon in the fog of his exhaustion. "You are almost there, Alphaeus. Your body knows what to do. Listen to it, trust it, and let it guide you."

With a roar that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, Alphaeus bore down with all the strength he had left. The baby's head emerged, a moment of triumph and relief that flooded the room with a sense of awe. Io's experienced hands supported the delicate life that was now partially in the world, as Alphaeus mustered the last of his energy for one final push.

And then, with a rush of fluid and a newborn's cry, the child was born. Io gently lifted the baby, presenting the new life to its fathers. Hercules's eyes brimmed with tears as he gazed upon his son, the product of his and Alphaeus's love. The pain that had contorted Alphaeus's face just moments before was now replaced by a look of serene exhaustion and overwhelming joy.

As Io tended to Alphaeus, cleaning and wrapping him in warm blankets, Hercules cut the umbilical cord, a symbolic act that severed the physical bond between father and child. The baby, now nestled in Alphaeus's arms, instinctively sought out the warmth of his father's chest. The room, once filled with the sounds of struggle, was now filled with the soft coos and murmurs of new life.

In the aftermath, as Alphaeus's body began the slow process of healing and recovery, the bond between the three of them—Alphaeus, Hercules, and their newborn son—grew stronger. They were a family, forged in the fires of labor and united by an unbreakable chain of love and respect. The drama of childbirth had passed, leaving in its wake a profound sense of peace and the promise of a future filled with hope, laughter, and the many challenges of parenthood.

[meaningofaeons]

Hi!! I just started reading your stuff and I really like it!! I was wondering if I could request some headcanons with the HSR boys (your choice but I would appreciate one with Jing Yuan) with a reader who is part of the Stelleron hunters and their role is to clear up any clues they may have left behind not on purpose, the boys caught them in the act and they made a break for it, but after the event the reader finds themself to be looking after the boys more (you can decide whether they know or if they find out due to a coincidence) and they confront the reader about it.

- 🌙 Anon

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ stellaron spy

⊹ character(s) - dan heng, jing yuan ⊹ word count - 1.7k ⊹ notes - gn!reader, stellaron hunter!reader, a bit of angst, fluff, mystery, intrigue, oh my!

hi 🌙 anon!!!! omy my first named anon (₌♥ᆽ♥₌) I'm so glad to hear you enjoy my writing!!! I was very tempted to add sampo to the mix here but as the stellaron hunters were not involved much with anyone in belobog I decided against it. but who knows?! maybe a p2 for this will come out! anyways, thank you for the request my lovely!!! I had fun with it! (๑✪ᆺ✪๑)

post editing katze here - I'm so sorry these read more like scenarios than hcs but all my hcs kinda do </3 I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

⊹ Dan Heng

Your assignment was simple: Clean up the Stellaron Hunters' presence in the Herta Space Station, and leave no trace of your own visit.

As a member of the highly skilled group, you were more than prepared and qualified.

And of course, Kafka and Silver Wolf saw fit to leave a mess behind for you as always.

They never did anything beyond Elio's allowance in order to guide the universe to the correct future, and it's not as if they had anything against you, but you still somehow ended up with a large workload each time.

A stray piece of Silver Wolf's code here, a bullet with Kafka's insignia on it there.

Nothing out of the ordinary, and all seemingly meaningless in the pursuit of the ideal future. Things that would be cast aside by the average person, if not missed entirely.

And yet, that's why you were here—those very "meaningless" pieces of evidence were specific items ordered by Elio that could cause the single tip of a domino should they be found and investigated. The most insignificant things could completely restructure the path you were on, and by extension, Elio's plans.

Of course, Destiny's Slave didn't tell you everything.

Specifically, he neglected to mention you literally bumping into a member of the Astral Express Crew.

On the way into a restricted section full of monsters.

Just perfect.

"Ah, I'm terribly sorry!" You were flustered, yes, but it served as a good cover considering your disguise as a researcher.

The man before you looked indifferent by nature, but something about you caught his eye, and he put his arms out to steady you.

"It's fine. Why are you heading into a restricted zone?"

"Ahh, I'm okay! Just grabbing some of my research materials! If you'll excuse me..."

He didn't seem content to leave you to do as you wished considering your disguise, but then he caught sight of the bullet you held. Kafka's bullet, signature carved into the side and all.

He put two and two together, his blue eyes widening.

"You—"

Before he could say anything further, you had vanished, hearing his footsteps chasing after you after ducking into an alcove. He came and went, and you found yourself alone again.

Well, there goes a smooth mission... He's surely off to alert security.

As the days passed, you continued your task. Of course, Kafka had given you a predictable answer when you confronted her about the run-in with the black-haired man.

"That would be Dan Heng of the Astral Express Crew. Don't worry. You were fated to meet. As I'm sure you know, your foresight on meeting him would have ruined the future."

Of course.

However, the young man intrigued you, and you eventually found yourself watching over him more and more.

He went to get lunch? You would subtly switch your disguise and be in line right behind him.

He took a walk around the station? You weren't far behind.

He entered a restricted zone to assist? You cleared out a couple of monsters ahead of him to make his job easier.

It's all for the mission, you'd justify. Just monitoring him to ensure he doesn't throw a wrench into Elio's plans.

Eventually, your little side-mission caught up to you.

"I really should just turn you in."

A pale hand had reached over your head, grabbing the information tablet above you, and you paused.

Compared to your previous meeting, you were a lot more calm. After all, as Kafka had said, you only needed trust in Elio and his future.

"Then why haven't you?"

The dark-haired man couldn't provide an answer.

"Are you here to stir up trouble again... Stellaron Hunter?"

"Just the opposite, really."

Dan Heng was perplexed, yet intrigued—two feelings he didn't experience often.

"I really should...—ugh. Never mind. For now, I won't do a thing. But I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"I will do the same for you."

"I've noticed."

"Then I'm sure you've noticed the gift I left in your pocket."

As soon as he looked down, you were gone. Still, you weren't lying—there in his pocket lay a piece of paper with your contact information... along with an alias.

Dan Heng didn't know what to feel, but a strange warmth filled his cheeks, and he ran a hand over his face.

What... just happened?

You, meanwhile, having completed your mission, met back up with Kafka in only a few hours' time.

"Your number, hm? Smooth, Y/N. I didn't think you had it in you. Should I consider this a betrayal?"

"Hush up, Kafka. You know this was bound to happen."

"Astute as always."

You had to hold back your groan along with your own reddened cheeks.

⊹ Jing Yuan

Being a Stellaron Hunter meant trusting Elio no matter what, even if it seemed to be at your own peril.

Even with his indifference towards his own and your lives in the face of the necessary future, Destiny's Slave had assured you and the rest of the Stellaron Hunters that you were not to be expended for the cause.

At least, not for a very, very long time.

So why is the General of the Xianzhou Luofu in front of you right now?

This wasn't in the plan! Only Kafka and Blade were meant to be arrested!

Your momentary panic caused you to forget the obvious—

You're not on any wanted lists, you have not been seen associating with either detained Stellaron Hunter on the Luofu, and you're posed as a completely ordinary Xianzhou Outworlder.

On top of that... Kafka had secured you a (fake) position somewhat close to the General for intel-gathering. For all intents and purposes, you were meant to be here.

But that handsome face honestly made your brain run on empty at the most crucial moment. And besides, your false position wasn't that high up!

Unless it was, and the information was withheld in case you got captured...

You wondered if Elio could laugh, and if he could, whether he was amused by your current blunder. Surely, all according to the plan of destiny.

"Goodness. I knew I had some level of charm somehow, but to think I'd evoke such a reaction."

You froze up upon General Jing Yuan moving his face even closer to yours, inspecting you carefully.

"Or perhaps you're just intimidated by me?"

Focus, Y/N, focus!

"Not at all, General," you were quick to respond, impressing even yourself at the steadiness in your voice. "I was simply stunned that the General would greet me, a mere advisor, personally."

"Well, mere advisor, I find you enthralling. Please report to work tomorrow directly to my desk. I'll have you assist me with my paperwork."

...Huh?

That's how you found yourself roped into being Jing Yuan's personal assistant.

The incident with Kafka and Blade progressed naturally, but you found yourself with more and more work.

All to keep up the cover of a simple employee trying to earn your daily wages, you supposed. Not to mention, the closeness of it all allowed you intel on Jing Yuan that you never would have acquired otherwise.

It made sense that this was Elio's plan all along, but you were still a bit bittersweet about your circumstances.

The sweet part being... Well, the General was nice to look at, and he wasn't a bad conversationalist, either.

And of course, the intel. The intel was good. You were certainly still focused on it.

When he ate, when he took walks (casual ones, he assured you when you were forced to join him, but you knew it was a guise for patrolling the Luofu), and when he trained with Yanqing, the Cloud Knight Lieutenant.

Everything went straight to Elio's ear.

The bitter part... Everything else.

Every day, you wondered if the General knew your identity and purpose. Yet he never spoke a word of it.

And his requests were getting more ridiculous by the day!

"Y/N, would you be so kind as to keep me company while I finish my paperwork?"

"That would be highly unprofessional... I must clock out for the night."

Another night, it was something else.

"Y/N, how about a game of chess?"

"We're working, General."

"Call me Jing Yuan, would you? 'General' is far too uptight."

"That would also be unprofessional!"

"Isn't it more unprofessional to deny your superior's request?"

Now you were sure of it. Elio, along with Kafka, Blade, and Silver Wolf, and every single one of the other Stellaron Hunters...

They were watching this all like a horrendous, slow-burn, romantic sitcom, and they were laughing their heads off at you running yourself ragged. That had to be it.

However, all good? things come to an end. It was only a few months in that you were called to clean up yet another Stellaron Hunter operation.

And with that, your resignation was plopped on Jing Yuan's desk in the dead of night, with you and him being the only two souls in the entirety of the Seat of Divine Foresight.

"...So, that's it?"

"I'm afraid so."

That smile of his made you want to stay, though you'd never say it aloud.

"Well, I suppose Stellarons are present in many different worlds."

Your jaw could've dropped. It was a miracle your face remained stoic.

"Do come back and visit me, though? Or better yet, desert them entirely and stay by my side?"

The tone was teasing, but the longing was still buried beneath it all.

When your face hardened, his smile softened.

"Of course not. I understand the feeling of being unable to abandon your comrades, your cause. Still, I do hope we meet again."

With a laugh at your silence, he unclasped one of the blue tassels from his uniform and put it right into your expectant hand—instinct on your part at his gesture.

"Return that to me soon. Don't make me wait too long. After all, without it, my coat is asymmetrical. Not a great look for the General of the Luofu, is it, my dear?"

"...No. I suppose it isn't."

It took you less than the space of a breath to vanish from his office, and you knew you likely wouldn't be back—not for a long time, that is—but Jing Yuan's tassel remained in your belongings nonetheless.

[whomeidontknowthem]

Eyes on me – an interactive whump story. Part 1.

Masterpost. Next part.

Content warning: slavery, imprisonment, dehumanizing language, implied future torture, characters express fantasy racism (slave owners are surprisingly not good people).

The slave auction was a grand building, standing tall and proud of its purpose and the wealth of those coming there. It was a place of privilege – on one side of the grand stage, at least. Or on one side of the iron bars, if you were afforded the honor of seeing the stock before the official bidding began – a rare, sparingly given to the most esteemed of patrons opportunity.

Lord Edarwis Teelo greatly enjoyed being one of them. He passed by the row of cells with the dignity that fit his status he had to fight to present – getting to choose before anyone else laid their hands on the collection was exciting. It'd taken many years of work and effort. He couldn't wait to have it all pay off.

Most were boring offerings. People from all over the kingdoms, a few criminals but mostly those sold to slavery to pay off debts. A servant went on about each of them before Lord Teelo threw him a quick glance. The boy was clever enough to close his mouth, letting the lord enjoy the walk in silence, rarely interrupted by any of the scared prisoners. They watched his every move, of course, at least most of them – eyes wide and scared or shut tight or cast away. All pretty faces (the auction only sold the best), skin ranging from deep browns of the Ashai coast to pale pinks from the northern border.

One of them caught the lord's eyes and he paused, studying the boy closer. Young, barely of age, either shaven cleanly or still unable to grow a beard, with such cute little curls on his head and wide hazel eyes. He was a candy for the eyes, shivering in the corner of the sell, twisting his naked body to preserve some sense of modesty.

"He's from Deruveer," the servant chimed in. "From the province. His family needed money after the draught and he was the youngest son. He's rather timid, a great choice if you want someone to do the chores and not bother you much."

Lord Teelo hummed. The boy was pretty, and convenience didn't always mean boredom. He decided to let him be for now, continuing on his way.

The next thing that got his attention was a dull distant clanging, like metal meeting stone with force. "What's that?" the lord wondered.

The servant answered readily, "Ah, it's from our special collection. They're not trained very well yet – you see, my lord, they are from the Northern Steppes."

"A barbarian?" Lord Teelo drawled out, impressed.

"Not just. They were a chieftain of some tribe there, – one of the bigger ones, I've been told. Our army hunted them for a while, until the chief decided to finally surrender. I don't think they expected this kind of a future, though. They are rather unruly."

"Show me," the lord demanded.

It didn't take long for them to reach the special section, and the clanging became all the louder as they came closer. "They want attention," the servant explained with a vaguely apologetic tone. "Their rations have been cut since they bit the handler, and it hasn't improved their temper, yet. It will eventually though. They are sturdy, but nobody is unbreakable."

The lord hummed, turning the corner and finally being able to take in the person they'd been discussing. He expected – something impressive, matching the tales of unruly northern barbarians, dressed in furs and carrying strange weapons, their skin white as silk or even the snow they saw every year there and covered in nasty scars from constant skirmishes against each other. They were all tall as giants and muscular as lions, – all but the one Lord Teelo saw before him, it seemed.

The barbarian sat in the corner of their cell, naked as all slaves were, even though they didn't seem to even try covering anything. Their skin was pale but in a disappointedly human-like way, adorned with iron cuffs and chains going to the wall and a muzzle fitting tightly around their face and leaving only blue eyes and greasy hair out. They caught Lord Teelo's gaze with determination and moved their arm out as far as they could before jerking it back towards the wall. The chain clung against the stone.

"I expected them to be taller," Lord Teelo expressed their disappointment.

"Yes, yes, I also found their look underwhelming when I first saw them," the servant agreed quickly. "But even though they're rather skinny – they can put up quite a fight! If you decide to buy them, my lord, it is advised you keep them in chains and with guards by your side, at least at first. They're a piece of work for sure."

The lord hummed. "Who else do you keep in this special collection of yours."

"Ah! You're gonna like her," the servant brightened. "A real royalty in our modest house! Follow me, my lord."

The cell he led the lord to was bigger than the rest, and less bare. There was a table, a chair, an honest to gods rug, even, and a whole tea set a woman was enjoying in silence. She wasn't dressed as a queen, Lord Teelo noted, her clothes were rather revealing and obviously made to showcase her beauty more than cover her modesty. But she was dressed – more than most people here could say for themselves.

"Royalty?" Lord Teelo mused. The woman turned her head, deeming him worthy of a long look – and it did feel like she was obliging him. The lord gave his best unimpressed stare back.

"She's the princess of former Terzita."

"Ah. The Night of Storms?" the lord guessed as the princess looked away. He watched her, noting the faint bruises running over the tense shoulders.

"The poor thing watched half of her family murdered before her eyes," the servant agreed. "Such terrible fate. It doesn't make her for a more obedient slave, of course – she's still thinking she should be treated with special dignity. We humor her here – but you are not obliged to do the same, my lord."

He didn't, did he. It would be so fun to put her in her place. Oh, yes, he could enjoy a royal maid. And if she didn't feel like playing the role – he would enjoy teaching her what would come of disobedience.

"You have anything more impressive?" Lord Teelo wondered, not taking his eyes away from the woman.

The servant didn't think for long. "We do," he smiled brightly. "Very special. This might be the most special slave of them all, one you can only see once in a lifetime."

"Oh?"

"It's not a human," the servant declared proudly. Lord Teelo perked up with interest. "Nor is it from the archipelago."

"Ah," Lord Teelo responded and the boy smiled at him, seeing right to his excitement. He showed the way without needing to be prompted.

The thing – the creature, – was huddled in the corner, lying on the ground as the two men approached. Its ears – long, obviously inhuman – perked up at the footsteps, but it didn't move from its place. The lord studied its back, the weird patterns streaming down in swirls of color against the unnatural, obsidian black of its skin – furless, at least, and slightly more human in this. Its spine ended up a tail, curling by its legs. A tail!

"Hey!" the servant called out and rattled a key against the iron bars. The creature moved abruptly to face the sound. Lord Teelo was mesmerized by the yellow of its iris and the black of the rest of its eyes. The pupils retracted into slits when they caught the light.

"Is this a fey?" the lord let out a astounded gasp. Even bringing up the fairytales felt childish, but what else could it be?

"We don't know for sure," the servant replied in a whisper respectful of the marvelous situation. "It doesn't speak Tragesh – or any language, for this matter. It doesn't seem incapable of learning – oi! You, want some food?"

"'uud?" the creature mimicked, flashing fangs in its attempt. Its face made some movement Lord Teelo couldn't read. "Yuu hath no 'uud."

"Astounding," Lord Teelo shook his head. Even if he didn't end up owning the creature, just seeing it was a miracle! "Can it do magic?"

"We keep it in a Shiel's collar," the servant explained. "It hasn't shown any, but – we like to be cautious in this case. It is included with the purchase, of course."

"I see," Lord Teelo tore his gaze away with some difficulty. "Anything else?"

"I'm afraid not, my lord," the servant smiled apologetically. "Was something from our collection to your liking?"

Lord Teelo nodded and then thought about it. Money wasn't a problem, but he was only allowed to buy one slave before the auction – which one would it be?

Updates every 7-10 days (depending on how much time I have and how obvious the poll result is)

@isikedmyself878

Tell me to be tagged in new parts!

[accio-victuuri]

it’s been a while since i’ve shared my recent reads! so here’s what i have picked up in the past months. felt inspired cause i’m really enjoying the story i’m reading now, w/c i initially picked up as a manhwa but i’m impatient so i switched to the novel. it’s called the hunter is gonna lay low or the hunter wants to live quietly. it’s such a gem! cause it starts of pretty simple and funny then the author manages to put in the plot and well, it’s plotting. lol.

if you like systems/dungeons, cast of characters, time travel, mystery and the most delicious slow burn then this is for you. i hope this gets animated at some point cause it’s so good! 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 this is the only novel on the list so it’s pretty special that the story led me to WANT to read the source.

i’m literally listing what i’ve read so yeah. and pretty much a v short reaction to it cause there is a lot (53). it’s a mix of ongoing and completed works at the time of writing and when i read it so i’ll mark that too.

1. Sweetie, Sweetie, Sweetie - this title is so misleading cause you would think it’s a modern story full of sweetness when it’s not. this deals with kingdoms/royalty, superpowers — and isekai.

2. How my Daddies Became mates (completed) - first foray into mangas because i most prefer manhwa/manhuas — i know, sacrilege. but yeah, it’s a cute story of two dad telling their kid how they met and fell in love. It’s so wholesome! a short read when you feel tired of all the toxic bl stories. 😂😂😂

3. Unintentional Love Story (completed) - pick this up! it’s so good! slice of life kind of vibe and falling in love in a small town.

4. Someone like You (completed) - this was something i started before and went back in now that it’s completed.

5. Isekai no Sata Wa shachiku shidai - i don’t really go for Mangas but this one pulled me in! I love myself some isekai plot. it’s just sad that no one has updated the translation for so long so that may put some people off in picking this up.

6. Bend over Backwards (completed) - corporate slave x international model. if you like this kind of dynamic then go ahead. Only 40 chapters plus a bunch of side stories so this kind of thing is a good choice.

7. Dinner with a Vampire - pretty obvs with the title.

8. Mister Wonderful teases me

9. Romance but not Romantic - omegaverse! the kind where the omega needs the alpha but initially hated him.

10. Be, Be. - omegaverse with modern royalty!

11. Smoky Nectar 1 - a short read that continues to a part 2 and it’s good ✌🏼

12. Smoky Nectar 2

13. Reincarnated to Devil King Evelogia’s World - this is so uniquely unhinged that it became. endearing. No. I swear. I haven’t read anything like it. I love it tho. Maybe some people will find it over the top but it’s now one of my personal faves.

there’s an animated version of it if you wanna start with that just to see how cute they are lol.

14. Bullying the Dog - an MC who didn’t get much love then he meets the ML who shows him what it’s like. it’s so somft.

15. Bittersweet Martini (completed) - i’m gonna cheat here and copy/paste the first comment on this story cause i think it perfectly describes the story: “If you're looking for a casual pleasure read with a green flag story with heavy flirting, which leads to a lot of blushing but also deals with a more serious topic towards the middle, without leaning too much into the drama, then look no further.”

16. Over the Paradise - guideverse with zombies!

17. Hero vs Villain - what happens when the supposed hero and villain become friends and fall in love? this was so nice!

18. Night of London - vampire and werewolf pairing! come on! Let’s gooooo! 🙌🏼

19. Kill my love - omegaverse and assassins!

20. Turning - Another work that i would most likely pick up the novel version cause it’s that good! Regression theme! ❣️plus the setting is they are in a kingdom where people have powers.

21. The Moon is coming to me - I have already talked bout this before and it’s one of my absolute faves! I didn’t know the Manhua was released! So i was so happy to enjoy it in that form. The translation for this is very close to the end so pick it up!

22. Cozy Obsession - transmigration where the MC knows how the story goes so he is trying his best to change the ending.

23. Summertime (completed) - one of my favorites! love it when friends become lovers and some may say the ML here is manipulative but i wanna say in a good way. lol. anyway, it’s classic, atleast from the MC’s side that you’ve known this person some time and that summertime everything has changed.

24. My way with you (completed) - gonna cheat again with this one by pasting here what someone commented: “LISTEN UP GUYS this one has everything: healthy happy relationship, supportive friends, trauma and healing, mysterious past connections, beautiful men, hot af smut, 100% consent, cutest lovey dovey couple, NO drama, NO “misunderstandings”, NO second ml, NO annoying interfering side characters. You will cry, but because it’s just so good.” 💯

25. Netkama Punch - i haven’t finished and progressed much as i would like tho i know a lot of people have this as their favorite! I will get back to it! The premise of hidden identity and online gaming is one of my fave so i will surely pick this up again.

26. Through the Years - i haven’t finished this yet but it’s a lot of people’s fave

27. Fools (completed) - disillusioned guy meets excitable puppy 🤍

28. Moonquake (completed) - a very unique concept. people on earth have powers and then some of them decided to rebel and live in the Moon. Our MC is one of the best ones on earth and is supposed to bring down the leader of the rebellion. but you all know what happens, they fall in love! AHHHHH! and i have to say the art in this too is exceptional.

29. Men’s wear store and the Royal Princess (completed) - this may be weird for some or slow / not enough action lol. i enjoyed it tho! the MC cross dresses and finds someone who loves and accepts him!

30. Ex Hot Neighbor (completed) - a story that centers around a misunderstanding! MC thinks he can’t date the neighbor cause he’s his friend’s ex. but nope!

31. Forest Sea (completed) - A good and solid fantasy story. Please give it a try! The whole birds vs snakes thing was kinda weird at first but the author made it work.

32. When you were asleep - this hasn’t been updated in a while and it’s so sad because the art is topnotch! the plot is good too, especially the dreamscapes but there’s still a lot to discover cause we wanna know what happened in the past. Why is MC even having these dreams and all that.

33. Beum & Go’s Unholy…. - still ongoing and read few chapters

34. Spring, the color of love (completed) - what a wonderful story. Oftentimes, as a reader, you have that sense of boundary with the narrator. But this one — you can feel and understand what the MC is thinking and going through. even tho i haven’t experienced what he did, i can totally get it. this is one of those tropes where they fall in love during their school years and some misunderstanding happens, they meet again years later and try again. something i would love to re-read even if there are parts of it that hurt. and it’s just proof that if something is meant to be, it will come back to you.

35. Keep Holding On (completed) - a short and sweet read with friends to lovers trope!

36. Wolf in the House (completed) - i am so late with this cause i feel like every list has this story as one of the best. I have to agree! it’s so good! tho i have to say i’m more attached to the second pairing. this one is a perfect mix of fantasy, action, comedy and romance. A solid recommendation!

37. Touch within the Abyss (completed) - AAAAAHHHHHH! a hitman x blind cinnamon roll! read it now! please! it’s so sweet! their love and care for each other is so pure 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

38. 99% in love season 1 (completed) - from bestfriends to lovers in the cutest way! they start fake dating and it leads to more obvs.

39. 99% in love season 2 - their college life and this one has smut scenes!

40. Alpha Trauma ( novel ongoing ) - if you know Omega Complex then you might be aware that this is a sequel of sorts but follows the second lead’s love story if you may. Everyone loves Dohyun so i’m one of those happy readers who is happy that he gets his own story, tho the POV in this is not his but his Omega. If you like ABO and campus setting then this may be for you.

41. Soul Sealer’s school life - The MC is the soul sealer who has to do good deeds to prolong his life, then he meets the ML who has a strong spirit in him. It’s a perfect blend of fantasy, comedy and not so much romance as of the moment. The art is 💯 and i really like to see where this goes!

42. Guidance with Benefits - still ongoing and read few chapters

43. Chiguha Kuna Kisu (completed) - if you like a short read that will make you have overall good vibes then this is it. school setting, two cute boys, a fortunate miscommunication and starting a relationship. it’s so good and made me want to look for more mangas! 🤍

44. Spicy Milk Candy - yandere but in a good way. that’s all i’m gonna say.

45. Ruby Red wo Kamikudaku (completed) - i’m just gonna add the summary below but it’s truly a unique read!

Akane is an Omega who can see people's pheromones as multicolored "crystals”. During his school days, when he was lonely because of his peculiar constitution, he meets Makise, a school nurse teacher. 5 years later, they are miraculously reunited, but Makise has a secret

46. Yume Nara Doko Made Yurusaremasuka (completed) - corporate slave x young policeman. 6 chapters of sweetness!

47. Sparkling Baby (completed) - this is supposedly a sequel for the second lead, but i haven’t read the first story. I just love how the MC/ML first met and then made a mark on each other as strangers — but it wasn’t there time yet. and so they meet again later and navigate their lives together. What attracted me to this story is how the MC changed because of love. For years, he had this sense of what he think is love and looking back, maybe it didn’t work out because love isn’t supposed to be like that. What he found with the ML is real and why it feels different.

48. Ashita kimi no mono ni shite (completed) - this so wholesome! school setting and friends to lovers. quiet boy x cool guy

49. Koibitu Keiyaku chu ni suki (completed) - friends to lovers! fake dating. and well, look at them. so precious together:

50. Camboy Bunny (completed) - i think the title says it all. A delicious read!

51. Beyond the Memories - AAAAAHHHHHHH! the story in itself should be sweet and fluffy but the author manages to squeeze in the undercurrent of there is something wrong. as a reader, there is something big that we don’t know and once it comes out — all of it will be shattered. it looks like there is some sort of regression and MC doesn’t know this but the ML does. The question here is when his memories will come back and will he forgive the ML. We are not in that part yet with what’s available right now so i’m excited!

52. Private Call (completed) - another omegaverse.

53. Senza Replica - guide/esper. very few chapters out and something i will go back to.

I read everything except the novel at BATO. 🫶🏼 covering my may-october 2024 reads.

[lurkingshan]

I have caught up through episode 8 of TsukuTabe and I really cannot contain my emotion about Kasuga's arc with her family in these episodes, so I am here to scream. That was so fucking beautiful. This has to be one of my favorite depictions of breaking the cycle of family trauma that I have ever seen.

I loved how efficiently the show established everything we needed to know about Kasuga's father with just a few lines of dialogue over the phone. The way he began the conversation by trying to shame her, the way he started making demands without asking her a single question about her life or how she was doing, the way he casually said "Akira is in the prime of his life" while tacitly dismissing any worth or value Kasuga's own life as a single woman might hold. With just that one conversation we knew exactly who that man is and why Kasuga has tried to build her own life in solitude rather than continue to live with him.

And her conversation with Nagumo gave us even more insight into how she was raised that fills in some context about the way she thinks about food and why taking pleasure in her meals is such a big deal for her. Kasuga's family deprived her of food (love), and so it's no wonder that meeting someone like Nomoto, who was so determined to give her food (love), would be such a life altering event for her, and finally give her the sense of safety she has never had.

I loved, too, that the show delivered some firm commentary on the way women are subjugated in heterosexual marriages and forced to serve their husband’s family like indentured slaves, particularly in many Asian cultures. Kasuga was very affected by seeing her mother live that way, and you could see she is carrying guilt about leaving this burden to her mother. But ultimately, she cannot control her mother's choices or fix her mistakes, she can only save herself from repeating them. And she found the strength within herself to do it, even though it must have been terrifying to take that leap.

The way that Kasuga drew that boundary with her father was a Very Big Deal in her cultural context, and I loved that the show drove that point home by having Kasuga confess to Nomoto about her decision and express her fear of being judged. She knows she will absolutely be cast as a bad daughter and judged harshly by most people who find out she has cut ties with her father, and she needed Nomoto to reassure her once again that their relationship is a safe place for her. She needed Nomoto to reassure her that she is her family now and she will always be on her side. And of course Nomoto did exactly that, and we got to end this very emotional episode with a Kasuga who is bravely building the life she wants for herself with the love and support of her chosen family.

[witchofthesouls]

So I got this particular scene haunting me from "burn your sins and wash away your virtues" a title submission from @skyite for an ask meme. Get ready because it's my take on what I wanted from the Camiens, the Thirteen Primes, and time-traveling humans that become Primes godfuckingdammit

_______

“Nemesis Prime, Champion-bride of Megatronus and beloved sister of Solus!”

A voice rang through the underground furnace, clear over its roar and burning meat and frames, over the breaking stakes and noises of the dying, over the chants and screams and manic jubilation that swept across the city. The flames swelled within the mouth, consuming the dead as the cavern bore it all. The engineering was a marvel to behold as distant booms rocked the ground, and the mine still held true.

:: And so they laid together and became the Forge and the Forger. From their entwined essences, a new way of Life came forth, and Death casted His Shadow upon all. :: Ravage intoned over a private channel, and Juno saw unearthly shapes reflected upon her dark armature. Soundwave tensed as a crowd gathered around them.

Anticipation and euphoria ran rampant through the throng. Violence hummed in the air with the realization that the uprising was spearheaded by Camiens that armed Darhos’ slaves. Kitted frames, bright and vivid, were painted in blood from electric-blue and ancient-pink Energon to the near human-red, poisonous-green, and striking-violet. Several mecha held the same facial markings as Windblade: bright red loops of Caminus’ own face staring back at them, burning bright in the firelight. Long Camien-red robes shifting among, like fresh blood upon an altar.

There was no other way but down in the massive grave of untold numbers held by the mine, Juno had no other choice, not if she needed to prove herself as a Prime heralded by Megatronus Prime, the Breaker, brother-twin to Prima, the Eldest Sun, and husband to Solus, the Forger.

"Prima is of the Sun and rules above, but Megatronus is his mirror-twin and rules below." Juno recited quietly, optics forward into the mine-turned-firepit.

Ravage immediately understood, red optics glinting in firelight as she sat on her haunches. Still as a sentinel. And after a long moment, Soundwave loosened as well.

Steeling her resolve and bracing her senses, Juno walked through the hungry flames and refused to look back.

The first yards were easy, even blinded by the swell of yellows and reds, then resistance was met by the bodies. Most caved under her own weight. Darhos, unlike their Quintesson masters, preferred to keep their technological enhancements for their own upper-crust citizens. Others are meant to be fed through the grinder as raw as possible : blood and tears, life and death, all of it utilized as Darhos continued Quintessa’s ways of bridging the arcane and science to a horrifying scale of cruelty.

It went deeper, and bodies liquified from the scorching temperatures, and Juno sank into the remains, crawling through the pits, partly wading through the sludge of broken skeletons, melted slag, and magma. She could hear the whispers, countless and without end, all of them slowly realizing her presence. A steady trickle into an immense roar of unfathomable emotions swarmed her.

< Give me your grief, and I will free you of those shackles. > The words poured out of her without conscious thought. The deep thrum of Megatronus’ hand in it.

And then she fell.

Juno sank deeper as the ground disappeared beneath her, falling as she had done a long time ago when a chained Fallen offered her the chance to remake the future. She managed to catch herself on an edge and haul over it, guided by the vague indents of the stairs to slowly crawl her way out as a titanic weight settled upon her. The voices of the dead were innumerable, words lost in an ocean of static woven by hatred and bereavement, but the curses on their lips were seared across their souls.

And it flowed into her, by mouth, by vents, by nose, it poured into her frame until there was another firestorm trapped within her bones, eating at her fuel lines, and devouring her insides as heat had no way to escape. She choked and cried out, but refused to stay still. Inching her way forward with every agonizing hand clawing into the rockface to pull herself. To stop was to die and she refused to consider it.

A hand suddenly reached out to pull out Juno from the miasma of all those Darhos had wronged. The change was so jarring that it took Juno a moment to gather herself as her senses felt muted as if she was blanketed away from the world.

And cold, so very cold. She went from a hell fire nightmare into freezing reality.

“And much like our ancient predecessors, you came from nothing and became everything.” The Mistress of Flame spoke with a fervent gleam in her yellow optics as the very hand that pulled Juno out began to smoke, paint bubbling.

This tall, sturdy femme with such a firm grip was none other than the Mistress of Flame. The Head Priestess of the Way of Flame, Caminus’ Truth Seeker, Speaker of the Forge, and Solus Prime’s Premiere Daughter. She was dressed in reds, oranges, and yellows, mimicking the colors of an active smithy. Her mantle designed to reflect the sun with kibble patterned as rays and the heart of a Forge as a window bared her very violet-blue spark to the world. She had an incredible pain tolerance as well: the elegant and intricate patterns of stylised flames weren't painted or tattooed, it was carved into the very protoform, nor did she fear fire and heat as her circuitry sparked and protoform charred, she kept her hand in a steadfast grip, even as her vibrant cape began to crisp and flake away from the immense temperature.

Instead, the Mistress of Flame stared at Juno with a deep sense of consummate love. Even her field was full of deep commitment and complete affection. It was the expression of how a parent would hold their newborn infant, a child to their parent, a spouse to their partner, a guardian to their charge, a servant to their liege.

A mortal to their Prime, Ravage's imagined voice rasped in low tones with the satisfied flick of her tail, Soundwave casting a haunting, protective shadow.

It was close, deeply intimate, and Juno uncomfortably knew with absolute certainty that if she fell back into the molten slag, then the Mistress of Flame would follow into the molten pit without hesitation.

Juno carefully stepped forward, guiding the other femme away from the furnace, and she simply followed, still holding her hand. They walked up the long set of stairs, the stone caked in filth, old blood, and soot, and the heat grew distant behind them as Juno spied something else in front of them, lights dancing upon the walls in familiar patterns - shapes that played across Ravage’s plating when they neared the portal to the mine turned sacrificial pyre.

“Solus is of the Forge and speaks in the flames, ash, and cinder. Within the cracks of the molten, the strike between swings, and whispers the final forms of a work. And She has spoken about you. I have seen your face, beloved of Shadow and Chaos. I have seen your ascension from the very roots of Megatronus’ altar and your glorious crusade against our long, forsaken enemies.” The Mistress of Flame said as they finally reached dias. There was the remains of an immense metalwork turned to kindling as a bonfire ate it. The piece once commanded the whole space, dwarfing all those that came, even a Predacon would feel miniscule, had warped and melted beyond recognition. Only the offerings piles remained at its base.

Upon closer inspection, those very piles, taller than a triple-changer, contained innumerable small bundles of scrapped, tiny skeletons, charred and broken. A chill surrounded them, and the whispers grew finally grew coherent to form a single word-

D R O W N

An ocean of the damned with waves of twisting, unnatural shapes lapped over the carved stairs, clawing at it with countless phantom hands, a testament to the sins that Darhos, Quintessa, Quintus had committed, surrounded the dias and the melting still-standing statue.

< Give me your grief, and I shall free you of those shackles. >

The ocean of wailing ghosts surged forward, flooding everything in its path, hungry as the molten slag, and ready to rise up and devour the city, the very planet itself if left unchecked.

Her spine stiffened, her own spark surged forward, chassis opening up to a dance of violent shadows against the raging dead, and Juno saw-

The flow of Darhos’ lifeforce and the Song of the Universe, indescribable colors of multiple streams and rivers interconnected and running into the ocean of the cosmos, but here, it laid foul and stagnant, a deep, drak wound left to fester and poison everything as it attempted to eat its way across the planet. Strands spooling out to connect to the smaller creeks leading into distant stars, already unraveling them to tear apart.

Megatronus was Beloved of Primus, too. When He stepped forward, the world held its breath.

Megatronus was one and all, and He freely shared it with her.

Megatronus was of Shadow that rose from the Sun, and so Nemesis burned the taint away.

______

The aftermath was quiet.

The symbol of Darhos’ conquest laid in pieces, smoldering as the gruesome offerings to its altar had been swept clean away. The chaos above ground was a distant dream as Juno was on the ground, retching out putrid slag. Black and viscous, its slimy texture dribbled down her mouth. She coughed harshly, spitting out bone fragments, and Energon foamed on her lips.

There was a careful rustle of shifting plates, and the Mistress of Flame kneeled beside her, uncaring of the pulsating mess. “Sacrifice and suffering. Cruelty and mercy. Compassion and violence.” The Mistress of Flame intoned, voice in a lilting cadence. “These are the tenets left by the Thirteen and shaped the universe. The very tenets Solus Prime engraved into Caminus. And we answer your call to arms, sister to Solus.”

With a snap of her fingers, the Mistress ignited the spoiled mess into bright flames, still unafraid of pain as she helped Juno to sit, hands peeling down to the base, protoform sizzling. “Light the way, Solus Prime, with the Creation Lathe guiding the path. Light the way, Solus Prime, in clear vision of our smithies to arm your children in the upcoming crucible. Light the way, Solus Prime, by the way of your Conjunx’s newest bride, your newest sister-”

“I am not his bride.” Juno couldn't help but to interrupt the chant, exhausted beyond measure, chest scraped raw and empty as if someone took out fistfuls of her own chassis, only to leave her heart bruised and aching. She felt freezing, even as her very touch scorched others. “I am just a lost daughter from a lost people.” Truth covered by omission, and it was the closest thing she was willing to divulge about her unwritten future. “My name was June, and-”

The Mistress of Flame let out a soft noise, her optics gleaming with joyous wonderment, cupping Juno’s face in careful reverence, hands burning away, and Juno couldn't part away from her intense gaze. “Nemesis Prime from the very namesake that was once the martyred daughter of Chaos and Creation. You have returned to us, resurrected from the pyre, twice-blessed and twice-cursed by their mantle.”

The Mistress of Flame pressed a scorching kiss upon Juno's crest, her lips melting from the residual heat, and Energon dripped down and told her in the dying light with broken lips -a pact sealed in blood. “Caminus marches to war once more, Juno Nemesis, Prime of Megatronus and Solus. Caminus marches beneath your banners. Caminus is under your command.”

[fishjellylou]

“I don’t understand why this is an unpopular opinion.” Good thing this person turned off reblogs and replies so I can’t respond to this directly. I find it funny how they tried to use Jacob as a scapegoat in the tags at the end of this BS to shield their blatant racism. It has never been an unpopular opinion in the (show) fandom to dislike book Louis, no one does. It’s also not book Louis they’re actually complaining about here. They’re throwing in book Louis to explain why the character is terrible “overall” but the minute Jacob was cast book Louis and show Louis became separate characters.

This person is speaking about show Louis only and saying he is the most evil character in the series while Armand orchestrated the lynching of him and Claudia, and Lestat battered him to control him, but it’s okay because they’re vampires and he was human. I didn’t realize demons were morally above humans now?

Was Louis in the right for being a pimp? No. He used the bodies of black women to get ahead as an ostracized black man in the Deep South and a black man profiting off the trauma of those they’re meant to protect should always be called out. The show, unlike Anne Rice, does not take that lightly and notes the complexity of his choice to do that. Louis says his father was so incompetent financially he would’ve had them all on the street if he didn’t use his wits to do something to protect them. Louis was driven by the love of family, greed, and pride. It was an eat or be eaten mindset. It’s not right, but it is how Racist White America pits black people against each other. The show also made it clear to highlight his guilt over that, which again Anne never did with book Louis’s slave owner past. To say show Louis is the most evil as a human and not have that same energy for Lestat raping someone as a human in Body Thief just exposes what you are—*whispers*—RACIST—So be silent.

[selfish-cat]

Veilguard Re-imagined

Given how DAV turned out to be, I think it would've been much more interesting if it was more in line with what Trespasser was hinting at. Spoilers below:

Instead of ooo bad evil gods and bad evil people, the factions could've been so much more nuanced. And you know who would've been super involved? The elves. Elves still struggling with the truth of their Vallaslin. Elves tired of being treated like dirt. Elves who are proud of their heritage.

I'm imagining the main 3 factions would be:

Evanuris: The base of their followers would be the Dalish who have worshipped them for centuries and don their Vallaslin. Whether or not the Inquisitor spreads the news about their tyranny (and whether or not they're believed), as a people who have lost everything time and time again, why would you turn away the chance to regain the former glory your people once had? The gods wouldn't have to try very hard. They were leaders once of course they know how to sway people. Make them sympathetic! Show them mourning their friends and lovers and lost empire. Have them cast doubt over Solas' claims! They can still have their "bullies and tyrants" and their blighted dragons but they would also have the desperate and disillusioned, maybe some of whom you can still reach out to and pull back.

If you want to bring the Blight in, it would be easy enough to blight their followers under the premise of empowerment (Solas isn't the only one who can lie). Instead of throwing a billion reavers at me, give me intelligent blighted creatures who think they're reclaiming their agency, who think they're avenging themselves, their loved ones, and their ancestors by spreading the blight to cities. It would also be a good way to distinguish between the gods' followers and other factions.

You know who wouldn't be joining them? Tevinter supremacists whose Imperium past prided themselves on conquering the elves. Or the Antaam who haven't renounced their beliefs and upbringing—you don't shake off that lifelong wariness of magic unless a lot of people get real chill with a lot of things real fast. I'm not touching the Butcher part because I still don't understand it although confused, lost track of the plot, wanting to turn yourself inside out? Relatable.

Fen'Harel: Rather than being relegated to a troll in the comments, let Solas lead the army he amassed in Trespasser??? All the Dalish and the city elves who are tired of being systematically oppressed and have been for literal ages?? He clearly cares for their freedom, as established in DAI (I had feelings when he finally called the Dalish "our people" but then it was followed by EA/Bioware nonsense). Other than the one line about him breaking the chains of slaves at the beginning, his deeds are never mentioned again other than to berate Rook.

I think his forces would be smaller. More scouts and spirits that specialize in skirmishes. It would be a three-way fight between the Evanuris, Solas, and Rook (with support from the Inquisitor and different implications depending on whether you disbanded or not). I think it'd be very interesting if you established a friendship/romance with Solas' and his forces withdrew when the Inquisitor appears vs. continue fighting if you decide to burn that bridge because choices matter EA. None of the elves in his forces will have their Vallaslin.

Keep the flashbacks. Keep the lore. Keep Mythal. But also keep the character instead of teehee lied to you again why would I listen to reason uwu.

Rook: None of the party needs to change or even the order of recruitment or any of the powers at play. They're all so charming and fun and clearly written with love.

Of course Harding will be there as a rep from the Inquisition. Let her work through her struggles with the Maker and the Golden City lore. Let her explore Titan lore but in a way that doesn't end with welp guess that's that and now let's not bring it up again since there definitely won't be implications with dwarves across all of Thedas. Neve works with the Shadow Dragons and would be sympathetic to the whole situation. Keep Aelia and involve the Venatori that way—strictly in Tevinter and unrelated to the gods. I imagine their forces were severely weakened after Corypheus. They can still kill the Archon in preparation of installing one of their own in if they want because that'd be in line with their established motives.

Bellara and Davrin can help shed a light on their perspective of things. Bellara tries in DAV but given how elf involvement was basically dismissed with "nah they're steering clear of the evil gods and we defs don't have a problem with any of this" t'was rough. It would've made more sense bringing Cyrian back aligned with the gods than suddenly bringing up a Forgotten One (excellent DLC option in the Tirashan though). Davrin struggling to distance himself from his heritage and empowerment via Wardenhood and fatherhood (lol) is very interesting to explore instead of idk being a farm boy even though it'd be awfully hard to farm without a permanent settlement, which apparently was a thing but I digress. Keep the griffons and Isseya but tie her to Ghilan'nain in a sympathetic but warped way (of course Ghilan'nain loves the griffons and is sympathetic to their plight. Why not make them better? Isseya's a city elf but why would she doubt the Mother of Halla?) Also definitely keep that chat with Solas and have more of that!

Lucanis and Crow lore. Imagine debating with him about practices of kidnapping and torturing children to train them. Characters can grow and learn (look at my best boy Dorian) and when he gets promoted to First Talon, maybe he'll keep your words in mind if your bond is high enough. Taash and Emerich had more personal things to deal with which is great. Not every character arc has to be directly tied back to the Big Bads. In DAV's case, it would've made more sense if they were just standalone issues instead of trying to be like "yeahh y'know, Venatori support. Yup."

And if you play Rook as an elf, there should definitely be a city elf and Dalish option because they're different cultures EA. You can't just have options like "I'm Dalish where it counts" and say "Our Gods" and "Your People" in the same scene because what even does that mean EA. Very good posts about this stuff here and here and here

Ending: At the end of this power struggle, where the gods are inevitably taken down, instead of a uwu everyone lived happily ever after except those who died, there are! Ramifications! Those were elven gods that almost destroyed everything! Why would they just let elves be and the Dalish chill and settle in Arlathan Forest (nvm why they were allowed back in the first place given how the Dalish treat the Dales and how they expect people to react to their presence there)?

Depending on how you play all your games (or a neutral score for new players), I think this is where you see the results of your choices. Did you garner sympathy and support from leaders? What leaders did you put in place? Will things return to a tense status quo? Will there be another Exalted March where they're driven even farther away? Or will there be introspection and understanding maybe resulting in a new Halamshiral for the Dalish somewhere and more rights for city elves?

As for Solas, I think his outcome would depend on the Inquisitor's choice in Trespasser. Do you kill him, leaving any future attempts to breach the Veil a risk? Do you fade into obscurity with him to live out a peaceful life in secrecy? Or do you convince him to give Thedas as is a second chance now that the gods are gone? He can disappear, maybe he occasionally has visitors or visits those he considers friends while keeping an eye on the world and the Veil (he'll be the new Veilguard which would make that ending line make more sense)?

[desmon1995]

Hamilton, Weaponized Wokeness, and the Internet’s Compulsive Guilt Complex

So we need to talk about Hamilton. If you’re part of a certain demographic that grew up with it in the mid-2010s, you probably remember the near-religious zeal that surrounded this musical. People were quoting it like gospel, crying over the mixtape, and breaking their banks to see it live. But now? Now, a lot of those same fans are backtracking, performing intellectual gymnastics to disown their past love. Why? Because Hamilton doesn’t check every box on today’s “woke” checklist. It’s revisionism, pure and simple, and it’s more a reflection on the critics than on Hamilton itself.

For starters, let’s talk about what Hamilton was at the time. This wasn’t just another musical; it was a cultural moment. Especially for Black and brown theater performers and fans, Hamilton was revolutionary. It put actors of color in roles traditionally whitewashed, blended contemporary music with Broadway, and reached audiences who’d never felt welcome in that space. In the sanitized world of theater, Hamilton was a bombshell, offering a fresh take that made young performers feel seen. It wasn’t perfect, but it was monumental.

The critiques I keep seeing—from both former fans and the politically progressive crowd—paint Hamilton as a whitewashed version of America’s founding, a sanitized theme-park history. But here’s the thing: Hamilton was never supposed to be a gritty historical documentary. It’s a musical about Alexander Hamilton’s ambition, his missteps, and his place in the American story—a story that is flawed, contradictory, and unfinished. Hamilton doesn’t hold up a perfect picture of America; it holds up a mirror to its messiness. And dismissing it for not being an all-encompassing critique of early America is missing the point.

Take Aaron Burr, Hamilton’s cautious, centrist foil. The musical presents Burr as someone who opts for safety over risk, and ultimately, inaction over bold moves. Burr’s passivity and Hamilton’s relentless drive serve as metaphors for the choices America has made: to act or to sit back, to strive for legacy or avoid the cost. Together, they reflect the push and pull of American ambition and apathy, neither of which are “good” or “bad.” They just are, and that’s complex. Erasing this because it’s not “woke” enough ignores the nuance Hamilton brings.

Another point these revisionist critics cling to is that Hamilton sanitizes its lead, making him into a hero. And yes, the real-life Hamilton was self-interested, married into a slave-owning family, and was often ruthless. But the musical doesn’t ignore this. It shows him as dogmatic, driven by his own ambition, and flawed beyond repair. He is, in many ways, a textbook example of the contradictions in America itself: deeply flawed, trying to belong, and ultimately, paying the price for his ego. This isn’t glorification; it’s tragedy.

Then there’s the critique that Hamilton is just “Obama-era liberalism” packaged with catchy tunes—a symbol of the old days of hope and “yes we can” that’s cringe-worthy in today’s climate. Fine. Hamilton does reflect that era of hope in America, where progress seemed possible. But slapping that label on it and moving on misses why it resonated then and why it endures. Hamilton cracked open the gates for diverse representation on Broadway, sparking conversations and productions that are still unfolding. Sure, it’s not as radical as we might want now, but that doesn’t erase its impact.

Let’s not forget that Hamilton was a product of its time and place—and one that challenged Broadway norms. Calling it “whitewashing” ignores the fact that it was a groundbreaking show for many Black and brown artists and fans. It was never intended to be the ultimate word on representation, and that’s something Lin-Manuel Miranda and the cast have made clear. The show was about opening doors, not being the final answer.

Yes, Hamilton deserves critique. It’s not above analysis or even condemnation. But this revisionist guilt trip, where we erase its impact or reframe it to absolve ourselves of loving it, is shallow. Critique Hamilton all you want—but let’s not pretend it wasn’t a moment, or that its flaws erase the doors it opened and the conversations it started. History, just like art, is complicated, and this need to revise or sanitize what we once embraced doesn’t make us more progressive; it just makes us short-sighted.

Here’s the thing: We can’t just rewrite our own histories because it’s uncomfortable to confront who we once were. Hamilton isn’t perfect, and neither is America, but both invite us to grapple with contradictions and reckon with legacy. Loving something flawed doesn't make us naïve—it makes us human. Instead of erasing the impact Hamilton had, maybe we need to remember what it meant, even in its messiness.

Because at the end of the day, our cultural milestones, like Hamilton, are pieces of our journey, for better or worse. Revisiting them with fresh eyes is part of growth, but denying their impact? That’s erasing our own stories. We can move forward without tearing down the things that got us here. After all, the story of America—of progress, failure, and trying again—is still being written. And like Hamilton himself, maybe the question isn’t whether it’s perfect but whether it’s brave enough to take its shot.

[howlingday]

Sorry for asking again I accidentally sent the wrong video here the right one.

WHEN KAYUGA MET SHIROGANE'S DAD by ANIME SOCIETY

[Sillier Version]

----------------------------------

Jaune: Dad? What are you doing here?

Dio: Is it really so odd for a father to come and support his son.

Jaune: Well, no, but-

Dio: And if I can get some decent shots of my future slaves, then all the more reason for me to-

Jaune: LISTEN HERE, YOU SONUVA-

Pucci: Actually, I asked him to take pictures of the other students so we know who to best ask for job applications.

Jaune: O-Oh... Um, yeah, sorry about that. (Walks away)

Pucci: I have to say, your son is very well-mannered.

Dio: Hardly. He's still such a child. For example, he's only just now hitting puberty with just a few hairs under his-

Jaune: (Runs back over, Superman punches)

----------------------------------

Weiss: (From a far away) Do your best, Jaune~!

Dio: So, he actually has a supporting cast, does he?

Weiss: Huh?

Dio: He's probably breaking a sweat like rock-breaker in prison to not let anyone know how incompetent he truly is.

Weiss: ...Excuse me, but I can't let that comment slide. As vice-leader of Team JNPR's sister team, Team RWBY, I, Weiss Schnee will not allow such disparaging comments about Jaune Arc.

Dio: Oho? And do tell me what you know about Jaune Arc.

Weiss: He was chosen to be the leader of Team JNPR!

Dio: Only out of a few candidates, right?

Weiss: His hair is luscious gold.

Dio: Only as a result of his genetic background, right?

Weiss: He has the greatest tactical mind of his classmates!

Dio: That's all he has going for him, is it?

Weiss: JAUNE ARC IS A WONDERFUL MAN! WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THAT?!

Dio: Hah... You have some interesting reactions.

Weiss: When I first came to Beacon, I thought I was the only one worthy of the title of leader. When he was made team leader of his team, and I wasn't of my own, I thought there was a mistake. But I see now that his kind heart paired with his brilliant mind put him where he is today. If I could, I'd like to meet his parents and thank them for how they raised him.

Dio: Oh? So if you were given the choice between loving or hating him with all your heart, which would you choose? Can you imagine sharing a loving kiss at an all-white altar? Well, do you?

Weiss: THAT LINE OF QUESTIONING IS COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE! Besides, why am I even talking about these kind of things with a complete stranger?! Who even are you?!

Dio: I'm naturally curious, much like cat who's found an unusual mouse.

Jaune: You're still up here? Wait, Weiss?

Dio: Excuse me. I must have appeared so rude to you. Greetings, I'm Dio Brando, Jaune Arc's father.

Weiss: ...What a terribly curious father you have, Jaune.

Jaune: Huh? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER, YOU BASTARD?!

[3-2-whump]

Unlikely Partnership

<prev next>

N: Just because it's OC Takeover week doesn't mean you don't get new -hey, where did Khaled and Boss go?

J: (gestures to a closet where the sounds of clattering objects and skin on skin impact can be heard) Take a wild fucking guess.

N: Oh come on! And just as I was gonna introduce our chapter too!

J: I'll go get them, but for now, introduce the chapter.

TW/CW: slave whump, mentioned torture, plans of murder. That's all I can think of for this chapter, but please let me know if I missed any!

Nico had driven about halfway home by the time he realized he’d left it behind. Cellphone, wallet, keys, flash drive –wait, flash drive? He groaned. Did I leave it in the guard shack, on the desk, out in the open? He cursed under his breath as he found a mostly empty parking lot to turn into and begin his way back to the old house.

The lights weren’t on in the guard shack, meaning the late-night guard hadn’t shown up yet. The faint blue glow of a screen uncharacteristically illuminated the empty shack’s interior as Nico drove closer down the winding driveway. That’s weird, he thought. He pulled his jeep over to the side of the road, off into the bordering woods around the property, before heading down the rest of the driveway on foot with a loaded gun at his side.

As he got closer, he could see a person in a black denim jacket leaning over the console, too absorbed in the footage he was watching to even register there was another person sneaking up on him. The bluish light of the monitors’ screens cast ominous shadows over his somber face. A glimmer of a dermal piercing shone in his right cheekbone, matching the steel barbell in his left eyebrow, and the barely contained rage in his eyes. The man was distracted enough with whatever he was watching that he didn’t even notice Nico letting himself in and sneaking up behind him until his gun was practically touching the back of the stranger’s head.

“I’ll give you three seconds to tell me who you are and what the hell you’re doing here, and not a second more,” Nico threatened.

What he lacked in situational awareness the stranger more than made up for in quick reflexes, as he whipped around and quickly disabled the gun-wielding guard. Next thing Nico knew; he was bent over the security console with his dominant arm twisted uncomfortably behind his back and a hand twisted in his hair, holding his face against the switch for the gate. The gate slowly opened with a mechanical humming noise in front of them.

“Hmm, bad choice, vato,” his opponent purred in his ear. “Nobody holds a gun to my head!” The man let go of his hair and spun him around, only to punch him square in the jaw. Nico’s head bounced off the switch. The gate creaked its way shut once again. He tried shifting himself underneath the new adversary, at the very least so his head wouldn’t hit the switch and then alert anyone to the unusual activity going on at the entrance.

“Who the hell are you?” Nico finally got his hands in front of him and blocked the oncoming hit, catching his opponent’s fist and lurching them forward to slam his opponent’s back against the wall. “Where’s the night guard? What are you doing here?”

The stranger ignored his questions, his cat-like golden eyes flickering to the continuously playing footage on the camera behind them. “You knew, didn’t you?” he hissed accusatorily. “You knew all about the humiliations, the tortures, the rapes ��and you did nothing?! Even worse, you saved them?! What did Khaled ever do to you to deserve this?!”

Wait, what? Nico took his eyes off his opponent to look behind him. His thumb drive was plugged into the computer, and a very familiar file was maxed out on the screen. It was the footage from last month, the one where Boss had nearly flayed Khaled alive in the T & I cellar after everyone went home from work. Nico himself could barely watch it himself without feeling sick, but this man made it much further in the video than he did. Which could only mean… “You’re Julio, aren’t you?”

The murderous rage was only quelled for a nanosecond. “Yeah, who’s asking?” he snapped.

“I’m Nico. Khaled’s friend, second shift security, law student.” He took the chance and let go of Julio, backing away to give the man some space. “Maybe he mentioned me?”

Julio smoothed out his coat with his hands before offhandedly shrugging. “He might’ve mentioned you, I guess.”

Nico rolled his eyes at his guest’s reticence as he politely offered him his chair. “How much has he told you?”

Julio took the peace offering, crumpling into the chair and throwing his head into his hands. “He’s told me nothing that you don’t already know, I’m sure,” Julio answered. His knuckles read ‘FUCK YOU!’ Nico found that interesting.

“He’s a slave, owned by the boss of one of the most powerful mafias in this goddamned city, and I have no idea what a scrapyard king/hitman like me can do about it.”

Scrapyard king? As Nico turned on the Keurig and began making his friend’s boyfriend a cup of coffee, he distantly remembered the gossip surrounding the chop shop gangs, especially Juicio Divino –Divine Judgement, as they liked to bill themselves. They were the reason lots of young g’s were depicting Death on a motorcycle now, with a gun tucked into his ephemeral cloak right next to the iconic scythe. What kind of apex predator did my friend snare? he wondered.

“You could do a hell of a lot more than me,” Nico consoled, passing the freshly expelled espresso to the dejected assassin. “I’m just a low-ranking nobody who’s been asked to guard the gate and keep his head in his books. I’ve been asking myself the same question for years now, and I am no closer to finding an answer.” He inclined his head to the thumb drive and the saved security footage, which was now looping back to the first days they met. “The best thing I can do for Khaled is save all this evidence for him in case he decides to take legal action against the Boss one day.”

“We know damn well he won’t do that,” Julio sighed. He gratefully took the mug and threw the drink straight back like a shot, not even wincing at the scalding temperature.

Nico’s jaw dropped in shock. “Jesus, dude, that wasn’t a whiskey I gave you!” he exclaimed.

“Well, it should’ve been.” Julio placed the empty mug on the console. He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket for only a second before procuring a liquor bottle. “Now we’re talking,” he said with a self-satisfied hum. He unscrewed the cap and poured some of the drink into the mug as Nico reached behind the Keurig to get his own. Julio poured out some liquor for him too before capping the bottle and tucking it back into his coat. “Now, I bet we have about an hour until the night guard I knocked out comes to in the middle of the woods, so let’s sit down and figure out a plan.”

Nico’s relief that Enzo hadn’t been outright murdered was quickly replaced by puzzlement. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Julio’s lips curled into a Cheshire cat grin. “Separately, you and I can’t do shit against Don Costa, but if we worked together, with your insider status and knowledge, and my expertise and access to resources, we can finally free our friend of that bastard for good!” He stuck out his ‘FUCK’ hand, primed for a handshake as his hazel eyes shone with mischief. “Well, what do you say?”

Nico raised his hand on instinct to meet his, but hesitated before he could commit to the gesture. He’d just gotten out of the doghouse with Don Costa, finally being able to meet with Khaled on his lunch breaks again, and he wasn’t exactly eager to get into trouble again. The Boss had threatened his tuition last time; what would he hold over his head this time? “Aren’t you worried about what he may do to you, or to your gang?” he asked.

“Ay, Nico, vato,” the man before him sighed wistfully, “there is nothing your mafia can do to me that they haven’t already done.” His wide smile dimmed, turning into something sad and contemplative. “They stole my hope, my future, my mentor and lover –the real question is, what are you willing to do –no, what are you willing to give to see Khaled happy and free, as he should be?”

Nico joined hands with Julio, resolutely shaking hands as he sealed a partnership that could only succeed or end in abject failure. He knew his answer. Anything. Everything.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

[allwormdiet]

Buzz 7.1

Oh boy, some calm, thank goodness, I hope there's no storm that might interrupt this somehow

Oh, Taylor. You've gotta find a better way to score physical intimacy with people than this, you are not going to get what you're looking for

I was already a bit reserved about whether I thought these two would work out and that was before reading the rest of this arc, so...

Does Lisa know that this is going to end the way it does? I can't imagine she would, she wants her team happy and the way things are about to go between these two is not going to be super happy. Maybe she's reading Brian wrong, if what he said is true about not being so good with girls, and her power is misinterpreting the data

Taylor, you both fucked that up last night, don't pin it all on Danny. You could have told him and given him the opportunity to prove you wrong, to give you something better than the worst-case scenario, but you overruled that and left your home out of. Pride? Shame? C'mon girl.

Fucking finally we get the Alec backstory

Fucking creepy power, though I guess the real creep factor is that he's willing to use it and has used it to make a fucking slave army out of brainwashed women

On the one hand, I get pressing Alec for information, because all of a sudden that's something that the rest of them may have to worry about, but I'm not sure threatening him into talking is the way...

I think that's the youngest age we have for a trigger event so far. And it was deliberately induced by Alec's father. Utterly horrifying.

So... Alec doesn't seem to think he has any kind of moral core, and I'm not sure that's true? Lisa is still the only one out of the group who carries a gun, and Taylor is out here with a knife that she's used to take eyes and toes at this point; Alec's got a comparatively nonlethal loadout, so even if he doesn't feel bad about killing, he doesn't put himself in a situation where it's easy to do.

Taylor, hon, I don't think it's on you to judge him, much as you would love to

Like. Was Alec even treated as a person before he got his power? Was he treated as a person after that? None of the adults in his life ever made an effort to raise him, because they were either his monster father or his father's brainwashed slaves who only cared about him, so any "parenting" would've come from older siblings probably about as fucked as him.

You know what? I'm laying it out here now. The fact that Alec is lazy, selfish, and kind of an asshole, who's not great at reading people and prioritizes personal pleasure over most other things? Actually no joke a huge mark in his favor, because that's who he's figured out how to be after spending 12-13 years of his 15-16 years of life in Hell (which, as I've long suspected, is contained within Montreal) and then three years on the run as a career criminal. The worst thing that I can say about him is that he acts like a shitty teenager, and people act like shitty teenagers while coming from normal homes. Congratulations, Alec, you will be getting a trophy for good behavior (given the circumstances) delivered in the mail

This is sweet. Even with this unpleasant surprise, Brian is still reluctant to act like they'd leave Alec to deal with Heartbreaker alone

This is the most obvious downside of the arrangement, setting aside the matter of "can we trust Coil" (hahahaha)

Rachel, fucking bless you for being the voice of reason here

Yes! Bonding time with Rachel! Friendship rank up with Rachel! Upgrade your Social Link with Rachel in order to strength Personas of the Chariot Arcana!

Actually has someone made a read of the Worm cast as Persona S.Links because I feel like you could make some interesting choices there, obviously Taylor fulfills the Fool/Wild Card role

This is smart as fuck actually. She's basically cutting Brian off before he can interject as the head of the team and establishing her own stance within the hierarchy

An explicit bargain, made with rules for Taylor to follow and consequences if Taylor breaks those rules, all slanted in Rachel's favor.

One day you're gonna call her Rachel in your own head, Taylor, and I can't wait for that

Current Thoughts

Main thing with this chapter is that we've gotten all but one Undersider backstory filled in with Alec's ties to Heartbreaker laid out. Lisa's the last holdout, and I suspect she'll remain mum on the subject as long as she can get away with it

I'm still of the position that Alec reads a lot more shallow on the surface than he actually is, but all we have to go off of is what he says and what he does, with the trick that it's filtered through Taylor's own fairly biased perspective (she thinks he's a coldblooded murderer because his father ordered him to kill an enemy gang member, and that's certainly a read of the situation but she's just as likely jumping to conclusions). He's also taken care to not do much when he can help it, save for the Bakuda fight where he worked his ass off keeping them all alive. It's a waiting game to get to the meat of his character, I suspect, same as basically every other Undersider except Rachel.

Speaking of which, really enjoy the next chapters with Rachel. By far the Undersider I'd spend the most time with. We'd hang out with dogs and not talk to each other for hours, it'd be great.

Anyway, after a brief little scare with my entire account getting temporarily dropped from existence, I'm going to start using the alt I made @wormstreetsback as a backup for this one, on the off chance something goes horribly awry again. It's just going to be reblogs of my own stuff so don't follow it yet, unless you're fine with doubled posts.

[monebula-art]

Yknow I’m gonna rant about something rq. Maybe a bad take but just 👀👀👀 hear me out.

EDIT: this is legit just a saucy rant it’s not meant to cast blame on anyone and I love both Astarion’s because I find the character progressions and options for both Spawn and Ascended to be equally juicy with their own things to unpack. Every player has the freedom to choose and experience the adventures however they want to. These are legit just. My ramblings in amidst some hate brakes on Ascended that I wanted to shout into the void about. It’s not a dissertation. If anything this is just a ‘What if after the End’ kind of scenario that’s been tumbling around in my head. That’s it.

People give Ascended Astarion a bad rap, but like lemme cook for a smidge. If you stick with him. If you support and love him, sure he’s a little power hungry and arrogant and the power of being the Ascended gets to his head a little.

But like, he mentions going traveling. Seeing the world with you. Maybe for decades, for CENTURIES even. Just the two of you seeing all the world has to offer. He’s spent two hundred years+ STUCK in Baldur’s Gate. His love is no bougie noble who must travel in a carriage. And in fact I’d think a Tav or Durge would insist against it. They would travel like they used to. Like people do. (And famous words that tamed the most notorious of vampires was ‘Travel like people do, you might like it~’)

I think that time would eventually change Astarion back to who he was on track to being before he Ascended. Aka ‘Spawn Astarion’. Seeing the world from a ground perspective. Not above it, alongside it. Having a Tav/Durge who is grounded.

Once his little power trip has run its course, I think he’d mellow out. It might take a decade or two. But he’s got LITERAL ETERNITY to address his hurt. And with a loyal and loving Tav/Durge by his side, being his support and his compass how could he stay lost for long? Like think about it.

Who says yall can’t rule a new nation of Vampires? Who’s to say a world where Vampires can become a diplomatic SOCIETY that can coexist beside other mortals? A world where blood isn’t stolen or taken, but given freely by willing offerers. Where spawn are created to serve by their choice and not stolen out of the night with ultimatums to be slaves??? Where a bite from a vampire doesn’t mean a life of servitude or a death sentence??? Yknow??? Kinda like y’all’s romance first started????

Imagine a Tav who is so passionate about changing THEIR nation, that they build a dream where tormented slave spawns like Astarion and wretched monsters like Cazador don’t EVER HAVE TO EXIST.

And at the top they get to rule it all together. The king and queen of a new nation, a new age of vampires out of the shadows. Where they are beloved and revered and ok maybe a little bit feared, yknow? Rulership is hard.

Tell me in a few decades Astarion wouldn’t be all over that shit. With a dedicated partner, they could guide that ambition of his into something TRULY AMAZING. Like how is no one seeing the POTENTIAL? They swear he’s trash, like he wasn’t totally hanging on you before. Like he doesn’t revere you like the sun as his consort. His treasure??? His love, who he sees and desires eternity with? He’s not just keeping you around for shits n giggles. Like he doesn’t have compassion for people that just because he makes a fucked up choice(one that lowkey you helped him make so if you wanna be like ‘Oh but the 7000 lives!’ Like you made that decision with him. I mean. It was a shitty decision and if you fail the roll you fail the role that isn’t on you. I can get that thinking the Ascendant route is the best course and getting more than you bargained for. And I’ll concede, he’s INSUFFERABLY arrogant. But that’s just one choice in a long line of, really ONLY having fucked up choices to begin with???….. every body has done some irredeemable shit. Not saying you can’t condemn Astarion for that, plenty of the characters already do. But like… you don’t have to??? The lesson was keep living and live better. It’s the only way to make up for the misery and suffering.

He opened up to you once. Permitted your probing, even when it pissed him off. He learned to love you because of that. The power got to his head a little and he’s using that as a substitute coping mechanism for shit he still hasn’t dealt with. It’s fresh. It’s a very open wound he’s trying not to show.

It’ll pass sooner or later. And he’ll have to start healing. That’s why he has YOU. That’s why you stay.

Both Ascended and Spawn say they are with you, if you choose to go down the dark road and embrace your destiny as Durge. Both of them are with you no matter how bloody or deplorable or immoral it gets. Spawn isn’t just suddenly this sweet innocent with a peerless moral compass just because he decided not to ascend. Their dialogue is exactly the same. He’s still THERE and he’s still with his darling.

Miss me with that Ascended is irredeemable but Spawn did nothing wrong. They’re both equally happy to stab someone just for funsies. One hopped on the healing track sooner, that’s it. Abandoning Ascended Astarion right after his ascension just cuz you don’t like how he got a little intense about it is like GUARANTEEING he becomes a bitter and sadistic tyrant. Comparing him to Cazador so soon after he just ended that chapter but has yet to actually DEAL with the chapter mentally or emotionally is an interesting choice, but like… idk a lil wild from my perspective I guess.

You handled him with honesty, trust and patience all up until now, but suddenly he gets a little spooky and you back out? Seems to me like someone is just scared of his power now that he ain’t weaker than you anymore and needs to be protected hm??? Now he can actually fuck you up if he wanted and instead of embracing that with him some of yall wanna be like ‘Oh well now you’re the monster you always hated’.

Grow uuuuup. Make him worse? Make him better??

It has to get worse BEFORE it gets better. That’s how improvement works. It’s everyone’s personal choice to stick with him or bail. I don’t think either choice is a wrong one is all I’m saying. If you’re all in for him, and his mess, and sticking with him for the evil, or even to see if in some aftersotry imagining that time and wisdom eventually mellows him out a bit then cool~ I think that’s possible tbh?

If you think he’s too ‘abusive’ for you to stick with then feel free to end things. It doesn’t make him any less insufferable.

All I’m saying as someone who’s legit been in a few abusive relationships in the past— using possessive language and being manipulative and desperate for control is not a character trait that just appeared out of nowhere after Astarion Ascended. And some folks can just not like the path he took and wanna back out without outcrying a whole essay about why he’s now terrible and abusive and nobody should ever enjoy the Ascendant route. Is all I’m saying.