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sempersirens · 1 year

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yes, chef

masterlist

based on this request from the lovely @cool-iguana

summary: joel miller is the head chef of a prestigious michelin star restaurant in the city. after working for him for over a year, you're determined to not let his ill-temper and cutting words dampen your spirit and love for your career. you won't give in at chipping away at his tough exterior, living for the hope of finding something sweeter below the surface

pairing: no-outbreak, chef!joel x f!reader

content/warnings: angst, joel is a cocky piece of shit, hurt/comfort if you squint

a/n: so i've been binging the bear. what of it. if you have culinary experience i am so sorry, i don't know what the fuck i'm talking about. i literally just watch masterchef.

"I need that grilled octopus plated. Now. This ain't a fuckin' old folk’s home."

"Yes, chef!"

Joel Miller was mean. That was the first thing you had learnt upon stepping into his kitchen over a year ago.

You'd know what you were getting yourself into before you'd even arrived at the restaurant for your first day. Joel's reputation preceded him; he was notorious for running a tight and intimate regime, so successfully that he'd earned a Michelin star to his name. The restaurant itself was a small but sweet seafood and farm-to-table bistro in the middle of the city.

It had taken some settling in, to put it lightly. You had your fair share of culinary experience having worked your way around Europe as a poissonier after graduating culinary school. Still, the other chefs at Joel's restaurant had been working in kitchens since you were in diapers, as they frequently enjoyed reminding you.

Despite the high expectations and fast pace of the kitchen, you soon found your feet.

"On the pass for saucier, chef."

Luke, the restaurant's saute chef, rushed to your side, saucepan in hand. He delicately poured an olive oil, shallot, and herb dressing onto the tentacle, stepping back to indicate the dish was ready to be taken out onto the floor.

"Good job, sweetheart." Luke winked at you, placing a light tap on your ass.

As much as you loved your profession, degradingly misogynist gestures were extremely common. You'd made the mistake of calling out a sous chef earlier on in your career, soon realising how ingrained this kind of mindset was in the older generations you found in a kitchen.

So, you gritted your teeth and got on with it.

"This is a kitchen, not a brothel. Feel each other up on your own damn time." Joel called across the room, making you thankful for the heat of the kitchen masking the blush across your cheeks.

"Yes, chef. Sorry, chef." Luke responded, tail between his legs.

You continued preparing your seafood dishes, feeling Joel's presence lurking behind you.

"Waitin' for that sea bass to come back t'life?"

"No, chef."

"Then fuckin' grill it."

"Yes, chef."

"Too busy thinkin' 'bout your fuckin' boyfriend over there if you ask me."

You were a good chef; not even a decent chef, but a really fucking good one. You put your everything into your dishes, and Joel knew that, meaning his degrading comments stung even more sharply.

Sometimes it felt as though he specifically targeted you. You had wondered if it was down to your age, or maybe simply because you were a woman. You never did anything that warranted such scathing words, yet you were the main recipient of them.

You did what you do best, and just got on with it. You carried on the rest of the night enduring his small but cutting digs in your direction, as well as a slap on the ass from Luke after plating up each dish.

Maybe it was the heat of the kitchen, or your patience wearing thin, but when you'd braved a particularly vicious snide comment from Joel back-to-back with a far too over-familiar hand on the waist from a passing Luke, you snapped.

"Fuck!" You shouted, slamming your fists down, realising just too late that your left hand was in perfect line with the grill.

Your reflexes kicked in instantly, pulling your hand to your chest with a pathetically weak hiss. Thanks to your prior outburst, everybody's gaze was already fixated on your station. Your eyes caught Joel's, fury burning on his face.

"Out. Now." He ordered.

Now it was your turn to tuck your tail between your legs, still clutching your hand as you barged out of the back door.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't you fucking dare cry.

Blatantly, your body wasn't listening to you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before rapidly falling down your face. You had tried to stand up for yourself, to make a stand, and you'd failed miserably.

You were so in your own head that you hadn't heard the kitchen door open, the sound of a small cough causing you to not so discreetly wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

"You're not fuckin' blubbing, are you?" Joel scoffed.

"What's your fucking problem?" You spat, surprising yourself with your tone. Fuck it, you thought. Probably fired anyway, may as well go for the jugular.

"Why are you so mean to me, and only me? I work my ass off in that kitchen, day in, day out. Harder than anyone else, including you. You don't give any of the others half the shit I get. Is it because you're some soon-to-be dried up lonely chef with just your ten-year-old Time Magazine front cover to keep you company at night that you've got such a stick up your ass? Or are you just a sexist pig?"

He whistled and raised his eyebrows, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his back pocket, taking one for himself before offering you one. You accepted, leaning forward for him to light the end for you. As he flicked the lighter, you flitted your eyes up to meet his, which were already trained directly on you.

The second thing you had learned about Joel Miller, not so shortly after the first, was that he was beautiful. Whenever you caught his all-consuming, hazelnut eyes lingering on you, you couldn’t help but feel butterflies swarm in your stomach. It had been hell swallowing your attraction for him for well over a year; you knew the reason his curt words and stoic attitude hurt you so much was because you were desperate to impress him. Not because of his status or accolades, but simply because of the kind of man he was. He was rough around the edges and cruel just for the sake of it, but every now and then you would catch a tenderness to him. Namely, when his daughters came to visit the restaurant and he would scoop them up in his big arms, transforming into a loving teddy-bear as soon as he stepped out of the kitchen.

You stayed close to him after pulling away, both of you taking a drag in silence.

"S'only five years old, actually."

"What?"

"My Time Magazine cover. Only came out five years ago."

"Right." You suppressed a laugh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that you'd found his comment humorous.

Another couple of minutes of silence passed as you soaked in the distant noises of traffic from the inner-city; the mixture of the far-off bustle, the warm summer night, and the nicotine rushing to your head made your outburst feel like a distant memory.

"You any better at pouring a whiskey than usin' a grill?" Joel asked, breaking your momentary tranquility.

"Excuse me?"

He didn't respond, rather, half-opened the kitchen door and barked for the sous chef to cover for him.

"Let's take care of that hand'a yours."

The adrenaline coursing through your blood had shifted your focus from the searing pain in your palm, which now came rushing back to you all at once. It could’ve been worse, but you were eager to ease the tight stinging as quickly as possible.

You followed Joel through to the back office, the commotion of the kitchen down the hall a honeyed murmur through the closed door. He placed two tumblers and a half-full bottle of whiskey in front of you.

“If you’d be so kind.”

As you poured the drinks, he rifled through the overflowing shelves for the never used first-aid kit.

He took a swig from his glass before taking your hand in his, turning your palm upwards and resting it on his lap. He worked in silence, brushing over the wound with cleaning solution, gently dragging a thumb soothingly up the side of your hand each time you hissed through your teeth at the pain.

His touch was uncharacteristically gentle; he took his time in applying the antibiotic cream, rubbing smooth circles over your blistering skin.

“So, you and Luke an item or somethin’?” He asked, a hint of something coating his voice that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Are you serious? God, no. He just seems to have a problem keeping his hands to himself.”

Joel’s head snapped up, meeting your gaze for the first time since you’d sat down opposite one another.

“I’d never have let him touch you like that if I knew.”

Unsure how to respond, you took another swig from your glass to keep your mouth occupied.

“M’sorry, by the way. For always bein’ so harsh on you. I just know you’re talented-”

“Don’t give me that I just want you to reach your full potential shit. I know you don’t care enough for that-”

“I don’t care? That what you really think?”

His tone was softer now, if you didn’t know him better, you would’ve sworn you could hear a twang of sadness in his voice.

He gently dressed your wound, taking care in placing the adhesive and securing it with a bandage. He tucked the loose end into place but kept a gentle grip on your hand, rubbing his thumb over your padded palm absent-mindedly.

“Course I fuckin’ care, that’s the damn problem.”

“You’ve got a real funny way of showing it.” You scoffed.

He poured you both another round, taking a swig of his drink before rubbing a hand over his mouth, a laugh creeping across his face.

“You were right earlier, I am fuckin’ washed up and lonely. I should’ve left, got more than enough damn cash than I know what to do with. Nothin’ I want more than to disappear to a farmhouse somewhere w’my girls, leave all this pompous shit behind.”

“So, what’s stopping you?” You asked softly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“You walkin’ into my kitchen like a damn angel sent from above.”

A breath caught in your throat. It must be the whiskey, you thought, he’s probably loosened up and horny, trying his luck for a token of your appreciation for him putting you back together.

“I thought t’myself, how can I up and leave now, when the most beautiful woman I ever saw has just walked into my kitchen?”

“You’re drunk.” You tried to rationalise, not believing the words tumbling out of his mouth.

He held his hand out flat, as still as a surgeon’s, as if it would somehow prove he was telling the truth.

“M’not, see. I just thought you n’that idiot in there were fuckin’.”

“Oh my god,” your eyes widened, leaning back in your chair at the realisation finally piecing his actions together.

“You were jealous.”

“Of him? Never.”

“Don’t lie to me now, Joel. You thought we were together and you were jealous. That’s why you were always so fuckin’ mean to me.”

His cheeks reddened as he brought a hand to the back of his neck.

“Maybe I was. Hated thinkin’ of a girl like you endin’ up with a piece of shit like him.”

“In comparison to what, someone like you?” You leant forward, placing your glass on the side before rising from your chair to stand in between his legs, resting your hands on the sides of his rough face.

“Now, sweetheart, would that be so bad?”

#joel miller x reader #my fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel tlou #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #pedrostories #the last of us #request #tlou fanfiction

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captn-trex · 25 days

Text

make it feel better

Rex x F!Reader

word count: 4.3k

description: when scouting a new planet, you fall into a bed of flowers that you understand the effects of all too well. Captain rex is the only person around and the only one who can help you.

warnings: NSFW (18+) minors begone! sex pollen/aphrodisiacs, oral (f! recieving), pinv sex, almost voyeurism not really, some reader masturbation, swearing, little bit of praise, non-established relationship, to me this is consensual ofc (wouldnt write it otherwise) but if you find the sex pollen idea icky in that way then don't read

a/n: okay so this is the first ever proper smut I've posted and I'm SCARED. do not judge me pls and thank you <3 I haven't seen any sex pollen with Rex so I thought I'd try my hand at it

The sun was only just clinging to the horizon as you made your way back to the ship, taking a shortcut through the forest. You and Rex had been scouting for a new, and safe, planet to move to, where the small rebellion you were a part of could operate without detection. This one had been uninhabited, and so far proved to be a solid contender. You had come along because of your in depth knowledge of various flora and fauna across the galaxy, and Rex deemed you the most qualified to ascertain whether or not the planet would be suitable. He also enjoyed your company but he wasn’t going to tell you that.

You and Rex had known each other for many years, as you were somewhat of a consultant to the jedi in the war. Your knowledge of different cultures and languages throughout the galaxy proved most useful, and you often became an intermediary between the Republic forces and the primitive beings you encountered. A lot of your time was spent in the field, which was where you met Rex.

The 501st had been part of a relief mission to Abednedo, where you were required for translation purposes. The Abednedo mostly spoke basic, but it was their written language that proved difficult for the Republic to understand, and with you understanding the Republic’s supply logging system, they opted to have you catalogue the supplies rather than teach the Abednedo to use it.

Rex had been uneasy around you initially, with you being someone from outside of the GAR, but he quickly warmed to you when he saw how well you integrated with the rest of his brothers. That was part of the reason that you joined his band of rebels in the first place - you definitely had a soft spot in your heart for the clones, and even more so for Rex.

Your feelings for Rex had grown steadily. Naturally, you found him to be handsome when you first met, his closely cropped blond hair making him stand out among his brothers, but your attraction for him really set in when seeing him on the battlefield, taking down almost a whole wave of droids with only two DC-17s and his own sheer will.

Though that was years ago. Now, you found yourself harbouring deeper feelings for him, feelings you had been reluctant to admit to yourself.

When Rex had found you after the end of the war, sending you a message on your encrypted comm channel, you felt like you had finally hit a stroke of luck. The transition from the Republic to the Empire was turbulent for you, to say the least. The Empire had uses for your intellect, but you had quickly become disillusioned with the whole regime when you realised the deception that they covered up in every corner of their reach. Rex had all but saved you from the Empire, and for that, you’d always be grateful to him.

Meeting him again after the end of the war, when you hadn’t seem him in some time, was like a breath of fresh air. You had never been exceptionally close with him, no closer than you were with any of the other clones at least, but upon seeing his tired and haggard figure on the other side of the hangar, you couldn’t help but speed over to him and embrace him in a tight hug. He had chuckled and returned the embrace, commenting something about ‘understanding the feeling’.

Since then, the dormant feelings you had previously harboured for him only grew. You worked closely with him, spending most of your days by his side in the command centre, helping however you could. It was an inescapable fate that you would fall for him, and now here you were, living out that very fated feeling. You had no indication from the Captain as to whether he felt the same way, and so you kept it close to your chest, electing to not tell him.

Rex had gone back to the ship to comm the others, to say that this planet you were on could be the one, while you had stayed out to investigate a few final things. The water from the natural springs was drinkable, and the small bug you had captured carried no known diseases, and so you were satisfied that this planet would do nicely. You commed Rex and let him know what you were coming back, not waiting for an answer before you switched it off. It didn't really matter whether he heard you or not, you'd be back soon.

It was dark in the forest as you cut through, but it was just bright enough to see where you were going. Mostly.

You found yourself disproved when your foot caught on a tree root and you were sent tumbling forwards with a small yelp. Thankfully, there was a thick bed of flowers that cushioned your fall, so the pain from the impact dissipated quickly. You stood and brushed yourself off, but immediately felt your nose itching, and before you knew it, you were sent into a sneezing fit. You had sneezed at least ten times before you lost count, and you stumbled forwards, resting yourself against a tree when you came to a clearing.

The orange tone of the sky cast a gentle golden light over you as you caught your breath. The sneezing subsided, but as you breathed deeply, you realised that something felt wrong.

You felt your insides burn hot, the heat spreading through your body like a wildfire. An uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach, but it quickly twisted into a heavy pain. You doubled over, holding your stomach as it cramped up and sent shockwaves through your system.

You dug your hand into one of the pouches on your belt urgently, pulling out the small torch you carried with you. You switched it on and shined it over the bed of flowers that you had just landed in, and inspected their yellow petals and purple centre, your eyes going wide.

Fuck.

You knew exactly what flower these were, you had studied them and their effects in your time at University on Coruscant. You knew exactly what was going to happen to you, and you almost wish you didn't.

Aphrodisiacs.

You dug your heels into the ground in frustration as you threw your head back into the tree, your eyes screwed shut. The burning in your stomach was quickly transforming from a small flame to a full blown bonfire.

Somehow this was typical. This planet was so close to being perfect, and now you had to go and trip into some flowers that would cause you a pain so sensual you'd be driven out of your mind. It had to be you, didn't it?

As you were writhing against the tree, contemplating if you could really get yourself off right here, you heard your name being called and groaned quietly. Why did he have to come looking for you right now?

You tried your best to stay quiet, listening to him calling out to you and hoping that he wouldn't find you, but then he came through the treeline, his eyes finding your struggling form.

“What's wrong?” He darted over to you, at your side in an instant, and you instinctively flinched away from him. His gaze was filled with worry.

You we're clearly in some kind of pain, your skin damp with sweat and a deep blush across your cheeks.

He reached out for you as he called your name, and you moved away again, having to look away from the man that you desired fiercely at any other given moment, but especially this one.

“Rex” You breathed out, trying to keep your voice steady, “Please don't touch me”

“Why?” He asked quickly, “Is it your skin?”

“It's… everywhere, it's not going to go away, It hurts, it hurts so much” You spoke, though you weren't sure your words were even coherent.

“What hurts?” He asked more urgently, trying to get a read on the problem the best he could without touching you.

I can't tell him. I just need to get him away.

“You need to leave. Go back to the ship and wait for me” You pant.

“What? No, let me help you” He knelt down beside you, his hand itching to reach out and comfort you, “What can I do?”

“Nothing. Please go away” You begged, but he didn't understand what was going on at all. For all he knew, you could be asking him to leave you to die here.

“Please let me help you”

You let a small moan escape your lips, one hand stifling it and the other gripping at your clothes to resist from touching yourself right in front of him.

“Rex please go away” You said desperately, your head now in your hands and gripping at your hair to try and distract you.

“I can't! I can't leave you like this, are you crazy?” His voice was so exasperated, and you ground your teeth together as you shook your head in defiance.

“I need you to leave, now. Plea-” You were cut off by your own whimper escaping your lips.

The pain in your core was becoming unbearable. While you knew you couldn't die from this drug, you knew the only solution was to satisfy the intense desire that it gave you, but you would've taken death before pleasuring yourself in front of Rex.

“Cyar'ika let me help you” He said softly, coming closer to you again.

“Please don't call me that” You practically whined, your body acting without permission and splaying out of the floor, twisting back on itself.

“Tell me what's wrong” He ordered firmly, and you felt your desire for him only spiral further.

“The flowers” You exhaled, “They're making me… hot”

“Hot?”

“Yes, hot” You gritted through your teeth, your hand playing with the top button of your trousers. You had to relieve this pain soon before it became worse.

“What can I-”

“Just leave Rex!” You hissed, the pain becoming blinding, “Please leave” You were on the edge of tears, your frustration nearly matching your arousal. You continued begging, different sentence formations that included the words ‘leave’, ‘please’ and ‘Rex’ tumbling from your mouth in a last desperate attempt.

“Cyar'ika” Rex grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him, and another whimper escaped you at his touch, “I'm not leaving you”

You whined, “If you don't leave I-” You couldn't finish the sentence.

“You'll what?”

“I need to- you can't be here” You said already unbuttoning your trousers with shaking hands.

“Why not? Cyare you're not making any sense”

You'd were finally at your limit, the pain driving you insane.

“It's an aphrodisiac Rex!” You screamed, hands tightened into fists to hold yourself back.

Rex froze, “Oh”

“Yeah. Oh” You mustered up a desperate chuckle, curling up in a ball on the floor.

“What should I-”

“I don't know. I don't know, you just need to get out of here before I do something I regret” Your words tumbled over each other as you spoke.

He touched your shoulder lightly, and when you moaned at the simple gesture, he understood how bad it really was.

“Rex, leave!” You screamed at him again, your hand finally finding its way past the waistband of your underwear.

Rex immediately averted his eyes, “I'm just going to be over there, I don't want to leave you here like this”

“Whatever! Just do it!” You said, a loud moan escaping you as you fingers found themselves running easily through your slick folds.

Rex quickly moved away from you. The sounds of your moans spilling from your lips were driving him crazy, but he was also overwhelmingly worried about you. He wanted to help you, but he knew that wasn't something he could really do without… well, fucking you. The idea alone was working him up, and the sound of your moans growing more and more frustrated had his cock hardening and pressing into his codpiece uncomfortably.

“It's not working” You cried out and removed your fingers from working your clit to pull your top off, trying to at least ease some of the heat. You were at your wits end, your thoughts all blurred together.

“Rex!” You shouted helplessly, “Please come here!”

Rex ran back over to you in a flash, the sight of your body sprawled out on the floor making his heart beat out of his chest.

“It burns” You choked out, tears spilling from your eyes, “It hurts so much”

“Maybe I could help?” He suggested, letting his emotions get the better of him.

“Help?” You said in a disbelieving laugh, “Are you going to fuck me yourself Rex?”

The silence was so loud.

You looked up at him, standing above you, and his expression was absolutely flat.

“You're serious?” You practically gasped, and he just nodded.

You brought yourself onto your knees and cradled your head in your arms, mumbling under your breath. “Maker, this is so fucked up, I can't believe this is happening. I can’t-”

Rex interrupted your ramblings as he knelt down in front of you, placing his hands on your arms to take them away from your head. You looked up to him desperately, and you could see the pity in his eyes.

“Rex it hurts, it really hurts” You whispered, the pain continuing to burn into you.

“I know” He said soothingly, “I'm going to help you, okay? I'll make it feel better”

You whimpered, your breathing calming just the tiniest bit.

“Is that okay?” He asked, getting a conformation that this is what you wanted from him.

“Yes” You breathed out, any shame now escaping you, “Please help me”

With that, Rex took you up in his arms, and darted back the short distance to the ship. He set you down on the bunk in the back area and pulled off your trousers and underwear in one swift motion. The sight that greeted him drew a deep groan from within his throat, but he was hesitating.

“Rex please” You begged in a strangled moan, needing to feel him immediately.

“I'm sorry Cyar'ika, I just didn't think it would happen this way” He said honestly.

“Wha-?”

Before you could even ask what he meant, his tongue found its place between your legs. You cried out, the pain in your stomach melting away into pure pleasure. He was eating you out as if it was his last meal, as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. It felt so incredible, and yet, your head still felt foggy, and your pulse was elevated to an unhealthy rate. Even as he worked at your clit, the sensation of him sucking and biting feeling divine, given straight from the maker, you knew it wasn't enough.

“Rex I need-” You began, your words getting caught in your throat.

“Tell me what you need Cyare” He hummed against your pussy, “Anything”

Your hips bucked, “I need more, I need you” You panted.

“I'll need a little bit more than that I'm afraid” He said, and you looked down at him to see the slight teasing smile curling his lips.

“Please don't make me say it” You whined as he licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“Come on Cyar'ika, tell me” He cooed, his hands gripping at your thighs tightly.

“I need your cock! I need you inside me Rex! Please” You finally admitted, and felt Rex hum against your core.

“See that wasn't so hard was it” He rumbled.

He placed a kiss to your clit before he moved away, and you shuddered, feeling the pain begin to twist at your core once more. Rex made short work of his armour, his dexterous fingers working the clasps quickly, his brain on autopilot as he looked down at you writhing beneath him. He then slipped off his blacks and his cock finally sprung free. You moaned as you saw it, throwing your head back onto the bunk and trying not to think about how wrong this was.

“See something you like Mesh’la?” You knew Rex was smirking, you could hear it in his voice. It only drove you more insane.

“Shut up and fuck me Captain” You hissed, which pulled a deep groan from Rex.

He chuckled slightly as he replied, “Yes Ma’am”

He lined himself up with your entrance and looked up to you for conformation, taking your face in his hand to make you look at him. You could see the question in his eyes, and behind all of your blinding arousal, your heart fluttered at the careful actions of the man you were undoubtedly in love with. You nodded.

“Please” You sounded so pathetic, and Rex brushed his thumb across your cheek tentatively.

“I’ve got you Cyare, don’t worry, I’ll make it better”

He breached you entrance and the moan that escaped your lips was the most sinful sound he had ever heard.

“Oh Rex” You whimpered sadly, and he stopped his movements to check that you were okay.

“What is it?” He rocked his hips back and then forward very gently, earning another moan. “What is it Mesh'la?” He whispered.

“I'm sorry” You whispered

“Why are you sorry?” He frowned, and pushed your hair from your face to get a proper look at you.

The pain burned hot inside you, but you needed to say this.

“You shouldn't have to do this, I'm so sorry”

“Cyare, I can stop if you don't want me to do this, I can let you finish yourself”

“No!” You said quickly, too quickly, “I mean-” You were floundering to find the right words but Rex just pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“You don't need to say anything” He said gently and pushed deeper inside you, his cock now fully sheathed within you. You moaned gently at the sensation of the stretch, and it was music to his ears, “I'm going to fuck you now, and we can forget about it later okay?”

“Okay” You breathed out unsteadily.

He started to pick up the pace and it was heavenly. The feel of his cock dragging along your walls was divine, and if this was any other time it would have been perfect, but right now, you needed more.

“Rex, please-”

“Tell me Cyar'ika, what do you need?”

The underlying feelings that you already harboured for Rex were spilling into your words before you could stop them.

“Please, I need it harder, faster. Fuck me like you mean it Rex, please”

“Won't be a problem” He said breathily before he began pounding into you, and you could already feel the familiar coil tightening in the pit of your stomach, replacing any pain that once inhabited it. Rex slid his arm around you, arching your back so he could hit the deepest possible spot within you.

“Fuck” You hissed.

“That feel good?” He panted out, and you nodded hastily. Rex tutted slightly, “Use your words Mesh'la, tell me how it feels” He said, dragging his lips across your neck, leaving small markings behind as his teeth nipped at you.

“Fuck Rex, it feels so good. Please don't stop, I need you” You were whispering, as if it were a secret you didn't want to tell.

Rex groaned loudly, burying his face in your neck, “Say it again”

“Which part?” You said letting a small smirk onto your face at his reaction to your words. You knew exactly which ones he wanted to hear.

He looked up at you in disbelief of your teasing at this moment, then pressed his forehead into yours, slowing down his pace and making you whimper at the loss of intensity, “Tell me you need me”

You had no problem saying something as true as that. “I need you Rex, I want you” You emphasised, your eyes burning into his from a mere hairbreadth away.

He groaned, the distinction between the two phrases not lost on him. He quickly resumed his punishing pace, pulling away from you slightly to watch you. You felt the coil pull taught within you, just waiting to snap. You weren’t certain if the drug had something to do with it or not, but you had never been wound up to an orgasm so quickly by anyone else before.

“Stars, just like that” You moaned, eyes closing and head pushing back into the bunk.

“Fuck, look at you” Rex breathed out, “You’re so beautiful taking my cock like this”

The words hit you in the very centre of your being, and without thinking, you grabbed the back of Rex’s neck and pulled him in to your lips. His hips stuttered for one second, but then he was groaning into the kiss, his hips snapping to yours even harder, his fingers holding you down with bruising strength. You didn’t care at all. The idea of having his hands imprinted into your skin only sent you careering towards your orgasm.

“Rex I'm gonna-” You couldn’t even get the words out.

“That's it Mesh'la, let go, cum for me”

His words tipped you over the edge, the coil snapping suddenly and harshly, filling your system with intense pleasure. Rex wasn't far behind.

“Where-”

“Inside, please. I want to feel you Rex” You scraped your nails down the back of his neck as he rode you though your high.

“Kriff, you're going to be the death of me Cyar'ika” He mumbled, hooking his lips with yours as he snapped his hips to your one final time, spilling all of himself inside.

You both took a second to come down from your highs, breathing heavily against each others lips. The more your breath returned to normal, and the burning inside of your limbs subsided, the more the dread crept in.

Rex slid out of you without saying a word, without looking at you. You whimpered slightly at the loss and covered you mouth out of embarrassment. He left the room and your thoughts instantly spiralled out of control.

He’s never going to speak to me again. He’ll never look at me again. I’ve ruined everything. There’s no way we can just move on from this. I’m never going to be able to forget this. He’ll never look at me the same.

A moment later, Rex returned with a damp towel and knelt on the floor, placing a hand on your knee. “Open” He said gently, a kind smile across his lips as he guided your legs open to clean you up. You couldn’t look at him, opting to lay your head back and stare at the ship’s ceiling.

“Rex, I’m so sorry” You said quietly, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes.

“Don't be, I'm just glad I could help you” He replied, as sweet as he always was, and you felt the tears spill, running silently down the sides of your face.

Everything's ruined.

When he finished cleaning you up, Rex noticed your despondent expression and tear stained face and grabbed your hand tentatively.

“What are you thinking Mesh'la?” He asked, his deep voice exceedingly smooth.

“This isn't what I wanted, it shouldn't have been like this” You stared up blankly, blinking hot tears out of your eyes.

Rex's heart started beating faster, “Did I hurt you?”

“No!” You sat up, looking into his eyes, “It's not that it's-”

He brought a hand to cup your cheek and his thumb gently caressed your cheekbone, wiping some tears from under your eye, “It's what?”

You took a deep breath. Now felt like both the right and the wrong moment but you were past caring, your dignity was already laid outside in the bed of flowers that started this whole mess.

“I- I actually like you Rex, I might even love you, and now…” You looked down to your lap, shaking your head, “Now I've ruined everything. I'm just sorry” You buried your face in your hands, feeling ashamed of your actions, even if they weren’t entirely your own.

“Hey, hey” Rex pried your hands away from your face, “Cyar'ika look at me”

You raised your gaze to look into his eyes, your head still angled down as if it would stop the confrontation.

“You haven't ruined anything okay? Its not your fault, I-” He smiled a little, “I like you too, might even love you” He mimicked the way you had said it and your heart stopped.

“You do?” Your eyebrows pinched as you stared into his amber eyes, seeing only admiration and honesty swimming in their depths.

“Yes” He placed his hand on your cheek, “It's like I said, I didn't think it would happen like this”

“Oh, that's what you meant” You said plainly, and he chuckled at your expression.

“Yeah” He said, gently rubbing your thigh, “I'm sorry, I should've told you before all of this happened” He said, some kind of guilt creeping across his features.

“It’s okay” You took his face in your hands, “Thank you Rex, for helping me”

A smirk grew on his face, “Anytime”

#trex writings #star wars #501st battalion #501st legion #tcw #the clone wars #clone troopers #captain rex x you #captain rex x reader #clone captain rex #captain rex #captain rex x female reader #rex x reader #rex x you #clones #clone wars 501st #clone x reader #x reader #divider by cafekitsune

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captainkirkk · 9 months

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✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Spider-Man

if you wanna be my lover (you gotta get with my friends) by mindshelter

MJ still remembers Ned’s initial disbelief when Peter—infamous for missing class back in sophomore year, suspended for two weeks freshman year—finished his bit of the group write-up four days early. The work was perfect, and so was Ned's chemistry grade. After that it was Peter this, Peter that, Peter parted the Red Sea, it’s true, MJ, I was there; I saw it. MJ, hey, are you listening?

Then Ned says, “We should invite Peter to join AcaDec.”

or; peter isn’t rock bottom on midtown’s social ladder; he’s underground. friendless, rumoured to get into street fights. ned declares him bestie material anyway, and mj catches feelings.

she also meets tony stark(?) in foodtown, of all places, and makes a spider-man(??) sighting.

M!ik

law of insomnia by thewunderkind

אנחנו נפגשים שוב” "I'm sorry, I do not understand," And then Iruma lowers himself, getting on his knees and bowing until his forehead meets the ground.

Or the one wherein they're soulmates and only Alice is aware of what is happening.

how's it go again? by timdrakesuperspy

Tim Drake's universe is falling apart. He's surprised when he doesn't fall with it, due only to Mr. Mxyzptlk's misplaced feeling of debt. He's even more surprised when the imp crash-land him in the middle of the Wayne family's dinner.

OR: After Tim fails to bring back enough proof that Bruce isn't dead, his life sucks. So of course the universe falls apart. So of course a nosy interdimensional imp decides to intervene and send Tim to a universe unnervingly off from his.

the back corner booth by destiny919

"Hey, Hood," Rhys says seriously. "I've got something for you, but it's a little outside your usual service range."

Jason raises his eyebrows under the helmet. He never gets kids from outside the Alley, if only because they have no way of meeting one of his liaisons, or any reason to trust the Red Hood. "How far outside?"

Rhys smirks. "Not too far. Just Bristol."

Jason really, really hopes his appalled expression is coming through the helmet.

SVSSS

to find an intended (a bit unintentionally) by nyoomerr

It takes about five minutes after they first meet for Shen Yuan to start flirting with Luo Binghe. Aggressively, too, in a way that even some of Luo Binghe’s most frequent bed partners wouldn’t dare to. It’s shocking and infuriating and, unfortunately, Luo Binghe finds himself charmed.

Too bad Shen Yuan doesn’t actually know that his actions come off as demon-flirting in the first place.

Clone Wars

an ill-advised gift by S_C_G

The Senate tries their hand at some regime change in the Mandalore sector.

It doesn't go well.

The Senate tries their hand at sending a gift to better relations and buy some time.

They couldn't have made a worse choice.

Or, the Senate gives the Mand'alor a child. This, quite predictably, backfires.

let me lie with you by MadMothMadame

The War is over. With the Sith conspiracy uncovered, and Sepratists suing for peace, Obi-Wan knew things would not be the same as they were before. Some changes would be for the worse, but when he thought about Cody, and all they had the potential to become now that rank and the weight of war no longer had to stand between them-

Well, some change could only be for the better.

He should have known better.

#i thought i uploaded this WEEKS ago #my bad everyone #at least i posted it before 2024 #happy new years ig #weekly fic round up #my posts #fic recs #svsss recs #sw recs #marvel recs #m!ik recs #dc recs

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 3 days

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Do you happen to know how often it occurred for wives of arrested deputies to share the same fate of their husbands, so either imprisoned, or condemned to death ? Do you have some examples? I'm referring to the years between 92-95. Moreover if it's not too much to ask for, could you also point out the signature of the CSP members who signed such warrants?

That’s a very interesting question, especially since no official studies seem to have been made on the subject. What I’ve found so far (and it wouldn’t surprise me if there’s way more) is:

Félicité Brissot — after the news of her husband’s arrest, Félicité, who had lived in Saint-Cloud with her three children since April 1793, traveled to Chartres. There (on an unspecified date?) she and her youngest son Anacharsis (born 1791) were arrested by the Revolutionary Committee of Saint-Cloud (the two older children had been taken in by other people) which sent her to Paris. Once arrived in the capital, Felicité was placed under surveillance in the Necker hotel, rue de Richelieu, in accordance with an order from the Committee of General Security dated August 9 1793 (she could not be placed under house arrest in her own apartment, since seals had already been placed on it). On August 11 she underwent an interrogation, and on October 13, she was sent from her house arrest (where she had still enjoyed a relative liberty) to the La Force prison. Félicité and her son were set free on February 4 1794, after six months spent under arrest. The order for her release was it too issued by the Committee of General Security, and signed by Lacoste, Vadier, Dubarran, Guffroy, Amar, Louis (du Bas-Rhin), and Voulland. Source: J.-P. Brissot mémoires (1754-1793); [suivi de] correspondance et papiers (1912) by Claude Perroud)

Suzanne Pétion — According to a footnote inserted in Lettres de madame Roland (1900), Suzanne was imprisoned in the Sainte-Pélagie prison since August 9 1793. In an undated letter written from the same prison, Madame Roland mentions that not only Suzanne, but her ten year old son Louis Étienne Jérôme is there too. I have however not been able to discover any official orders regarding Suzanne’s arrest and release, so I can’t say for exactly how long she and her son were imprisoned and who was responsible for it right now. @lanterne you wrote in this super old post that you’re waiting for a Pétion biography, did you get it? And if yes, does it perhaps say anything about Suzanne’s imprisonment in it? 😯)

Louise-Catherine-Àngélique Ricard, widow Lefebvre (Suzanne Pétion’s mother) — According to Histoire du tribunal révolutionnaire de Paris: avec le journal de ses actes (1880) by Henri Wallon, Louise was called before the parisian Revolutionary Tribunal on September 24 1793, accused “of having applauded the escape of Minister Lebrun by saying: “So much the better, we must not desire blood,” of having declared that the Brissolins and the Girondins were good republicans (“Yes,” her interlocutor replied, “once the national ax has fallen on the corpses of all of them”), for having said, when someone came to tell her that the condemned Tonduti had shouted “Long live the king” while going to execution; that everyone would have to share this feeling, and that for the public good there would have to be a king whom the “Convention and its paraphernalia ate more than the old regime”. She denied this when asked about Tonduti, limiting herself to having said: “Ah! the unfortunate.” Asked why she had made this exclamation she responded: ”through a sentiment of humanity.” She was condemned and executed the very same day.

Marie Anne Victoire Buzot — It would appear she was put under house arrest, but was able to escape from there. According to Provincial Patriot of the French Revolution: François Buzot, 1760–1794 (2015) by Bette W. Oliver, ”[Marie] had remained in Paris after her husband fled on June 2 [1793], but she was watched by a guard who had been sent to the Hôtel de Bouillon. Soon thereafter, Madame Buzot and her ”domestics” disappeared, along with all of the personal effects in the apartment. […] Madame Buzot would join her husband in Caen, but not until July 10; and no evidence remains regarding her whereabouts between the time that she left Paris in June and her arrival in Caen. At a later date, however, she wrote that she had fled, not because she feared death, but because she could not face the ”ferocious vengeance of our persecutors” who ignored the law and refused ”to listen to our justification.” I’ve unfortunately not been able to access the source used to back this though…

Marie Françoise Hébert — arrested on March 14 1794, presumably on the orders of the Committee of General Security since I can’t find any decree regarding the affair in Recueil des actes du Comité de salut public. Imprisoned in the Conciergerie until her execution on April 13 1794, so 30 days in total. See this post.

Marie Françoise Joséphine Momoro — imprisoned in the Prison de Port-libre from March 14 to May 27 1794 (2 months and 13 days), as seen through Jean-Baptiste Laboureau’s diary, cited in Mémoires sur les prisons… (1823) page 68, 72, 109.

Lucile Desmoulins — arrested on April 4 1794 according to a joint order with the signatures of Du Barran (who had also drafted it) and Voulland from the CGS and Billaud-Varennes, C-A Prieur, Carnot, Couthon, Barère and Robespierre from the CPS on it. Imprisoned in the Sainte-Pélagie prison up until April 9, when she was transferred to the Conciergerie in time for her trial to begin. Executed on April 13 1794, after nine days spent in prison. See this post.

Théresa Cabarrus — ordered arrested and put in isolation on May 22 1794, though a CPS warrant drafted by Robespierre and signed by him, Billaud-Varennes, Barère and Collot d’Herbois. Set free on July 30 (according to Madame Tallien : notre Dame de Thermidor from the last days of the French Revolution until her death as Princess de Chimay in 1835 (1913)), after two months and eight days imprisoned.

Thérèse Bouquey (Guadet’s sister-in-law) — arrested on June 17 1794 once it was revealed she and her husband for the past months had been hiding the proscribed girondins Pétion, Buzot, Barbaroux, Guadet and Salles. She, alongside her husband and father and Guadet’s father and aunt, were condemned to death and executed in Bordeaux on July 20 1794. Source: Paris révolutionnaire: Vieilles maisons, vieux papiers (1906), volume 3, chapter 15.

Marie Guadet (Guadet’s paternal aunt) — Condemned to death and executed in Bordeaux on July 20 1794, alongside her brother and his son, the Bouqueys and Xavier Dupeyrat. Source: Charlotte Corday et les Girondins: pièces classées et annotées (1872) by Charles Vatel.

Charlotte Robespierre — Arrested and interrogated on July 31 1794 (see this post). According to the article Charlotte Robespierre et ses amis (1961), no decree ordering her release appears to exist. In her memoirs (1834), Charlotte claims she was set free after a fortnight, and while the account she gives over her arrest as a whole should probably be doubted, it seems strange she would lie to make the imprisonment shorter than it really was. We know for a fact she had been set free by November 18 1794, when we find this letter from her to her uncle.

Françoise Magdeleine Fleuriet-Lescot — put under house arrest on July 28 1794, the same day as her husband’s execution. Interrogated on July 31. By August 7 1794 she had been transferred to the Carmes prison, where she the same day wrote a letter to the president of the Convention (who she asked to in turn give it to Panis) begging for her freedom. On September 5 the letter was sent to the Committee of General Security. I have been unable to discover when she was set free. Source: Papiers inédits trouvés chez Robespierre, Saint-Just, Payan, etc. supprimés ou omis par Courtois. précédés du Rapport de ce député à la Convention Nationale, volume 3, page 295-300.

Françoise Duplay — a CGS decree dated July 27 1794 orders the arrest of her, her husband and their son, and for all three to be put in isolation. The order was carried out one day later, July 28 1794, when all three were brought to the Pélagie prison. On July 29, Françoise was found hanged in her cell. See this post.

Élisabeth Le Bas Duplay — imprisoned with her infant son from July 31 to December 8 1794, 4 months and 7 days. The orders for her arrest and release were both issued by the CGS. See this post.

Sophie Auzat Duplay — She and her husband Antoine were arrested in Bruxelles on August 1 1794. By October 30 the two had been transferred to Paris, as we on that date find a letter from Sophie written from the Conciergerie prison. She was set free by a CPS decree (that I can’t find in Recueil des actes du Comité de salut public…) on November 19 1794, after 3 months and 18 days of imprisonment. When her husband got liberated is unclear. See this post.

Victoire Duplay — Arrested in Péronne by representative on mission Florent Guiot (he reveals this in a letter to the CPS dated August 4 1794). When she got set free is unknown. See this post.

Éléonore Duplay — Her arrest warrant, ordering her to be put in the Pélagie prison, was drafted by the CGS on August 6 1794. Somewhere after this date she was moved to the Port-Libré prison, and on April 21 1795, from there to the Plessis prison. She was transfered back to the Pélagie prison on May 16 1795. Finally, on July 19 1795, after as much as 11 months and 13 days in prison, Éléonore was liberated through a decree from the CGS. See this post.

Élisabeth Le Bon — arrested in Saint-Pol on August 25 1794, ”suspected of acts of oppression” and sent to Arras together with her one year old daughter Pauline. The two were locked up in ”the house of the former Providence.” On October 26, Élisabeth gave birth to her second child, Émile, while in prison. She was released from prison on October 14 1795, four days after the execution of her husband. By then, she had been imprisoned for 1 year, 1 month and 19 days. Source: Paris révolutionnaire: Vieilles maisons, vieux papiers (1906), volume 3, chapter 1.

#frev #french revolution #madame roland is of course here too but she might go in the notlikeothergirls camp in this particular instance #félicité brissot #suzanne pétion #éléonore duplay #élisabeth lebas #charlotte robespierre #théresa cabarrus #lucile desmoulins #marie françoise hébert #everyone: is held in prison from anything from two months to a whole year if not executed before then #charlotte: two weeks…#i mean i’m not surprised but…

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mamuzzy · 2 months

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Hey dear :D can you tell us about your headcanons on Jango training the Alphas ? :D

I finally got here to answer this ask. <3

And ooooh boy do I have??? Only angsty ones, love.

I use RepComm lore as a base of my headcanons, just to make clear in what continuity I'm creating in. And that means: NO INHIBITOR CHIPS.

The whole idea of the Clone Army revolves around one thing ultimately: to completely exterminate the jedi. To create an army that is ready for the decisive moment of taking down the enemies of the Sith without the jedi even noticing what is coming at them.

The trainers of course didn't know that this is the ultimate goal of the army, but they knew they had to train a whole army for a future war that who knows when will come. They had be loyal. And they had to be effective.

Every trainer had different approach:

Kal Skirata used love and insisted on the importance of comradeship which ultimately didn't necesserily made his commandos loyal to the Republic, but to each other.

Walon Vau used harsh discipline and insisted on the importance to make his commandos remember: they are superior than others and they have the most important mission in their life. Nothing awaits them outside because they have everything they need: their duty. Vau's trainees remained loyal even after the regime change.

And then we have the Alpha ARC Troopers trained by Jango Fett.

The Alpha ARCs in their mind are the unaltered version of Jango Fett. 100 copy of Jango Fett with their brain remained untouched (compared to the Nulls who's brain was tampered with). Meaning, the Alpha's undying loyalty to the Republic is not pre-programmed, it is not in their genes. It is conditioned with traditional methods: And that is FEAR.

More under the cut

Jango Fett didn't care about the clones and I will sparta-kick everyone from this hill who tries to fight me. I don't have a single worldbuilding where Jango was a "good daddy" for the Clones. He was a great, loving and caring father to Boba and Boba alone.

For him, the clones are products, but also they are part of his agenda: Even he dies, there will be millions of Jango Fetts who will fulfill his revenge of killing off all the Jedi.

The books often mention that Jango was a sociopath (meaning he is on the spectrum of ASPD), and this template was able to make the clones to be so effective. His brain is just built different and wasn't cluttered with moral based inhibitions. That's why I think that Jango wasn't actually a sadist who enjoyed tormenting his trainees - The Alphas - out of joy and personal amusement. It served the purpose, it was all pragmatic.

There wasn't any more description what was Alpha's training like on Kamino but these little snippets of lores made my brain go brrrrrrr about the theories. If the Alphas - THE ALPHAS!!!! - were scared of Jango it could mean that their training included something that gave a reason to fear him.

We know that he installed his own commands into the Alphas such us destroying the Clone Facility in case of Separatist attack on Kamino which Alpha-17 almost fulfilled. But also, being unquestionably loyal to the Jedi. For me, these commands weren't installed. I truly love the unaltered brain-Alphas.

-- Physical pain --

When you are in the military and under training, the line between educational violence and actual physical abuse is very thin. Insubordination had to be punished. Jango had to make sure that the Alphas remain loyal despite not having the same inhibitions like the rest of the clones, so there must have been exercises where he tested how far the Alphas would go to fullfill their duties, achieve victory, enforce an order, AT ALL COST.

They had to put through physical hell, pushed over their limits, pushed over their thresholds and beyond. If caught crying, if caught showing pain, if caught showing the single muscle of questioning Jango's orders, they had to be punished. They weren't made to compete with each other, but they also couldn't protect each other publicly when Jango punished the Alphas for insubordination. They had to watch. They had to learn from it.

The Alphas found secret ways to communicate with each other. To find comfort in each other in one way or another. Oh they knew the concept of love and caring. They watched Jango and Boba from the distance. The reassuring words. The caring touches of a father. They watched how the Nulls were running to their precious sergeant for comfort when hurt. They were very much aware that this is not something they would get.

-- RECONDITION: THE ULTIMATE DEATH --

The Alphas needed only one case of serious insubordination to learn their places and that was Alpha-Ø2. He was truly an independent mind and free-thinker, a true inspiration to thrive for individualism in the sea of Jango Fetts. Spar refused to comply and refused to sworn loyalty to "a republic" which he didn't knew.

And one day Alpha-Ø2 disappeared. Only to return without his memories. Returning without his fiery temper, without his free-spirit... and without any knowledge of how he used to love his Alpha-brothers dearly.

The brainwashing of the Alphas were so much successful later in time, when Alpha-Ø2 - called now Spar - actually deserted at age 8, two years before Geonosis, most of the Alphas felt disgust just by thinking about him - they had to.

Alphas had to believe that Spar was the utter disgrace to the Republic, otherwise it would mean, that they were actually treated wrong.

They had no idea that Spar's desertion was orchestrated by Mij Gilamar and Jango Fett himself after Spar regained his memories - probably the only mercy Jango showed for a clone.

-- Jango had to find the perfect balance --

The Kaminoans wanted soldiers who are independent thinkers but still loyal. Completely supressing their individualism wasn't an option, learned from Spar's case.

What the Alphas did in their non-existent freetime wasn't his business. But the Alphas had to drop everything that is them, when Jango ordered them to do so.

Jango hated every form of authority and realized that the Alphas inherited this trait for his disdain. So he used this train in them to be more effective as advisors for the Jedi. The Alphas had to make sure the Jedi survive until the critical point after all.

Alpha-17 is the smartest of them and the closest thing they had for Spar, which made him always walking on thin ice.

Tavo and Sull, lovebirds.

Maze had knowledge of wide variety of things due to reading forbidden literature that wasn't their in their curriculum.

Fordo communicated only through sign language due to trauma, and his closest friends learned too so they can speak to each other. He only spoke when Jango ordered him to do so.

They were smart enough to know what is was truly considered disobedience. And that was going against the Republic and Jango. If they comply to these rules, they will be safe.

-- ALPHA vs NULL conflict --

Jango always had to remind the Alphas that they were expected to be better than their precedessors, the Nulls. If they fail to meet with the standards, they won't have "a kal skirata" to save them from recondition.

Alpha-Ø2 sure didn't have.

The Alphas after a while didn't need outside motivation to be obedient and loyal. Because they were meant to be everything the Nulls couldn't be. Seeing the examples with their own eyes, how chaotic the Nulls were, how the Nulls as children were actually unruly and sadistic toward the kaminoan technicians, how they disobeyed everyone who was not Kal Skirata, they finally saw what is expected from them: BE BETTER THAN THEM.

And they finally found their positive reassurance on their own. How to take pride in being the true servants of the Republic. Only the Nulls didn't give a shit about this rivalry. They didn't care about Jango or the Alphas or being better than the Alphas.

Being obedient without question was totally against he Alphas nature but they tried. They tried fucking hard.

Alphas: We are the perfect soldiers of the Republic because we are obedient, well-behaved, and we don't cause trouble to our trainers unlike you.

Nulls: We are perfect soldiers because Kal'buir said so, nyenyenyeeeee!!!

Indeed. That Alpha's didn't have "a kal skirata" in their life to tell them they are enough. That they are perfect. That they do the best. Because their best was never enough.

And they weren't enough.

The Alpha ARCs deemed to be failure in the end and their template genes weren't put in to mass-production. When the deployment to Geonosis began, they realized that they weren't meant to be used in the battle and it almost broke them.

Despite their effort and hard work, the Alphas still deemed a failure. Unpredictable, unruly, and because they didn't have any inhibition in them, the Kaminoan didn't trust that they would fulfill their roles. Alphas had to watch the Nulls leave to Geonosis while they were put into stasis.

They didn't have "a kal skirata" to save them from this fate. They didn't have Jango Fett, he wasn't there at all.

They were all alone.

-- Did Jango's approach work? --

My answer is: no.

Despite the conditioning, the Alphas had wide-variety of reactions to the Republic, to the Jedi, and Order 66.

Some were able to shake down the effects of the conditioning, and realized that this dead man won't come after them from the grave to punish them for disobedience.

Some Alpha deserted and died by the hands of Clone Assassins sent after them during the Clone Wars.

Some Alpha remained loyal to Jango's orders, the Republic and then the Empire, training the new generation of soldiers.

Some Alpha went into hiding and became bounty hunters.

Ultimately, how they interacted with the world around them as individual and how the environment treated them decided their own fate.

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zibus · 1 month

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Alright, so it looks like Usopp is going to have pretty light-toned skin in the remake. Of course this is all concept art so it could change (I hope it changes) but my hopes are not high. Because this seems to be the "official" direction across everything except the la. He is bone pale in Toei Egghead now as well.

This sucks, for lots of reasons. Anime often has issues with racists or at least unflattering depictions of black people reflecting larger issues with race in Japan ( not unique to them, obv.). One Piece has historically avoided a lot if these criticisms (that I've seen) because most named black or black-coded characters are allowed to be cool and/or have interesting characterization. Mr. One, Blackbeard, Kuma, and King come to mind (Blackbeard and Kuma being some of Oda's best characters!) not to mention all Fishmen to some degree. These characters all have varying levels of complexity and avoid the worst stereotypes of African Americans and other black people.

However, black people are still few and far between in the world of OP and they do often end up pigeon holed into certain roles. Of the list above only Kuma is heroic and only Blackbeard is a leader. The "Zoro is a racist" jokes come from somewhere. While many black characters have great designs, there are several examples of really awful caricatures.

Hopefully I dont have to explain that this guy on Buggy's crew is.... not great.

And so if Usopp no longer has dark skin, but is merely black-coded (and some of that coding is borrowed from minstrel shows as well), then a massive hole opens up in One Piece's black representation. The most* nuanced, compelling, and relatable Strawhat is no longer black, and the lense on the rest of Oda's track record for black characters starts to deserve harder scrutiny.

Thing is, this isn't the animators going rogue. This appears to be how Oda imagines Usopp. Consistently from his first appearance to today, Oda colors Usopp with basically the same skin-tone as the other characters.

In fact, all of the characters Toei gave a darker skin tone have much lighter ones on volume covers or in the colored version.

The lighter Usopp, then, can (and you can bet your ass will be) defended as being closer to Oda's original vision. But that doesn't make it better or even good. This is a case where I think Oda's vision/interpretation is wrong. These characters are black-coded and should be drawn in ways that make it obvious and clear that black people of all shades exist in OP and anime in general. Leaving dark skinned characters out entirely betrays a shortcoming on Oda's part.

So... what does this mean? Idk. As a white fan, I'm upset and disappointed. It puts a stain on a series that has spent so much time discussing race and racism in a nuanced and generally helpful way. Its another reminder that you can always have deep biases and internalized bs, even decades into writing a series at least partial about breaking oppressive and racists regimes. But the people this hurts the most are black fans of the series and anime who are having a role-model and wonderfully nuanced and sympathetic black character erased.

I hope Oda changes his mind, or maybe someone at Wit or Toei can speak up and bring this issue to light. Maybe fan complaints will help? Idk. Im just bracing myself, I guess. And yes, I'm sure I'll "get over it" eventually and enjoy the remake, but I won't be able to forget.

*your millage on Usopp may vary, of course, but Water 7 is Peak One Piece for a reason and a lot of that reason is Usopp.

#one piece #usopp #the one piece #one piece remake #long post #racism #bee free

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deadgirlwalking91 · 4 months

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new update - 'thank you for the venom', chapter 8: 'stay quiet, stay near, stay close, they can't hear'

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight Summary

Lute makes a decision regarding Adam's proposition.

No weekend preview today... instead, I'm positing the whole chapter ;) hoping to shift my posting schedule to the weekend instead of a Tuesday, so let's see how this works. Thanks all for reading and engaging so far, hope you like this one. It was a fun time to write! Cheers @branded-rose for beta-ing and for patiently answering all my "but does this make senseeeeeee" questions. You have the patience of a saint to deal with me haha.

This was a predicament that Lute never, in her wildest dreams - or nightmares - expected to find herself in.

Sure, lately her interactions with Adam had been teetering more towards civility, as opposed to constantly wanting to rip his throat out with her bare hands. And their meeting the other week, despite her stomach-ache later and awful bloating later that night, had been somewhat tolerable.

Though, the feeling in her stomach after that meeting was nothing compared to the liquid-hot magma that was simmering at the moment, threatening to spill up into her chest and flow throughout her entire body.

Granted, she should have known better, should have been prepared that something like this would happen. As soon as she set Adam straight on her sexuality, she knew it was only a matter of time before he pulled his predictable bullshit and hit on her. After all, she’d be the final notch on his bedpost when it came to the women in his army.

The straight ones, anyway.

What she didn’t expect though, was to enjoy it.

It wasn’t like Adam had never been close to her physically - in fact, it felt that in the few months since he found out about her revamped training regime, he’d found multiple ways to invade her personal space to antagonise her. And it worked. Executed to perfection by him, really. He knew how to get under her skin, and he excelled at it.

This, though? He was getting under her skin, just not in his usual manner.

Because this time, despite the rational part of her brain screaming at her to snap out of whatever stupor she’d found herself in, she was hot, bothered and turned the fuck on. And she needed to leave before she did something stupid about it. Now.

Especially considering if she stayed, she’d probably keep drinking, which given her current state of mind, was not smart. She’d already had enough.

Shakily, Lute slid off her stool, gripping the padded seat for support as she found her feet. Wine on an empty stomach was never a good idea. It went straight to her head, clouding her judgement. Fuelling potential bad decisions.

Sober Lute wouldn’t let her boss tell her he wanted to take her home for the night and have his way with her. Or let him put his hands all over her in public while she held them against her body, in full view of her sisters, like he owned her. Like she was his, and his alone.

And she would never, in a million years, have thought that she wanted to be taken to his place so he could have his way with her. She needed to move away from him, so that the tiny shred of willpower that she was desperately clinging to wouldn’t be whittled down to nothing.

Smoothing her dress down, she cleared her throat before turning to Adam, who was now leaning against the bar counter, smirking down at her. Bastard.

“I need to go,” she declared, her voice faltering as she lifted her chin in a last-ditch attempt at bravado. “I’ll see you tomorrow in the office.”

He folded his arms, his arrogant smirk only growing as he looked her up and down, his eyes lingering hungrily at the hem of her dress.

“Hate to see you leave, love to watch you go, Lutey.”

Exhaling deeply, trying to control her heart thumping in her chest, Lute ignored him as she strode towards the door leading to the gardens outside. She needed to find Vaggie, to pretend she was feeling unwell so they could leave, immediately.

She had to get home as soon as possible before she changed her mind and ran back to Adam, and she could only do that with Vaggie’s support.

Not that she’d breathe a word of what had happened to her.

She threw the door open and briefly closed her eyes as she felt the relief of cold air, the gentle breeze welcomed on her burning face and chest as she scanned the courtyard for her friend. Despite the pleasant, mild night the outdoor space was mostly deserted, save for a small group of exorcist angels seated around a table chatting excitedly amongst one another. Lute wandered throughout the gardens, keeping an eye out in hope that she’d spot Vaggie amongst the exotic flowers and greenery.

No luck.

Sighing, she approached a secluded corner in the far end of the courtyard, hidden by a large, leafy tree. The space was unoccupied, but her head was reeling from her encounter with Adam inside the bar and she needed a moment to process her thoughts, to try and come up with a game plan on how to move forward.

She leaned the side of her body against the wooden fence that lined the perimeter of the venue, facing away from the rest of the yard, her features relaxing for the first time since walking away from Adam. Her chest heaved, the pounding in her heart ringing in her ears as she raked a hand through her hair, trying to recreate the sensation of his fingers running along her scalp.

Her hands dropped to hold herself around her waist, recalling his possessive hold on her like she belonged to him.

Remembering his bare hand splayed across the top of her bare thigh, inching further and further up her leg until he toyed with the hem of her dress, and how the only coherent thought that ran through her head was how she wanted him to keep going, to feel his way under the material until…

She swallowed nervously, trying not to let her imagination run too wild.

“Get it together, Lute,” she muttered to herself, sharply pinching the soft flesh of her inner arm in an attempt to shock herself out of her lustful stupor. It had no effect except for leaving a gold-tinged mark on her pale skin. “He’s only doing this because he’s realised you’re just another number he can add to his body count. Nothing more. You don’t matter to him. You don’t want to matter to him. He’s an incompetent idiot.”

Hugging her arms around herself, she puffed her cheeks and rubbed her thumbs into her biceps, attempting to distract herself from her thoughts. She let her chest rise and fall rhythmically, and, after some time, her pulse slowed.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there, zoned out, focusing on her breathing, when she felt two large, firm hands take hold of her hips from behind. Yelping in surprise, her heart rate skyrocketed once again, and she didn’t need to turn around to know those hands belonged to the very man she had walked away from earlier that night.

“What the fuck, Sir?” she gasped, her grip on her arms tightening. “What do you think you’re doing, sneaking up on me like that?”

“You never gave me an answer,” she heard him say, his raspy voice quieter than usual. Softer.

“I was just leaving,” she lied, her body betraying her brain as she turned around, her hands shifting to instinctively rest on his chest. Swallowing nervously, she looked up into the yellow features of that hideous fucking mask that she hated so much.

She wasn’t quite so sure though, that she still hated what laid underneath anymore.

It was unlikely she’d ever find out.

“Leaving all by yourself, babe?”

“Yes,” Her breath hitched in her throat as his hands started roaming her body once more, one coming to rest on her lower back, the other cradling the back of her neck. “Specifically, without you.”

Shit, shit, shit.

“Then why haven’t you gone home, hmm?”

Her eyes involuntarily fluttered shut as he ran his thumb down her jawline, letting it come to rest against her bottom lip where he gently tugged at it, parting her lips slightly.

It took every shred of the minimal willpower left in her body not to give in completely to him then and there. She just couldn’t bring herself to be yet another number. To be branded another one of ‘his girls’.

She could almost hear Vaggie’s stern voice in the back of her mind, reminding her that she was better than that, that she was smarter than that…

“Come home with me.”

“No.”

She opened her eyes, and gold met yellow as she stared into his soulless, digital face.

Think, Lieutenant.

It was in that moment, somewhere amongst the fog that clouded her judgement, that Lute found the exact solution to her predicament. What if there was something in it for her? What if she got what she wanted? Something to finally satisfy her curiosity?

There was a ninety-nine percent chance he would decline, anyway. Probably tell her to fuck off. If that were the case, no harm done. She’d avoid becoming the very thing she hated, and while she wouldn’t get what she wanted, she could live with that. They could forget this night ever happened and go back to hating each other and trading blows as per usual.

But if he said yes… then she might be able to justify it.

“Unless,” she said slowly, glancing downwards at her feet, carefully trying to articulate the words in her mind before they left her mouth. “Unless you give me what I want.”

She felt his grip on her neck tighten, shooting shivers down her spine, rattling her. “Go on.”

“I’ll -” she took a breath. “I’ll go home with you. But only if you take the mask off. I get to see your face.” She looked up at him, squaring her shoulders in an attempt to feign confidence.

Adam’s hands fell by his side as he stepped backwards, shaking his head.

“As tempting as your little proposal is, it’s not happening, Lute.”

“Okay,” she shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant despite the pang of disappointment that nagged at her. “Then I guess I’m going home alone tonight.”

“Fine.”

“Good.” Lute crossed her arms and glared towards the centre of the courtyard, trying to see if Vaggie had ventured outside so she could grab her and leave without looking back.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Adam’s mouth. “You seem kinda pissed. Something you wanna share with me, babe?”

“No.”

“Admit it, you thought what happened back inside was kinda hot.” With one stride, he’d managed to close the distance between them again, their bodies just touching - though she was slightly disappointed that he’d managed to keep his hands to himself this time.

Lute snorted. “Please, Sir. I’m not stupid. I’ve seen you pull the exact same moves with the other girls in the past. I was just…” she trailed off, unsure how to finish her sentence.

“Just what, hmm?”

His hands found her hips again, pressing her against him, and her wings fluttered involuntarily.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “What are you doing?”

“Testing a theory.”

“Which is?”

He flashed her a wide smile, dragging his fingertips slowly up and down her sides. He was deliberately antagonising her. Teasing her. “You’ve got it bad for me, babe. I don’t blame you - I’d have it bad for my boss, too.”

Lute’s eyes widened, horrified. “You have it bad for Sera?”

“Shit!” Adam cursed, fingers digging into Lute’s waist. “I fucked that up -”

Lute tilted her head back slightly and laughed, shoulders quivering as her hands came to rest on his forearms.

Accidentally, of course.

Adam snickered, shaking his head. “I haven’t screwed up a line like that in years. I’m usually smooth as fuck.”

“First time for everything, isn’t there, Sir?” she smiled up at him, amused, momentarily forgetting the unusual predicament she had found herself in. A rare, peaceful silence passed between the two of them; one where they did nothing except smile at each other.

It seemed there certainly was a first time for everything.

“Yeah, he mused, uncharacteristically quiet, cocking his head to the side slightly and frowning. “I guess there is, Lutey.”

Adam pulled one of his hands away from her waist, causing her hold on his arm to slip. Hesitating slightly, he brought it to the chin of his mark and lifted ever so slightly before stopping completely.

Lute’s breath caught in her throat as the realisation of what he was doing hit her like a ton of bricks, her heart now racing so fast she was sure he could feel it rocketing away in her chest.

“Wha -”

“Close your eyes.”

She gripped his arm tighter. “No way, you’re finally taking that hideous thing off, I’m not -”

“Close your fucking eyes, Lieutenant. That’s an order.”

Groaning in frustration, she reluctantly obeyed her commanding officer, squeezing her eyes shut. “Fine, they’re closed. Tell me when to open.” His other hand fell from her waist, her other arm coming to rest by her side as he moved away, putting distance between them once again.

She desperately wanted to peek, to let just one eyelid open slightly so she could see what he was doing. Did he have to fix himself somehow before revealing his true identity to her? She held her breath, trying to listen for a sign of what to expect when she was allowed to look.

Nothing.

Tapping her foot impatiently, she puffed her cheeks in frustration. “Can I open them now?”

“No, you impatient bitch! Do not fucking open them until I say. I mean it, Lute, or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Fine, whatever, just hurry up.”

Two warm hands suddenly cupped the sides of her face, tilting it upwards, a single thumb grazing her cheekbone.

“What are you doing?”

“Remember, keep them closed,” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

She couldn’t think; him being so close to her was making her head spin, her heart flutter, her throat tighten.

Then, without warning, he closed the space between them and kissed her.

It took Lute a moment to register that the mask had gone, and that the mouth against hers was warm and soft, kissing her with an eagerness that caused her to melt against him completely.

His lips moved expertly against hers, capturing her mouth over and over as his hands left her face and grabbed at her hips, shifting her so that her back was flush against the wooden fence.

Lute sighed into his mouth, her own hands instinctively flying upwards into his hair, running her fingers through the coarse strands, trying to imagine the colour, the style, how it framed his face.

Oh, how she longed to see his face.

“Hold on, babe.” Adam whispered against her lips, and before she could respond, he gripped the back of her thighs and hoisted her up, his hips pinning her roughly against the fence.

Wrapping her legs around his middle for stability, Lute moaned softly as he slowly ran his tongue across her bottom lip, silently asking her for permission to enter her mouth. And when their tongues finally collided, his hands started hungrily roaming her thighs and ass under her dress, grabbing at and rubbing her bare skin like he couldn’t get enough of her.

She tried to concentrate on his touch, how he was practically manhandling her like she was his little plaything, his large hands desperately kneading at her skin.

Warmth pooled between her thighs as she wondered what else he could do with those fingers.

Disentangling one hand from his hair, she let it drop so she could cradle his face in one hand. She took her time feeling the stubble along his jawline prickle the soft inside of her palm as he continued working her mouth with his own, keeping a firm, steady pace, not showing any sign of stopping or slowing down.

The sensation of touching his face and hair, but not seeing him was exciting, enthralling, exhilarating, and she made the silent decision that if it just so happened that he ended up fucking her against the fence, then so be it. Dignity be damned, she was horny as fuck and they’d gone this far, what did it matter if they ended up going all the way?

Her dress was hiked up around her waist now, exposing her thin, cotton underwear to him. Groaning loudly at the sensation of his hardened length pressing against her, she tensed her legs and ground her hips into his. She started rhythmically rolling them back and forth, the friction causing her arousal to build, almost sending herself over the edge at one point before she backed right off. She didn’t want to spoil herself in case things escalated further, plus she had a feeling there was no way she’d be able to keep quiet if she did come. Given they were in a public place, that could be a problem.

When Adam eventually broke away, both of them gasping for air, she threw the back of her head against the fence in protest, groaning at the feel of the night’s air on her face.

“You kept them closed,” he breathed, a hint of relief evident in his voice as he eased his hips off hers, her feet giddily touching the ground once more. “Aren’t you a good lieutenant, obeying orders? That’s why you’re my best girl, Lute.”

Breathless, she nodded, blindly grabbing his face to draw his mouth down to hers as she let out a needy little whimper. Because above all, she was a damn good lieutenant and it was about fucking time he recognised it. Took him long enough, too.

“Just so you know,” he whispered against her, letting her tug at his bottom lip with her teeth, “I don’t do this shit. Ever.”

“Uh-huh,” she murmured, not paying attention to what he was saying as one of his hands found its way to the thin strap of her dress, slipping it down to expose her shoulder.

“I mean it, babe. I don’t kiss on the mouth, and I’ve never taken this off for anyone.” Down came the other strap, her shoulders fully exposed to the cool night air now. She suddenly became aware of just how hard her nipples were. They painfully rubbed against the material of her dress, adding to the pleasure she was already feeling in other parts of her body as she pressed against him.

“Mmmhmm.”

Lute simply didn’t care what he was talking about at that moment; truthfully, she wasn’t registering a single word that he was saying. Right now, she was too busy focusing on the sensation of his massive hand under her dress, teasing as he ran a finger just underneath the seam at her inner thigh. She whined in frustration, bucking her hips in the direction of his hand, indicating that she wanted him to quit messing around with her and get to the fucking point.

“Lute, are you out here? It’s time to go.”

A familiar voice rang clear in her ears, causing Lute to stop dead in their tracks as she was trying to undo the zipper of her dress one-handed.

Vaggie.

“Shit!” She broke the kiss, whacking Adam forcefully on the arm in hopes that he’d get his hand out of her underwear and pay attention to the fact that Vaggie was about to catch them making out against the fence.

“Vaggie!” she hissed, ducking her head into his chest. “Tell me if she’s coming this way, my eyes are still closed! I can’t see where she is!”

“Keep them fucking closed until I say otherwise,” he growled, moving away and Lute had to bite the urge to protest when she no longer felt him touching her.

If Vaggie found her here, secluded in the corner with Adam… she would know. She was incredibly astute, and even if Lute could come up with a brilliant excuse as to why she was alone and dishevelled with her boss’ hands up her dress, Vaggie would never, ever in a million years buy it.

The judgement alone would be enough to kill her.

“Lute?”

“Open.”

Lute’s eyes fluttered open, darting towards the door where she could faintly make out a familiar, grey bob heading back inside. Exhaling, she slid downwards against the fence until she hit the floor, stretching her legs out in front of her, grateful that Vaggie hadn’t bothered to look for her too hard.

In her relief, she’d even almost forgotten about Adam until he joined her on the ground, mask and hood firmly fixed back in their usual place, much to Lute’s disappointment..

“If she’d seen us…” she started, trailing off as she rested her head against the fence. “She’d gut me with her spear in a heartbeat.”

“Why?”

Lute turned, frowning slightly at Adam. “Because for years, she’s heard me complain about what a rude, obnoxious, disgusting, incompetent asshole you are. And she’d tell me I’m worth so much more than just being another notch in your belt.” She jutted her chin out and drew herself up taller. “And she’s right. I’m strong, and intelligent, and a damn good leader to those girls.”

“Never said you weren’t.”

“I don’t need you to,” she shot back. “I don’t need your validation.”

“Then what are you going on about, woman?”

Lute chewed her lip nervously, unsure if she should be blunt or dance around the issue. “I think you only hit on me tonight because you’ve found out I’m straight.”

Adam snorted. “That’s bullshit.”

“The timing is very coincidental, Sir.”

Adam cleared his throat. “Look, yeah, I didn’t think you were into guys. And maybe that’s my bad, because honestly, I didn’t give a shit about getting to know you. You’re a bitchy, mouthy little brat who doesn’t know when to quit. But,” he added, noticing Lute’s face had hardened in anger, “You do a fucking great job as my lieutenant. The girls know it, I know it. Fuck, even Sera knows it, or otherwise she wouldn’t have taken your idea seriously.”

Lute nodded, her expression softening. “Thanks.” She fiddled with the hem of her dress, unsure how else to respond.

“Why did you do it?” she found herself blurting out, avoiding his gaze as a blush crept up her cheeks. She wasn’t entirely sure she was prepared for his answer.

Adam cocked his head at her. “Do what?”

“You know what I’m talking about. Do - do what we did before.”

She couldn’t quite bring herself to ask ‘why did you almost fuck me against the fence?’

He shrugged. “I figured we should just get it out of our systems. Years of sexual tension and all that jazz.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what, Lute?”

“Get it out of your system?”

He stared at her, expressionless. “Yeah. Did you?”

“Yep. Gone. So out of my system.” she lied, waving a hand in the air, feigning nonchalance.

It was, in fact, not out of her system. Not after she’d felt his lips against hers, or how his coarse hair felt in her hands as the strands slipped between her fingers. How his identity was still a complete mystery, but at least now she knew he was real under that mask.

Still, their little encounter had left her yearning for more. So much more. She needed to know the colour of his eyes, whether his hair was dark or light, what his skin tone was.

How his body would feel on top of hers as he buried himself inside her.

“But…” she continued, breaking her train of thought before her imagination began running wild. “Can we never speak of this again? Pretend it never happened?”

“Yeah, alright. Fine,” he answered dully, and she noticed his mood suddenly turning sour.

“I mean it, Sir.”

“I said fucking alright!” Adam snapped, turning away from her.

Lute crossed her arms and glared in the opposite direction, irked by his sudden change in demeanour. “Good.”

Neither of them spoke for several seconds, instead choosing to avoid looking at each other completely.

“Well,” Adam said abruptly, pulling himself up to a standing position, still not looking at Lute. “I’m out. See you tomorrow morning in the office.”

“Bye, then.”

She reluctantly watched him leave, and sighed, knowing that despite the night’s crazy turn of events, their parting exchange proved that tomorrow would be just another day in the office.

Groaning, she banged her head against the fence again.

Dammit.

Adam took his seat at the bar again, nodding at the bartender as they caught his eye and pointed to a glass.

The night had… escalated. Far more so than he imagined it would, despite said escalation being his doing.

If only they hadn’t been interrupted by Vaggie, that cock-blocking little bitch, he was sure Lute would have agreed to go home with him.

Sighing, he pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time and noticed a text message notification at the top of his screen. He clicked onto it, frowning.

Layla: Hey, raincheck tonight? Something’s come up.

He’d forgotten all about his plans with Layla amongst the excitement of that night’s events. And yet…

He had no desire to see Layla that night. Or any other woman, for that matter.

Not unless she had platinum hair, a smart mouth and could put away two dozen ribs, preferably in a tiny, red dress.

Adam: All good, chat soon.

She replied almost instantly.

Layla. No worries. Besides, you seemed preoccupied tonight - not that I blame you. She looked hooooot ;)

Smirking, he shoved his phone back in his pocket and accepted the drink from the bartender. Layla was the ultimate hype-girl, and for that, he was thankful.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lute making her way hurriedly to the front door, pausing momentarily to glance at him before ducking her head and slipping away into the night.

Tonight may not have been the night to sleep with Lute, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to happen.

He just hoped it would be sooner rather than later.

***

Next time: Another training mishap puts Lute in a tricky situation for a week or so.

#hazbin hotel #adam x lute #guardrock #guitarspear #guitarspear fic #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin lute

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mllemaenad · 1 month

Note

...I am going to regret asking this, I know, but what was the thing with Preston, and how far should I steer clear of that particular mod, as a Preston fan?

Oh. I ... would very much not recommend you playing this. This is very much the story of how I made a mistake.

So ... I can occasionally be a bit rash about installing mods, particularly if they offer new quests. It's a weakness of mine. It has meant that I have found the occasional overlooked gem, but it has also meant that sometimes I'm left flailing and wishing I could unsee what I just saw.

And my theory of mods is very much inline with my theory of fanfic: there is going to be so much stuff out there that is not to my taste, and if I don't like it I should back the hell out of it and never tell the author what I thought. It's just ... slightly more complicated to back out of a mod install than it is a fanfic.

Now I've looked it, there's a suite of three mods here: Depravity, Outcasts and Remnants and Project Valkyrie. They seem to enjoy considerable popularity, and they offer alternative routes through the main quest line, with a bunch of additional side quests to go along with them. In a fit of boredom I thought ... why not?

They're also big, foundational mods. If you go into a modding forum you'll find a lot of finger wagging about how you should never uninstall any mod mid game; you should always start a new save. But ... if I find at hour 60 that an armour mod is crashing my game, I'm uninstalling that thing and rolling the dice on going forward. These ones, though ... once they're in, you'll never get an ongoing save to load properly without them. Too big. Too many changes. You need a new game to uninstall.

So I did, to my later chagrin, put up with some indicators that these mods were not for me when I should have bitten the bullet and started over. The early stuff involved collaborating with a slaver and ... well, no thank you, really, but it did say it offered some "evil" options for progressing quests in places where there were only good ones. So, okay, more role playing options are broadly a good thing even if I don't want to engage with them very much; it also suggested that it had alternate "good" routes in other places, so I assume it wasn't just trying to be edgy. And there was a bunch of nonsense with raider women running around in absurd outfits, and female characters with ... let's say improbable proportions.

It can be interwoven with normal questing, though, so it was a thing I'd run into occasionally when going into the mod's storyline. Otherwise, I could just keep collecting companions and play on.

But what stopped me dead was the Preston thing. A core part of the mod's story centres around a group of Lyons loyalists who had become "outcasts" themselves as part of the regime change and fled to the Commonwealth well before the arrival of the Prydwen (an interesting concept, even if this take on it did not work for me).

They are, from their impossibly gigantic and well equipped base, investigating who is funding the Gunners. Well, spoilers, the answer to that question turns out to be the Enclave. You attack their base and fight your way to the bottom. And you find a terminal. The terminal reveals that Preston Garvey has been lying to you. He is, in fact, an Enclave officer who infiltrated the Minutemen specifically to collaborate with the Gunners on orchestrating the fall of Quincy. His superiors are currently annoyed with him because he's having too much fun stringing you along to come back to base and take on his next job.

The mod then invites you to confront and kill Preston for his crimes.

Does this make any sense to me, or in any way conform with the way Preston behaves in a normal, unmodded game? Nope. And yet. I'm sure there's more to it, but at that point I swore, accepted the fact that I had wasted an unreasonable number of hours trying to give this a fair chance (it's so popular), and set about scouring it from my game and starting over.

Terrible mistake.

I will note that, obviously, on a technical level this thing is very impressive. Voiced dialogue, scripted scenes, new dungeons, multiple quest lines – the lot. I can ... add keywords to an item in xEdit, in a pinch.

But the storyline was very much not for me. It seems to be accepted, at least by some corners of the fandom, that Preston is incurably annoying. I do not share this sentiment, but I can't tell people who to like. But this ... thing where they have to rewrite a good man as a villain so they can justify killing him is just ... baffling.

So my general advice would be: benefit from my error and keep your distance from these ones.

#fallout #fallout 4

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brian-in-finance · 5 months

Note

After the onslaught of criticism about her IFTA look, I thought of putting together some of Cait's quotes, a look into her character and what she's about.

“I respect and admire people who put work before fame, and life before work.”

"I think as women sometimes we can judge other women's journeys, actions a lot more harshly than we would if it was a man."

"I think there's something in the DNA of actors that we thrive on the lack of stability or regime. I relish the unpredictability of it in many ways."

The sexiest things about a man are, "Integrity, smarts and kindness".

"I just want to be happy in my life. I want to stay sane. I'm lucky that I have a job that I love. It's very important that your career can't be your only thing. So, I feel lucky that I've also found someone who makes me very happy. As long as I can keep those two things going well, then I'll be good."

"While 'Outlander' is a brilliant period show, Claire represents so many qualities of a 10th century modern-day woman: someone who is forging her own path, fighting for what she believes, and doing so with integrity."

"It's such a compliment when people say they can see 'thoughts' on your face. I started theater before modeling and the frustrated actress within me made work interesting by viewing a character or story in the head with interior monologues."

"Life is meant to be lived and not put on the back-burner for one day when you will have time. I love my job and I love work but it can’t be the be-all and end-all."

“You have to fight to create the life that you want. I’ve been lucky and had a very varied and interesting career so far, but I’m always thinking about the next chapter.”

"I'm very young at heart but combined with a bit of an old soul. I have two sides of myself, one side is this cray-likes-to-party side, and then the other side likes-to-hibernate-and-keep-quiet-and-read. Those two sides constantly battle and that's why I'm crazy!"

"It was something I've been wanting for a while. There's sometimes fear about actors who become producers—that they're going to try to throw their weight around. For me, it's an expansion of growing within this industry. I like to problem solve. I like to look around at what every single person is doing, and [ask], how can we make things better?"

"Wrinkles equal time, equal life . . . trying to love them."

"SM brings out the very worst in people and makes us feel worse and worse about ourselves. So I'm trying to do, at least one day a week, hopefully 2 days a week, where I just step back and, I've been trying to do it recently and because I really felt like I needed to ... there's so much anger going on and there's so much "uhh" that it was making me feel just awful about everything."

"The modeling industry is completely what you make it. I've had a really great career but what some girls fail to understand is that it is a business like everything else. It's a job, not an opportunity for you and your friends to go away together a lot. You have to remember that the reason you're flying off to an exotic location is that you are there to deliver a job."

“The hardest part when I decided to move into acting was trusting I'd made the right decision.”

Thanks for the message, Anon. 😃 I’m happy to share the impressive list you’ve compiled of Caitríona’s quotes, and I hope people enjoy the walk down memory lane. As for the onslaught of criticism about her IFTA look…

One of the things you and I and everyone else are entitled to is an opinion. Some people liked her IFTA look, some did not. I sometimes post “fashion,” but have no expertise in that field, and I don’t necessarily like or dislike the garments or jewellery or footwear or accessories, or how they’re worn.

As for Standing Ground’s collections, unsupported breasts and nipples abound. I’d like to say it’s by design (wee pun), but I don’t know if it’s the designer’s intent in keeping with his natural scheme or if it’s the model’s choice to go braless. (If I were writing in DM, this is where I would say, “Blah blah blah.”)

What I do know, if I owned “the IFTA” dress and could wear it the way I chose, I would be wearing a bra. Everybody, every body, is different.

Most of the time, when I disagree with an opinion, I silently 🙄 or 🤦🏻‍♂️ or 🤯 or 🤬 or 😂, and scroll along my merry way. The odd time when I both 🤬 and chime in is when someone says it’s their opinion Caitríona is not married to Tony.

Literacy Ideas

Remember… opinion has caused more trouble on this little earth than plagues or earthquakes. — Voltaire

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #Inbox #Anonymous #Opinions #Quotes #Received & Responded 22 April 2024

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communistkenobi · 9 months

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Hey! I really like your blog, and always really enjoy learning more about some of the interesting topics you cover! I was wondering if you have an opinion on people wanting to identify specifically using a lower case spelling of their name, instead of capitalizing the proper noun. This isnt for me, and I'm definitely not looking for a "right or wrong" answer, just genuinely wanted to hear your take on it.

Before I answer I don’t think there’s a single answer or reason why people choose to not capitalise their names. I’m not privy to larger discussions of why people might do this (bell hooks is probably the most famous example), but I’m friends with someone who has chosen not to capitalise her name and it’s made me think about the practice a lot!

I think the first place to start is that a lower case name is meant to be read - you do not pronounce lower capitalisation. this gives context to how and where you encounter a lower capitalised name. They may appear on your legal documents, of course, but also through authorship, online profiles, print media, etc. is there a particular audience or social context that you want to confront with your un-capitalised name?

I use the word confront deliberately, because lower case names challenge people - I don’t think we would be talking about it if it didn’t, but the obvious question is why. My instinct is that it is an attempt to de-centre the individual, and this is what people are reacting to. We do not capitalise pronouns, for example, because they are interchangeable amongst many people - gendered pronouns are used as a standard way to refer to people because the assumption underlying them is that gender is the most important (and only) consideration when referring to someone by something other than their name. Pronouns are not neutral, they are a deeply contested and politically animating part of everyday language. In a similar way, I think choosing not to capitalise your name could be a gesture towards this interchangeability and the contested nature of gendered referral, to emphasise that you are not an individual but a subject within a set of social and political circumstances. A name is a summary of yourself - your deeds, your personality, your art, your beliefs, and so on. It’s why we call it Marxism, it’s why people refer to “Reaganomics,” “the Kubrick stare,” etc - there is a discursive process happening by summarising particular beliefs or actions in the world by a person’s name. Refusing to capitalise your name can be a resistance to this automatic and unremarked upon process of summary, to prompt people to ask why this is the way we do things (as opposed to referring to the effects these actions or beliefs have on the world, their content, their technique, or whatever else - why is the individual given primacy when naming ideologies, policy regimes, and artistic practices when these are all products of historical, political, and social processes far larger than any one person? Did these men make these histories, or are they only the figureheads, and if so, why?)

It also calls attention to the fact that capitalisation is also a choice - one of the first things I thought about when my friend stopped capitalising her name was why I was still choosing to capitalise mine. What conventions am I holding onto, and are they actually important to me? What is it about my name that requires this kind of sacred or authoritative treatment? I refuse to capitalise the word god primarily because I refuse to imbue the word with any sort of authority or respect - what authority would I be resisting or giving up if I were to refuse to capitalise my own name? Is there a kind of self-disrespect happening, or am I disrespecting the linguistic and grammatical conventions where capitalised names arise and are considered normal? What parts of myself and my identity are removed or revealed by refusing to capitalise my name? If something so normal and mundane may be contested in a similarly mundane way, what other linguistic possibilities open up to us?

My familiarity with this practice is one that is deliberately political, in the sense that the uncapitalised name reveals something that is normally hidden - these could be linguistic conventions, societal norms, ideas about individuality, and so on. I think the practice is very cool and prompts a lot of productive discomfort with everyday linguistic and social practices. It also pisses off conservatives and I think that alone is evidence that this is a practice worth pursuing, that this decision is actually not trivial at all and reveals a larger network of political and social ideas about personhood

#asks #book club

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howtofightwrite · 2 years

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This may be a stupid question, but is the "folk bandit who steals from the rich and gives to the poor" trope ever realistic? Isn't the gig up as soon as the people in power start putting the screws to the people you're helping, until enough of them crack and decide they're better off turning you in?

The short answer is, “maybe?”

One of the staples of a Robin Hood style character is the idea that they're fighting back against an oppressive regime. This that detail is critical to keeping the whole thing ticking along. When you take that away the situation you're describing becomes far more likely. So, if your bandit king is harassing the local lord, but the lord is a fairly reasonable individual, then the resulting security clamp down, and even temporary abuse of the peasantry, will be viewed in the context of a response to this bandit.

Central to the Robin Hood myth is the idea that Prince John is already crushing the peasantry, and Robin Hood wanders in to oppose that tyranny. John ramping up his abuse of the people isn't perceived by them as collective punishment for Robin's rebellion, it's viewed as him continuing to abuse his authority.

The irony is, these kinds of characters are far more vulnerable to villains who offer incentives for cooperation. A Robin Hood style rebel is unlikely to be sold out by peasants who view him (or her) as their defender. However, an oppressed peasant who is plied with, “enticing,” incentives, might flip. This may even be effective to flipping members of the bandit's own team, or even friends. How many offers of amnesty, titles, and treasure would it take to convince a member of the Merry Men to sell Robin out?

To a certain extent, you could can view this situation as a kind of social, “path of least resistance.” If someone is hitting you and the other is feeding you, are you really going to bite the hand that feeds you, in pursuit of pleasing your abuser? Now, in the real world, that answer is sometimes, “yes.” And this is a threat to this kind of a character. As much public support as they may enjoy, there's likely to be some who would still turn them over to their oppressor on the hope that it will alleviate things, (even if this hope is entirely unrealistic.)

Even in the specific case of Robin Hood, putting a price on his head is more dangerous to him than ramping up the oppression and hoping it erodes his support; because it won't.

Similar to the point above about how oppression is a critical component, if the local leader is viewed as a basically reasonable individual, if they start talking about needing to employ extreme measures to deal with a bandit preying upon the kingdom, they're going to have a lot more room to build public support against the bandit. They'll even have a lot of room to frame this as attacks against the peasantry, as they're part of the kingdom.

So, why doesn't this happen with Robin Hood? This hits some details of British history that I'm a little fuzzy on, but the very short version is that when the story was originally being told, it's possible that the nobles didn't even speak the same language as the peasants. Go back far enough and Britain was less ethnically homogeneous. Robin Hood, in it's “modern” narrative context, is about an ethnically distinct king (a Norman) abusing the people (Anglo-Saxons), with Robin as (or at least passing for) an Anglo-Saxon. (Note: This is an element that becomes a lot harder pick up on when you're looking at a version of the Robin Hood story that recasts him as a disgraced noble. Outside of historical context, it seems like a good way to give him some motivation, and could work if you push the story back a couple hundred years so he's dealing with William the Conqueror who was the great-grandfather of our villain, but, with King John it actually moves Robin over to being a Norman, thus also an ethnic outsider, and more prone to being betrayed by the peasants.)

Ironically, we can still see some remnants of England's diverse ethnic history in the language we speak today. In particular, there are a lot of animals where the animal itself uses an Anglo-Saxon derived word, while the word for the meat is derived from French. (For example, “deer” and “venison.”) In very general terms, the Anglo-Saxon speaking peasants interacted with the animal, while the French speaking nobles were the ones consuming the meat. (I'm scratching the surface of a very deep rabbit hole with regards to the development of modern English as a language. This is far more complicated than this example would suggest. Also, there were a lot of other languages getting put in this particular blender.)

If you specifically keep an eye on the ethnic groups involved, and view Robin Hood through the lens of an invading ethnic minority ruling and abusing the, “native,” people, (I'm putting native in scare quotes because the Anglo-Saxons were not, strictly native to England either, they emerged from a mix of native Britons and migrating Germanic settlers from mainland Europe sometime in the fifth century) then the idea that the peasantry would be more loyal to this bandit king than their actual lord starts to make a lot of sense.

It's also important to remember the most realistic element of Robin Hood, the, “modern version,” of the story, (that is to say, the version that has survived), was written as a political hit piece on King John. King Richard spent most of his reign happily away crusading. As a result, he wasn't around to collect taxes from his nobles. In contrast, when King John took the throne, he was suddenly close enough to start looking at his nobles, and asking them where his money was. They were, less than amused by the prospect of having to actually pay their taxes. So, while the story is about a tyrannical ruler oppressing his peasants, the reality was it was written by some landed nobility whining about having to pay rent for the first time in a decade.

Now, the actual folk story of Robin Hood predates this version by a fairly significant margin and we're not sure when because no one ever wrote the original stories down. There's all kinds of versions of the story out there, including some where the early version of Maid Marian duels Robin Hood in the forest. Maid Marian being an action hero is, actually, canonical. Most early versions of the Robin Hood myth involve Robin Hood being a prankster/trickster who mocks the nobility and steals their stuff, and usually, eventually, gets caught. He then escapes through his wits, going on to mock and steal again. Or, he's brutally murdered. It's a toss up. It really depends on who is telling the story. The “giving to the poor” part is more recent, as is the “being a noble” part. A lot of the early versions of Robin Hood is just him performing the medieval equivalent of pantsing... rich merchants? The sheriff is also a later addition to the story.

Robin Hood is like King Arthur. People just kept adding new stuff as they went along. The English probably also stole them both from the Welsh. So, you know, feel free to follow suit.

-Starke & Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get early access to new posts, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

#How to Fight Write #Starke answers #Michi answers #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 6 months

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reading update: March 2024

March was so !!!!!! so fucking long, but that means that I got to read a lot of books - more than I did in January or February. they're pretty all over the place in terms of quality, but I think they're also all going to be pretty memorable in one way or another. shall we discuss?

what have I been reading?

The Ballad of Perilous Graves (Alex Jennings, 2022) - I bought this novel at Crescent City Books in New Orleans last June, then tucked it away to wait for exactly the right moment. and I'm so glad I did, because it was a gorgeous little flash of NOLA in the middle of a gray midwestern winter funk. this novel is so, SO steeped in celebrating the art, history, and culture of New Orleans, creating a version of the city filled with talking animals, living songs, and moving graffiti that hardly even feels that different than the real New Orleans. and in this book, Nola is distinct from New Orleans; there's some interesting multiverse stuff going on in the city that might be really interesting to my fellow fans of Dimension 20's Unsleeping City and N.K. Jemisin's City We Became. not every part of the book totally worked for me: the parts of the books following the kids - the titular Perilous "Perry" Graves and company - are definitely the strongest, and the actual details of how the plot got resolved got a little muddled for me before the surprisingly abrupt end. but! it must be said that the vibes are immaculate, and vibes will get you really far with me. I want to see a thousand more stories set in this world.

Thank You For Sharing (Rachel Runya Katz, 2023) - with god as my witness this was one of the most boring romance novels I've ever read, and that's saying something considering I literally just read Red String Theory. what I really adore are romances that take place at around an 11 on a scale of 1-10, under circumstances where absolutely no normal person should even be able to contemplate fucking but our protagonists power through because they're horny to a degree that renders them clinically unwell. this book was hovering somewhere around a 2; it's literally just two adults having jobs and hanging out in pretty mundane circumstances. the only thing that really strains my belief is that an otherwise well-adjusted woman is still upset about something that happened at summer camp over a decade ago, but I guess if she wasn't mad about something then the protagonists wouldn't be able to have a conversation about their feelings to show off how good they are at therapy speak.

Africa Is Not a Country: Notes on a Bright Continent (Dipo Faloyin, 2022) - genuinely one of the most excellent pieces of nonfiction that I've read in a hot minute. Faloyin's book consists of interconnected essays that just dazzlingly brilliant, in turns solemn, sardonic, and sly, always ready to offer the audience a little wink as it subverts expectations. Faloyin walks the reader through the history of several African countries, from colonial looting to rocky political regimes to the common tropes that plague modern media with depictions of Africa as universally backwards, impoverished, and struggling. I really felt like I was *learning* while I was reading this book and learning the specifics of so many places that are often portrayed as interchangeable in American media. I really sincerely can't recommend this enough, it's an excellent read.

That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon (Kimberly Lemming, 2024) - I can't in good conscience say that I enjoyed this book, but it is kind of a great read if you enjoy updating your housemates on the latest bullshit in your horny fantasy romance. Lemming's in a weird middle ground where she's putting a lot of effort into the backstory of the world that justifies our protagonist (who's named CINNAMON HOTPEPPER!!!!) meeting and hooking up with a demon (who's also a dragon, because all monsters are just a subspecies of demon. I'm not crazy about that but the worst part by far is definitely that his dragon form has hair) but also stops giving a shit about it the second it's not necessary. like (spoilers) but all of the human characters are REALLY chill about finding out that the goddess they've been worshipping for CENTURIES is actually an evil lich? and there's another human character who pretty casually watches the city where she's spent her entire life get razed to the ground by monsters with absolutely zero remorse, which is genuinely bananas. also this book misses SOOOO many opportunities to be really nasty horny because it's so focused on hyping up Cinnamon and Fallon's all-consuming five day spiral into unhinged magical demon marriage. even the "light bondage" promised in the content warning was disappointing; the emphasis was definitely more on the "light" than the "bondage." what does a bitch have to do to find a decent monsterfucker book. for the love of god please.

It Came From the Closet: Queer Reflections on Horror (ed. Joe Vallese, 2022) - I've heard a lot of hype about this book, an anthology of queer writers musing about the queerness that draws them to the horror genre. I was expecting the essays to be of an analytical nature, but it turns out they're much more personal. that's not necessarily a bad thing, but some of these essays ended up falling SUPER flat for me, with weak analogies that felt like the result of authors remembering at the last second that they were supposed to be relating their life to a horror movie somehow. which isn't to say that there weren't high points as well, but overall the collection was low lows and medium highs for me.

Sex Criminals Volume One: One Weird Trick (Matt Fraction and Chip Zdarsky, 2014) - I'm trying so hard to remember to read comics that aren't 30 year old Batman stories, and my friend Emily lent this to me months ago when I helped them move, so it seemed like high time to get around to checking out Sex Criminals. the premise is fun! what if time stopped when you had an orgasm? then what if you met someone else with the same ability and the two of you could have sex and run around in a time-stopped world together? and then what if you robbed banks? and I'm a huge fan of that. the writing isn't the most gripping thing in the world, and now that it's a decade old I find that it feels very emblematic of the kind of aggressively offbeat, Whedon-ish writing style that felt like it was really unavoidable in the 2010s, which I can't say has aged MAGNIFICENTLY for me. but I'm willing to read more, see where this series goes, and give it the chance to really win me over. stay tuned for Volume Two!

Rental Person Who Does Nothing (Shoji Morimoto, trans. Don Knotting 2023) - I can't decide if I want to sit Morimoto down for dinner to pick his brain or just skip the niceties and put his brain in a jar to study it, but either way this guy definitely has something fascinating going on. tl;dr: in this memoir Morimoto recounts his experiences using Twitter to let other people hire him out as a person who will do nothing. "doing nothing" covers all kinds of things: accompanying people to eat a meal that they felt too self-conscious to eat alone, keeping someone company so they don't get distracted while they should be working, or waving goodbye to a stranger at a train station. he's not paid for this, either, or at least doesn't charge a fixed rate; all the Morimoto asks for is the price of his train ticket to meet clients, who sometimes buy him extra gifts as a thank you. there are so many FASCINATING ideas presented in this book about work and value and interpersonal connection, and yet the book clocks in at under 200 pages. Morimoto isn't here to tell you how to feel about anything he's done, only to present some experiences and let you unravel the meaning for yourself. and I guess that's sort of brilliant. throughout the memoir he's adamant that Rental Person doesn't offer advice or tell anyone what to do, offering only basic responses when prompted. telling someone else what to think or attempting to offer up any wisdom gleaned from his rental work would count as doing something, wouldn't it? I really recommend checking it out for yourself and deciding what you think, especially if you're in a slump seeking something quick, engaging, and easy to read.

#reading updates #bookblr

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komotionlessqueenmm · 2 years

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I've practically been stalking your old ivan drago content and saw your imagine prompt for being Rocky's younger sister and having a crush on Ivan, can you IMAGINE the idea of you, being Rocky's younger sister, seeking ivan out after his life changing loss because you know what that means for him? Just being soft and understanding because even though your brother won (and there's a good reason as to why that's the appropriate ending cough cough) you feel the need to offer a shoulder and comfort ivan because you see him for what he is, the product of having to please such a demanding regime? Maybe it's just my penchant to see big strong antagonists and want to hold their face in my hands lol (like iceman, my beloved)

Gah dammit now I wanna write about this!!!!

(No seriously tho I love this, I have daydreamed about it so many times, just needed someone to convince me to write about it! But I'm doing this as a headcanon instead of an actual story because I don't think I can properly get across what I want to get across. Which is why I never wrote about this despite fantasizing about it.)

Headcanon/Preference # 28

Pictures NOT mine.

Year posted - 2023

*I'm randomly coming back to this request because I saw it in my drafts, and I'm dabbling with a few pieces with Dolphs characters again, so I wanted to finish this one. That being said, I've actually got a story I'm working on based loosely on that imagine, it's got a fun little twist to it though. So keep an eye out for that, and I apologize this took so long, but that's honestly kinda just how I roll. 😅 ALSO this isn't exactly what you asked for, but I think you'll enjoy it regardless! MY BAD!

☓Before the fight☓

☭ So before the fight you'd only seen Ivan on the TV screen. But even then you could see him for who he really was. And apparently you were the only one who could, so you kept your thoughts to yourself.

☭ You more or less threatened your brother to take you with him to Russia. And he of course tried reasoning with you, but you'd made up your mind, and he wasn't going to change it.

☭ Rocky was of course worried that the cold might get to you, so he made sure you were bundled to the nine every single day. It was sweet, but a little annoying at the same time. And you had to admit the cold was definitely harsher in Russia than Philadelphia, and that was saying something.

☭ But despite the cold, and the harsh glare from the locals, you found yourself enjoying the landscape scenery.

☭ You helped to encourage your brothers training, and despite having lost your old friend Apollo to him, you couldn't help but find yourself enamored in a way with the Soviet boxer. A fact that you kept under lock and key.

☭ You wondered most nights what would happen in the end. What would happen to Rocky if he lost? What would Ivan go through if he lost? There was just so much at stake, and you couldn't decide who you wanted to come out victorious. Well both of them if you had it your way, but you knew that wasn't an opinion.

☭ You often replayed the fight he had with Apollo in your head. You'd seen how Apollo's theatrics effected him, and how unbothered he'd been by Apollo's taunting. How precious he was, and how powerful.

☭ It made you worry for your brother, but you knew he was one tough son of a bitch. You'd been there for every single one of Rocky's fights after all, even back when he was fighting in shitty clubs.

☓During the fight☓

☭ You were sorta like Rocky's coach at this point, well maybe not coach but rather his hype-man, always had been. So you were with him when he went out to the ring, and beside him in the ring.

☭ You had to admit, seeing Ivan up close for the first time... Jesus he was huge... And very intimidating with his cold expression. Queue your curiosity and worry both spiking.

☭ You shook hands with his team, per the typical routine, and when you were about to turn and leave the ring. You found Ivan staring at you, making eye contact, and maintaining it for far longer than you probably should have.

☭ Rocky noticed your hesitance, and gently bumped his shoulder with yours, knocking you out of your stupor. You offered your older brother a small smile, and he gently bumped your chin with his glove, drawing a proper smile from you. Which in turn made him smile.

☭ He didn't even notice Ivan had been staring at you, or that Ivan continued to do so as you left the ring. But the announcers? The fans? They noticed. So around the world people wondered if maybe it had been a bad idea letting you go to this fight.

☭ Before the fight started, you stood beside the ropes in Rocky's corner, and made good on tradition. Resting your foreheads together you said a prayer and wished him luck, smiling when he kissed the crown of your head before breaking away.

☭ All throughout the fight, you found yourself feeling rather queasy, you'd never experienced that before during any of Rocky's fights. You knew subconsciously because it wasn't just because of your worry for Rocky.

☭ You realized pretty quickly into the fight, that far more was riding on Ivan winning than Rocky. For Rocky if he lost, he would have been humiliated, and failed in avenging Apollo... But Ivan. You knew he would suffer far worse if he lost.

☭ You didn't have to speak Russian to know that his entire life would be determined by the outcome of this fight. If he won he'd be a hero, like Rocky was back home. But if he lost, odds are he'd loose everything he's come to know. How perceptive of you.

☭ Often you'd find yourself looking to Ivan when they were separated for a short break. Almost always finding him already staring at you, his expression dark and furious. Which admittedly made you a little nervous, but you didn't feel his frustration was directed at you.

☭ By the time they were both bloody and exhausted, you were on the brink of tears. And both men had noticed. Rocky trying to comfort you as best he could during his breaks, despite the fact that his state of mind was more important. (Something you kept reminding him about, but he didn't care. He's a good brother.)

☭ Ivan did nothing but watch, wondering if you were afraid for your brother, afraid for himself, or if perhaps you were afraid of him at this point? A series of thoughts that only confused him, and distracted him more than he'd care to admit.

☭ When Ivan picked that man up by his throat, you found that the tears had finally escaped, rolling down the apples of your cheeks as he shouted in Russian. His eyes found yours in the commotion, and he was certain he'd gotten his answer to his earlier ponderings.

☭ Little did he know you were crying for him, not because of his actions.

☓After the fight☓

☭ The crowd had boomed with excitement, and many people rushed the ring to celebrate with Rocky. You had watched as Ivan was led out by his team, and you didn't think twice about following them.

☭ When his team realized you'd followed them, they tried to shoo you away, but then Ivan noticed it was you, and barked at them to leave in his native tongue. Perplexed they complied and left you alone in the locker room.

☭ "What are you doing here?" He questioned, his accent think and heavy, like honey to your ears. "I..." You were at a loss for words. "I'm not sure... I-." He scoffed at you before turning away, looking at himself in the mirror, and glancing at you through it.

☭ "I guess I just wanted to see how you were... If you're... If you're okay." You tried to make sense of the way you felt, you knew you were drawn to him, you just didn't know why. He simply kept watching you through the mirror as you fumbled adorably over your explanation.

☭ But what you said next really caught him by surprise. "Your hands... Are your hands okay?" You'd asked, now looking at him through the mirror, he turned to you with confusion evident on his expression. No one ever asked if his hands were okay after a fight before, not even his wife.

☭ "I'm usually the one that mends Rocky's hands after a fight... Are your... Are your hands okay?" You explained yourself, taking a tentative step towards him, freezing in place when he stepped towards you.

☭ "You are afraid of me." He stated. "Not exactly." You quickly defended yourself. "I'm not afraid of you... I'm anxious around you." You added, thinking he'd accept that response. "What is the difference?" Ivan argued, watching you approach him.

☭ "My heart is racing, but it isn't because of fear." You tried to explain, feeling incredibly sheepish, especially considering you knew he was married. "I know fear... And you do not inflect fear in me." You added, sort of hoping he wouldn't understand what you meant.

☭ Thankfully he did. "I feel it as well." He admitted in a soft tone, not wanting to startle you as you gently unwrapped his wrist wraps. He noticed how you flushed at his confession, it made him smile softly.

☭ You tended to his busted up hands with a gentle touch, more gentle than he's used to. And by the time you'd finished, he couldn't help himself and he kissed you.

☭ It was tender the way he tilted your head back with his index finger, slowly leaning in to give you the opportunity to turn away if you wanted, but you didn't turn away.

☭ It's probably the most wholesome moment of his life, and yes I'm taking into account the birth of his son Viktor.

☭ You were just so sweet, peering up at him with big doe eyes. Foreheads resting together you both forgot about the world around you, if only for a moment.

☭ Ivan just wanted to wrap you in his arms and stay that way forever. He wasn't sure why he was so drawn to you, but he had been enamored with you long before you even knew about him.

☭ Granted you had just been a face on the screen of his TV, but that didn't stop his heart from fluttering at the mere sight of you. Perhaps it was fate, perhaps you were made for eachother, separated from eachother across the world.

☭ After what felt like hours the moment was ruined, because down the hall you could hear Rocky calling your name, probably worried sick about where you'd disappeared to.

☭ "I have to go." You whispered, despite not wanting to. "I know." Ivan murmured equally saddened. "Until we meet again." He added before giving you one last kiss, breaking away and leaving right before Rocky barged in. His heart shattering in his chest, as he knew you'd probably never see eachother again.

☭ "There you are!" Rocky breathed a sigh of relief, and practically fell into your arms. He never questioned why you were in Ivan's locker room, and he never questioned why you'd run off like that. (He had a feeling he didn't want to know.)

☓Years later☓

◈ You hadn't seen him since his fight against Rocky. And you wondered if he'd even recognize you anymore. Or if you'd even see him that is.

◈ You knew about his son, and his determination to fight Adonis Creed.

◈ What you hadn't honestly expected, was for him to show up your brother's restaurant, atleast not unannounced.

◈ "Rocky we need-" You cut yourself off as you laid eyes on him, he looked even more handsome than you'd remembered. Frozen in place you jumped when Rocky touched your arm.

◈ "You okay?" He asked with a soft expression, wordlessly pulling you into a hug when you nodded your head yes.

◈ "(Y/n)." Ivan had approached you both, and you could tell Rocky didn't trust him. "Hello Ivan." You smiled softly, those old butterflies from before fluttering around in your belly.

◈ You'd secretly been sending letters to Ivan for years, and while you sent them religiously, you only ever received a handful in return. Not that you minded, you understood, better than anyone.

◈ "Still so beautiful." He mused as if Rocky wasn't standing right there, his hand coming up to brush his knuckles across your cheek bone. Rocky was quick to put himself between you and Ivan of course, ever the protective brother.

◈ "Rock." You placed your arm on his bicep, gently tugging at his arm, a reassuring smile on your face when he turned to look at you. "It's okay." You reached up cupping your brothers cheek, smiling as you felt him relax under your touch.

◈ When you looked to Ivan again, you asked him if he would like to take a small walk. Rocky immediately tried arguing against it, but you assured him you would be fine, and he listened to you begrudgingly.

◈ "You look good Ivan." You'd mused as you walked side by side, just the two of you, as he'd made Viktor wait in the car. "I've missed you." He admitted, making you smile. "And I've missed you." You found it funny that he could still make you blush.

◈ "I kept all of your letters." He added in a soft tone, again making you smile. "Yeah?" You stopped walking and he turned to you, taking your hands in his. "Of course." He smiled.

◈ "You were always on my mind." Ivan murmured quietly before wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his head into your neck. You quickly wrapped your arms around his large shoulders, your right hand coming to rest against the back of his head.

◈ "You know... I never married." You mused thoughtfully, hoping he wouldn't think you crazy. "I couldn't bring myself to love anyone else." You added when he pulled back from the hug.

◈ "I would have given anything to have you by my side, helping me raise Viktor." Ivan closed his eyes for a moment, thinking back on his fantasy. "Want about now?" You wondered aloud before you could stop yourself, and Ivan smirked.

◈ "You would want that? Want me?" He asked with a small smile, adoration shining in his eyes. You cupped his face between your hands, pulling him down to your height so you shared the same air. "It's all I've ever wanted Ivan." He visibility melted into your touch.

◈ Needless to say the world was shocked to see you by Ivan's side, and even more so when you announced your engagement. Rocky tried to "reason" with you, claiming it was a rash decision. But you told him about everything, the moment you shared with Ivan in Russia, the letters, and the way he made you feel, the way he'd always made you feel.

◈ Rocky came to realize your love for Ivan, was like his love for Adrian. He knew you never really dated, or let yourself get attached, especially after his fight with Ivan. And despite his past with the Russian, he supported you (warning Ivan about what would happen if he broke your heart like any good brother would.), and he attended your wedding of course.

#Headcanon #ivan drago x reader #ivan drago #Ivan drago headcanon #Ivan drago imagine #Ivan drago x you #Ivan drago x y/n #rocky balboa #Rocky 4 #rocky iv #Rocky headcanon #Rocky 4 headcanon #dolph lundgren #reader insert #fluff #requested #Rocky imagine #rocky x reader #Rocky x you

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eroguron0nsense · 10 months

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I want more Robin and Law interactions

I'm sure I'm not the only one to point out that their backstories are so similar and the narrative parallels are so, so obvious (Law literally occupies the exact same role as she does in that he was child victimized by the WG, unjustly isolated and endangered after the greatest traumas of their lives, and then taken in by a regime-changing Warlord seeking to exploit him. Also, saved by a marine who defected to do the right thing). Law being obviously emotionally stunted works even better when contrasted with Robin's very open, slightly morbid, teasing eccentricity. She sees him at his absolute lowest after Doffy nearly kills him in Dressrossa, sees the moment he insists on seeing her precious captain through his mission or dying alongside him, and understands implicitly how much he means to both of them. He trusts her more than any of the Straw Hats except for Luffy, enough to tell her his secret name, and I just enjoy the way they clearly have a lot of mutual respect, and I hope to god they get more chances to understand each other better and maybe interact or share some of what they've been through with each other in the future

One of the things I wish I would have happened in Wano was seeing Robin's reaction to/perspective on Law, who's so much like her (not that she really knows that) and who she's seen at his lowest and most vulnerable, who's a staunch ally she respects and has fought alongside in a way that none of her allies except Luffy have so far, being driven away from by Shinobu in a moment of fear and anger. How does she feel about Law (very, very justifiably) leaving them with no confirmation of when she'll return? Granted enough was happening in Wano that I don't feel bad about Oda not fully exploring *every single plot point* to its fullest potential because god knows he did enough already and stuck almost all the landings in ways that very few authors could pull off half as well but I woulda liked to throw in just a few lines from her or frankly, have her to advocate for him alongside or instead of Kanjuro. She, more than any of them, likely has a lot of empathy for him even without knowing all the details or just how alike they are.

#Also some parallels with Nami's Arlong Park trauma #trafalgar law #one piece #monkey d luffy #dressrossa #dressrossa saga #kanjuro #trafalgardwaterlaw #wano kuni #wano spoilers #wano arc #wano country arc #nico robin #seven warlords #donquixote doflamingo #Law put up with so much mistreatment in Wano holy fuck #the Shinobu scene is fine writing even if it coulda been developed further but it just was not justified. understandable but unjustified

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shift-shaping · 2 months

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let's go save wycome

clan lavellan receives a letter from lady volant regarding the danger she and solas have found themselves in.

rating: t

pairing: solavellan (discussed)

warnings: pregnancy

previous fics | 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

My Blessed Lady,

It has been my pleasure to meet Duke Antoine of Wycome and pay my respects on behalf of the Inquisition. The duke is a most friendly man. Indeed, I dare say he thinks the best of everyone, and has advisors from as far away as Tevinter! His city is a wonder, and he was quite keen to display some of the improvements he has made recently. Of particular note are the wells, which use a red crystal to purify the water from which all humans in the city drink. Duke Antoine has not yet made these improvements to the wells from which the elves in the alienage drink.

The duke assures me that concerns about some sort of disease affecting his city are wholly overblown, and has quite convinced me that his plans to rid the city of "the rats causing the problem" should be underway quite soon.

Any concerns I have raised, he says, can wait until then. The duke's Tevinter advisor has indicated an eagerness to make my acquaintance, and it is becoming increasingly difficult to resist such a tempting offer. This advisor has also expressed great interest in my serving man, though for what reason I cannot say. Perhaps they share some hobby or background that this advisor wishes to contend with him over.

I continue to enjoy my visit to Wycome, and I confess that I hope I do not hear the noisy clatter of the Inquisition's armored troops ruining my quiet afternoons. The elves of Clan Lavellan, by contrast, are quiet, like their poor cousins here in Wycome's alienage, and it might be a welcome change to my daily regime to see them in the future.

Yours in haste,

Lady Guinevere Volant

Enaste sat against a tree in a clearing within her clan's camp, frowning at the letter. She had just finished an early dinner with Hallin and Harea, and had almost managed to convince herself the Inquisition was some sort of awful nightmare.

As her brother predicted, the meal was everything Enaste could have wanted: buttery, fleshy lobster tails rich with garlic and seasoning, accompanied by clams, corn, and a pile of fresh herbs and mushrooms. They didn't always have such extravagant meals, so this was something of a celebration. Enaste had eaten so much it was hard to walk, and she had to read the letter multiple times to understand it through her fog of fullness.

"I'm impressed she knows enough elven to know what your name means," Hallin offered after Enaste read the letter aloud. He sat beside Enaste with Harea's head in his lap. His hand rested on her pregnant belly.

"You've received word from your ambassador?" All three looked up to see their Keeper enter the clearing. She gestured to the letter in Enaste's hand. "May I see it?"

Enaste handed Deshanna the letter, and she was quiet for a while as she read it over. Then she looked past it, down at Enaste. "We must act quickly."

"Wait, why?" Hallin asked, frowning at her. "It sounds like everything is fine."

"The Tevinter advisor," Harea said, lying comfortably on her back, eyes closed in relaxation. "Anything Tevinter is bad news."

"I guess." Hallin looked down at his bonded, uncertain.

"I forgot --you weren't there last night," Harea said. "The evil magister trying to kill Noodle has a cult of Tevinters called the Venatori." She opened her eyes and nodded to Enaste. "They're good at weaseling their way into things. This advisor is probably one of them."

"I think that's a reasonable assumption, yes," Keeper Deshanna replied. "Your ambassador is specifically asking us to intervene, Enaste." She stared at the letter, her expression hard to read. "And this mention of the rats... the Duke intends to purge the alienage." She paused, then turned her gaze to Enaste. "Our hunters could kill the Duke and this advisor to keep the alienage safe."

Hallin balked. "Intervene in a shemlin dispute? Why would we do that? They'll just blame us and kill their flat-ears anyway."

"I think those flat-ears are the reason it's not just a shemlin dispute," Harea looked up at Deshanna from Hallin's lap. "We already know from Enaste's captives that the shems are blaming the elves in the alienage for this plague." At the mention of the plague Deshanna looked at the letter again. "If nothing is done, they will be slaughtered."

Hallin ran his hand over his thick black braid. "But if we intervene, they'll just turn their blades on us instead."

"Not if we're careful," Enaste said, shaking her head. She looked at her brother seriously. "Not if we're quick."

Harea reached up and flicked her lover's nose. "And that's what our hunters are best at, vhenan."

Hallin sighed and took her hand. "I don't think we should do anything to draw excess attention." He looked at Enaste, concern scrunching his features. "Maybe we can help the flat-ears evacuate instead of --whatever this ambassador wants us to do."

Enaste bit her lip. She'd studied maps of the city before her arrival and knew how trapped the alienage was. "We don't have enough boats. It would take days, at minimum, for me to get the vessels needed to extract everyone from the alienage."

"Enaste," Deshanna said, her voice soft but tight. "This letter mentions a red crystal."

"Fenhedis," Enaste hissed and took the letter back. She scanned it again, more awake now, and saw now what she'd failed to realize before. "The Duke is poisoning the nobles' wells with red lyrium."

"Red lyrium?" Hallin asked.

"A type of lyrium that's red instead of blue," Enaste said without looking at him.

"I gathered that much, thanks."

"It's a known tool of Corypheus.” She frowned at her brother. “Red lyrium drives people insane, but it also makes them much, much stronger. He's using it to make his templars into unstoppable monsters.”

"He wants to know if it will work on civilians," Deshanna said. She looked at Enaste. "He wants it enough to risk the safety of an entire city. The life of your ambassador is hardly an obstacle."

"And of Solas," Enaste added. "We have to do something. I, at least, have to do something." She remembered how Solas protected her in the future at Redcliffe, how his voice rasped and his skin gave off a sickly red glow. She remembered seeing his dead body lying limp on the cold stone floor. Whatever it took to prevent that future from coming to pass, she would take it. Her throat was suddenly tight with nerves. "I can't let them hurt him."

"Enaste," Harea said, her voice suddenly more serious, and Enaste turned to her. Harea tilted her head and narrowed her dark eyes. "Are you sleeping with him?"

"What?!" Enaste and Hallin said in unison. Deshanna sighed. "Why would you ask that?" Enaste blurted, and Harea rolled her eyes.

Hallin looked between them, shocked. "Sleeping with who?!"

Harea raised her eyebrows and pointed at Enaste. "Her arcane advisor. The one she sent to help the ambassador. She smiles at him like a little girl with a crush." Enaste struggled for the words to defend herself. She wished the ground would swallow her whole. Was it that obvious?

"Da'len, this is not the time," Deshanna chided gently, and Harea pursed her lips for a moment before exhaling and giving up.

"Fine--" she said, but Hallin didn't stop.

"You're sleeping with someone?" His wide green eyes made him look like a frightened halla. "A shemlin?"

"He's not a shem," Enaste said defensively. Then, realizing that was arguably the lesser accusation: "and I'm not sleeping with him!" Her face burned, and her stomach twisted into knots. "I don't know why you'd even think that," she huffed, glaring at Harea, who wore a wicked smirk at the chaos she'd caused.

"Enough," Deshanna said, and the three of them finally obeyed. "You can discuss this later, if you must."

"He's too old for you," Harea added quickly, then raised her hands in front of her before anyone could reply. "But whatever. Let's go save Wycome."

"You're not going anywhere," Hallin said. He looked at Enaste. "And I'm not either. I --I understand the importance of this, but I can't just--"

"No, I know." Enaste sighed and tried to take Deshanna's advice to worry about Harea's accusations later. "At least some of you have to stay here in case something goes wrong. I'll take Jester, and Blackwall, and a handful of our hunters." She closed her eyes and nodded slowly. "We will still need to arrive by sea, though."

"That can be arranged," Deshanna said. Her features were tight with thought. "You will have all the supplies you need."

"Thank you," Enaste breathed, looking up at her. "And we should leave soon. I don't think they have much time."

"Of course." Deshanna looked at her, head tilted. She was quiet for a moment, and Enaste wondered if they were missing something. "I agree with Harea, though." The Keeper's expression turned disapproving, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. "He's too old for you."

Harea laughed and Enaste groaned in frustration. Hallin was visibly disturbed by the conversation, almost as much as Enaste herself, and said nothing. "I'm leaving," Enaste announced as she started to stand.

"Wait." Harea grunted as she rolled over, first to her hands, then kneeling, with Hallin's support. Enaste paused, looking at her. "I know I kid but... Be careful, okay?"

"I will be, Rea."

"No, really." Harea's dark brows knit together. "Promise me you'll be careful. I can't..." Hallin put his hand on her back, but she kept her eyes on Enaste. "I can't lose you.” Her voice fell. It was unsettling to see her like this, soft and vulnerable instead of bright and strong. “You have no idea how terrifying it was when we heard what happened at the Conclave." Enaste heard the sounds of evening chores all around them, but their little clearing was quiet. Harea’s words were gentle, and so much quieter than she usually was. "We --I..." She trailed off, closing her eyes, and shook her head.

Enaste stepped closer to her, and knelt in the grass in front of her and Hallin.

"We thought you died, Noodle," Hallin said quietly. "We thought we'd never get to see you again."

"I'm sorry... I should have reached out sooner." Guilt settled in her then, weighed down with the realization that she could have done more, could have tried harder. Somehow, in all the turmoil of the Inquisition, she’d forgotten how much her absence would hurt the people who loved her most.

"Maybe, but... Just don't do it again, alright?" Harea said gently. "You can always come home."

Enaste tried to speak, but the words disappeared in her mouth. Harea reached out and squeezed Enaste's hand --the one that bore the anchor. Instead of saying anything, Enaste pulled her friend into a warm embrace, wrapping her arms around her back. Harea let go of Enaste's hand and hugged her tightly, leaning her forehead against Enaste's collarbone.

Something moved in-between them, a tiny kick from inside Harea's body. Harea snorted, the sound tickling Enaste's ear. "It knows," she drew the word out and Enaste laughed.

"Don't call your baby an 'it,'" she teased, and Harea shrugged.

"What should I call it instead? Harea the Second?"

"That's better than 'it,'" Enaste pulled back and looked down at Harea's belly. "But you're right." She met her friend's eyes again. "I'll be careful."

"Good. Because Harea the Second isn't coming until you can deliver it."

"Don't say that, vhenan," Hallin groaned. "Esa taught our healers everything they know. Bri or Virin would do just as well."

"No," Harea said firmly. She put one arm around Enaste's shoulder and pulled her close, frowning at her bonded. "The only person I trust to deliver Harea the Second is Noodle the First."

Hallin sighed. "Just focus on coming home safe, okay, Esa?"

Enaste nodded, leaning into Harea, and for a few heartbeats focused on the warmth of her friend's body against her, the softness of her robes, the rise and fall of her shoulders.

"You promise?" Harea asked, giving her a squeeze.

"I do. I promise."

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#solavellan #dragon age #solasmance #solas x lavellan #clan lavellan #glimpses #fic: raven #enaste lavellan #hallin did not get the brain cell in the family but he is loved very much regardless #enaste took all the brain cells she's very smart #hallin is a much better hunter than her though #also everyone roasting enaste #she deserves it #'he's not a shem' 'but you /are/ sleeping with him'#what the hell this wasn't supposed to post yet #but okay whatever Tumblr

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