#ITS SO COOL COMIC COMIC COMIC THEIR MEETING WOULD LOOK SO COOL AS A COMIC | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

some-bunniii · 26 days

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Alastor and Lucifer come to your rescue

・❥ You’ve been kidnapped. Good thing you know two handsome fellas who’d come to your rescue in a heartbeat—or lack thereof.

~ 5k words

x: reader is g/n. no use of y/n. enjoy 🥰

“You better just let me go. It won’t be pretty for any of you if you keep me locked up for much longer!” You called from the suspended prison cell, hanging from the ceiling with a single, thick chain.

The demon thugs below barely blinked, ignoring your words as they continued their game of hellish poker. Empty bottles of liquor were scattered across the floor, their heads spinning with a drunken buzz while they snickered between each other.

“Whoever wins this round gets first tool pick for torturing the prisoner.” The dealer laid out the deck of cards, flicking his gaze to the cage just above their heads.

“Maybe that will finally shut them up. It’s been–what, three hours since we grabbed them, and they’re still yapping.” One of the shark demons sighed as he shuffled his hand.

The iron bars pressed against your fingers, their chill biting your skin as you gripped them. The dank air, thick with the stench of mold and something fouler, clung to your lungs with every breath. They had plucked you from the street just as you stepped out of the bar, saying you owed money to some freak down in the Greed Ring and your stash of cash needed to be coughed up before the night's end.

Except you have no memory of stealing money from anybody! They must have confused you for someone else, and surely whoever is waiting for their mula will find out your kidnappers snagged the wrong passerby. Sure, you were in Hell for a reason, but your behavior since working at the Hazbin Hotel had improved considerably.

You’d have alerted any of your friends at the hotel of your whereabouts if you could, but the thugs had shaken you of any loose change and electronics the moment you arrived at this dusty, empty warehouse. Angel Dust was the fastest texter, but you were sure he was at the studio by now—in every position except the one that would answer your cries for help.

Was three hours enough of an absence for anyone to be worried? Maybe Charlie would find you tardy for this evening’s lesson and panic, or Vaggie would notice your desk was empty much longer than usual.

You knew someone who would notice the moment your presence became suspiciously absent. Actually, you could name two that would–and who’d come to your rescue in the blink of an eye.

One of them was the very King of Hell himself, Lucifer Morningstar. You met him when Charlie gave him a tour of the hotel all those months ago, and you were immediately taken by his humor and perfect looks, awed by his power and history as an angel. You would like to feel that Lucifer felt those same butterflies upon being introduced to you when you dipped your head and batted your lashes at those pretty eyes of his.

“I heard you built this hotel up from dust with a single thought!” you said, your voice trembling with excitement as he drew closer. “I've never met someone with such a skill in architecture.”

“You flatter me,” the angel chuckled, extending an open palm, “but also undermining my powers. I’m so much cooler than that. Let me show you!”

In a burst of red magic, a yellow rubber ducky appeared with a comical pop, and you blinked in surprise at the familiar face staring back. The ducky looked… just like you, and a smile spread across your features at the silly little you, reaching out a finger to brush across its beak.

“That is pretty cool,” you affirmed with a laugh, meeting his prideful gaze, “I never thought I’d look so cute as a duckling!”

“You do that all on your own. Here, you can have it.” Lucifer held out the duck with a wink, and your eyes widened in delight, and you quickly lifted a hand. “Just a generous gift from your gracious, very impressed King of Hell!”

When your fingers brushed against his, it was like feeling earth’s sunlight on your cheeks again, a warmth that spread up your arm and had your shoulders loosening in relief from unnoticed tension. Taking the toy in your hands with sudden, fresh energy, you turned it for a close inspection. It felt real, rubbery, and smooth against your palm. It definitely sounded real when you squeezed its little body, and it quacked, like a real duck!

When you lifted your head, he had been dragged off by his daughter to finish touring the halls, and you were left with a pounding heart.

You brushed a thumb across the little duck, warmth rising in your cheeks from the encounter with the angelic man until your smile faltered as his words echoed in your mind.

Very impressed. Did he… like you? The conversation had been brief but charged, and you hoped to see him again and learn the real Lucifer Morningstar, not just the King of Hell. If Charlie could win him over with that visit to Heaven, that is.

That was your first interaction with him–and not your last, either. He began visiting the hotel quite often, reconnecting with his daughter and lending a hand behind the scenes whenever she desired. Lucifer always made time for you, too.

Giving you colorfully themed rubber duckies became his little tradition, gifting them with theatrics and compliments that had your cheeks hot every time. Lucifer’s features always glowed when you laughed at his stupid dad jokes and stared in awe at the creations he took the most joy in.

The morning you had been kidnapped, you reached for your phone, clicked on the contact with a rubber ducky icon, and typed a quick message while heading for the lobby.

[You: Going to the bar with some friends next to the sweet shop. Want one for the next time you stop by?]

[King of Ducks: You know I can just snap my fingers and make a dozen, right?]

You were shocked to see Lucifer had answered immediately; that was rare for the reclusive king. He had gotten better at including himself into the hotel and as a normal member of hellish society, and you liked to think that was in part due to your efforts.

[You: Yes, but their desserts are good. Plus, when was the last time you went out and ate non-magically cooked food?]

[King of Ducks: Yeah… no thanks. I don’t trust anything made by sinners. How about I dig around for my last bag of Eden Apples and whip up an appetizer for dinner tonight? Will you be at the hotel?]

[You: Yes, I will only be out for a few hours. See you then!]

[King of Ducks: Can’t wait. ʚ(•ө•)ɞ]

You weren’t sure how to categorize your relationship with the King of Hell. You were one of the very few people he spoke to and who he enjoyed talking to, yet there had never been a confession or a kiss, just outings and shared time at the hotel that bordered on date nights.

Could Lucifer be at the hotel now, waiting for you to eat caramel apples with him? He’d get worried, but would he be able to navigate the hurdles of modern technology to track her phone to the warehouse? That might be a problem. You sighed, hope diminishing as you watched one demon clean the barrel of his gun.

There was one more, however. A powerful demon that knew almost every corner of the rugged outskirts of Pentagram City, where he practiced his expanding powers on criminals just like the scum that gossiped about their latest murders below you.

“Alastor, I'm going out to the bar.” You had stood in the doorway to the lobby earlier today, lips curving into a soft smile as you tipped your chin up to meet the crimson gaze of the fluffy-eared and charismatic facility manager. “Just visiting some friends, I won’t be long. Save a spot for me at dinner, okay?”

Alastor’s gaze lingered on you, the sharp edges of his grin softening. “But of course, my dear,” he purred, his voice full of warmth. “Take your time, enjoy your evening. I’ll make sure there’s a spot just for you—waiting, as always.”

Alastor always knew where you were heading, partly because he was technically your boss—since you sat as the concierge and receptionist for the hotel—but also because you felt completely safe wherever your journey would lead if you knew the infamous overlord was watching your back.

The terror he inflicted on any bystander who heard his name didn’t rub you so terribly, not when they had even deadlier crimes. They were in Hell, yet the demon’s only victims had been those clutching pearls of insatiable greed and power, ones that wished to climb the ladder by slaughtering anyone who opposed their seat of violence.

Alastor was the one who welcomed you into the hotel in the beginning when he found you scrounging for scraps in the alleyways like some feral cat. He had approached you with interest, and when your eyes set upon the infamous Radio Demon who offered you a warm place to sleep and delicious food to fill your growling stomach, you had almost taken it in a heartbeat.

Then, you remembered who exactly this demon was.

“If you think I will make a deal with you, think again! I’m not that desperate to sell my soul!” You backed into a brick wall with a glare.

“Nonsense, I would never ask such a thing.” He brushed off your words with a dismissive wave of his hand. “All I ask in return for room and board is for you to work. Tell me, are you efficient with modern communication devices?

“Yes, I can operate a phone.” You had held back an odd smile.

“Excellent! That is all I require.” Alastor had taken you by the elbow to lead you toward the large, seemingly abandoned building at the top of a grassy hill. “I disdain all these newfangled gadgets that have taken over our wonderful city. I have no use for it, but alas, it is a staple of our world now, so we must become accustomed to stepping out of our comfort zone.”

You had listened to him chatter about the modern world's problems in comfortable silence. Although strange, his voice was smooth and lively, diverting all of your attention to the eloquent words that easily rolled off his tongue.

No stranger had ever offered you such kindness, especially in a place like Hell, and you were determined to make the most of it. Alastor did not seem to mind your company, even when he showed subtle resistance to the companionship of the others in the hotel, like Angel Dust, who always tried to wind up the demon with constant references to his provocative career choice.

He even let you catch the fireflies in his strange but breathtaking pocket lagoon hidden in the shadows of his room. They danced across the soaked grass, lighting up in soft, yellow hues that blinked a trail across the darkness, one that you followed eagerly with a glass jar in your grip.

With gentle hands, you entrapped three… four… five lightning bugs into their new glass home, where they lit the darkness between your palms, like clutching gold sparkling in the sunlight.

Alastor watched you with an amused smile as you took joy in such a meaningless endeavor. Catching bugs to light up a jar, what a silly little idea.

But… what a cute little endeavor. Innocent fun that brought light to the most beautiful aspects of the natural world familiar to his childhood home in the South. One of the few things he missed about the painful, mortal world above.

When a flickering cloud hovered over the murky pond’s edge, you stood right at the water as it lapped at your feet and leaned as far as you could over the shimmering depths. Outreaching your arms, you reached for the fireflies dancing just out of reach with a quiet grunt.

Right as you clamped the lid shut on a flurry of lights, the dewy, slick grass beneath your feet sent you stumbling into the pond. You dropped the jar and flailed, squeezing your eyes shut to await the cold plunge into the muddy water.

Nothing came, however. Only the feeling of a sturdy force wrapped tightly around your midsection. Your eyelids fluttered open, and you tipped your chin down to find a green, smokey tentacle holding you steadily, with another clutching the fallen jar above the pond’s motionless surface.

“In the mood for a midnight swim, hm?” Alastor teased, and you twisted your head to face him, surprise written across your features.

He snapped his fingers, and the tentacles slithered back into the middle of the clearing. Carefully lowering you onto the soil, they dropped the container into your open palms before dissipating into the air.

“You caught me!” You breathed in relief.

“Of course I did.” Alastor chuckled, tone softening as he looked you over. “I can’t have you slipping away from me too easily; who will try my Cajun sauce when you are not around?”

“I do like your sauce,” you replied with a laugh. “Thank you; I’d rather not be soaking wet trying to care for these little guys.”

He watched you closely, a hint of amusement lingering in his eyes as you carefully cradled the jar. The way the soft lights danced against your face seemed to draw his gaze, and for a moment, the usual mischief in his expression faded into something more contemplative.

“What will you do with them, if I may ask?” He tilted his head.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, following the flickering lights between your palms in a trance. “I just think they’re beautiful. Maybe as a bedside night light? Or, we could use it as lanterns for the hallways. Angel Dust would be grateful for a path back to his room during late nights returning from the studio.”

“An interesting idea. I’m always touched by your capacity to care for the wellbeing of others,” he had replied, a genuine warmth underneath the faint static of his honeyed voice.

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, and you hid a bashful smile by pulling the jar closer to your face. A thought struck you suddenly, and the container lowered in your hands as your brows furrowed. You glimpsed at Alastor’s door behind you, lips tipping downward.

“Wait, isn't this all apart from your room? Which means when I leave, they’ll just… vanish?”

The Radio Demon watched your falling features in surprise, struck by the fact this was emotionally tolling on you. A pang of… something strange had his chest tightening, a feeling Alastor hadn’t felt since he watched his mother cry over an antique vase that shattered after he had romped with the dog a little too wildly as a boy.

Why would he deny you something so innocent and harmless? He’d find no joy in restricting you from taking the silly little creatures with you.

He may be a demon, but he wasn’t a monster.

“Usually… yes,” Alastor began, lifting a claw to tap gently on the jar’s lid, “but I see no disadvantage in giving you a little sample of my home.”

The glass fizzled with green energy, the fireflies growing anxious by the strange magic that consumed the jar for only a moment. The jar sizzled out like a dying bulb, and the remaining demonic aura sent tingles through your fingertips.

That smile of yours wrapped him tighter around your finger, and your eyes widened in wondered delight. You met his crimson gaze with a hurried thanks and dashed out of his room to find the perfect spot for your twinkling lantern. Your quick farewell didn’t bother Alastor; he knew you’d be back to collect more, and he’d greet you once more with the usual dapper grin.

You weren’t sure what your relationship with Alastor was, either: but, you knew he would come to your rescue at a moment’s notice. Except, he would never set foot near any gadget that could ping your location. So… how would he find you? Were you doomed to be swinging from the ceiling forever?

Then, your hands settled upon a tiny object still deep in your pocket. Lifting it to view, your eyes lit with an idea.

A paper clip, one that you could transform into a makeshift lockpick. It was a good thing you knew how to pick locks. Very well, if you were to brag. Bending the metal with practiced ease, you scooted to the lock that kept you sealed away and quietly slipped the clip’s end into the tiny hole. You strained your ears, listening for the familiar clicks that would lead to your grand escape.

“You son of a bitch!” One of the demons snarled below, slamming his fist onto the table as he glared at the player across from him, startling you. “I know you cheated!”

“It’s called being a sore loser,” the other drawled, swirling the liquor in his glass. “It's not my fault you’re this bad at—”

“Excuse me, gentleman.”

Their heads snapped to the open doorway across the floor, your eyes trailing up the finely-tailored red suit until they landed on a pair of fluffy ears and tiny antlers that stuck out from the top of his head.

“Alastor!” You cried happily from above, wiping your brow with relief.

His gaze flicked to your figure dangling above the criminals, who rose slowly with deadly glares at the new arrival. They lowered back onto the men around the table, his grin sharpening as it widened from ear to ear, and his nails tapped against the microphone on his staff.

“I believe you’ve taken someone who does not belong to you,” Alastor continued, boredom lacing his tone, “return them, and I will grant you a less painful death.”

The room was unfathomably silent. The only sound reaching your ears was your own heartbeat thumping against your ribcage as you watched the scene below in breathless anticipation.

“Is that him?” One of the thugs whispered, and another nodded with a set jaw.

“Yes, but he’s outnumbered twenty to one. We can take him.” He pulled an angelic blade from his sheath. “Alert the rest of our men. The Radio Demon won’t last for much longer.”

His accomplice obliged, and Alastor let them go, thrilled by the added challenge as he took another step forward.

“Well?” He hummed, looking at the men expectantly.

One parted their lips, beginning to speak, until the overhead lights flickered and fizzled out, except for one on the opposite end of the warehouse. Everyone, even Alastor, furrowed their brows in confusion.

“Behold!” A disembodied voice echoed across the long space, dripping with theatrical flair. You perked at the familiar tone, a smile tugging at your lips. The remaining light in the warehouse intensified, casting an exaggerated, almost divine glow on the figure emerging from the shadows.

“The Morning Star has arrived!” Lucifer announced with a flourish, eyes shut and arms outstretched as if addressing an adoring crowd.

Unfortunately, he was faced in the opposite direction of the crowd. Alastor’s smile faltered at the sight of the short king before it sharpened even further, and his claws clenched around his staff.

“And I am here to—! Oh.” Lucifer’s yellow gaze met the wall, and he pivoted on the heels of his boots to face the group across the warehouse, snapping his fingers and vanishing in red smoke.

In an explosion of confetti, the angel popped into existence beside Alastor, and Lucifer’s grin grew in devilish triumph.

“As I was saying.” He cleared his throat to the jaw-dropped onlookers, twirling his apple-tipped cane in his fingers. “I am here to relieve you all of life, forever, since you can’t keep your hands to yourself like decent people.”

The thugs blinked, glancing between each other. Some looked like they were about to beeline for the exit, while others only bared their teeth in anger.

“Did you follow me here?” Alastor ground out, eye twitching as he twisted his head with a crack to side-eye the king.

“No!” Lucifer replied with a huff. “This is my city, remember. I know my way around these parts just fine.”

“I was here first,” Alastor hissed, adjusting his suit with a hmph. “This is my rescue. Don’t you have some toys to play with back home?”

“Still up here!” You called from the bars of your cell, peering down at the two bickering men with an eye roll.

They looked up at your crouched figure, then at each other with calculating glares, and finally rested on the mass of criminals before them, more pouring in from the open doors.

“Watch and learn, bellhop.” Lucifer rolled up his sleeves and stepped toward the group of thugs who clutched their angelic weapons with trembling fingers.

He lifted a hand, pointing a finger gun toward the closest demon, whose eyes widened as the King of Hell aligned his sights as he looked down the imaginary barrel of a gun.

With an audible “pew!” A firework shot from Lucifer’s fingertip, slamming into one of the demon's stomachs and skyrocketing him out a window with a shriek.

The darkening sky lit up in a burst of sparkling colors, and a thunderous boom shook the building. The thugs around the table blinked, glancing at each other warily as the apple-cheeked man clasped his hands and looked at them expectantly.

“Anyone else?” Lucifer smiled with shark-like teeth, brushing the dust from his coat.

They gulped, lowering their weapons, but the largest demon, a centipede-like man who stood three or four Alastor’s tall, hissed in rage and lifted six silver, gleaming pistols toward the angel, all clutched in its multiple pairs of arms.

If the angels could be felled by their own steel as they did during their attack on the city only two weeks ago, surely their once-heavenly king could fall from it, too. There was too much money on the line to flee just yet. The demon pulled each trigger simultaneously, and Lucifer quirked a brow.

“Huh, that’s efficient,” he said as bullets flew past his hat, and he ducked quickly to avoid them.

Alastor threw up a shield of green, the bullets from the rest of the thugs ricocheting off the powerful barrier and zipping across the floor, hitting one of the demons right in the chest with a pained gasp.

“Do not worry your fragile little crown.” The Radio Demon stepped forward, waving off the king without a glance. “I will handle these delinquents.”

“There’s not a chance in Hell I’m letting you have all the fun,” Lucifer replied, and he pulled a long, fiery whip from within his coat.

The whip crackled with an infernal glow, flames licking the air as it uncoiled. He cracked it against the floor, splitting the concrete and leaving scorch marks across its surface. With a snarl to charge, the thugs surged forward, brandishing their weapons and aiming their guns at the two men’s foreheads without faltering.

In an unspoken competition, your dual saviors readied themselves, green tentacles curling around Alastor protectively as a few snaked forward and throttled a group of demons while another threw one out the already-broken window. His antlers extended, eyes turning to radio dials as his form grew and shifted into a demonic monstrosity, claws extended for the succulent fleshbags before him.

Lucifer lashed out with his whip, the flames searing the air as it wrapped around the largest demon’s pistols, yanking them from its grasp with a force that sent the weapons clattering to the floor. With a flick of his wrist, the whip coiled around the centipede-man’s legs, dragging it down to its knees.

“Kneel before your king,” Lucifer sneered. He gave the whip a final, violent crack, sending the demon sprawling across the ground, flames licking at its many dismembered appendages.

Lucifer danced across the room, ducking and diving as he karate-chopped a demon, and they exploded into colorful paper mache. Alastor grew twice the size, his antlers lengthening and his eyes shifting into radio dials as he plucked a snarling criminal from the floor and swallowed him whole.

You did not want to sit around and take a stray bullet to the heart, so you continued picking the lock with hasty fingers. Bullets flew past your cage, but you did not halt the task as you heard the familiar clicks of unlocking mechanisms.

Realizing their chances were much slimmer than initially thought, some of the men hurried away, teeth chattering in fear, as they left the rest of their friends to be eaten by the hulking red demon and set on fire by balls of flame that engulfed Lucifer’s hands.

The final click had the lock to your cell plummeting to the ground, bonking one thug on the head, and he face-planted onto the concrete with a groan.

“I did it!” You beamed, chest swelling with a rare ego.

The door swung open, and you poked your head out, watching with a fluttering heart as the two contrasting figures worked in tandem to rescue you.

A tendril curled around the last demon’s leg, dragging him toward the gaping maw of the Radio Demon as he cried out in fear. The sudden force had his finger curling around the trigger, discharging a silver bullet that flew right above your head and shattered the chain that kept you suspended with a piercing shriek of metal.

The cage fell, and you along with it. With a gasp, you helplessly grasped at the bars, squeezing your eyes shut for the impending pain and misery as the floor rushed to meet you.

Six wings spread quickly, and Lucifer sprang forward, arms outstretched to catch your screaming figure midair. The cage around you burst in a plume of red smoke, and you coughed, brushing away the lingering smoke as your heart pounded. Your eyes lifted to meet Lucifer’s soft gaze, the overwhelming relief washing over you like a wave, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to his warmth and safety.

“Are you alright?” He asked, scanning your body for any injuries. Heaven only knows what he would have done if you had any.

“Now that you two are here, I've never been better,” you replied with happy tears brimming.

“Right, that guy is also here.” Lucifer rolled his eyes, glancing at Alastor’s shrinking figure as the demon licked his lips in satisfaction. “I hope you know I could have done everything without him.”

Of course, you did. He was the King of Hell. You shook your head with a smile as he descended smoothly, carefully lowering you onto two feet. Your chest was still heaving from the adrenaline as your gaze fleeted across the broken bodies littered across the ground, stomach churning at the sight.

Alastor strolled forward, taking his turn to examine you. His smile had receded, softening at the edges as he sidled up to you.

“You know, you handle yourself quite well under pressure without assistance. I knew your skills would come in handy someday. Although, in a few more minutes, I would have been there to free you without fuss.”

“Except I'm the one who caught them. That is a sole save in my books,” Lucifer cut in before you could speak. “All you did was have a late-night snack and ruin my good mood.”

“Preposterous. It was I who took care of most of these nuisances and saved our dear one,” Alastor chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “Without me, you’d have only been floundering against the opposition like a frail duckling in alligator waters.”

“I’m so thankful that you both saved me,” you proclaimed, eyes shining with gratitude as you locked elbows with both men at your sides, “I couldn’t be more grateful for the rescue. Why don’t we get some celebratory drinks from Sinbucks on the way back? A hot cup of black joe and an Earl Grey tea for my handsome saviors.”

“Fine.” Alastor shrugged, not sparing a glance at the man on the other side of you. “But only if this blathering fool pays for it.”

“Anything for you,” Lucifer agreed, winking your way, “but your friend here better wait outside on the curb. I’m sure they wouldn’t like a rabid animal stinking up the place.”

With a giggle, you pulled them along and left the warehouse, strolling down the trashed streets with a skip in your step.

You glanced at both of them, pleased and content with just being near you. There was never a dull moment with either of them at your side, or with them together, for that matter, and you wished times like these lasted longer.

Although, you hoped that could happen without being kidnapped next time.

heyyy guys 😇 im back!! sort of. more like i took a break in writing my novel (roughly 70k words in) to work on an idea i’ve had for awhile but didn’t have the motivation for until now. also, summer overtime at my job and physical therapy have shortened my spare time to do anything… ick.

but now i’m freeeee!! so have this “little” guy for now, and i’ll have more to feed you all soon! now time to crawl back in my hole and write 🥲 goodbye 🤍

taglist 🏷️ (combined characters, 1/2)

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0 @yourlocalgoldenretrieverboy @wpdarlingpan @halo-balo @chipper-chip @lvstyangel @acrazyartist @midorichoco @ivebeenthearchersstuff @indestructeible @otherthoughtsofbu @anonymousewrites @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @cherry-cola-100

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #hellaverse #lucifer x reader #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader x alastor #perhaps one day it could become radioapple

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sirfrogsworth · 7 days

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Meeting my longtime artist and good friend, Chris, IN REAL LIFE!

So, I hadn't been to a restaurant in over a decade. I can't even remember which restaurant since it was so long ago. But in the past few weeks I've now been to TWO restaurants.

I am becoming a social butterfly.

And it is exhausting.

But also good.

First I reconnected with my high school best friend, John.

And that went great.

But then the opportunity to see my friend Chris (a.k.a @whosthewhatnow ) came up only a few days later. And this close proximity of social events scared me a bit, but I have been feeling much better since they figured out my heart thing, so I decided to try and do both things even though they were only a few days apart.

The key to this was strategic resting. As soon as I got home from seeing John, I got in bed and I didn't get out of it until it was time to see Chris. And that was just enough recovery time to pull this off. Typically a short outing requires 2-3 days of rest after.

I had never met Chris in real life. He has done nearly all of the artwork for my website and comics over the past decade. And he was a main character in my CRAPPRnauts series.

We know each other so well and it is crazy that we've never seen each other with our very own eyeballs.

He is such an amazing artist. He works fast and he adds so many cool extra details that you can stare at his comic panels multiple times and catch a new joke or easter egg each time. He is a dream to work with and my Corg Life series was only successful because he did such a wonderful job bringing Otis to life in comic form.

So we decided to meet up at a restaurant with his friend Michael and then I was going to take a nice portrait of him after dinner. Chris had never had a professional photo taken of himself and I decided to fix that.

I told him I had a mobile photography setup. Which, in reality, is a trunk full of lights and stands and other various camera gear that I definitely won't need, but bring anyway. It's "mobile" in that it all fits in my car if you are good at Tetris (which I am).

The restaurant was downtown and I had visions of St. Louis's famous Gateway Arch in the background of Chris's portrait. I thought that would be such a cool shot. I could see it in my head and I even dreamed about it.

So I got in my car and headed downtown and my GPS told me to exit at 249B. But I kept looking and I couldn't see the sign for 249B.

This is how much road I had left when I finally was able to see the exit for 249B.

So I ended up taking 249A and going straight to East St. Louis.

Which, if you believe the headlines, is not a place you ever want to be.

Google Maps and I have been having issues lately. They also tried to get me to take the spooky way home that night, but thankfully I actually knew the non-spooky way back from when I used to go to Cardinal games with my parents as a kid.

My short term memory was trashed by shock therapy. And so was a lot of my long term memory. But it finally came through in a pinch and remembered something useful.

I only had to loop around and cross a bridge so I didn't really do anything but touch the edge of East St. Louis. I was mostly concerned about being late for dinner more than its scary reputation. Usually those news stories about a place being "dangerous" are actually just racist and hurtful to people stuck in poverty. I mean, technically my house is in a "dangerous" neighborhood, and we do have trouble with petty crime in some spots, but aside from a few dinged-up mailboxes, I've never felt unsafe in my home.

On the way back to regular St. Louis I could see the Arch on the horizon at sunset and it was kind of magical. And I wasn't able to get a good shot of it, but it sure looked pretty from my point of view.

My photos kind of remind me of the beginning of movies like Training Day where they are trying to show you gritty, dutch angle shots of the city out of the car window to give you a sense of the location.

As I approached the restaurant I invented a new genre I call "stoplight photography." The sky was orange and the streets of St. Louis were just asking to be photographed. But I wasn't willing to die to get neat photos, so I just took them at every red light.

The big trick was trying to edit the dark area at the top of my windshield out of the photos to make it look like I didn't take these pictures from my car.

After a 15 minute detour through Illinois I arrived at my destination—a Mexican place called Rosalita's. It had a beautiful sign, so I took that literal sign as a metaphorical sign it was a nice place to get a quesadilla.

Dinner was great. Both signs were right and their quesadilla was very tasty. Chris and I both got one, so we are quesadilla twins. The waitress was one of those "I can remember your order without writing anything down" types. And I am one of those, "I get anxiety when things aren't written down" types. And, to her credit, she did not forget our orders. But she did forget to give us silverware and napkins. So I still feel like my anxiety was valid.

We told sad stories of the pups we lost. But we also had a lot of fun and laughed and I got to meet Michael who turned out to be an absolute mensch. I sometimes have trouble meeting new people with my social anxiety, but he was very affable and made me feel comfortable with his presence almost right away. He was a fan of Otis and mentioned he still has a Super Otis shirt. I always get choked up hearing that Otis is still loved. Hopefully we get to meet again.

Dinner ended and it was picture time.

I asked Chris if he wanted the high effort photo or the low effort photo. Either we figure out how to get to the Arch or we find a spot near the restaurant and just take his portrait there. Chris and Michael had a driver because they were coming from a big conference and getting to the Arch would have been complicated. So we decided to go with the low effort option.

I found a cool shop nearby that had an LED wall that changed to all sorts of different colors. And I thought that would make a neat background and give a colorful edge light on Chris's face. I pulled my car near that spot and started unloading my trunk full of photo gear.

I think Chris and Michael were a little overwhelmed when I started pulling camera gear out of my trunk like a clown pulling an endless handkerchief out of his mouth. But as far as photo setups go, it was actually pretty minimal.

Light, giant battery, light stand, umbrella, tripod, camera, rolling walker with seat.

My dad's old rollator came in clutch because I wanted to shoot from a low angle and it is hard for me to bend down. In fact, I think I'm going to look into getting an all terrain version so I can do more outdoor photoshoots.

I started shooting in the middle of a downtown sidewalk. And I was super anxious. I could not focus (my brain, not my camera). I was very distracted with all of the people walking by and staring. I was not sure if any of the photos were turning out. I wasn't even sure if they were in focus (my camera, not my brain) because I had not yet had my lens calibrated. But down the street there was a guy with an old school boombox playing random music. His music helped to drown out the ambient noise and gave me some comfort.

I had no clue if the photos were any good, but when I got home and checked them on my computer, I realized I have 12 years of experience and muscle memory built up. I probably should have just trusted myself because the photos all turned out great.

I think Chris can now officially say he has had a professional portrait taken of himself.

This photo has been officially loved by Chris's girlfriend and mother.

There is no greater seal of approval and I am honored.

I was able to comp in any of the colors the wall displayed from other shots in case Chris is feeling a little more green in the future.

A literal rainbow of options.

I also liked this one, though it is a little more "environmental portrait" than regular portrait.

And I got some nice photos of our little group to help us remember the night.

And I got a bunch of photos of Chris making silly faces like Calvin at his school photoshoot.

I love this woman's reaction to our little impromptu sidewalk photo shenanigans.

After we said our goodbyes and I gave my friend a hug, I was a little bummed I didn't get to photograph him at the Arch like I had dreamed.

But then I realized I had my own car and it was capable of taking me places. (I actually haven't gotten used to that after not driving for nearly 15 years.)

So I decided to drive a few blocks over to Kiener Plaza—a park with a view of the Arch.

TO BE CONTINUED...

#long post #whosthewhatnow #dinner with chris #photography

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thankskenpenders · 1 year

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Amy's fortune cards

The Sonic fandom has long been the kind of fandom that takes minor details very seriously, for better or worse. On the one hand, this means fans will really dig for the diamonds in the rough, latching onto fun character interactions, animations, bits of background worldbuilding, and more in pieces of Sonic media that many would write off as "the bad ones." But it also feels like every week another needlessly hostile debate over Sonic minutia erupts on Twitter, whether it's over individual lines of dialogue, fanart that makes Tails' shoes blue, or the ideal length and volume for Sonic's quills.

So it was probably inevitable that a fandom-wide debate would erupt upon seeing Amy's new gameplay style in the DLC for Sonic Frontiers, which takes the once-obscure fact that she enjoys reading tarot and shines a spotlight on it like never before.

I mean:

The thing is, while I basically always try to tune out Sonic fandom bickering... for once, I kind of sympathize with the detractors? Don't get me wrong, I like Amy's tarot stuff, and people on all sides of the discussion are being overly nasty about their opinions, as usual. (Sonic Twitter remains my personal hell.) But when I set aside the hyperbole and zoom out, I do think I understand why some fans are put off by the sudden shift in focus for the character, even if I think it's cool.

It's complicated. Let me attempt to present the cases for and against Amy's fortune cards

For years, I was always one of those fans who thought it could be fun if they played with Amy's tarot reading, or even leaned into some kind of magic with her. Part of that is my own biases showing, but there's just something that makes sense there, especially when you look at Sonic, Tails, and Amy as a trio. (I would argue that's the real "Team Sonic" these days, especially in the comics where Knuckles is more likely to be stuck on Angel Island or otherwise doing his own thing.)

You could argue that Tails is all about logic, relying on science and technology and deductive reasoning to solve problems. But Amy is all about emotion. She wears her heart on her sleeve, is extremely empathetic, and is very prone to magical thinking - both figuratively and sometimes literally. Her origin story has always been that her tarot cards told her it was her destiny to meet Sonic on Little Planet. She's claimed to be able to "sense" peoples' presences - particularly Sonic's. She's the type to believe that The Power of Love is a literal magical force. So, on some level, it makes sense to mirror Tails's science by having Sonic's other best friend believe in magic. And then Sonic is somewhere in the middle, primarily following his own gut instincts but taking advice from both of them as needed. This isn't totally accurate to how their dynamics actually function in canon stories, but I think it's a mode that could work for them.

Going off of that, it's fun to lean all the way into Amy being a magical girl, or even a witch, using her fortune telling as a foundation. Take, for example, this version of Amy from Diana Skelly's old Sonic cast redesigns from before she freelanced for Archie and IDW. This is one of MANY such redesigns for Amy.

Fast forward to the 2020s, and Amy's tarot cards are, in fact, finally getting brought up again in canon. Which is fun! I like seeing that. I like all of the individual stories involving Amy's fortune cards. This is a fun character trait for Amy, a fun nod to old lore, AND a fun storytelling device, all in one. It's really cool that the Sonic universe has its own thematically appropriate arcana, and that the cards are getting made as physical merch. And sure enough, the official card backs and borders were designed by none other than Diana Skelly, in yet another cool example of an ascendant fan leaving their mark on the series.

BUT... when you step back and look at the big picture, I get why some fans find this shift in focus jarring. At the moment, it's starting to feel like every new story about Amy involves her fortune cards to some degree.

The most recent mainline comic arc to feature Amy as the lead character, 2021's Trial by Fire arc, prominently features a sequence where she reads fortunes while camping with the girls. The Origins version of Sonic CD now bookends the game with scenes of Amy and her tarot cards. Sonic randomly mentioned it in a scene in Frontiers. And now, just this week, we got the (very cute, gorgeously illustrated) Amy's 30th Anniversary comic with a story revolving around Amy's tarot cards, followed the very next day by the Frontiers DLC in which she gets a brand new tarot-based moveset. Even her base melee attack now has her throwing tarot cards instead of swinging her hammer. Again, I like all of these individual things, but after years of it almost never coming up at all, it's VERY noticeable that Amy's tarot cards are suddenly everywhere.

To be fair, I'm looking at this from the perspective of a superfan who's actively following ALL Sonic media. Casual fans - especially kids - aren't necessarily going to be reading the comics every month, buying the thousandth rerelease of the Genesis games, or playing the ultra-hard new alternate ending DLC for a game that came out last year. Each of these stories is going to be someone's introduction to the idea that Amy can read tarot, and that's probably part of the idea behind this unified push.

But to play devil's advocate, for my fellow superfans, I understand why it feels like a very minor footnote of Amy's character is suddenly becoming the entire focus of her personality. While Amy has always been said to enjoy fortune telling, that wasn't really a character trait in and of itself, but rather an example of her being a typical girl who hopes she'll be able to find true love one day. It's less that Amy can literally predict the future and more like her using a cootie catcher or going "he loves me, he loves me not" while picking the petals off of a flower. So I get not vibing with this stuff, or feeling like it's being pushed very hard out of nowhere.

What I don't agree with are comparisons like "it's like if they made Knuckles' moveset revolve around him liking grapes." Like, I get it. Ian Flynn loves shoehorning in his little winking references for us nerds, and mentions of Amy's tarot cards were previously on the same level as other random bullet points from old Japanese manuals. But a multifaceted hobby like fortune telling that opens up so many narrative and aesthetic possibilities is obviously very different from having a favorite food. It's ALWAYS been a part of her story, not just a random fact, and there's no reason why the fortune telling can't be elevated to something more.

And, hell, even if it wasn't an established character trait, there's nothing inherently wrong with injecting new ideas into a character. One of the best Amy stories in recent years, the Free Comic Book Day special "Amy's New Hobby" written by Gale Galligan, came up with the idea that Amy's secretly been drawing little comics about her and her friends. Is this based on Lore? No. But it's cute, and helps tell the story of a younger Amy who's still coming out of her shell as both a hero and a friend.

Certain fans are also looking at Amy's Frontiers moveset and using it as evidence that once again the Vile American Contributors like Ian are CORRUPTING Sonic Team's perfect vision of Sonic with their misinterpretations. And like. Come on. Ian does not control the gameplay. He's a freelance writer. The tarot stuff is clearly something that Sonic Team likes if they made it the basis of Amy's new moveset - and, you know, if they keep approving comics and animations about Amy's fortune telling. None of this gets made without their blessing, and lord knows how much they can micromanage shit and shoot down ideas over the most minor of details.

Like, yeah, Amy's fortune telling was probably conceived less as a sign that she Knows Magic and more as a pretty mundane hobby for a lovesick young Japanese girl to have. But you're gonna sit there and tell me that using Amy's tarot cards for more than that could only be the result of a cultural misunderstanding? That nobody in Japan uses tarot card theming and aesthetics (or the general idea of magical cards) for the cool factor? Stardust Crusaders? Persona? The Astrologian class in FFXIV? Cardcaptor Sakura?? Hello??? Do you think Capcom put Gambit in Marvel vs. Capcom ironically because they thought using magic to throw cards at people was stupid? There's tons of precedent for this! It's nothing like Knuckles throwing grapes at people, be for real.

Giving Amy a very magical girl-esque moveset also just makes a lot of sense. For decades her hammer attacks have literally made sparkly heart shapes appear around her. Leaning into both that and her tarot cards in her new moveset makes a lot of sense to me.

But, admittedly... I do think it's very odd that her hammer is treated as a secondary element here, rather than having her primarily use her hammer and adding the cards for extra flair. If hitting the attack button made her swing her hammer instead of throwing cards, I'm not sure we'd even be having this discussion right now.

But the tarot-cycle and Amy riding her hammer like a witch's broom are fucking SICK and I will not concede on this point

The thing is, this whole fortune card discourse is but a small piece of a bigger problem. Amy's been a character who needed some work for ages, but there's basically nothing you can do with her without pissing SOMEONE off.

Years of stories where Amy's crush was her primary motivator and Sonic went "Ew, cooties!" have lead many casual fans to believe that being Sonic's obsessive fangirl is Amy's entire personality. At best people might call her Sonic's Minnie Mouse. This isn't just a matter of Amy having haters within the fandom - venture outside of that bubble and you'll realize that this is how MOST video game playing people seem to see her to this day. I don't feel like this is a fair assessment of the character, but this idea didn't come from nowhere. No matter how much good deeply entrenched Sonic fans may see in their old dynamic where Amy perpetually chases Sonic, this is a very real problem that Sonic Team has to contend with for their leading girl. Of course all those games where the way-past-cool protagonist thought Amy was annoyingly clingy and tried to get away from her made people think less of her.

If new stories were to go back to emphasizing Amy's crush on Sonic a little more, they'd probably be taken as confirmation that Amy's just the girl with a crush on Sonic and that this is her entire personality. Conversely, when the crush is played down, you piss off the hardcore SonAmy fans who don't seem to understand that they're Charlie Brown and Sega is Lucy holding the football. You can't win.

And so here we are. In the absence of what was once her defining trait, now reduced to an occasional blush or wink in Sonic's direction, new stories are trying to mine Amy's past for additional material to work with. Having been a thing fans wanted to see for years, right now we're getting a lot of tarot, but we're also getting reminders of her compassionate nature and her desire to go out of her way to help the little guy. This is an ongoing process. I continue to hope that her bubbly, exuberant demeanor can shine more in future stories. Now, I also hope that the tarot stuff gets balanced out a little better with other traits of hers. But I don't want it to go away. I think it's fun.

This course correcting is far from exclusive to Amy. Knuckles is getting stories that remind us that he's a competent fighter, an experienced treasure hunter, and even a self-taught archaeologist after years of him being perceived as either the dumb one or just the guy who stands in front of the Master Emerald all day. And Tails has been getting some stories reminding folks that he's a capable hero in his own right and not just Sonic's timid kid sidekick.

But no supporting character will ever compete with the sheer number of new ideas Sega has tried with Sonic himself. Like Amy, his Frontiers moveset has also given him half a dozen new superpowers that he never had before, from the Cyloop to air-slicing projectile attacks to his own take on Shadow Clone Jutsu and beyond. He's also been a hoverboarder, a swordsman, a time traveler, an Olympic athlete, a racecar driver, cursed with a Flame of Judgment, imbued with alien power, a fucking Werehog with stretchy powers, and on and on and on.

If Sonic can do all that, Amy can try out using a tarot-cycle.

Anyway TL;DR the REAL problem with Amy's current characterization... is where the FUCK is Amy's bestie, Honey the Cat???????

#tkp post

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melzula · 7 months

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Smoke and Shadow

part one

pairings: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: it’s finally here! hope you guys enjoy this and sorry it took so long! and ofc reminder that reading the comics is suggested for this piece

summary: The Princess decides to pay Zuko a visit only to find the Fire Nation in disarray.

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

Returning home from the Fire Nation always feels bittersweet; you miss your people, but you know that once you’re back in the South the ache of homesickness will be replaced by your longing to be at Zuko’s side. You once thought the end of the war would mean easier days for your relationship, but being the leaders of two different nations seemed to keep you apart more often than it kept you together. Leaving him never got any easier, but you knew in your heart that this was for the best. You had duties to fulfill and people to take care of, so you’d just have to be patient. Things will settle eventually and the distance will become easier, you just have to see it through.

“Do you really have to go? You just got here!” Kiyi complains with a frown as she watches you pack your things and prepare for your return home.

“I’m sorry, Kiyi, but my people need me.“

“Can’t someone else do it?” She retorts, prompting you to let out a small laugh of amusement. She certainly had her older brother’s attitude at times.

“I’m afraid not. I have a tribe to rebuild and students to teach,” you explain to her. “Things don’t run very smoothly when the Chief is away for too long.”

“Will you at least come back and visit me?” The little girl begs, and you can’t really find a way to say no to her when she looks at you with her best pleading eyes. “I want to see more water bending tricks!”

“I promise to come back as soon as I have the time,” you assure her before giving her a tight hug. You’ve grown rather attached to Zuko’s little sister since meeting her, so it’s not easy having to say goodbye.

A gentle knock at your door alerts both you and Kiyi of someone’s presence, but once you see Zuko’s face peeking through the doorway you smile and part from the girl so that she can run out to play in the palace halls. “My love, the ship is ready to leave when you are.”

“I suppose I’m ready,” you sigh with a melancholic smile, melting into Zuko’s touch when he pulls you into his embrace. “It’s going to be hard being away from you.”

“I know,” he comforts while resting his warm hand upon your cool cheek, “but it’s nothing we can’t handle. We’ll be together again soon.”

“I’m already counting down the days,” you profess earnestly, eliciting a soft chuckle from him in return. Rubbing his nose affectionately against your own, Zuko angles his face to reach your lips and press a tender kiss against your own. It’s the last one you’ll be sharing for some time, and he makes sure to savor it for as long as possible. Your kiss is impossibly sweet, your smell of fire lilies intoxicating, and it pains him to have to pull away from you.

“I love you, y/n. I hope you know that.”

You smile before pulling him in for another kiss, enjoying your perfect goodbye.

~~~

A month has passed since you left the Fire Nation, and the South has developed swimmingly. With the help of your sister tribe, the outer villages have slowly begun to transform into cities equipped with new buildings, homes, and even town halls. Progress is steady and your tribe is growing, and it will only be a matter of time before the Southern Water Tribe is restored to its rightful glory.

As your advisor, Hakoda has agreed to oversee the Southern Reconstruction Project so that you may focus on teaching the next generation of water benders with Master Pakku. Your time as Chief is spent either at your school or in your office to approve new construction plans and debrief with Hakoda about the progress of the rebuilding project. You’re as busy as ever, but you couldn’t be any happier.

“Sifu y/n, why do we have to learn about healing?” One of your students complains as you set out the practice mannequins for the children. “I don’t want to heal, I want to fight!”

“Healing is just as important as bending,” you explain thoughtfully. “As a wise woman once told me, ‘You cannot bend something that is broken, but you can heal something that is hurt.’ Some situations require a gentle hand, and it’s important your bending has balance. Healing can save lives, and your gift can be used to help your people.”

“Sifu y/n,” another student says with her hand raised eagerly in the air, “is it true you healed Fire Lord Zuko from a lightning strike?”

“It is,” you reply with a fond smile, laughing at the amazed gasps your students share at the story. “I wouldn’t have been able to save his life if I hadn’t known how to heal, and that’s why it’s important for you all to learn. Now any last questions before we begin?”

A little hand raises into the air and you nod, signaling them to continue. “Do you miss Zuko?”

“Always,” you sigh wistfully, the familiar ache of longing pulling at your heart strings. You wondered what he was doing now and if he was thinking of you in this moment.

After teaching your healing class, you retire to your office for the evening to look over the new construction plans Hakoda has prepared for you. However, your mind seems to be elsewhere for the night as you find yourself repeatedly looking upon the frame on your desk. The night of your coronation you’d had a local artist paint a portrait of Zuko and yourself. You shared the biggest smiles, the two of you adorned in formal water tribe attire for the festivities ahead. It had been a perfect night, and the painting served as a reminder of the wonderful time you’d had together.

Sighing, you look over your schedule for the upcoming week. Nothing too major seems to be taking place, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt if you took a short trip to the Fire Nation to see how Zuko and Kiyi were doing. Hakoda could handle the reconstruction project on his own for a few days, and Pakku could look after your students in your absence.

Grabbing a scroll and a brush, you quickly begin scribbling out a lengthy list of items for Hakoda and Pakku to oversee while you’re gone. It seems your mind is made up, and as soon as your affairs are in order you’ll be using the secret tunnel to travel to the Fire Nation to finally see Zuko again.

~~~

Zuko was exhausted.

Carrying the guilt he felt for his sister’s kidnapping as well as the awkward tension that came with working alongside his ex-girlfriend wasn’t exactly helping him keep his peace. More children were going missing with every night that passed, and it seemed he wasn’t any closer to catching his sister and her group of Kemurikage. A part of him wished it really was spirits tormenting his people instead of his sister, but he figured she’d have to turn up eventually.

“We’ll find them, Zuko,” Mai comforts, carefully resting her hand upon his tense shoulder as he stares down at the array of scrolls scattered across his desk. Various passages about the Kemurikage and information about the men part of the New Ozai Society line the endless papers, and yet none of it has gotten them any closer to figuring out where the missing children or Azula are.

“I hope you’re right,” he murmurs before shifting his gaze to the bush of fire lilies out in the courtyard. It dawns on him then that he hasn’t had the time to write to you lately, and he feels you deserve to know about Kiyi‘s disappearance and Azula’s return. He’s sure you’d know just what to do, just what to say to make him feel better, and he needs the comfort now more than anything. “I should write y/n. She cares for Kiyi just as much as I do, she should know.”

Mai’s mood immediately sours at the mention of the Southern Princess, but she’s able to mask it well enough for Zuko’s sake. Despite being willing to work with her ex-boyfriend to find her missing brother, their past relationship was still a sore subject for her. It’s not exactly easy getting over the fact that the boy you thought was in love with you was really just using you to get over someone else.

Their talk at the Boiling Rock hadn’t given her any real closure, and her encounter with the Princess at the flower shop didn’t leave the greatest impression on the girl. Mai still couldn’t see what was so special about her, and she didn’t understand what kind of future Zuko saw with her. She supposed it didn’t matter what she thought anymore, and it didn’t matter what Zuko did with his life. She was with Kei Lo now, and the Fire Lord was no longer her concern.

“Is writing a letter to your girlfriend really your top priority right now?” She can’t help but to retort sarcastically, prompting Zuko to scowl.

“Y/n could be a great help to us,” he argues defensively. “She views things more clearly than I do at times and keeps me from making rash decisions.“

“So is she your girlfriend or your babysitter?”

“Mai-!”

“I know, I know,” she sighs with a passive wave of her hand. “I’m sorry.”

Frowning, Zuko lets out a quiet breath before turning to meet her gaze. He’s unsure of how to approach such a sensitive subject, but he knows he must if any progress is to be made. “I know you’re still mad at me, and I know no apology will fix the hurt I caused you, but you have to put it behind you if we’re going to work together. Y/n is my girlfriend, and Kei Lo is your boyfriend, so why are things still so awkward between us?”

“It’s not that simple, Zuko,” Mai snaps, a bitter scowl masking her features. “It’s not just that you broke my heart, it’s that I was stupid enough to let you! I should have known I’d never be enough for you, and you talking about her is like throwing salt in the wound. It’s like a constant reminder that I was never good enough for you, that what we had was all just a lie. I never want to feel that way again, but I feel it every time I’m around you. I’m like the pathetic ex-girlfriend you can’t get away from.”

“Mai…”

“I can’t believe I still care about you,” she grumbles sullenly.

“I care for you too,” he insists before gently taking one of her hands in his own. “Maybe not in the way you want me to, but I do. I always have, even when we were children and I pushed you into the fountain to put out that apple on your head. You’re a good friend, and I owe you more than I can ever repay you for what you did at Boiling Rock. Can’t we still be friends?”

Mai is silent, her gaze set firmly upon her hand in his own. The sensation is warm and familiar, comforting, but she knows the hurt that is to come if she agrees to his request. Maybe one day she can learn to love Kei Lo and fill the emptiness, be the one doing the using instead of the one being used, but she can’t accomplish this feat with Zuko in the picture.

The room is quiet and tense, but still she does not remove her hand.

And neither of them notice the figure in the doorway watching the scene unfold.

~~~

You’re surprised to find Zuko’s end of the tunnel blocked off by Fire Nation guards. He hadn’t been expecting you of course, but you didn’t think you’d find the passage closed off like this. What had happened while you were away to promote such a drastic measure?

“Excuse me,” you call gently so as to not startle the guards that face away from you, “I’m here to see Fire Lord Zuko. May I cross?”

“I’m sorry, but no one is allowed in or out of the Capital City,” one guard states gruffly, but his companion waves him off dismissively.

“She’s the Southern Chief and the Fire Lord’s girlfriend,” he explains before gesturing you to continue forward. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be happy to hear we’d blocked his beloved from seeing him.”

“O-Oh, my apologies,” the first guard stutters sheepishly before clearing himself out of your path.

“What’s going on? Why is the Capital City in lockdown?”

“Children of the Fire Nation have been going missing and the people are becoming restless,” he explains. "The Fire Lord wants everyone to stay put until a culprit has been caught and the children are returned safe.”

“How awful,” you murmur quietly before an uneasy feeling begins to hit you. “Have you heard anything of Kiyi, Ursa’s daughter? Is she safe?”

The two guards exchange solemn glances, and that’s all you need to know before immediately rushing towards the palace. If Kiyi is in danger, you want to do everything you can to help Zuko find her and the other missing children before it’s too late. Who knows what danger they could be in?

Your trek to the palace isn’t easy, what with the protests and unrest occurring on the streets as a result of Zuko’s harsh restrictions, but you manage to weave your way through the chaos and make it to your destination. You’re a bit overwhelmed by the commotion, blind to the conflict that’s been occurring in your absence and unaware of what exactly is going on, but you do your best to focus on finding Zuko first.

Surprisingly, the palace hallways are relatively empty, and you slow your sprint to a walk once you reach the throne room corridors. The pristine gold doors are left open, and the sound of Zuko’s voice carries through the air. Already you can feel the worry melting away just by hearing him speak, and though you want nothing more than to run in and throw yourself into his arms you stop to listen. You want to make sure you’re not interrupting anything important before you announce yourself.

“I care for you…” you hear him say, prompting your brows to furrow slightly in uncertainty. You can’t exactly make out everything he’s saying or what the context of his conversation is, but you’re able to note the soft gentleness in his tone, and a part of you is starting to feel strange listening in. Who is he speaking to in such a manner?

Peeking your head around the corner, you can’t help but feel your heart begin to sink to your stomach at the sight before you.

Zuko stands in the center of the throne room, gently clasping one of Mai’s hands in his own as he speaks to her in a comforting manner. You’re not sure what exactly they’re saying to each other or why she’s there, but watching the scene unfold before you fills you with dread and insecurity. Surely Zuko wouldn’t be unfaithful to you… would he?

You’ve worked hard to build your trust in him again after all you’d both been through, but you can’t help but question what he’s been up to in your absence. Why was he with his ex-girlfriend, and why he was holding her hand in what looked to be like an intimate moment? Was he thinking of leaving you again? Had he changed his mind about your relationship? What had you just walked in on?

“Zuko?” You call meekly, as if you shouldn’t be there interrupting their moment and as if you’re not his actual girlfriend. The two startle at the intrusion, but when Zuko realizes that you’re actually there before him he immediately releases his hold on her and runs towards you.

“Y/n!” He exclaims, engulfing you in the tightest hug imaginable. You’re unsure how to react at first, still reeling from what you’d just seen, but eventually you return his hug. Your weary gaze sets upon Mai who keeps her eyes down to the ground and refuses to look you in the face.

“Am I interrupting something?” You warily ask when he finally pulls away. He falters for a moment, almost offended by your insinuation.

“No! No, of course not,” he rushes to explain. “We were just… talking.”

“It kind of looked like it was more than just talking to me,” you say defensively. You don’t want to be jealous or accusatory, but you can’t help it. How could you not question them being alone together and holding hands?

“Princess, I swear there is nothing going on,” Zuko pleads earnestly, taking both of your hands in his own. “Mai is only here because the children of the Fire Nation are going missing and she’s helping me find them.”

“They took my little brother,” she adds quietly, solemn gaze still focused on the ground.

“They took Kiyi,” Zuko utters sorrowfully. His eyes are full of shame and worry, and you find it difficult to be upset with him when he looks so hurt and vulnerable.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur softly before pulling him in for a tight hug.

“I have the city on lockdown until I’m able to find the people responsible, and I’m doing everything I can to get them back. I’m sorry you had to find out like this, I didn’t mean to exclude you. I swear I was just going to write you and ask for your help.”

“You never have to ask,” you say with a comforting smile. “I came to surprise you because I missed you, and I’m glad I did.“

“So am I,” Zuko professes earnestly before cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss.

Neither of you notice Mai leaving the room.

~~~

Zuko catches you up on everything- the Kemurikage, the “Safe Nation Society,” the kidnapping of Tom-Tom and Kiyi, Azula’s return, and Ukano’s possible connection to Zuko’s sister. It was a lot to process, but you were quick to get up to speed so that you’d be able to do all you could to help.

“I don’t think you should have kicked Aang out of the throne room,” you chide Zuko after hearing him recount his disagreement with the Avatar. Fire Nation guards escort you to the Capital City prison as you converse, and Zuko hopes that by the time you reach your destination Mai’s father will be caught and ready for questioning.

“I tried to do things his way, but if he isn’t going to see things my way then I can’t have him around,” he tries to explain.

“Zuko, I saw firsthand how restless your people have become as a result of your harsh lockdown rules. Aang might be right,” you try to reason with him. “I don’t think causing fear and uncertainty is going to help us find the missing children.”

“I had to do something,” he argues weakly, “I have to get my sister back and stop Azula before it’s too late.”

“You will,” you assure him firmly, giving his arm a comforting squeeze.

As the two of you talk, Mai trails along quietly behind you both. A whirlwind of emotions are festering in her mind; she wants her brother returned to her, but she feels guilty exposing her father to Zuko and his guards and costing him his freedom. It feels like she’s working with the enemy, and perhaps in a way that’s true.

She can’t help the scowl that plays upon her features as she watches you and Zuko walk arm in arm to the prison. While she’s fretting over her family, it almost seems as if you two don’t have a care in the world about anything but each other. That isn’t true, of course, but her resentment clouds her better judgement, and all she can feel is disdain for the couple in front of her.

You were Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, a master bender, kind, beautiful. She could understand why any guy would want you, but why did Zuko? And why did you have to want him back? You had practically everything, you grew up a Princess, so why couldn’t you have just let her have this one thing? Why did you have to take him back and take him away from her after she’d finally gotten the one thing she’d always wanted?

“I’m sorry about your brother,” a voice says, pulling Mai away from her thoughts. So wrapped up in her cynicism, she hadn’t even realized they’d made it to the prison. A couple feet away, Zuko speaks to one of his men about the riot that had broken out on behalf of the Safe Nation Society. And in front of her you stand, your features kind and your words remorseful despite the tension you share.

“Thanks,” she says flatly, unsure of what else to say. The last time she’d spoken to you had been in the flower shop, and it hadn’t exactly been a pleasant conversation. She knows that you’re trying, and she knows this is all just as uncomfortable for you as it is for her, but she still isn’t so easily swayed. She doesn’t think you deserve her sympathy or understanding, and she doesn’t plan to go out of her way to be nice to you.

“I don’t have any siblings so I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I want to help however I can if you’ll let me.”

“You can help by staying out of the way,” she replies bluntly, her gaze hardening much to your surprise. “Zuko promised he’d help me find Tom-Tom, and I don’t need you distracting him while you’re here.”

“I want to help him find Kiyi,” you argue defensively, “I’m not going to get in the way of something as important as finding the missing children. Why can’t you believe that?”

“Because you have a really good track record of getting in the way of things that are important to me.”

Stunned by her admission, you can’t help but find yourself falling short of words. You knew Mai didn’t exactly think highly of you or approve of your relationship, but did she really still believe that you’d stolen Zuko away from her? You’re not to blame for what Zuko did to her or what she went through. You’ve endured just as much hurt as she has if not worse, and it isn’t fair for her to paint you as the problem.

“I didn’t even know about you and Zuko until we were already broken up! I’ve never personally tried to hurt you, and I don’t expect you to like me, but you need to get over yourself. Zuko isn’t what’s important here, you and I are not what’s important, it’s the kids. It’s Tom-Tom and Kiyi and all the children that are probably so frightened and alone. Can we at least agree on that?!”

It’s silent for a moment, you and Mai simply starting each other down for what feels like ages until she finally relents. Her tense shoulders slowly fall in defeat and she sighs, somewhat embarrassed at her little outburst. She’d been letting her emotions get the better of her lately, failing to conceal them like she was usually so good at doing, and it was painfully embarrassing for her to come to this realization.

“You’re right,” she murmurs, “let’s just focus on finding the children. The sooner this is all over the sooner we never have to see each other again anyway.”

“Fine by me,” you huff indignantly. Though Mai has more to say, she isn’t given the time to once she spots her boyfriend being escorted towards the prison in handcuffs.

“Kei Lo!” She exclaims before turning to the Fire Lord. “Zuko, this is obviously a mistake! Get him out of those cuffs!”

“I’m not so sure,” Zuko says hesitantly, looking to you for guidance to see if he’s making the right choice. You merely give him a hesitant shrug, not really wanting to get involved in their quarrel. You don’t know the full story, so it’s better to just stay out of it.

“Are you serious? You need her permission to let my boyfriend go?” She exclaims exasperatedly. “Release him!”

“What were you doing with the Safe Nation Society, Kei Lo?” Zuko prods firmly, ignoring Mai’s complaints.

“They ran into me! Literally!” The boy argues to try and prove his innocence.

“You’ve betrayed your allies bedore, who’s to say you aren’t acting as a double agent now!”

“Zuko! Stop being ridiculous!” Mai scolds angrily before looking to you. “Tell him he’s being ridiculous.”

“I’d rather not get involved…” you trail off awkwardly, only irritating her further.

Eventually Zuko allows for Kei Lo’s release, but you can tell by the look on his face that he isn’t too happy about it. His firm gaze seems to be burning holes into the back of Kei Lo’s head as he watches Mai embrace the boy, and a part of you wonders if he’s feeling some sort of jealousy towards him. Surely he wouldn’t be, he has no reason or right to be jealous, at least you think so anyway.

“Zuko?” You utter softly, placing a careful hand on his back to get his attention. “If I ask you something… will you be honest with me? Even if it’s something I don’t want to hear?”

“Of course, my love,” he says earnestly before giving you his full undivided attention. “What is it?”

“Do you… do you still-“

“Zuko!”

You startle away from Zuko at the sudden intrusion, eyes widening as you see Aang sprinting towards your boyfriend with Suki and Ty Lee in tow. You’re honestly surprised to see him considering he should have been heading back to the South with Katara and Sokka by now, and based upon his reaction it seems he’s just as surprised to see you.

“Aang!”

“Y/n! What are you doing here?” He exclaims in bewilderment.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Zuko interrupts. “I thought you left.”

“Well you thought wrong, buddy!” Aang corrects him impatiently. “We’ve been looking all over for you! Suki, Ty Lee, and I found something you need to see! Come on!”

“Fire Lord,” one of Zuko’s men interrupts, “the sun will set before we know it. We need to make a plan our people will rise up again.”

Zuko shares a quiet glance with the men before looking to Aang. You know what his answer is going to be, and you know that the Avatar isn’t going to like it.

“I’m sorry, Aang, but General Mak is right. I need to handle this my own way.”

“Even if your way is stupid?!” He rebuffs indignantly.

“What Aang means to say,” you correct, trying to put a nicer spin on his words, “is that maybe the approach you’ve been taking isn’t working. Maybe keeping your people on lockdown like they’re criminals in their own homes will only make things worse. You need to change your approach.”

“I’m sorry, Princess, but I know what’s best for my people.”

“I’ve seen your people, and they’re not happy. They’re scared, and I know you want to find Kiyi and stop Azula but you need to start thinking rationally first.”

“Can you please just trust that I know what I’m doing? Help me come up with a new plan to keep the Fire Nation citizens in order and find Azula and Ukano so that we can find Kiyi.”

His pleading eyes beg for your understanding and support, but you’re hesitant. You know that Zuko means well, but you don’t agree with his methods at all. Being a leader yourself, you know that fear and unrest is not the way to solve problems. You must treat your people with trust and respect like they deserve, otherwise they won’t be able to do the same for you.

Luckily, Aang buts in before you’re able to shoot Zuko’s request down. An air scooter is abruptly thrown beneath your boyfriend, lifting him up and carrying him away to spirits know where- if the situation weren’t so serious you’d laugh at how discombobulated Zuko looks being swept up off his feet and whisked away by a ball of air.

“Aang, slow down!” You call out before sprinting after the pair. Suki and Ty Lee are right beside you chasing them down. “Why are our reunions always so chaotic?”

“I don’t think this group knows how to live without chaos,” Suki quips with a breathless laugh. “It’s good to see you, y/n. Ty Lee and I will catch you up on everything on the way there.”

“I’d love nothing more,” you applaud gratefully.

You can only hope that whatever it is they’ve found will make things much easier from here on out.

Because you’re not sure how much more of this you can take.

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin

| fire lilies tags: @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @xapham @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch

#fire lilies #atla #smoke and shadow #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko x princess!reader #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #atla x reader #zuko x mai #mai

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etz-ashashiyot · 3 months

Text

Chapter 4: Executed Jews

By Dara Horn, excerpted from People Love Dead Jews

ALA ZUSKIN PERELMAN AND I HAD BEEN IN TOUCH ONLINE before I finally met her in person, and I still cannot quite believe she exists. Years ago, I wrote a novel about Marc Chagall and the Yiddish-language artists whom he once knew in Russia, all of whom were eventually murdered by the Soviet regime. While researching the novel, I found myself sucked into the bizarre story of these people's exploitation and destruction: how the Soviet Union first welcomed these artists as exemplars of universal human ideals, then used them for its own purposes, and finally executed them. I named my main character after the executed Yiddish actor Benjamin Zuskin, a comic performer known for playing fools. After the book came out, I heard from Ala in an email written in halting English: "I am Benjamin Zuskin's daughter." That winter I was speaking at a literary conference in Israel, where Ala lived, and she and I arranged to meet. It was like meeting a character from a book.

My hosts had generously put me up with other writers in a beautiful stone house in Jerusalem. We were there during Hanukkah, the celebration of Jewish independence. On the first night of the holiday, I walked to Jerusalem's Old City and watched as people lit enormous Hanukkah torches at the Western Wall. I thought of my home in New Jersey, where in school growing up I sang fake English Hanukkah songs created by American music education companies at school Christmas concerts, with lyrics describing Hanukkah as being about "joy and peace and love." Joy and peace and love describe Hanukkah, a commemoration of an underdog military victory over a powerful empire, about as well as they describe the Fourth of July. I remembered challenging a chorus teacher about one such song, and being told that I was a poor sport for disliking joy and peace and love. (Imagine a "Christmas song" with lyrics celebrating Christmas, the holiday of freedom. Doesn't everyone like freedom? What pedant would reject such a song?) I sang those words in front of hundreds of people to satisfy my neighbors that my tradition was universal — meaning, just like theirs. The night before meeting Ala, I walked back to the house through the dense stone streets of the Old City's Jewish Quarter, where every home had a glass case by its door, displaying the holiday's oil lamps. It was strange to see those hundreds of glowing lights. They were like a shining announcement that this night of celebration was shared by all these strangers around me, that it was universal. The experience was so unfamiliar that I didn't know what to make of it.

The next morning, Ala knocked on the door of the stone house and sat down in its living room, with its view of the Old City. She was a small dark-haired woman whose perfect posture showed a firmness that belied her age. She looked at me and said in Hebrew, "I feel as if you knew my father, like you understood what he went through. How did you know?"

The answer to that question goes back several thousand years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The teenage boys who participated in competitive athletics in the gymnasium in Jerusalem 2,200 years ago had their circumcisions reversed, because otherwise they wouldn't have been allowed to play. In the Hellenistic empire that had conquered Judea, sports were sacred, the entry point to being a person who mattered, the ultimate height of cool — and sports, of course, were always played in the nude. As one can imagine, ancient genital surgery of this nature was excruciating and potentially fatal. But the boys did not want to miss out.

I learned this fun fact in seventh grade, from a Hebrew school teacher who was instructing me and my pubescent classmates about the Hanukkah story — about how Hellenistic tyranny gained a foothold in ancient Judea with the help of Jews who wanted to fit in. This teacher seemed overly jazzed to talk about penises with a bunch of adolescents, and I suspected he'd made the whole thing up. At home, I decided to fact-check. I pulled a dusty old book off my parents' shelf, Volume One of Heinrich Graetz's opus History of the Jews.

In nineteenth-century academic prose, Graetz explained how the leaders of Judea demonstrated their loyalty to the occupying Hellenistic empire by building a gymnasium and recruiting teenage athletes — only to discover that "in uncovering their bodies they could immediately be recognized as Judeans. But were they to take part in the Olympian games, and expose themselves to the mockery of Greek scoffers? Even this difficulty they evaded by undergoing a painful operation, so as to disguise the fact that they were Judeans." Their Zeus-worshipping overlords were not fooled. Within a few years, the regime outlawed not only circumcision but all of Jewish religious practice, and put to death anyone who didn't comply.

Sometime after that, the Maccabees showed up. That's the part of the story we usually hear.

Those ancient Jewish teenagers were on my mind that Hanukkah when Ala came to tell me about her father's terrifying life, because I sensed that something profound united them — something that doesn't match what we're usually taught about what bigotry looks or feels like. It doesn't involve "intolerance" or "persecution," at least not at first. Instead, it looks like the Jews themselves are choosing to reject their own traditions. It is a form of weaponized shame.

Two distinct patterns of antisemitism can be identified by the Jewish holidays that celebrate triumphs over them: Purim and Hanukkah. In the Purim version of antisemitism, exemplified by the Persian genocidal decrees in the biblical Book of Esther, the goal is openly stated and unambiguous: Kill all the Jews. In the Hanukkah version of antisemitism, whose appearances range from the Spanish Inquisition to the Soviet regime, the goal is still to eliminate Jewish civilization. But in the Hanukkah version, this goal could theoretically be accomplished simply by destroying Jewish civilization, while leaving the warm, de-Jewed bodies of its former practitioners intact.

For this reason, the Hanukkah version of antisemitism often employs Jews as its agents. It requires not dead Jews but cool Jews: those willing to give up whatever specific aspect of Jewish civilization is currently uncool. Of course, Judaism has always been uncool, going back to its origins as the planet's only monotheism, featuring a bossy and unsexy invisible God. Uncoolness is pretty much Judaism's brand, which is why cool people find it so threatening — and why Jews who are willing to become cool are absolutely necessary to Hanukkah antisemitism's success. These "converted" Jews are used to demonstrate the good intentions of the regime — which of course isn't antisemitic but merely requires that its Jews publicly flush thousands of years of Jewish civilization down the toilet in exchange for the worthy prize of not being treated like dirt, or not being murdered. For a few years. Maybe.

I wish I could tell the story of Ala's father concisely, compellingly, the way everyone prefers to hear about dead Jews. I regret to say that Benjamin Zuskin wasn't minding his own business and then randomly stuffed into a gas chamber, that his thirteen-year-old daughter did not sit in a closet writing an uplifting diary about the inherent goodness of humanity, that he did not leave behind sad-but-beautiful aphorisms pondering the absence of God while conveniently letting his fellow humans off the hook. He didn't even get crucified for his beliefs. Instead, he and his fellow Soviet Jewish artists — extraordinarily intelligent, creative, talented, and empathetic adults — were played for fools, falling into a slow-motion psychological horror story brimming with suspense and twisted self-blame. They were lured into a long game of appeasing and accommodating, giving up one inch after another of who they were in order to win that grand prize of being allowed to live.

Spoiler alert: they lost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was in graduate school studying Yiddish literature, itself a rich vein of discussion about such impossible choices, when I became interested in Soviet Jewish artists like Ala's father. As I dug through library collections of early-twentieth-century Yiddish works, I came across a startling number of poetry books illustrated by Marc Chagall. I wondered if Chagall had known these Yiddish writers whose works he illustrated, and it turned out that he had. One of Chagall's first jobs as a young man was as an art teacher at a Jewish orphanage near Moscow, built for children orphaned by Russia's 1919-1920 civil war pogroms. This orphanage had a rather renowned faculty, populated by famous Yiddish writers who trained these traumatized children in the healing art of creativity.

It all sounded very lovely, until I noticed something else. That Chagall's art did not rely on a Jewish language — that it had, to use that insidious phrase, "universal appeal" — allowed him a chance to succeed as an artist in the West. The rest of the faculty, like Chagall, had also spent years in western Europe before the Russian revolution, but they chose to return to Russia because of the Soviet Union's policy of endorsing Yiddish as a "national Soviet language." In the 1920s and 30s, the USSR offered unprecedented material support to Yiddish culture, paying for Yiddish-language schools, theaters, publishing houses, and more, to the extent that there were Yiddish literary critics who were salaried by the Soviet government. This support led the major Yiddish novelist Dovid Bergelson to publish his landmark 1926 essay "Three Centers," about New York, Warsaw, and Moscow as centers of Yiddish-speaking culture, asking which city offered Yiddish writers the brightest prospects. His unequivocal answer was Moscow, a choice that brought him back to Russia the following year, where many other Jewish artists joined him.

But Soviet support for Jewish culture was part of a larger plan to brainwash and coerce national minorities into submitting to the Soviet regime — and for Jews, it came at a very specific price. From the beginning, the regime eliminated anything that celebrated Jewish "nationality" that didn't suit its needs. Jews were awesome, provided they weren't practicing Jewish religion, studying traditional Jewish texts, using Hebrew, or supporting Zionism. The Soviet Union thus pioneered a versatile gaslighting slogan, which it later spread through its client states in the developing world and which remains popular today: it was not antisemitic, merely anti-Zionist. (In the process of not being antisemitic and merely being anti-Zionist, the regime managed to persecute, imprison, torture, and murder thousands of Jews.) What's left of Jewish culture once you surgically remove religious practice, traditional texts, Hebrew, and Zionism? In the Soviet Empire, one answer was Yiddish, but Yiddish was also suspect for its supposedly backwards elements. Nearly 15 percent of its words came directly from biblical and rabbinic Hebrew, so Soviet Yiddish schools and publishers, under the guise of "simplifying" spelling, implemented a new and quite literally antisemitic spelling system that eliminated those words' Near Eastern roots. Another answer was "folklore" — music, visual art, theater, and other creative work reflecting Jewish life — but of course most of that cultural material was also deeply rooted in biblical and rabbinic sources, or reflected common religious practices like Jewish holidays and customs, so that was treacherous too.

No, what the regime required were Yiddish stories that showed how horrible traditional Jewish practice was, stories in which happy, enlightened Yiddish-speaking heroes rejected both religion and Zionism (which, aside from its modern political form, is also a fundamental feature of ancient Jewish texts and prayers traditionally recited at least three times daily). This de-Jewing process is clear from the repertoire of the government-sponsored Moscow State Yiddish Theater, which could only present or adapt Yiddish plays that denounced traditional Judaism as backward, bourgeois, corrupt, or even more explicitly — as in the many productions involving ghosts or graveyard scenes — as dead. As its actors would be, soon enough.

The Soviet Union's destruction of Jewish culture commenced, in a calculated move, with Jews positioned as the destroyers. It began with the Yevsektsiya, committees of Jewish Bolsheviks whose paid government jobs from 1918 through 1930 were to persecute, imprison, and occasionally murder Jews who participated in religious or Zionist institutions — categories that included everything from synagogues to sports clubs, all of which were shut down and their leaders either exiled or "purged." This went on, of course, until the regime purged the Yevsektsiya members themselves.

The pattern repeated in the 1940s. As sordid as the Yeveksiya chapter was, I found myself more intrigued by the undoing of the Jewish Antifascist Committee, a board of prominent Soviet Jewish artists and intellectuals established by Joseph Stalin in 1942 to drum up financial support from Jews overseas for the Soviet war effort. Two of the more prominent names on the JAC's roster of talent were Solomon Mikhoels, the director of the Moscow State Yiddish Theater, and Ala's father Benjamin Zuskin, the theater's leading actor. After promoting these people during the war, Stalin decided these loyal Soviet Jews were no longer useful, and charged them all with treason. He had decided that this committee he himself created was in fact a secret Zionist cabal, designed to bring down the Soviet state. Mikhoels was murdered first, in a 1948 hit staged to look like a traffic accident. Nearly all the others — Zuskin and twelve more Jewish luminaries, including the novelist Dovid Bergelson, who had proclaimed Moscow as the center of the Yiddish future — were executed by firing squad on August 1952.

Just as the regime accused these Jewish artists and intellectuals of being too "nationalist" (read: Jewish), today's long hindsight makes it strangely tempting to read this history and accuse them of not being "nationalist" enough — that is, of being so foolishly committed to the Soviet regime that they were unable to see the writing on the wall. Many works on this subject have said as much. In Stalin's Secret Pogrom, the indispensable English translation of transcripts from the JAC "trial," Russia scholar Joshua Rubenstein concludes his lengthy introduction with the following:

As for the defendants at the trial, it is not clear what they believed about the system they each served. Their lives darkly embodied the tragedy of Soviet Jewry. A combination of revolutionary commitment and naive idealism had tied them to a system they could not renounce. Whatever doubts or misgivings they had, they kept to themselves, and served the Kremlin with the required enthusiasm. They were not dissidents. They were Jewish martyrs. They were also Soviet patriots. Stalin repaid their loyalty by destroying them.

This is completely true, and also completely unfair. The tragedy — even the term seems unjust, with its implied blaming of the victim — was not that these Soviet Jews sold their souls to the devil, though many clearly did. The tragedy was that integrity was never an option in the first place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ala was almost thirteen years old when her father was arrested and until that moment she was immersed in the Soviet Yiddish artistic scene. Her mother was also an actor in the Moscow State Yiddish Theater; her family lived in the same building as the murdered theater director Solomon Mikhoels, and moved in the same circles as other Jewish actors and writers. After seeing her parents perform countless times, Ala had a front-row seat to the destruction of their world. She attended Mikhoel's state funeral, heard about the arrest of the brilliant Yiddish author Der Nister from an actor friend who witnessed it from her apartment across the hall, and was present when secret police ransacked her home in conjunction with her father's arrest. In her biography, The Travels of Benjamin Zuskin, she provides for her readers what she gave me that morning in Jerusalem: an emotional recounting, with the benefit of hindsight, of what it was really like to live through the Soviet Jewish nightmare.

It's as close as we can get, anyway. Her father Benjamin Zuskin's own thoughts on the topic are available only from state interrogations extracted under unknown tortures. (One typical interrogation document from his three and a half years in the notorious Lubyanka Prison announces that the day's interrogation lasted four hours, but the transcript is only half a page long — leaving to the imagination how the interrogator and interrogatee may have spent their time together. Suffice it to say that another JAC detainee didn't make it to trial alive.) His years in prison began when he was arrested in December of 1948 in a Moscow hospital room, where he was being treated for chronic insomnia brought on by the murder of his boss and career-long acting partner, Mikhoels; the secret police strapped him to a gurney and carted him to prison in his hospital gown while he was still sedated.

But in order to truly appreciate the loss here, one needs to know what was lost — to return to the world of the great Yiddish writer Sholem Aleichem, the author of Benjamin Zuskin's first role on the Yiddish stage, in a play fittingly titled It's a Lie!

Benjamin Zuskin's path to the Yiddish theater and later to the Soviet firing squad began in a shtetl comparable to those immortalized in Sholem Aleichem's work. Zuskin, a child from a traditional family who was exposed to theater only through traveling Yiddish troupes and clowning relatives, experienced that world's destruction: his native Lithuanian shtetl, Ponievezh, was among the many Jewish towns forcibly evacuated during the First World War, catapulting him and hundreds of thousands of other Jewish refugees into modernity. He landed in Penza, a city with professional Russian theater and Yiddish amateur troupes. In 1920, the Moscow State Yiddish Theater opened, and by 1921, Zuskin was starring alongside Mikhoels, the theater's leading light.

In the one acting class I have ever attended, I learned only one thing: acting isn't about pretending to be someone you aren't, but rather about emotional communication. Zuskin, who not only starred in most productions but also taught in the theater's acting school, embodied the concept. His very first audition was a one-man sketch he created, consisting of nothing more than a bumbling old tailor threading a needle — without words, costumes, or props. It became so popular that he performed it to entranced crowds for years. This physical artistry animated his every role. As one critic wrote, "Even the slightest breeze and he is already air-bound."

Zuskin specialized in playing figures like the Fool in King Lear — as his daughter puts it in her book, characters who "are supposed to make you laugh, but they have an additional dimension, and they arouse poignant reflections about the cruelty of the world." Discussing his favorite roles, Zuskin once explained that "my heart is captivated particularly by the image of the person who is derided and humiliated, but who loves life, even though he encounters obstacles placed before him through no fault of his own."

The first half of Ala's book seems to recount only triumphs. The theater's repertoire in its early years was largely adopted from classic Yiddish writers like Sholem Aleichem, I. L. Peretz, and Mendele Moykher Seforim. The book's title is drawn from Zuskin's most famous role: Senderl, the Sancho Panza figure in Mendele's Don Quixote-inspired work, Travels of Benjamin the Third, about a pair of shtetl idiots who set out for the Land of Israel and wind up walking around the block. These productions were artistically inventive, brilliantly acted, and played to packed houses both at home and on tour. Travels of Benjamin the Third, in a 1928 review typical of the play's reception, was lauded by the New York Times as "one of the most originally conceived and beautifully executed evenings in the modern theater."

One of the theater's landmark productions, I. L. Peretz's surrealist masterpiece At Night in the Old Marketplace, was first performed in 1925. The play, set in a graveyard, is a kind of carnival for the graveyard's gathered ghosts. Those who come back from the dead are misfits like drunks and prostitutes, and also specific figures from shtetl life - yeshiva idlers, synagogue beadles, and the like. Leading them all is a badkhn, or wedding jester — divided in this production into two mirror-characters played by Mikhoels and Zuskin — whose repeated chorus among the living corpses is "The dead will rise!" "Within this play there was something hidden, something with an ungraspable depth," Ala writes, and then relates how after a performance in Vienna, one theatergoer came backstage to tell the director that "the play had shaken him as something that went beyond all imagination." The theatergoer was Sigmund Freud.

As Ala traces the theater's trajectory toward doom, it becomes obvious why this performance so affected Freud. The production was a zombie story about the horrifying possibility of something supposedly dead (here, Jewish civilization) coming back to life. The play was written a generation earlier as a Romantic work, but in the Moscow production, it became a means of denigrating traditional Jewish life without mourning it. That fantasy of a culture's death as something compelling and even desirable is not merely reminiscent of Freud's death drive, but also reveals the self-destructive bargain implicit in the entire Soviet-sponsored Jewish enterprise. In her book, Ala beautifully captures this tension as she explains the badkhn's role: "He sends a double message: he denies the very existence of the vanishing shadow world, and simultaneously he mocks it, as if it really does exist."

This double message was at the heart of Benjamin Zuskin's work as a comic Soviet Yiddish actor, a position that required him to mock the traditional Jewish life he came from while also pretending that his art could exist without it. "The chance to make fun of the shtetl which has become a thing of the past charmed me," he claimed early on, but later, according to his daughter, he began to privately express misgivings. The theater's decision to stage King Lear as a way of elevating itself disturbed him, suggesting as it did that the Yiddish repertoire was inferior. His own integrity came from his deep devotion to yiddishkayt, a sense of essential and enduring Jewishness, no matter how stripped-down that identity had become. "With the sharp sense of belonging to everything Jewish, he was tormented by the theater forsaking its expression of this belonging," his daughter writes. Even so, "no, he could not allow himself to oppose the Soviet regime even in his thoughts, the regime that gave him his own theater, but 'the heart and the wit do not meet.'"

In Ala's memory, her father differed from his director, partner, and occasional rival, Mikhoels, in his complete disinterest in politics. Mikhoels was a public figure as well as performer, and his leadership of the Jewish Antifascist Committee, while no more voluntary than any public act in a totalitarian state, was a role he played with gusto, traveling to America in 1943 and speaking to thousands of American Jews to raise money for the Red Army in their battle against the Nazis. Zuskin, on the other hand, was on the JAC roster, but seems to have continued playing the fool. According to both his daughter and his trial testimony, his role in the JAC was almost identical to his role on a Moscow municipal council, limited to playing chess in the back of the room during meetings.

In Jerusalem, Ala told me that her father was "a pure soul." "He had no interest in politics, only in his art," she said, describing his acting style as both classic and contemporary, praised by critics for its timeless qualities that are still evident today in his film work. But his talent was the most nuanced and sophisticated thing about him. Offstage, he was, as she put it in Hebrew, a "tam" — a biblical term sometimes translated as fool or simpleton, but which really means an innocent. (It is the first adjective used to describe the title character in the Book of Job.) It is true that in trial transcripts, Zuskin comes out looking better than many of his co-defendants by playing dumb instead of pointing fingers. But was this ignorance, or a wise acceptance of the futility of trying to save his skin? As King Lear's Fool put it, "They'll have me whipp'd for speaking true; thou'lt have me whipp'd for holding my peace." Reflecting on her father's role as a fool named Pinia in a popular film, Ala writes in her book, "When I imagine the moment when my father heard his death sentence, I see Pinia in close-up . . . his shoulders slumped, despair in his appearance. I hear the tone that cannot be imitated in his last line in the film — and perhaps also the last line in his life? — 'I don't understand anything.'"

Yet it is clear that Zuskin deeply understood how impossible his situation was. In one of the book's more disturbing moments, Ala describes him rehearsing for one of his landmark roles, that of the comic actor Hotsmakh in Sholem Aleichem's Wandering Stars, a work whose subject is the Yiddish theater. He had played the role before, but this production was going up in the wake of Mikhoel's murder. Zuskin was already among the hunted, and he knew it. As Ala writes:

One morning — already after the murder of Mikhoels — I saw my father pacing the room and memorizing the words of Hotsmakh's role. Suddenly, in a gesture revealing a hopeless anguish, Father actually threw himself at me, hugged me, pressed me to his heart, and together with me, continued to pace the room and to memorize the words of the role. That evening I saw the performance . . . "The doctors say that I need rest, air, and the sea . . . For what . . . without the theater?" [Hotsmakh asks], he winds the scarf around his neck — as though it were a noose. For my father, I think those words of Hotsmakh were like the motif of the role and — I think — of his own life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Describing the charges levied against Zuskin and his peers is a degrading exercise, for doing so makes it seem as though these charges are worth considering. They are not. It is at this point that Hanukkah antisemitism transformed, as it inevitably does, into Purim antisemitism. Here Ala offers what hundreds of pages of state archives can't, describing the impending horror of the noose around one's neck.

Her father stopped sleeping, began receiving anonymous threats, and saw that he was being watched. No conversation was safe. When a visitor from Poland waited near his apartment building to give him news of his older daughter Tamara (who was then living in Warsaw), Zuskin instructed the man to walk behind him while speaking to him and then to switch directions, so as to avoid notice. When the man asked Zuskin what he wanted to tell his daughter, Zuskin "approached the guest so closely that there was no space between them, and whispered in Yiddish, 'Tell her that the ground is burning beneath my feet.'" It is true that no one can know what Zuskin or any of the other defendants really believed about the Soviet system they served. It is also true — and far more devastating — that their beliefs were utterly irrelevant.

Ala and her mother were exiled to Kazakhstan after her father's arrest, and learned of his execution only when they were allowed to return to Moscow in 1955. By then, he had already been dead for three years.

In Jerusalem that morning, Ala told me, in a sudden private moment of anger and candor, that the Soviet Union's treatment of the Jews was worse than Nazi Germany's. I tried to argue, but she shut me up. Obviously the Nazi atrocities against Jews were incomparable, a fact Ala later acknowledged in a calmer mood. But over four generations, the Soviet regime forced Jews to participate in and internalize their own humiliation - and in that way, Ala suggested, they destroyed far more souls. And they never, ever, paid for it.

"They never had a Nuremberg," Ala told me that day, with a quiet fury. "They never acknowledged the evil of what they did. The Nazis were open about what they were doing, but the Soviets pretended. They lured the Jews in, they baited them with support and recognition, they used them, they tricked them, and then they killed them. It was a trap. And no one knows about it, even now. People know about the Holocaust, but not this. Even here in Israel, people don't know. How did you know?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That evening I went out to the Old City again, to watch the torches being lit at the Western Wall for the second night of Hanukkah. I walked once more through the Jewish Quarter, where the oil lamps, now each bearing one additional flame, were displayed outside every home, following the tradition to publicize the Hanukkah miracle — not merely the legendary long-lasting oil, but the miracle of military and spiritual victory over a coercive empire, the freedom to be uncool, the freedom not to pretend. Somewhere nearby, deep underground, lay the ruins of the gymnasium where de-circumcised Jewish boys once performed naked before approving crowds, stripped of their integrity and left with their private pain. I thought of Benjamin Zuskin performing as the dead wedding jester, proclaiming, "The dead will rise!" and then performing again in a "superior" play, as King Lear's Fool. I thought of the ground burning beneath his feet. I thought of his daughter, Ala, now an old woman, walking through Jerusalem.

I am not a sentimental person. As I returned to the stone house that night, along the streets lit by oil lamps, I was surprised to find myself crying.

#People Love Dead Jews #Dara Horn #Soviet Jewry #Soviet antisemitism #antizionism is not antisemitism #jumblr

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st4rfckerz · 9 months

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early present | anakin skywalker x reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: MDNI 18+, fluff, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, praise, anakin's a cutie pie

summary: anakin comes home after work with a little surprise.

a/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS AND OTHER HOLIDAYS!!!! i'd be lying if i said this didn't come to me while listening to stargirl interlude but anyways enjoy you filthy animals.

it’s sunday evening and you’ve just finished cooking a large dinner and the dishwasher is running as you’re waiting for your husband, anakin, to get home. the twins were staying at their grandparents' house since its the weekend, leaving you and anakin alone for a few days. you were looking forward to spending time together without any distractions.

the house is quiet and peaceful with the exception of the running dishwasher and the music playing through a little radio you have propped up on the window sill. you hummed softly to yourself as you stood at the kitchen sink, washing the dishes after cooking a delicious dinner. the scent of the freshly cooked meal cooling on the stovetop still lingered in the air, making your stomach growl with anticipation. as you rinsed the foam off the plates, you glanced at the clock on the wall and realized he should be arriving any minute now.

you had decided to wear a green floral dress, hoping to look nice for anakin. the dress was fitted to your body, and you could feel the silk caress your skin as you moved. it was simple but elegant, and you felt good in the dress.

this year, you and anakin had agreed on would spending your money on christmas gifts for the twins instead of each other. there was a mutual understanding that neither of you would be getting each other presents. you had planned to stay true to your word, but it was really difficult to shop without purchasing anything for anakin. so, you secretly bought him a new watch, wrapped it carefully and hid it in your nightstand. it was just a small surprise, but you hoped it would make him happy anyway.

lost in your own thoughts, you didn't hear the front door creak open or the familiar sound of anakin's footsteps approaching from behind. it wasn't until you felt warm hands wrapping around my waist that you jolted in surprise.

"what are you doing!" you hastily turned around at the sound of anakin's booming voice. a small yelp escaped your lips and your hand flew to you chest as you tried to steady your racing heart. you eyes widened in surprise as you met his gaze, only to see the mischievous smile on his face and hear his laughter fill the kitchen. he was thoroughly enjoying the reaction he had elicited from you.

"very funny anakin." you smile and roll your eyes. you turn back around to resume doing dishes, and anakin wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder.

"i'm sorry," anakin chuckles, you can feel his breath on your neck and his chest pressed against your back. his hands are holding you closely, their warmth spreading through your body. it's a cozy moment of closeness and affection. even though you're not doing dishes well with him wrapped around you, you're enjoying it anyway.

"you look really good today," he complimented, his voice filled with sincerity and genuine appreciation. "you smell good too, you're wearing my favorite." anakin takes a comically large whiff of your neck.

"ani stop, that tickles." you giggle. the warm vanilla scent is intoxicating, and he can't resist. anakin gives you a lingering kiss on your jaw, still keeping his arms around your waist to keep you close.

"ok ok, i'll behave," anakin pauses, his lips still pressed against your neck, to let out a breath. "i got you somethin'," he whispers quietly. anakin lifts a long rectangular box from his pocket and holds it up in front of you. the gift is wrapped in sparkly green and red wrapping paper, adorned with a simple white ribbon. you are filled with anticipation as you stare at the box.

you turn around to meet his playful gaze again. "ani, you didn't have to get me anything." you explain to him.

"you don't even know what it is," anakin replies with a small smirk. "look, i know you said we weren't getting each other gifts, but i just thought this would be nice." ye holds the gift out to you and you take it in your hands. the wrapping is thin, and you can already hear the rustling of paper inside the box. anakin can't keep the grin off his face, as if he's dying to see your reaction to the gift.

you gingerly take the wrapped gift from anakin, slowly peeling back the thin layer of wrapping paper. your eyes widen when you see the gold plated necklace, with a striking "A" initial. it's delicate but vibrant, and the gold plating gives it a subtle touch of elegance. anakin is watching you patiently, his eyes glimmering with pride. ye leans forward eagerly, wanting to see your reaction to the present he chose for you.

"do you like it?" he asks softly. anakin folds his hands behind his back, holding back a smile as he waits for your answer. he keeps a close eye for any hint of disappointment or hesitation in your face, feeling uneasy. he wants this to be a nice surprise.

you nod slowly as you trace the initials with your fingers. the gold is so bright and shiny that you can almost see your reflection in it. "i love it, thank you." you tell him with a smile. anakin's expression is one of pride, and the look on his face tells you that he is happy that you like his gift.

"here, turn around." anakin pulls the necklace from the delicate, little box and puts the necklace around your neck. his fingers linger on your skin as he pulls the chain just tight enough so that the pendant sits above your collarbone. as anakin finishes fixing your necklace, he lifts your chin up to meet his eyes. you can't help the swarm of butterflies in your stomach as his thumb softly grazes against your cheekbone. his deep blue eyes are intense and his face is inches away from yours. you can feel the heat from his body radiating on your skin and it sends a shiver down your spine. anakin's gaze is unwavering and his eyes are locked on yours. he can't help but admire how the necklace highlights your best features and brings out your true beauty.

"so beautiful." anakin whispers before planting a kiss to your lips. the sensation is soft and sweet, like honey. like always, you can feel the spark between the two of you when your lips meet. anakin's hands slide down to your neck, tracing the edge of your collar bone where the necklace sits. anakin pulls you closer, his lips never leaving yours, and his fingers start to roam down your back.

the kiss becomes more heated as anakin starts backing you up against the counter. his lips are greedy, demanding more and more from you. anakin pulls you closer to him, pressing your body tightly against his. the kiss becomes even more heated and anakin's grip on you tightens. the kiss becomes heavier, almost desperate. anakin's hands move to your waist and his grip on you squeezes tightly, like he never wants to let go. his breath is warm as his tongue glides across your lips. you part your lips to grant him access, inviting his tongue to dance with yours. your soft moans reverberate through the air as anakin’s hands tenderly caress your waist, his touch sending sparks of electricity down your spine.

"my girl. mine." anakin's voice is deep and husky, and his words fall like velvet on your ears. he moans softly as he presses his tongue deeper into your mouth, his lips and body pressed deeply against yours. you can almost taste the desperation behind his words, like he is trying to pull you closer and never let go. you feel arousal shoot down to your core as anakin's words hit you in the right place. the feeling is all-encompassing, like a tide rushing towards you, and it's overwhelming in a very good way. your breath is fast and shallow, and you can't help but let out a moan.

"ani, i need you." you speak in between sloppy kisses, the words coming out hot and desperate. the ache that settled in your center was becoming unbearable, you needed something, you needed him.

"i know angel." anakin sighs. the words sent a shiver down your spine and you can feel the heat rising within you. your heart was pounding in your chest, your breath catching in your throat. anakin's hands glide down your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before firmly settling on your hips. with a sudden surge of strength, anakin spins you around, pushing your body against the cold surface of the kitchen counter. he cups your ass, squeezing it with a possessive grip. anakin's firm grasp then captures the edges of your dress, lifting it up and over the curve of your ass. a low growl escapes his throat once he notices the white lacy panties you decided to wear.

"oh sweetheart, s'this for me?" anakin coos sweetly. he revels in the sight of you, his eyes locked on the alluring contrast of the white lace against your warm flesh. anakin's gaze lingers on the wet spot that adorns the fabric of your panties. the moisture seeps through, leaving a damp and slick sensation against your skin. you nod shyly, a faint blush creeps across your cheeks.

anakin's fingers delicately curl around the waistband of your soaked panties. with a gentle tug, he starts to peel them down, revealing your glossy folds. the cool air caresses your aching cunt, sending an electrifying shiver up your spine.

feeling the heat and urgency of the moment, anakin unbuckles his pants, allowing them to pool at his feet. his engorged cock springs free, standing tall and proud in all its glory. your eyes are drawn to the sight before you, captivated by the throbbing length and girth that anakin possesses.

anakin's hand moves with practiced ease along his pulsating shaft, pumping it a few times, a low groan escapes his lips.

anakin's movements grow more deliberate as he uses his hand to guide the tip of his member along your slick folds, spreading your wetness and teasingly grazing against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"you're driving me crazy." anakin grits. he aligns his pulsating member with your slick entrance, and with a steady, controlled thrust, he sinks deep inside you. the instant connection of your bodies shatters any remaining restraint, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from both of you. the feeling of fullness envelops you, stretching you deliciously to accommodate his girth. it's a perfect union, as if your bodies were made to fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

your body quivers as the sensations intensify, your arms reaching out in front of you, instinctively grasping at the smooth surface of the countertop. your fingers dig into the material, desperate for something to ground you amidst the overwhelming ecstasy that fills every fiber of your being. you arch your back and let out strings of sweet moans that echo through the room.

"look at you, my pretty little wife dressing up for me," anakin adjusts his angle slightly, aiming to hit that special spot that drives you wild. "i've been thinkin' about you all day angel, jus' the thought of you makes me hard." his words, a sultry murmur in your ear, ignite a fire within you. your body instinctively responds, your walls contracting around him, gripping him in a vice-like embrace. anakin lets out a deep, hoarse moan, the sensation of your gummy walls pushing him to the brink of his own release.

"ani m'close, so close," words tumble from your lips in a breathless babble as you seek to convey the urgency that pulses through your veins.

anakin's voice is shaky and needy, a torrent of words pouring forth from his lips. "angel," he moans, his voice breathless, "i want - i want to put another baby in you. let me fill you up, can i please..." his breath comes in ragged gasps, matching the intensity of his thrusts, as he confesses his own impending climax. a quiet "yes" escapes your lips and your body quivers beneath his forceful thrusts. anakin's breath hitches, an audible groan escaping his lips as your fervent request reaches his ears.

a blinding wave of relief overtakes you as your climax hits, leaving you feeling all warm and fuzzy. you can feel the pulsating warmth as anakin spills himself within you, filling you up completely with his hot cum.

anakin takes a second before carefully withdrawing himself from your tired cunt, you can hear his belt buckle clinking around as he fixes his pants. he trails feather-light kisses along your shoulders, peppering your skin with affectionate adoration.

"stay still," anakin leans down slightly to inspect your pulsating pussy. his gaze roams over your sticky folds, admiring the flushed hue that tells of your arousal. anakin traces the length of your entrance, teasingly circling the rim before slowly slipping inside to push his cum further into you.

"such a pretty pussy." he whispers. anakin's fingers delicately slide your panties back up before tugging your dress back into place, a tender affection resonates in his touch. his hands settle on your waist, his gaze filled with adoration as he turns you around to face him. the intensity in his eyes is evident as he surveys your flushed and satiated form. a satisfied smile curves his lips as he takes in the sight of you, his fingers trailing gently along your jawline. anakin leans in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

in the midst of the tender kiss, you feel a surge of excitement bubbling within you. the realization that you have a surprise gift for anakin cannot be contained, and you gently pull away from the kiss, a spark of eagerness illuminating your eyes.

"i got you something too." you beam. anakin's lips curve into a playful smile, his eyes mirroring your enthusiasm.

"it can wait," he says, his tone filled with a commanding edge that sends shivers down your spine. "right now, i want to see you on the bed, wearing nothing but your necklace." his voice grows husky as he speaks. you press a final, lingering kiss to anakin's lips, a sneaky smile dances across your face. with a playful sway of your hips, you turn to leave the room, but just as you begin to walk away, a sharp and satisfying sting resonates across your ass, making you let out a small yelp. you can hear anakin's footsteps approach from behind, a flutter of nervousness tickles your senses.

anakin had you in the palm of his hands and he had no intention of letting you go soon.

#nai writes ୨୧ #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #st4rfckerz

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kyri45 · 9 days

Text

✨ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU Q&A ✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: sometimes when im bored i just go to your profile to position your pfp to siffrin's hands so it looks like they're holding you

I feel threatened bc if Siffrin would know what I'm making them pass through with the next comic updates he would crush me insteantly with a fist.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Damn Siffrin is dying and no one will ever remember them. 😔 Oh Loo~ooop!

Loop coming to save the day even tough they aren't paid enough for this shit

Anonimo Siffrin isn't aware of the hole in the wall you can go through for those two statues without having to get pelted by rocks smh my head. (said jokingly) ((Love your comic btw!! Thank you for this AU, I love it))

THE

WHAT?

YOU CAN GO THROUGH A WALL TO GET THEM WITHOUT RUNNING FOR YOUR LIFE?????

Anonimo My reaction to this chapter of ISAT COTL CROSSOVER AU (10/9/2024) GO BBG YOU GOT THIS IN THE BAG!! OH YOU DO NOT GOT THIS IN THE BAG.. oh now you're out of the bag oh god ruh roh

Oh yeah he does NOT have this.

Anonimo pst hey hey are you gonna pose the statues, it would be funny i swear totally not more heartbreaking for siffr- WAIT HOW WOULD THEY REACT TO THE FACT YOU CAN BARELY SAVE ALL OF THE STATUES WHEN YOU REACH THE FOREVER STORM PART-

he has enough memories that he should recover a good amount of statues. It's not a matter of wheter or not he can save everyone, but mostly themself....

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hey so I cannot believe I am so late to see your ISAT and Sky AU because I love!! Both of them!! So much!! And I just wanted to thank you for making it and sharing it with us because it’s really cool! And both fandoms need more attention imo <333 @ucorpwhalingyaoi ha chiesto: I know NOTHING about cotl but my god your isat au of it has made me want to play it so bad 💔 (very /pos…) @primrosechronicles ha chiesto: HEYYYY ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE SENT AN ASK!! Ive been silently reading the isat comic since my last ask and im very very proud of you for making this far!!! mwahh!!! Thank you for inspiring me to play sky again, cuz if not i wouldn't have able to meet my sky friends Anonimo ha chiesto: first of all, I came here from the shadowpeach au but your comics dragged my ass to the ISAT fandom second of all, HOW DARE YOU PLAYED WITH MY HAPPINESS LIKE THAT (love your art and story telling, I wanna eat it like a fancy dinner) @prince0fghosty ha chiesto: It's been hard for me to find Sky: Children of the Light content anywhere! I found you through a friend and not only are you interested in Sky but also Lego Monkie Kid this is truly the best day ever!!! I got back into the game because of you. I like to help moths out in Eden @phoenix-is-here ha chiesto: You are the person who introduced me to the ISAT fandom and I gotta say thank you for that. That's one of the best games I've ever played and I would have never known about it without stumbling onto your account first (because of a strong hyperfixation on a show about monkeys ofc) so.. Accept this virtual cookie and glass of milk as a gift : 🍪 Anonimo ha chiesto: I followed for the shadowpeach, stayed for Sky CotL, keep cookin

HIII!!! AND TYSM!!!!!

@elianaroselight ha chiesto: This feels a little silly, but what is ISAT? I read through your ISAT Sky AU comic and I feel like I am missing half of the story. I love what I'm seeing so far and want more, but I also don't know or completely understand who the characters are and why I should care about them (more than I do already at least). Sorry if this is silly. I just want to understand.

ISAT is short for "In Stars And Time". It's an RPG game made by @insertdisc5. ABsolutely go check it out otherwise you wont understand a thing about the characters of the AU!

when i was reading the most recent page of the In Skies and Time™️ comic I had the most hilarious image in my head of just a bunch of sky kids smacking down on the same area and making this. sky kid pileup????? [since it seems liek theyre all gonna come back like that..] it was super funny to imagine 30 CAR PILEUP 🔥🔥🔥

AWWW SKY KID MOUNTAIN!! Lol probably it would happen? Like when you do Eden just after reset and when you get reborn there's like 7 other players clipped in you rebirth animation in the aviary /home space

Anonimo ha chiesto: Awwwww Bonnie was so excited 😢

poor Bonnie they will get their comfort moment eventually

@sohrleas ha chiesto: YOU YOU'RE THE REASON WHY I got Sky 'cause I saw your isat sky au and got super curious about the game Your art is beautiful and I love it 💚💚💚

LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOO!!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: HOPEFUL STEWARD WOOOOO-

IT'S MY BOY!!

@o0mochacoffee0o This isn’t related to you Bio dad AU Like my usuals- I just saw in your abut that you like CotL! Now you share two of my interests!! I’m curious to know your favorite parts of the game, if you have any ships, head canons, etc!! I always love listening to people’s opinions on things I love!

About Scotl? I don't have any specific headcanon, but I do ship Moments Guide and Reassuring Ranges. The only thing that I crave for that game is MORE LORE GODDAMN IT

Anonimo ha chiesto: When I said the fun was dying. I did not expected this. I'M SCREAMING AND PUNCHING THE BED NOOOOOOOOOOOO SIFFF

*sips coffee* welcome to hell (literally)

Anonimo ha chiesto: "is that thing a sadness?!" sweet summer child that thing is a menace of death

It absolutely is

Anonimo ha chiesto: Poor Siffrin’s gotta be absolutely TERRIFIED Big scary beast thing spotted them AND suddenly getting bathed in the color they associate with bad stuff? I can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t be quaking in their boots.

He is in desperate need of comfort that wont come in like- a irl month I think

Anonimo ha chiesto: I know you won’t be doing the golden wastelands but… Once the party discovers that the groundwater has the same effect as the forest rain, Isabeau decides to bridal carry Siffrin the whole way. Leaving Siffrin a blushy mess. Also, almost if not everyone is scared shitless of the Dark Dragons/Krill (totally not projecting)

ooooohh that is soooo cute i'm dying!!!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: THE FAKE ACT 4 LOOKING SMILE . THE ACT 5 EDEN MOMENT. THE PARTY BEING SENT BACK . DIES "oh yeah if I still have energy I can loop back" ← me when I'm lying

@starlight-and-clockwork ha chiesto: bawling and kicking and screaming and pulling my hair out THAT PANEL OF SIFFRIN ASKING HIS FAMILY TO REMEMBER HIM WILL HAUNT ME FOREVER YOU ARE SO TALENTED AND CAUSE ME MUCH PAIN THANK U<3

@aro-aces-world ha chiesto: I just caught up with ISAT sky au Fuck you /affectionate

Thank you! Be ready to be even more destroyed by the following updates!

@cherryblossomventi ha chiesto: I’m gonna go feral, Sif did that because he knows he can kinda come back from this with the shooting star thing Im guessing but the others cant/might not because they aren’t from this land,,, oh buddy why didn’t you tell them stop being cryptic idiot

Sif doesn't really remember that he can be reborn like in Sky. He knows only that, if he can reach the light right at the base of the cataclysm, then maybe he can return as well.

#isat sky cotl au #ask box #kyri45

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drakulana · 7 months

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a little piece of heaven // trafalgar law x fem!reader

it's finally here! part 3 to the first spark series! i know its been a long time coming. be sure to read the first two parts first! i hope y'all enjoy!!! i've had lots of fun writing this!!

⟡ part 1, part 2 ⟡ content: mutual pining, slooooooow burn up until the end, fluff, suggestive ending ;) but nothing nsfw ⟡ wc: 8.5k

⋆⭒˚.⋆

She awoke with a warm feeling all around her. She hadn’t remembered laying down in bed. She was surrounded by a familiar scent. Pine, hints of amber, undernotes of antiseptic. A scent she had come to know as her captain’s. A scent she had only been this close to in her head. It was comforting, warm. The bed was bigger, and the blankets were heavier than her own. Wait, why am I in his bed? She reflected on the night before. She was so tired, running off of maybe a few minutes of sleep and caffeine. She had worked herself too hard, pushed herself a little further than her body liked. Law’s words from last night echoed back to her, reminding her of what had happened. “Y/n, you can go to bed, it’s almost 3:30.” He had told her with a sincere tone. She shook her head at him, “No, it’s okay, I can keep working,” she assured him before looking back down at her page.

She must’ve fallen asleep after the short interaction between them. She cringed internally from embarrassment. Falling asleep in the captain’s office while doing work, how could she let herself go so unchecked? She finally let herself take in the scene of the morning. The clock read 6:42am. She didn’t sleep for long, exhaustion still heavy in her limbs. She looked around the room, letting her eyes adjust to the light. Law’s bed was in the corner of the office, his desk opposite to it on the other side of the room. There were two book cases. One by his bed, the other by his desk. Both were organized, but the one next to the bed had comic books, and sci-fi novels. Something she didn’t think her captain would read, but she found it endearing to know that the cool and collected man had a nerdier side to him.

“You’re awake,” Law voiced without looking up from his book. “Sleep well?” He glanced up at her, scanning over her. She took in his appearance, he had dark bags under his eyes, the shadow of the brim of his hat casting down on them giving them a darker look. He was still in the same clothes from the night before, she doubted he had hardly moved from that spot at his desk. His golden eyes glinted with something she couldn’t quite make out. She tore her gaze away, fearing she had stared too long. “It was okay,” She answered him, getting up from her place on his bed. The atmosphere of the office was thick. There was an undeniable tension that floated around the two, coating the walls and everything around them in unspoken words. She made her way towards him, “I’m sorry I took your bed last night, that wasn’t my intention.” He let his gaze wander as she spoke. “I don’t mind it,” He assured her with his usually composed tone. He watched her smooth her hands down her rumpled up clothes, and run her fingers through her messy hair. Law felt a slight disappointment set in as she started to gather her things, but he never let his demeanor falter. She took one last look at Law with a tired sigh. “Thank you for letting me sleep here, but you look like you could use some sleep yourself, Captain. I’ll go so you can get at least a few hours.” With one last look, she exited his quarters and made her way towards her bunk. With her heart racing, she made her way down the seemingly never ending corridors of the Polar Tang. She longed to get into her own bed, under the comfort of her own blankets. She wanted to mull over her thoughts. Turning the corner, she finally saw the door to her bunk. Relief rushed through her, visibly relaxing her. That was until she heard her name being called from the other side of the corridor. She inwardly cursed before turning to meet her crewmate. It was Shachi. He looked panicked. Any ounce of resentment melted away from her as worry filled her. “What is it, Shachi?” She asked him, worry lacing her voice. His cheeks were flushed red like he had been running all over the ship. “Did you by chance load the fuel in the ship?” He asked her. She paled. “No, I thought Penguin did that.” She and Shachi shared an equally fretful look.

“Penguin thought you had done it,” Shachi’s voice shook with anxiety before Penguin ran down the hall. “Did you not get the fuel for the ship?” He asked her, almost trembling. She shook her head at him, sharing his anxious gaze. She sighed, “Was there none in backup?”

“Only enough to get us to the next port.”

“Shit.” She ran a hand through her hair, “Well somebody is going to have to tell the Captain.” She looked at her crewmates, neither of them moving from their spots. They looked at her, almost expectantly. She caught on. “No, absolutely not. I am not telling the Captain that we forgot the fuel.” Law was a meticulous man. He was precise, detailed. He left no room for trivial errors such as one of his crew members forgetting the fuel. Something like that was a given in his eyes. She was not going to face the wrath of her sleep deprived captain, especially when said captain gave her warm fuzzy feelings that she tried to ignore. Sure, he may have let her sleep in his bed, but that did not mean he would let her off easy for forgetting something as crucial as fuel. Shachi and Penguin kept looking at her, before one of them spoke up, “Please tell him for us, he likes you! He won't yell at you the way he will at us.” They pleaded.

“Like hell he won’t!” She refuted, “He doesn’t like me any more than he likes you guys. Please don’t make me tell him.” Still, neither of them gave into defeat. They stood there at a stand-off between the three. Apprehension hung in the air. Penguin finally spoke up, “Please, last time I told him we forgot something he put me on waste disposal duty for a month,” He shared a serious look with her. “I can’t go through that again. It was traumatizing.” He put his hand over his face, dramatically. She looked at the pair, incredulously before giving in. “Fine, but you owe me. Big time. The both of you.” She pointed her finger at both of them.

“Thank you! Thank you s-”

“Oh, save it,” she cut them off. She was far too tired to deal with her crewmates. Although she couldn’t blame them, it was an honest mistake on all of their parts. They had spent their whole last day on the previous island running grueling tests and checks on everything in the submarine. She could understand how they all let the shortage of fuel fall under their noses without notice. The question was, was her captain likely to take an understanding approach to the situation? She wasn’t too sure.

She put her things up in her bunk before making her way back to her captain’s quarters. She hoped that he hadn’t gone to sleep, she hated the idea of disturbing the rest that he needed. Begrudgingly, she knocked on the door. Not too long after, a ‘come in,’ was sounded from the other side. She turned the door knob and opened it to meet her captain’s eyes. “(Y/n), back already?” He asked her as she stepped into his office. Law was still sitting in the same spot as his desk as he was whenever she had left. She gave him a look, one that was laced with slight distress. “What is it?” He asked her, wondering what could’ve possibly happened in the short amount of time that she was away.

“Captain, promise you won’t get mad?” She asked him. He raised an eyebrow at her, staying silent as a cue for her to continue. “The fuel for the ship wasn’t stocked before we left the last port,” She admitted to him, looking away from his steel gaze. It was silent in the room. The loud kind of silence. The kind that rings in your ears uncomfortably. She could feel the irritation start to build within the room before a sigh escaped Law’s lips, “Who was in charge of the fuel?” another silence fell over them as she mulled over her next words. She could say that they didn’t exactly assign someone the job, and risk all three of them getting punished, or she could take the blame. Penguin’s dramatic words echoed through her head, ‘Last time I told him we forgot something, I was put on waste disposal duty for a month… It was traumatizing.’ She took a breath before bringing her eyes back up to Law’s expectant gaze. “It was me. I forgot to restock the fuel.” The look Law gave her was far from one of approval. It was disappointment. The look hurt, coming from her captain. “Before you yell-”

“You’re on waste disposal duty for a week.” He cut her off calmly. There was no yelling. Law was far too tired to raise his voice, and for a reason unbeknownst to him, he couldn’t quite bring himself to raise his voice at the woman in front of him. It was clearly a mistake, however Law detested mistakes. There was protocol, and they were required to follow it to prevent such thoughtless mistakes.

“Capta-” She was about to protest, but all her captain did was cut her off once more, “That is an order. Would you like to make it two?” She shut her mouth, not wanting to make the punishment any worse for herself. She hung her head, feeling like a child being berated. She would’ve much rather him yelled at her, “Yes sir,” she replied defeatedly.

Law’s jaw ticked at her words, something unreadable flashing in his eyes, “We’ll stop at the next port, and you will be responsible for gathering the fuel,” he ordered her. “I’ll tell Bepo to make a stop for the next port,” He stood up from his desk and for a second, she thought she’d get out of there without a lecture from her captain. She made her way to the door, Law trailing behind her. He stopped her, leaning closer to her. “Next time, be sure to double check everything before you clear the ship to leave the port. We don’t have time to forget things. We don’t have time to change our plans. You’re lucky we’re close enough to the nearest port to be able to refuel. Take this as your only warning,” He spoke low, his breath fanning against her ear. His voice held such authority. It was a reminder that he was in charge. Their eyes locked, and suddenly it was evident how close his face was to hers. Her heart skipped a beat, “Yes, Captain.” It came out almost in a whisper. She kicked herself for sounding so pathetic. Law didn’t move away at first, letting himself study her features. For a second, she could’ve sworn that he was looking at her lips, but he pulled away before she could question her thought any further. The butterflies that had been living in her gut fluttered around causing her blood to rush to her face, and warmth to gather in her limbs. Wordlessly, he turned away from her, both of them leaving the office. Her face was flushed, and all she could think about was taking a nice long nap until they reached the next port. She’d need the energy if she was going to restock the ship’s fuel all by herself. She sighed to herself before making eye contact with Shachi and Penguin. “You two, you owe me. Wake me up when we get to the next port.” She walked past them and into her bunk, finally ready to get some rest.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

She awoke a few hours later as the ship was ascending to the surface. She gave herself a few minutes before getting up, letting her mind wander. She thought about her captain. He was so enigmatic, carrying himself with such conviction with little explanation. Even before she joined the crew, he had peaked her interest. A pirate, from the worst generation, taking a hundred pirate hearts to the Marines, and becoming the youngest warlord. He was feared, for both his intelligence and his power. Trafalgar Law had been on her radar for quite some time, but being the elusive surgeon he was, she could only ever get scraps of information. Most tucked tail and ran when he was brought up in trades of intel. He was dangerous, and everyone knew it, but he was vital to her work. She was a journalist after all, she wanted to study him, learn everything about him and write it down. However, now it was more personal than she had ever imagined it would be.

It was no secret Law was an attractive man. He carried himself with confident assurance, hardly ever faltering in the face of conflict. He was tactical, calculated. He planned for everything, and accounted for any mishap that could happen along the way. Those golden eyes of his were ones of a hawk. He never missed anything, nothing went under his nose without him knowing. Being involved with the man was enthralling. From the electric touches, the heavy wordless gazes, the comfortable silences, it made her crave more. She wanted to know him, personally. To know what went on behind his eyes would be a privilege.

She was ripped out of her reverie by a knock at her door. She sat up, voicing a come in. Shachi opened the door, “We’re here at the port,” He informed her, sticking his head through the opening in the door. She glanced at the clock, 4 p.m. The next port was on a summer island, She had a few hours of daylight left to gather the fuel, and hopefully make it back to the ship to pick up her work where she left off. She stripped out of her clothes, the same ones that she had slept in. They still smelled of pine and amber. She changed into a tank top and some shorts, then slipped her boiler suit over her clothes, tying the top half around her waist. She made her way out onto the top deck where everyone had gathered as they docked at the small island. It was a village island that mostly made its profit through workshops that produced clothes. It wasn’t a very big, or significant island. (Y/n) hoped that she could get all of the fuel before all the locals turned in for the day, hoping she could get some information about this island. She didn’t know much about it, other than with who and what they traded.

She found her colleagues conversating amongst each other as she approached. “Where’s the captain?” She asked Bepo. The polar bear turned towards her, “He said he’s staying behind to finish work,” he answered her. Typical Law. She only hoped that he would get enough rest, and by the looks of worried annoyance on Bepo’s face, she could tell he was worried about that as well. It was no secret that their captain hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. He worked day and night, without yielding. He never took time for his well being, and was a hypocrite amongst his crew, as he always held everyone’s health to the highest standard, except for his own. Right now he was working on researching the sickness from the island they had just left. His work was unyielding, and he wouldn’t let himself rest until he was done.

The crew docked, and (Y/n) made her way off of the ship, finding the nearest fuel station with as many berries as she was provided to get the fuel. The town was quiet, and didn’t seem to care too much about the pirates that were occupying their port. Either unbothered, or laying low, the woman couldn’t complain. Shops, and stands lined the roads, some turning down into small neighborhoods. The fuel station sat at the end of the row of shops. She couldn’t help but to note that it was quite inconvenient for the station to be so far from the port.

The bells jingled as she walked into the fuel station. It was a small shop. The walls were tiles with white and yellow tiles. Drink coolers lined the back walls, and there were four aisles of various things, from chips to toiletries. “Welcome!” a voice had called to her. The voice was very familiar. Her eyes met with a tall man with shaggy black hair that fell over his eyes just slightly. A light shadow dusted his jawline. It took a minute for her to recognize the man standing behind the counter, before it hit her. He was an old classmate from her home island. How he got halfway across the world, she had no idea. She approached the counter with a surprised smile, “Yori?” The man’s eyes snapped up at hers, really looking at her for the first time since she had entered the station. “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?” He looked her up and down, taking in her appearance.

“I’m here to get fuel,” she smiled up at him, “It’s been a while, what have you been up to? I wasn’t aware that you had left the island,” she decided to make a little small talk. It wasn't everyday that she saw a familiar face.

“I work here at this station, I moved here about a few months ago. My grandmother lives here, I came to take care of her,” He told her, “What are you up to? I thought you were a journalist. I didn’t know you became a pirate,” A small humorless laugh left her mouth, the sudden question almost feeling like an intrusion, “Wow word moves fast here, huh?” she broke his gaze, briefly loo “I’m still a journalist.” She left it at that, not letting him into any close details. It was better if he didn’t know anything.

“Yeah, I noticed the ship at the dock. How long are you going to be here?” He asked her, “Maybe we can get a drink, catch up. It’s not everyday that I see someone from back home.”

“I think it's just for the night. I have to get this fuel for the ship before I can do anything else. I did want to know more about this place, maybe if I get done in time enough we can?” She smiled up at Yori. He nodded before asking how much she needed. She told him, and paid. It took quite some time to fill all of the fuel canisters, but once they were done all she had to do was trek back to the ship. “Would you like some help?” Yori asked her.

“That would be nice, if you don’t mind,” She told him. With the two of them, the trips could be cut in half, only needing three trips to get all the fuel back to the ship. Those three trips were not fun ones. It was hot, and the walk felt longer each time they made it. The fuel was heavy, weighing her down each step she took. She was sure to be sore tomorrow. The feeling of sweet relief set in as they set the last of the fuel canisters on the dock. “Thank you for helping me, Yori,” she smiled at him. Just as she was about to bring up the drink when she heard footsteps on the deck of the Polar Tang. She looked up to meet the eyes of her captain looking down on her and a man that he had never seen before. “Oh, hi Captain,” she looked up at her captain, “I thought you were working.” Law seemed irritated. His gaze followed over her, and then over to the man standing next her. “I was,” he replied, tension entwining his words. “Who’s this?” he asked her, the irritation seeping into his tone. It was evident that he still had not gotten any sleep. Dark bags hung under his eyes and his face was void of any color. Any longer without sleep and he would start to look sickly. She could feel his eyes scanning over her. His gaze was almost disapproving, and it made her shift on her feet. “This is Yori, he’s from my home island,” she informed her captain, “He was helping me with the fuel.” The man standing next to her that Law had just come to know as ‘Yori’ gave a half smile at her captain and a slight wave towards him. (Y/n) looked over at Yori, “I think I got it from here, thanks for helping me,” she smiled at him. Yori shared the smile, “Anything for an old friend,” He looked her up and down, although that didn’t quite catch her eye. It caught Law’s, though. Yori stepped a little closer to her, “If you decide that you wanted to catch up, come find me. I’ll tell you more about the island too. I know you like to write stuff like that down,” a small graced her lips as she nodded. Yori turned and walked away, leaving just the woman and her captain.

Law had already made up his mind that he didn’t like this Yori guy. He didn’t like how he had looked at (Y/n), akin to a dog looking at dinner. He didn’t like how close he had stood to her, like he had an obligation to be in her space. A feeling set into Law, one that knotted up his insides and made his head grow hot. He looked down at the woman on the dock below him gathering up fuel canisters to bring up to the deck. To him she looked stunning with her hair pulled back, a few flyaway strands framing her face. Her skin glistened under the unforgiving sun. She was wearing a white tank top with the boiler suit tied around her waist. The suit was tied in a way where you could clearly see the jolly rodger of the suit visible. She wore it with confidence, and with pride. It warmed Law to see her wearing the jolly roger with so much dignity. Eventually Law stopped staring and made his way down to the dock to help her with the fuel. “If you needed help carrying the fuel to the ship, you could’ve ask me,” Law said to her as he grabbed two of the canisters.

“I didn’t want to bother you, captain. I was hoping you were getting the rest that you needed,” She had noticed the dark bags as soon as he had walked onto the deck. She was worried about him, to say the least. She knew he was a busy man, but how he could work efficiently while so exhausted remained a mystery to her.

“I’ll rest when my work is finished,” Law shot back at her. The tone came out ruder than Law had intended, but from the looks of it, it didn’t even phase her. A small hum came as a reply to him, “At that rate, you may never sleep again,” She was only half joking, and it came out in a snarky way. Law always had some kind of work to do. At some point he would have to find a stopping place, but he never found one. Once he finished one thing, another arose. It didn’t help that someone kept creeping their way into his mind, nesting their way into his frontal cortex, refusing to leave. He decided not to reply to her comment, concerned he might say something he didn’t mean. They worked in the silence for the rest of their time together, neither one striking up a conversation. After almost an hour, all the fuel was moved from the dock, to the deck, and then down to the boiler room. The moving of the fuel was grueling, and she was surprised Law had decided to help her, considering he was so exhausted she didn’t understand how he still had the stamina for physical labor. She was also sure he was still upset about her forgetting the fuel with how he was acting. He truly was resilient in everything he did, no matter the conditions he was put under. She couldn’t deny, whether it be of biased intention or not, her captain was a remarkable man.

They were done now, and the sun hadn’t even begun to set. The rest of the crew was out on the island still, and (Y/n) still had time to meet up with Yori to get some details about this island that she only knew the basics about. Sure, he wasn’t a local, however his grandmother was. Surely he knew some things about this tiny island. Something worth writing about. Everywhere had potential, you just had to look in all the right places. She stood in her bunk, changing into some casual clothes. She had finished all her duties, so there was no reason to wear her uniform. She no longer sported the jolly roger, but instead settled into a pair of jean shorts and a brown tank top. She styled her hair up, leaving a few strands to fall down and frame her face. She wore a few pieces of jewelry to tie the outfit together. Two necklaces hung around her neck, stacked. A gold chain, with a simple gold heart locket, paired with a golden choker that had pearls dispersed every couple inches from each other. She layered some gold bracelets, with some rings. It was nothing over the top, but something to make her look nice. It wasn’t everyday she had gotten to see an old friend whom she had grown up with. She grabbed a crossbody bag, placing her notebook and some pens inside before slinging it over her shoulder. As she walked through the corridors of the ship, she passed her captain’s quarters, deciding to check in with him before she left the ship. She knocked on the door, three times like always. A ‘come in’ was voiced from the other side.

She opened the door to his office, the yellow light from his desk lamp spilling into the blue-lit hallways. She stepped in, closing the door behind her. Law looked up at her, taking in her appearance. For a split second, he was left speechless, only able to to breathe out the air that was left in his lungs. He rarely got to see her in casual clothes, and to him, it was a privilege he had even got to see her like this. She cleared her throat before speaking, breaking him out of his observation. “I’m about to go meet up with Yori, is there anything you would like me to do before I leave?” She asked him, standing in front of his desk. A bad taste in his mouth formed whenever the stranger's name rolled off her tongue. Yori. Law didn’t forget the way he had looked at (Y/n) like she was a piece of meat earlier when they were on the dock. He wouldn’t understand how special he was to have her dress up for him. He wouldn’t appreciate the way (Y/n) dressed into clothes she normally didn’t wear for him, or how she took extra time to look nice for him. How she had adorned her neck and her hands with gold, for him. Law couldn’t lie, he was just a bit jealous.He tore his admiring gaze away from her, pushing down an envy he hadn’t felt in a long time. She looked expectantly at her captain, waiting for an order, or for clearance to leave the ship but Law couldn’t seem to get the words out of his mouth. His mouth ran dry, and his breath caught. It was strange for the woman to have this effect on him. Words lodged in his throat trying to crawl up his windpipes, only to rest at the tip of his tongue unable to escape his mouth. After what felt like hours, he was finally able to push out a simple, “No.”

Law’s staring didn’t go unnoticed by her, for a second she worried to herself. Did she look okay? She turned to leave the office, but stopped at the door. “Captain, can I ask you something?” She looked back at the man who was looking at her with something that she couldn’t quite decipher in his eyes. Law nodded at her, cuing her to continue. “Do I… look okay?” She cringed at her own words, immediately wanting to take them and to stuff them back into her mouth. The question sounded insecure, something she never wanted to be seen as in front of her captain. She wasn’t one who seeked reassurance, especially on things as trivial as appearance. Law took in her appearance one more time, wondering how she could possibly be asking that. He cleared his throat before mustering up the strength to push out the words that were held in his throat, “You look beautiful.” Carmine red rose into her cheeks. A soft ‘thank you,’ left her lips, leaving them decorated with a gentle smile. “I’ll see you later,” She beamed once more before turning and leaving through his office door.

She left Law with only himself and his tired thoughts. His thoughts were consumed by the woman. In the past few days, his remedy for distraction had been piling up the work so high that he didn't have time to think about his crewmember. That remedy only lasted for so long before she wormed her way back into his head. Law was exhausted, yet he couldn’t find the urge to lay down in his bed. He shuffled around some papers on his desk, taking note of every paper that had that pretty cursive handwriting that he had grown to favor instead of his own. Law knew it was inappropriate to feel this way about an insubordinate. It was wrong. There was a power imbalance. Law always considered himself a morally correct man, but in this moment, he questioned every moral about professionalism he had. Breaking one rule wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

⋆⭒˚.⋆

As (Y/n) made it back into town, the sun had started to set along the horizon. Pink, red, and orange, danced in the sky amongst the clouds. There was denying the beauty of the scene. You couldn’t see another island for miles, just one small piece of land in solidarity. It was just the coast and the ocean. The sky, and its clouds. It was a peaceful island, most of its locals being middle-aged to older people. By the time the sun had started to set, all the stands and shops started to close down for the day. She took note of how some of the vendors would leave some of their belongings in their stands. Crime must have not happened often around here. It was uncommon in this day and age to be so trusting.

She made her way to the fuel station at the end of the road. Every step she took, she grew more uneasy. She pushed off her sudden apprehension, forcing a step forward toward the station. She stepped into the fuel station, the bells on the doorway jingling as she entered, a reflexive greeting coming along with the door. Without the sun shining into the station, the building took on a whole new atmosphere. Yellow lights hung from the ceiling, filling the station with a low buzz. She wrapped her arms around her to ease the unsteady feeling that was sinking into her gut. She approached the counter where Yori stood. For the first time since she had walked into the station, Yori had looked up from whatever was occupying him. A smile grew onto his face, his gaze setting onto the woman in front of him. Under the harsh lighting, Yori looked older. He no longer looked like the boy she knew from back home. His face had filled out, and smile lines had just started to form on his forehead and under his eyes. It was a reminder that time had gone by. They were no longer the kids that they once knew each other as. The incessant buzzing of the fluorescent lights was cut through by Yori, “Are you ready to go?” She nodded at him. He walked around the counter, and led her out of the building, locking the door behind him.

The sky had now morphed into a scarlet red, fading into dark oranges. The sky reflected off of the water, making it seem bigger than it was. A cool breeze blew through the emptying streets making goosebumps rise to the surface of her skin. They walked for a few minutes, useless small talk between the two, before arriving at a small bar at the very end of the aisle of shops and stands. It was dimly lit, and small. The walls and the floor were wood, alcohol brand sign posters hung up around them. The occasional WANTED poster was posted amongst them. There weren’t any that she hadn’t seen before. Most of them were the new generation pirates, others old and worn from being on the wall for years. Yori led her to a booth on the back wall. Coincidentally, her captain’s poster hung right above the table. He smirked down at them, sword on his shoulder, that infamous hat handing over his eyes.

WANTED

DEAD OR ALIVE

TRAFALGAR LAW

500,000,000

She couldn’t lie, it crossed her mind to take the poster off the wall, just so she could have it for herselfl. She shook off the thought. It was inappropriate to think of her captain that way. Even if he looked good in that particular photo of him. She turned her attention back to the man in front of her, who she had just realized had been talking the entire time she was daydreaming about her captain’s wanted poster. She hoped Yori hadn’t noticed her ignoring him, but by the looks of it, he hadn’t noticed one bit. She tuned into his words, “...and that’s how I ended up on this island taking care of my grandmother, and making minimum wage,” Yori let out a long sigh, “Thanks for listening, it feels really nice to get that off of my chest.” Guilt tugged at her chest as she nodded, “It’s no problem, really,” she replied, trying to keep her facade up. Yori smiled and said something about going to grab some drinks, leaving her alone in the booth. (Y/n) let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, letting her gaze follow back up to the poster hanging on the wall. She looked around the bar, making sure no one’s eyes were on her before grabbing the poster off the wall and folding it up, slipping it into the back of her notebook. She grabbed all her pens, and set the notebook in front of her. She intended on getting her information and then going back to the ship for the night.

Yori brought back drinks to the table. He set hers in front of her before sitting down in front of her. “So tell me about yourself. How did you end up being a pirate?” He chuckled a little with the question, and she had prepared for this. It wasn’t every day someone from your childhood ended up being a pirate. She let out a fake little laugh, “Oh you know how researching things go,” She smiled before changing the subject, “So tell me more about this island and its occupants,” She opened the notebook in front of her, not wanting to dwell on the fact that she was now a wanted woman. Yori took the hint and started giving out information about the island.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

A few hours had passed, and a few drinks in, the conversation had strayed from the island and onto people they had grown up with. Yori had told (Y/n) about all the classmates that ended up doing good for themselves, and the others who hadn’t. Now they were on the topic of the teachers. Gossip was never something she had typically indulged in, but it wasn’t every day you saw someone you knew on the Grand Line. The laughter between them died down, and (Y/n) looked at the clock on the wall for the first time since she had started taking notes about the island. It was 10pm now, and the sun had disappeared along the horizon. “I better go, it’s getting late,” She told Yori as she gathered up all her things, and put them all back into her bag. They stood up from the booth. “Let me walk you back to the dock, it’s dark out,” He offered. She took his offer and they headed back out to the street. It was far colder than it was whenever they first arrived at the bar, however the walk to the dock was not far so she didn’t have to suffer for long. The stars hung high in the sky, illuminating the land, and dotting the water. They reached the edge of the dock, and Yori turned towards her. “Thank you, for tonight,” he told her. He gazed into her eyes much deeper than she had liked. She took a step back from him before returning his thanks, “Thank you for all the information about this island.” Yori stepped closer to her, reaching out to put his hands on her waist, “Yori-” he cut her off with a quick kiss. She pushed back from him, “Oh, um, Yori… I’m sorry, but this isn’t that,” She told him, creating a far distance between them. Yori stepped back with embarrassment. “Oh,” was all he said. She couldn’t help but to feel bad for the man. She didn’t think she sent any mixed signals. She slowly backed up onto the dock,”Take care of yourself, Yori. Thank you for all the information on the island,” She told him before turning around and walking towards the ship, grateful to get out of that awkward interaction.

She made her way onto the ship. The corridors were empty, there wasn’t a crewmate in sight. She was happy to be back within the metal walls of the ship. She made her way to her room where she put down all her stuff. She stripped her clothes, and changed back into the boiler suit. It was late, but she still had some work she had to get done, and she still had to report to her captain. She got dressed, and grabbed her notebook from her bag before leaving her room once again. She was going to get some cleaning done, and do the waste disposal before they left the island. The halls were silent, and all she could hear were her footsteps clinking on the floors. A familiar door came into view. The captain’s quarters. Her heart skipped a beat thinking of knocking. The butterflies in her stomach betrayed her as they started to flutter around in her stomach, trying to crawl their way up her throat. She took a deep breath, letting the cool air of the ship fill her lungs. She was now standing in front of the door, with her hand raised. She knocked, hearing a faint ‘come in,’ from the other side. She turned the knob and walked into her captain’s office.

The air was always cooler in his office, and it always smelled of ink, paper, pine, amber, with a touch of antiseptic. She had come to find this smell comforting, and she thought back to this morning, waking up in between his sheets. A heat fought its way up into her cheeks. She looked at her captain sitting at his desk, hunched over some paperwork. He hadn’t looked up since she had entered the room. She made her way in front of him, breaking the silence, “I gathered some information about this island, if you’d like to hear it.” She offered it to him. She knew that the island held no importance, but she figured she’d offer him the chance to hear what she had gathered. Law looked up at her, motioning for her to continue. She opened her notebook as a folded up piece of paper floated its way down onto his desk. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she went to go snatch the paper up, but Law beat her to it, grabbing the paper in between his two fingers. “What’s this?” he asked her, unfolding the paper. She wanted to melt into the floor. Embarrassment coursed through every limb. Law looked at the poster, smirking a bit, “My wanted poster?” He took a good look at it before handing it back to her, the smirk on his face never falling. “This one is a bit outdated,” He told her, his smirk never falling. It flattered him, really. She folded the wanted poster back up, shoving it in her notebook, humiliation burning through her cheeks. “Tell me about this island,” Law told her, changing the subject, motioning for her to sit down. He knew the island held no importance, and he knew that she still had work to do, but he selfishly decided to keep her there a little longer. It had been a long day, and as much as he’d hate to admit it, being around her relaxed him. He watched her as she opened up the book and started to list off all the things that she had uncovered about the island. He listened to her intently as she spoke, her eyes lighting up every now and then whenever a name was mentioned that could bring some significance to the island. It didn’t take her long to go through all of the information. It was a small island, and there really weren't any reputable names tied to it, aside from the other pirates who would dock and leave just like their crew did. Still, Law took in every second of the information exchange. Once she was done, she looked up at Law with those wide eyes of hers that he swore would bring him to his knees one day. A small, rare smile graced his lips before dropping like it was never there, “It seems you got a lot out of today,” He told her. She smiled wide at him, and nodded, “I did! Yori really filled me in on this place. It’s not as boring as it seems.” She flipped through all of her pages, missing the way Law’s jaw ticked at the mention of the man whom she had spent time with that night. The man that she had gotten all dolled up for. Law knew he shouldn’t feel this way. He knew jealousy was not right, but he couldn’t deny the discomfort that tugged in his gut when he pictured her with someone other than him. It was an unhealthy attachment. It was inappropriate.

(Y/n) sat across from Law, still oblivious to his inner turmoil. Oblivious to the new feeling that made his head feel hot and his stomach sink low. Without looking up at her captain, she went on about her night, about how Yori caught her up on people from her hometown. How he told her about all the best places to eat on the small island. She missed the way Law’s jaw ticked every time she mentioned the man’s name. She missed the way Law’s leg started to bounce up and down, impatiently. She was too busy flipping through the pages of that beloved notebook, “Oh! Look, I even got a map!” She pulled the map out, walking around the desk to where Law was sitting. She unfolded the map and laid it out in front of him, “It’s really nothing impressive, though, I grabbed at one of those stands down the strip” She looked down at the map, “You can keep the map,” She offered to him, turning towards him. Her knees brushed against Law, and for the first time since she had started rambling she met the eyes of her captain. They were close. She could feel the warmth coming off of Law’s body. The breath she was breathing in caught in her throat. Law cleared his throat, but made no attempts to move back, selfishly relishing in the moment, “Thank you,” he told her. They stayed there for a minute or two, looking at one another before (Y/n) sighed taking one last look at her captain. “I still have some work I need to get done,” She told him, “I still have to do the waste disposal before we leave, and I was going to try to clean up the boiler room a bit.” A feeling of regret from that afternoon gnawed at Law. He felt as if he was too harsh towards her, rude even. He didn’t want her to overwork herself. He knew he was being a hypocrite whenever he made the judgment of her working too much. Law wanted to keep her there for longer. He wanted to spend more time with her. He wanted to hear her sweet voice ramble on about nothing in particular. It had been a long day of Law’s work. He had hardly gotten anything done between being exhausted, and pacing back and forth trying to clear his mind of the very woman standing in front of him. He couldn’t deny the peace that washed over him whenever she sat on the other side of his desk, working away on her own things. “Actually, I was hoping to get your feedback on some of the work I did today,” He told her. He hadn’t actually done a lot of work. It also wasn’t something that she hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t like she was well versed in pathology or anything medical outside of reading Law’s textbooks when she was bored. “Oh, okay!” she cheerfully replied to him, making her way back over to his desk. She walked around to his side, standing next to him, expecting to see some new work on his desk, but she couldn’t make out what was new and what was old from the mess that was his desk. She was standing close to him, again, and he could feel the warmth off of her skin. He could smell the sweet floral perfume she had put on before she left the ship earlier that day. He was growing impatient, playing this waiting game that he had made himself, and it was only getting in the way of his work which was the opposite of what he had intended.

Law was not an impatient man, but he was tired of weighing the moral costs of making the move. He was tired of ignoring the warm feelings. He was tired of pushing away the lingering thoughts, and burying them in work. He was sleep deprived, and that’s the excuse he decided he would tell himself tomorrow morning. Standing up from his chair, he reached out for her hand. A small gasp fell from her mouth, as she followed the pull towards him, “Cap-” he cut her off, sliding his hand to cup her cheek, the other resting on her waist. He pulled her into a kiss before she could even finish the word. The kiss was electric. White hot pleasure coursed through his veins, as he finally allowed himself to indulge in what he had wanted to for months now. He briefly broke apart, and stuttered words started to fall from her pretty mouth, he shushed her with another kiss, this one deeper. This one filled with need. She let him explore her mouth with his tongue, as he lifted her onto the edge of his desk, slotting himself in between her legs. “C-Cap-” she gasped, but he cut her off again, ”It’s Law,” He corrected her, leaning down to her ear, “In here you can call me Law,” He nipped at her ear, wrapping his hands up in her hair. He trailed down to her neck, leaving kisses and nipping at the skin every now and then. “Law,” she tested his name on her lips. His name sounded so sweet, the way her honeyed voice breathed out the syllables. His grip on her waist tightened, as he listened to her form words that he paid no mind to. “L-Law, this is wrong,” she breathed out, “you're my captain,” Law broke away briefly, “I know,” he told her.

“Law,” this one came out more of a whine, one filled with need. It made the all too familiar warmth blossom in the pit of his stomach, once again. “I still have things I haven't done,” she pushed against his shoulder, “I h-ave to finish the w-waste disposal,” Law’s kisses were unforgiving, and unwavering. She was melting in his hands, watching herself be turned into putty at the hands of her captain. Law broke his kiss, and looked up at her. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face, “Don't worry about the waste disposal, I'll make Penguin do it,” He told her. As much as she wanted to feel guilty for letting him dump it on someone else, she couldn't. She was too busy trying to make coherent thoughts as her captain continued his actions. Law’s fingers ran up her figure, finding the zipper of her boiler suit. He looked at her, silently asking for permission that she granted with a nod. He slowly undid the zipper to the suit, kissing his way down to her chest. He breathed in her scent, pulling her body impossibly closer to his. He pushed the top of the suit off of her body, leaving her top half in a thin tank top.

He looked at her closely, closer than he had ever been able to before. Her cheeks were red, and her lips were swollen from his kiss. Temporary red marks littered her neck and chest where he had nipped at the skin. Her hair ruffled from him running his fingers through it. He hesitated for a second before asking her, “How about we take this somewhere more comfortable, yeah?” She nodded at him, as he led her to his bed. He laid her down on his plush mattress, crawling on next to her. She took a deep breath. Pine, hints of amber, antiseptic, Law. His golden eyes took in her figure, in his sheets. In that moment, without difficulty, he could confidently say that she was the most beautiful woman on the planet. He could feel himself falling, and for just this one night, he would let himself. He crawled over her, entrapping her body under his. He let his hands roam over her body, “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered to her. She took his face in her hands, kissing him passionately. For tonight, they both let themselves indulge in this little piece of heaven they had been granted.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

a/n: thank you all for taking the time to read this series, it means a lot to me, and i'm glad others can enjoy my work. i've had lots of fun writing this!

@drakulana 2024 // i do not give permission to copy, translate, or repost, any of my content without my consent

Taglist: @shuujin , @pinksaiyans , @buttmishaaaa, @tokaio, @augustanna, @sukilovesyou, @mschoiyuki, @songinabottle , @starlightanyaaa, @elen-alambil, @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction

#trafalgar law #one piece #trafalgar d water law #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece fan fic #one piece fan fiction #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x you

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i-yap · 4 months

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So if you have time, I thought about Batfam X reader , like reader is Damian's twin who grew with in Manor, looks exactly the same, but loves soccer and is typical 10 years old, and he meets Damian. Like I would want to see how this would play out.

Batfam X gn! reader- Damian's twin

When talia found out she had twins, she and ra's had a lot to discuss. There could only be one legacy, only one child to be turned into an assassin capable of replacing ra's. And so after studying the genes of the twins, one was selected. The other was dropped off at the manor with a note stating that talia and bruce had only one kid and that kid is now bruce's kid.

By that time, the batfam had grown to a considerable size and Bruce was used to having kids around. This is around the time jason got kidnapped. Tim joined soon after, Barbara and steph also became more involved. Cass and duke joined a few years later and about 5 years later Jason returned. Dick was excited to raise you, everyone still had guilt about Jason and as a collective decision (with a little push from alfred) it was decided that you would be raised as a non vigilante and that you will get to choose what life you wanted.

You grew up smart, loved and well taken care of. You ofc learned how to fight, out of fascination for dick's acrobatic skills. Tim thoughts about cool bands and geeky films, Cass only ever showed her soft side to you. Jason was taken aback( either he exposes damian and tell everyone about the twin or he sticks to him promise with talia and not mention him(it depends from comic to comic) from how different you were to the devil spawn.

Im assuming damian was 10 when he was sent to Batman (its different in different series) . He knew about your existence, what he didn't expect was a sunshine, capable and dearly loved kid who was more than just normal. Damian almost expected a vigilante fuck up or a abandoned kid. But here you were, living an alternate life, a life he could have had.

But he isnt jealous and neither are you. he is living the life he wants, to be one of the greats and to replace ra's . You want college and a family and a successful career as whatever your passion is.

And twins do feel love very instinctually, he would understand you, consider you an equal and damian is very serious about family. So you will both get close and be different. A very damian and jonathon kent type of relationship I feel ( just less hostile and aggressive)

hope this was sort of what you were looking for? I'm not really a sibling writer type person but I tried so..yea

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hotvinimon · 8 months

Text

Miya Osamu <3

“Samu…Samu…Don’t look directly, but I can see your doppelganger… just behind you.”

You and your sweet, loving, handsome, onigiri man of a boyfriend were on a night date in the street of Shibuya. Osamu was busy in choosing what to eat first, while you took pictures. Suddenly you saw Osamu’s clown toghether with a curly haired, bitch-faced man, an orange head and an owl faced beefy boy.

To say that you were shocked would be an understatement. A guy… or I should say Samu’s clown was chatting with his friends just few meters behind your boyfriend, only his hair's more blonde, and his vibe's more... clownish.

“Doppelganger ??? what do you even me-” “CAN’T YOU FUCKING WHISPER ?? AND DON’T LOOK LIKE THAT. BE MORE SUBTLE.” you whisper yelled.

Suddenly the doppelganger looked in your direction and frowned comically and advanced towards you.

“OH MY GOSH, SAMUUUU, HE'S COMING... HE'S COMING THIS WAY!”

Samu quickly looked into the direction, and unlike you he was frowning ??? similarly like his doppelganger ??? what the heck was going on. Was there some kind of invisible mirror thing that you couldn’t see.

Even the doppelganger's buddies seem cool, like they're in on the joke.

The doppelganger was now, standing in front of you and looking at your boyfriend, like he was communicating with his eyes. Before anyone could say anything…

“OMYGODOMYGODOMYGOD… CAN I TAKE A PICTURE WITH YOU SIR ????”

All eyes are on you, but who cares? It's not every day you meet your boyfriend's mirror image.

“Oh.. of course cutie, are you a fan ??”

“Well, I’m a human but I’ve never seen my boyfriend’s clown my entire life.” you giggled like a kid.

“DON’T DO THAT”. That ‘DOPPELGANGER’ yelled at your boyfriend.

“I’M NOT DOING ANYTHING.”

“YOU ARE MAKING GOO-GOO EYES AT HER. LIKE YOU MAKE AT FOOD.”

“I AM NOT.”

“YES YOU ARE”

All you could hear for next fifteen minutes was funny curse words and skin slapping sounds. Meanwhile, the curly-haired dude shoots you a concerned look.

“Ohhhh… so you are his big brother. Nice to meet you Tsum, I’m y/n, Samu’s s/o.”

Unlike your fictional brain, the ‘DOPPELGANGER’ turned out to be your boyfriend’s twin brother.

“Nice to meet you too y/n/n” Atsumu showed his signature smirk.

“IT’S MIYA TO YOU AND IT’S Y/L/N TO YOU.”

"WHAT THE HECK, BASTARD? AM I SOME GIRLFRIEND STEALER?"

"MORE LIKE AN UNINVITED DATE CRASHER."

"AT LEAST I'M EYE CANDY."

"YEAH, WELL, MOM LIKES ME MORE."

More insults fly, more slaps echo, and the furniture starts to question its life choices. Meeting your boyfriend's twin? Not too shabby after all.

Keys -

y/n - your name

s/o - sgnificant other

y/n/n - your nick name

y/l/n - your last name

Requests are open

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patchiko · 8 months

Note

Imagine if, to save on the water bill/ they're just tired/etc, Jason (AK or comic really) and his S/o take an innocent shower together for the first time, yet the entire time Jason's trying his hardest to stay respectful and not stare, but at the same time wants to admire his S/o because he just loves how much they look. And possibly gets the shampoo in his eyes while distracted.

bear with me as ive been sick since wednesday and ive been writing this throughout my sick days. #fighting4mylife

Showering with Ak!Jason (SFW FIC)

ig their naked but its not ak!jay being horny just like in love so maybe nsfw nothing sexual happens mostly indirect tension soo??😭😭 ((tw: writing might suck))

JASON came home a little early from a bar. He went there for information on Penguins weapon deals. Jason would say something like, ‘it got a little messy,’ but a little messy to Jason was being covered in mud, blood, and clothes drenched from the rain that started on his way back. It was around 12 AM when he came back way earlier then his usual so you were hoping in the shower getting ready to go to sleep, not expecting him. You two saw each other just as you were walking into the bathroom.

“You look like shit—“ You turned your head into the bathroom so he couldn’t see your face; trying to bite back a cackle because of the words that slipped from your mouth,, “—I mean you can go first.” you looked back over at him,

“Well aren’t you the sweetest thing.“ He started taking off his gloves. “Go ahead.” He huffed.

“No seriously its fine, ill grab you a towel-“

“— The more you talk the longer it takes for the both of us.” He sighed, pulling off his jacket and folding it in a neat little square.

“Right, sorry.” You turn into the bathroom and pause. It was pretty obvious he was tired and wanted to get comfier then his muddied clothes let him; Thats when the thought hit you. “Unless.” You felt your face burn. You weren’t sure if Jason be comfortable with it, but it wasn’t sexual and it’d save you money from your water bill.

“Unless?” Jason questioned flatly, his back was turned to you and he was taking off his bloodied boots.

You slowly turned towards him, “You’d like to.. join me.” you had tried to sound as casual as possible. He paused completely, only getting half of his boot off before freezing. He looked back at you, like he wasn’t sure if he heard you properly. “LIKE—“ You raised your voice a little too loud on accident,”—Like, not like, you know. THAT. But like.” he took off his boot and started walking over to you as you rambled about how you didn’t mean it sexually it’d just be easier n’ y’know obviously he didn’t have to— You didn’t even notice the brick wall of a man making its way over to you until Jason stood in front of you.

”Yeah. Sure.” He replied flatly, your eyes meet his face, he was staring at your face completely stone cold. Maybe if you didn’t turn around to move to the door handle, maybe, just maybe you would’ve seen how his cheeks and ears were lightly dusted with red. But you didn’t.

You awkwardly shuffled to the side to let him in, closing the door behind you two. Back facing each other as you two undressed, you weren’t wearing a full outfit so you took everything off faster then him, yikes, awkward. You didnt wanna just stand there so you slipped past him with your head down at the floor to get the shower water running. Running your hand through the burning water just to push away the sound of him unbuckling his belt in the deepest part of your mind. “Uh, first-aid under the, uhm, fuckin- sink.” You stammered, still facing the shower waiting for the water to now cool down.

“You can get in first, i’ll patch myself up.” You did a little thumbs up behind your back, as if he saw, and made your way in, closing the curtain behind you. But he was totally lying. He should’ve patched himself up after you two had gotten out so he didn’t worry about anything washing into his cleaned wounds. But he needed to buy himself time to calm his nerves. You were so fuckin’ pretty, your skin brushed his as you passed him earlier and—its crazy how the Red Hood is single-handedly fighting for his life more now then when he was dealing with twelve grown men earlier.

After taking a purposeful three minutes longer then his usual, he stands up. He almost backs out as soon as he reaches for the shower curtains, he inhales then exhales, brushing his finger tips against the thin veil of cloth that just separates you two. “I’m, uh,-“ his voice cracks “-comin in now..”

“Hold on,” You quickly stepped out of the water stream, and leaned onto the back wall of the shower. “Alright, front of the shower where like, the, uh- water is, is all yours.” Jason cleared his voice just before he stepped in, being sure to keep his back turned to you. He let the water run over his marred skin, trying to ignore every scar on his back burning. After letting the water wash off the pieces of dirt that it could, or him finally succumbing to the sensation of getting the soap to scrub at his mangled flesh;

Jason turned his head to grab the soap— FUCK, he whipped his head back around into the showers stream. Scrubbing his face to try to wash the burning image of you out of his mind. The mixture of water and light highlighting your skin like an portrait. You’re staring down towards your feet playing with the water droplets on your crossed arms- fuck he needed to stop thinking about it. Jason pulled his head out of the water, croaking out ”Soap.” Yes, yes, wise words I know.

The next thing he knew, right by his shoulder was your hand holding out the soap. “Here, hope I’m holding it in the right spot.” You softly chuckled to yourself. He turned enough to see you covering your eyes with your other hand out of his peripheral vision. God he needed to stop looking. He took it from you and skimmed his face against the water before he grunted out a thanks.

He was questioning himself as he washed his blemished skin. He wasn’t a creep, he wasn’t staring at you because it was sexual. So what was he doing? What was this feeling? Why did he want to look at you anyways? Why did it remind him of the way he looks at marble statues? Was it because of the way your fingers dented your arms skin while you glide water droplets along your skin? Was it the way your head slightly tilted? Was it the was your body was effortlessly posed? Like you knew, like you were ready for every detail of your body was going to be eternalized into marble? Was it because of the urge to trace every part of your skin? Maybe to just get a feeling of what your sculptor felt? Was he being a fuckin creep?

He wasn’t sure, something he suddenly did become sure of was the fact you were probably cold as shit and he needed to hurry the fuck up.

guys idk how to feel abt this fic tbh

rq / inbox is closed

sorry i got like 12 i needa get done

#arkham knight x gn!reader #arkham knight x reader #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x gn!reader #red hood x reader #arkham knight x reader #skullkidwithsunglasses #krash responds to u

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in1-nutshell · 7 months

Note

(One I am sorry if I am flooding your ask box is just I really love how you write) maybe old Predacon buddy get transported into the Earth spark universe how would they interact with Megatron from that universe possible hostility and will possibly gush over the terrans(is that how I say it?) Just overall more grandpa vibes

Old Predacon Buddy is going to start their own passport or scrapbook filled with their travels to other dimensions with all of their alternative grandkids.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Old Predacon meeting the Terrans and Megatron

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronian reader

TFP/TFE

Buddy was going to start keeping a personal travel log on all the different places outside their universe if this keeps up.

One minute they were peacefully watching Bumblebee and Bulkhead spar in the training room.

The next thing they knew they were thrown into a small clearing in the middle of the woods.

It was a peaceful piece of land if they were being honest.

They knew they needed to start thinking about how to get back home, again, but the scenery caught their optics.

Full of nice trees and moss, a perfect spot to nap.

Snap!

Buddy turns their helm to spot two small Bot and human girl and boy.

“…Hello?”--Buddy

“Hi!”—All of them

Buddy, a little stunned by the response, waves their tail.

The little girl and the bot next to her come closer.

The other two come after wards.

“We heard a large thud noise and found you here.”—Small red bot

“Did you now?”--Buddy

“Bet that was you making a crash landing.”—Small human girl

“You could say that. These portals aren’t known for giving bots nice landings.”--Buddy

“Portals? Like a spacebridge?”—Small human boy

“…Yes, like a spacebridge. How do you know what a space bridge is?”--Buddy

“Dad and Dad 2 talked about them.”—Small red bot

“Dad…Dad 2?”--Buddy

“Yeah well, Dad talked about it in the comics.”—Small white bot

“Excuse me, comics?”--Buddy

“Yeah, these things!”—Small white bot

Buddy is shown a comic with Optimus and Megatron fighting on the front page.

“Do… do all humans know about our species?”--Buddy

“Duh. You’re not from around here, are you?”—Small white bot

“I’m not. I’m from another dimension.”--Buddy

“Wow! So Cool!”—Small human girl

“Mo, they need to get back home.”--Small human boy

Buddy tilting their helm a bit.

“Mo? Is that your name little one?”--Buddy

“Yep! This is my big brother Robbie and our other brother Thrash and sister Twitch.”--Mo

“Brother… and sister…”--Buddy

“We found them in a cave, well more like created.”--Robbie

Buddy sitting down putting a servo over their face.

Buddy vents hard.

“Hold on a second kiddo. This…this is a lot to process at the moment.”--Buddy

“Robbie! Mo! Where did you guys go?”

“Wait I found them!”

Three more bots come from the brush.

Buddy just stares at them.

The orange and green one transform into their beast modes and stand in front of group. The large purple one looks like they are ready to fight.

“Who are you!”—Green owl bot

“Nightshade wait that bot’s friendly!”--Mo

“How do you know? They look like they can eat you whole Mo!”—Large purple one

“We should judge a book by its cover Hashtag.”—Small dinobot

“If it helps, I can give you my name. But you must promise not to ask questions about it.”--Buddy

“Deal.”--Mo

“Buddy.”--Buddy

“…Your name is Buddy?”--Robbie

“Yep.”--Buddy

“…okay! These are our other siblings, Hashtag, Nightshade and Jawbreaker.”--Thrash

Buddy nodding before taking notice of how young these bots looked.

“You said you found your siblings in a cave, correct? How long were they there?”--Buddy

“I think less than a year ago.”--Mo

Buddy looks like they are about to have a stroke.

Mo mentioned that their mother and father would want to meet them. Maybe even help them find a way back home.

As the little group walked towards the farm, Buddy followed making sure to watch each one carefully.

There was no way that these literal sparkling’s were leaving their sight.

Alex and Dot were extremely surprised to see the kids bring in a giant mechanical dragon home.

They looked even bigger than Megatron!

“Kids… who’s your new friend here?”--Alex

Buddy bowing their helm a little in respect.

“Hello there. My name is Buddy. I am an Autobot from another dimension. I fell into your world through some sort of portal.”--Buddy

“Wow…”--Alex

“Your name is Buddy?”--Dot

Buddy venting a bit.

“Yes Ma’am. That is my name it suites my personality, I’ve been told.”--Buddy

Dot looks at her kids.

“Did any of you—”--Dot

“We didn’t bring the giant dragon here!”--Thrash

“I am a Predacon little one.”--Buddy

“What’s a Predacon?”--Jawbreaker

“…I’ll explain it later. Umm…”--Buddy

“I’m Dot, this is my husband, Alex.”--Dot

Alex looking starstruck at Buddy.

“Hello—”--buddy

“Can you fly?”--Alex

“Dad!”—the kids

“Alex!”--Dot

Buddy chuckling a bit before dipping their helm to the ground in front of him.

“Would you like to see for yourself?”--Buddy

“I like them!”--Alex

“Can I go too!”--Mo

“And me!”--Robbie

“And me!”--Hashtag

“One at a time little ones. Dot? Is there someone you can contact that could--”--Buddy

“Already calling the big guys. They should be here any minute.”--Dot

Buddy was pleased and agreed to wait.

In the meantime, Buddy had already taken an oath to protect the young ones with their life while they were still here.

Buddy also wondered whose alternatives they were going to run into this time around.

Buddy played around with the little ones when a yellow sports car came speeding in and transformed.

“Dot! I got the call—SWEET SOLUS PRIME!”--Bumblebee

Buddy turning to the yellow bot with a happy grin on their face plate.

Buddy easily walks up to him with four of the Malto bots hanging from their frame.

“Bumblebee! My, my I haven’t met an alternative of you yet. And your voice!”--Buddy

Buddy looking around his neck cables.

“Not a scratch!”--Buddy

“Can someone explain!”--Bumblebee

“Oh sorry! Where are my manners. My name is Buddy, I am an Autobot from another dimension and Dot dear here was nice enough to contact some bots that could potentially help me with my problem.”--Buddy

“…”--Bumblebee

“It’s a lot to take in. Take your time little one.”--Buddy

Did Bee feel a bit intimidated about the giant dragon talking to him in such high regards.

Yes.

But at the same time, he didn’t.

Despite the grand size of the bot, they were a softy.

They really lived up to their name.

Soon enough a familiar truck comes in.

“Is that Prime?”--Buddy

“Oh yeah Optimus is here.”--Dot

“That’s—”--Bumblebee

A grey helicopter starts hovering above the truck.

“…Bumblebee. Who’s that?”--Buddy

“Megatron.”--Bumblebee

Buddy nearly snaps their neck at how fast they look at him.

“Excuse me?!”--Buddy

“What?”--Dot

“Megatron? Here? The leader of the Decepticons?”--Buddy

“Oh, he isn’t a Con anymore. He’s one of us now.”--Bumblebee

Buddy’s wings drop as the kids go welcome the Prime and ex-warlord.

“Your war is…is it over?”--Buddy

Bee and Dot look at Buddy who seemed to have aged dramatically in the few seconds of hearing that news.

“Yeah, its over…I take it yours isn’t?”--Bumblebee

Buddy shaking their helm.

“What about the other Decepticon’s?”--Buddy

“Some are doing their own thing and others do cause trouble from time to time.”--Bumblebee

Buddy huffs a bit.

“Next thing you’re going to tell me is that Starscream is the leader.”--Buddy

“I mean—”--Bumblebee

“This is the part where you tell me that isn’t true…”--Buddy

“Well…”--Dot

“…please say sike right now…”--Buddy

Prime and Megatron start walking over.

Buddy straightens themselves and transforms to go shake the Leaders servos.

“Optimus. Megatron.”--Buddy

“That’s us. And who might you be stranger?”--Megtron

Buddy suppressing a tiny sob.

“Buddy, sir. My name is Buddy.”--Buddy

“Strange name, but it looks like it suites you well.”--Optimus

“Thank you Prime. I take it that you two can help me get back home?”--Buddy

“We will do our best Buddy.”--Optimus

Buddy smiles at the two.

“That’s all I could ask for. Thank you.”--buddy

Buddy eventually sat down and talked to the two mechs while more bots were coming their way.

Buddy met the alternatives of some fellow bots they knew or had known throughout the war.

They nearly got teary eyed when they met this alternative of Elita One.

Buddy found it a bit hard to connect the dots between this version of Arcee and Wheeljack.

According to Wheeljack, it was going to take a couple of days to make sure that Buddy would get sent to the right dimension.

Buddy didn’t mind too much as they spent most of their time with the kids.

These kids lived for Buddy’s play time and stories.

“Then what did you do?”--Jawbreaker

“Well kiddo, I took that hammer and threw it at our Commander. He was able to help our Wheeljack and Bulkhead while I managed to get us some cover from the Vechicons.”--Buddy

“Cool!”--Thrash

“Buddy, I have a question.”--Nightshade

“What might that be Nightshade?”--Buddy

“You mentioned once that you were a gladiator of sorts right?”--Nightshade

“Yes, that was during my younger years.”--Buddy

“How young though?”--Nightshade

“Hmm… probably around the first hundreds of years give or take.”--Buddy

“…”—The kids

“Kids?”--Buddy

“How old are you?”--Robbie

“…How about another story?”--Buddy

“How old!”--Twitch

“Storytime!”--Buddy

“How old Buddy!”--Hashtag

“Dot! Restrain you kids!”—Buddy

Soon enough it was time for Buddy to go back home.

Buddy made sure they hugged every single one of their new friends before going close to the portal.

Buddy made sure to give extras as they were leaving.

Buddy came out of the portal and into the halls of the base.

Only to get immediately hit in the helm by a lob ball.

“OW! Who threw that!”--Buddy

“Buddy!?”--Miko

Miko starts running to Buddy in the Apex armor.

“Wait Miko the armor—”--Buddy

Miko jumps into Buddy’s open arms.

Buddy falls backwards with a hard thud.

“Miko, I’m not as young as I was before.”--Buddy

Miko doesn’t listen, too busy hugging Buddy.

“You need to stop disappearing like that.”--Miko

“Trust me if I had a choice I would stay with the team. The universe seems to have different plans. At least I always end back home.”--buddy

“You got that right.”--Miko

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader #tfe x platonic reader #tfe terrans #tfe terrans x platonic reader

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longwuzhere · 3 months

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My Adventures with Superman Season 2 Easter Eggs

Welcome to another week of My Adventures with Superman! Oh man what a good ep and some fun easter eggs in this one too! Ok lets begin!

My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 1 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 4 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 5 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 7 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 10 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

Spoilers if you haven't seen the episode

Ok so starting things off Superman wakes up from the capture coffin and is immediately like WTF Kara?! He tries to escape the ship he's on but needs a helmet to breathe in space and the suit grants him one. The way it looks really evokes either Injustice 2 Superman's default costume or his Electric Blue Superman look from the comics [Cover art of Superman #123 (1997), the glow in the dark variant cover, by Dan Jurgens, Joe Rubenstein, Patrick Martin, and Todd Klein].

The title of this week's ep is based on Rudyard Kipling's book, The Man Who Would Be King which is about two British adventurers who become kings in Kafiristan. Appropriate for the ep considering Brainiac who wants to flex his strength and might on other planets by sending Kara and his robots to level the entire civilization. How British colonizer of him. Fuck the colonizers.

On Kara's ship, Clark tries to get to know her better and show her that Earth is cool, being kind and gentle is not a weakness, anything to get her away from the whole might makes rights idea and Kara name drops some locations Brainiac and her sacked after seeing some trinkets she stowed away on her ship. The locations are Thanagar, H'lven, and Euphorix. Clark asks Kara to take him to Thanagar where they see that its all just ruins. Later in the ep we learn why. The screenshots of the last two locations are from later on in the ep.

Thanagar makes its first appearance in The Brave and the Bold #34 (1961) [W: Gardner Fox, P&I: Joe Kubert, L: Gaspar Saladino] where Hawkman and Hawkwoman make their first appearance too. They are looking for the criminal Byth Rok. They meet Midway City's commissioner and tell him about their planet and people and explain who Byth Rok is and what he did. Later in the ep we do see a Thanagarian, but I doubt its Shayera/Hawkwoman cuz she would be using a Thanagarian mace not a polearm. Give the latest Hawkman series a read to explore more of not just Hawkman himself but also a look into Thanagar. Also read Batman: Universe if you want to see Batman get humbled by a Thanagarian guard because the guard assumed his cape was wings and Batman says "I can't fly, only glide with the cape" and the guard replies "ha, cute".

H'lven makes its first appearance in Green Lantern #148 (1982) [W: Paul Kupperberg, P: Don Newton, I: Dan Atkins, C: Anthony Tollins, L: John Costanza]. Its a heavily tree covered planet home to Ch'p and B'dg of the Green Lantern Corp (more on the GLC later). It's located in space sector 1014 where the inhabitants are all chipmunk/squirrel-like aliens. So yeah Brainiac destroyed a civilization of adorable anthropomorphic squirrels and chipmunks, what a piece of shit.

The final place Kara mentions and returns to later in the ep is Euphorix where its first appearance was in The Omega Men #2 [W: Roger Slifer (yes that Roger Slifer who Slifer the Sky Dragon from Yugioh was named after), Keith Giffen, P: Keith Giffen, I: Mike DeCarlo, C: Petra Scotese, L:John Costanza]. The silver planet you see in the panel there is one of the last free planets that has not been touched by the Citadel and it is where the Omega Men operate out of.

Kara and Clark have to cut their Thanagar visit short and she mentions that they must return to Kandor which if you know your DC universe is very different to the main satellite/mothership that Brainiac helms.

Unlike what MAwS did with Kandor so far, in the comics, Kandor was a bottled Kryptonian city for trading and commerce that Brainiac stole before Krypton's destruction. It's still populated too. It and Brainiac's first appearance was in Action Comics #242 (1958) [W: Otto Binder P&I: Al Plastino] where Superman was also shrunk down by Brainiac after he stole several cities on Earth and Superman finds Kandor and eventually rescues it. Most of the time the bottled city of Kandor is always seen located in the Fortress of Solitude or its been brought somewhere else to be enlarged to its normal state in different DC continuities. Very smart of the MAwS team to use the name as Brainiacs main transport to keep that Kandor-Brainiac connection and speaking of Brainiac...

Brainiac is, as Kara designates him, Primus Brainiac who I talked more about here. Very smart of the MAwS crew to use the DCAU origins of Brainiac to really make it personal when it comes to Brainiac and Superman. Btw if you've never seen Superman the Animated Series, go watch it its fantastic. It and MAwS are my favorite adaptations of Superman.

Brainiac takes Clark to his combat training chamber where we see a Parademon of Apokolips, a Green Lantern, and a Thanagarian who are just more robots taking on these projected forms of aliens that Brainiac has conquered or battled. I talked a bit about the Thanagarians already but...

Parademons make their first appearance in The New Gods #1 (1971) [W&P: Jack Kirby, I: Vince Colleta, L: John Costanza] as the army troops for Darkseid. They're usually sent out in waves as an advancing force for whatever invasion Darkseid has plans and they swarm like crazy. The New 52 continuity makes them even more horrifying because Parademons are made from living or dead native species the planet the troops are invading and get genetically modified to be additional Parademons for Darkseids army.

As Clark fights the alien monk, we see that they wield a Green Lantern ring so we can presume they are from the Green Lantern Corp. The name Green Lantern was first used in All-American Comics #16 (1940) by Alan Scott who became Green Lantern and his ring was more mystical based compared to how everyone things of the Green Lantern Ring is now which is more sci-fi based.

That Green Lantern was Hal Jordan who gained his ring from a dying Abin Sur who was the protector of space sector 2814, our solar system, and Abin Sur's ring chose Hal to take up the Green Lantern mantle. This is the Green Lantern that pop culture is more familiar with. Any time a Green Lantern Corp member dies, their ring will fly to another person who has the strongest willpower to be a Green Lantern. We can assume that alien monk has their ring fly somewhere to find a new worthy owner. Very cool that the MAwS crew were able to bring a Green Lantern ref in this ep! Also this is how I envision my War Forged monk that I use in DnD fights.

Clark gets swarmed by the robots after beating the three and we see that Brainiac also has a red sun emitter on his craft. I talked more about that Superman weakness here

Kara discovers whats going on between Clark and Brainiac and after a chewing out, Kara goes into a trance like state and wakes up in an empty room. She finds her treasures from Thanagar, Euphorix, and H'lven and that wakes her up. She flies off to those planets again seeing them all in ruins and Thanagar shows that she caused all this. All alone and sad by this discovery in the emptiness of space, Kara sees a blue portal open up and its Lois, Jimmy, Mallah and the Brain from season 1 who I talked more about here and here.

And with that we are at the end. Come back next time to see how Lois and Jimmy meet up with Mallah and the Brain again!