#There was so much focus on him as uniquely “dark” and dangerous and with an evil side

[allthoseotherworlds]

Sometimes I see people talking about a character, and everyone is talking up how evil and dangerous and monstrous they are. And that's fine if you like that sort of thing, but I've never quite been able to get on the current trend of preferring characters to be bad people, so it always makes me assume I won't like the character in question.

And then I actually watch/read/listen to the thing in question and I'm like.

This doesn't seem like an evil, monstrous, terrible person? It just seems like someone trying their best, but not being perfect at it.

Or just a case of the writers of the show having Problems, which I normally blame the writers for rather than the character.

I have a suspicion that this comes down to the autism somehow, either in an "I'm taking it too literally" way, or in an "I relate to fictional characters differently than other people in fandom tend to" way, or a combination of both.

I don't have a conclusion here - this isn't really a problem or anything, since I don't think how you relate to a fictional character says anything about your real-world morality, but it's interesting.

[remiratboi]

Filled

Masterlist

Arranged Marriage Trope ~ 2.8K Words

Wolf-Hybrid!HusbandXHuman!GNFatReader

CW: Arranged marriage, distant relationship, mild bdsm, mild dom/sub vibes, dominant personality more than anything else, masturbation, knotting, size kink, breeding. Honestly it’s pretty tame compared to a lot of my stuff.

It was an arranged marriage. Two powerful families, a long time feud, and a wedding to forge the peace. It wasn’t unique, but it was uniquely awful for you.

Your new husband was a large, stoic wolf hybrid. He was gorgeous, you couldn’t deny that. He was well over 6 feet, and his tight black dress shirts did little to hide the muscles he touted. His fur was dark grey, like a misty mountain range. Sometimes you imagined touching it.

You felt dwarfed, which wasn’t something your chubby ass had experienced much. So that was nice.

But that’s where the positives ended. Yes, you looked great on his arm, a slinky black gown to match his silky black slacks and shirt, but you had no connection.

He seemed uninterested or unwilling to get to know you. You figured, if you were going to have to spend your lives together, you could at least develop a friendship. It wasn’t the love filled marriage you’d dreamed of, but it could still be a partnership, nonetheless.

You tried everything you could think of to seduce the absolute brick of a man. You flirted with him during every interaction you could. You brought him little treats you had baked while he worked. You rubbed his shoulders after a long day. Nothing seemed to make him warm to you.

He seemed comfortable having you around, but also seemed to have no interest in interacting with you, unless you initiated it. It was starting to drive you mad.

You’d noticed little things about him that were more subtle. Things you didn’t realize he’d do. He always protected you when he was around. You were… clumsy to say the least, and the amount of times he’d caught your dumb ass as you were about to fall was kind of comical. It got to the point he always had a hand hovering around you. At your lower back, your hip, your thigh. It was almost like he gravitated around you.

Then there was his eyes. He didn’t express much on his face, in his dangerous line of work, he couldn’t. But that didn’t stop his eyes. You’d learned to read him from watching his eyes. You’d be in meetings together, and without fail you could guess his response. The subtle ways his brows furrowed when he was interested, and listening intently. Or the fire that flashed when he got annoyed.

You noticed his eyes when he looked at you as well. You couldn’t tell what it was, but there was a distinct, unique look in his eyes when he looked at you. And a faint blush to his cheeks when you caught him staring.

You’d started thinking maybe something would come of you two after all, but despite your ever boldening efforts, nothing happened.

Finally, after nearly a year of this new life, you were pent up, and frustrated. You shared a bed, which made any sort of self pleasure extremely difficult. Normally you could time things for when he was busy, or showering. But one night, much later than you would have liked to be asleep, your cunt throbbed.

You squirmed lightly in the large king size bed. He lay mere inches from you, soft snores rising from his chest. His face was serene, calm. You didn’t get to see him at peace very often. You’d begun to cherish seeing him like this.

You couldn’t focus long enough to go to sleep. Your thighs were sticky with your arousal. You wanted to be fucked. It had been so long. Prior to the wedding, you’d been told he’d expect you to fulfil certain… duties. But he’d never touched you in that way aside from a chaste kiss at your wedding.

You’d spent years of your life before meeting him, fearing the tyrant man you’d likely marry, and sometimes, dreaming about the handsome man you’d marry. But you were met with him, something you’d never expected or imagined. Uninterested.

You whined softly to yourself. You were desperate. He was asleep… right? You listened to his breathing. It sounded even. His soft snores solidified your decision.

You turned to lay on your back, a hand snaked down to gently rub your aching clit. You almost moaned out loud, your other hand whipping to your mouth to cover it. He was so close. He was so beautiful. You wanted him. It surprised you how confident you were in that asseratation. You spun your fingers in circles on your small bud while gazing at his face.

You imagined his hands on your body. Those huge, strong hands. What things had he done with those hands? The idea of such violence colliding with your soft, pliable body, had you stifling another moan.

You dipped lower and sunk two fingers into your cunt. You couldn’t help a whimper slipping through. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. You wanted him to fill you, you wanted him to take you. Why couldn’t he just want you back?!

You groaned in frustration, your fingers desperately pushing in and out of you. You were starting to think you wouldn’t be able to cum while staring at his face, wanting him so badly.

“Please…” you moaned his name before you could stop yourself.

His eyes snapped open. You yelped and scrambled to pull your fingers out of your body, your positioning clear.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He demanded, his voice dark, an edge you couldn’t place to it. He turned to look at you, his eyes raking down the thin sheet that covered you. Your pj shorts were pulled to your knees, your tank pulled up and over your chest. All that stopped him from seeing you on full display was that barely there sheet. You felt your nipples harden and his eyes flashed down from yours to stare.

“Answer.” He gave no room for argument. His eyes didn’t leave your chest.

“I, uh, I must have been having a bad dream. Sorry I wo-” he didn’t let you finish. He ripped the sheet off of your body and before you could even react, he climbed on top of you, pinning you down underneath him. He held your hands above your head in one thick fist, his knees in between your legs, holding them open. His other hand lightly caressed your round, soft tummy.

“Do not lie to me.” He whispered into your ear, leaning down so his face was next to yours. “You have one more chance to explain why you are almost naked, moaning out my name like a slut.”

Your cheeks burned. You turned your head and squeezed your eyes hoping maybe that would make it all go away.

His warm breath on your face told you it wouldn’t.

“I… I… I was just…” you didn’t know what to say. I was just fingering myself while desperately thinking about you fucking me?! Yeah… no.

He stared at your face. You peeked up at him, surprised by the slight smirk you could see playing in his lips. You had thought he was furious? But maybe…

“I was touching myself.” You spoke softly. Embarrassed still. Even with your soaking cunt spread open for him.

“What were you imagining?” He replied, not missing a beat.

“You.” You practically whispered. He groaned above you.

“Show me what you were doing.” He leaned back and let go of your wrists. He sat back on his calves, kneeled in between your thighs still. You looked up at him, eyes wide with uncertainty. He nodded curtly towards your exposed pussy. He brought his hands up to massage idly at your thick thighs. His thumbs ran along stretch marks and dimples near your hips.

You squirmed, hesitant to perform such a vulnerable action in front of another person. He turned his face from the flesh of your thighs he was handling, up to yours and caught your gaze. “This is your final warning. Do not push me, love.” His tone, deadly. You found your cheeks burning even hotter at the casual term of affection he’d used.

You couldn’t pull your eyes from his, but slowly lowered your hand down to your clit. You rubbed yourself unenthusiastically.

Your husband who had never seemed as wolf-like as he did now, tsked at you. “I don’t think pathetic movements like those were what made you moan my name.” He reminded you again of your embarrassment.

You whimpered and a shudder ran through him. You reached your fingers further, and pressed two shallowly into your cunt. You were surprised by how much more wet you had become. The fear, the uncertainty of his next move, had you on edge like never before.

“Now, tell me, no don’t stop moving.” He interrupted himself when you paused. “That’s right, now tell me, why were you imagining me while fingering yourself? Why were you staring at my face while trying to make yourself cum?” You thought your cheeks couldn’t have gotten more red and hot until he had said that.

“I, please, just let this go, and we can pretend nothing happened.” You begged him, pleading eyes gazing up at his unimpressed ones. “I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t listen very well, do you?” His tone was threatening. He flipped you over in the blink of an eye, and pressed your soft, round body into the bed. You felt his rock hard cock press into your ass from behind through his pyjamas. Your eyes flew open at the realisation of how turned on he was.

“Does that make you less self conscious, love?” He asked, patronisingly, grinding his hips against you. “You might even get a reward if you’re a good slut for me.” You felt yourself get even wetter, if that was possible.

“I was thinking about you fucking me, because I think I might be in love with you, and you never even give me the time of day, and we are just laying in this bed every night, so close and yet so far and I hate it and I don’t know what to do!” You shouted in a chaotic, blubbering stream. You gasped a breath after the words had finished tumbling from your mouth. You hadn’t really meant to say quite that many words…

For a long moment, your wolf hybrid husband was motionless above you. Your face was pressed into the mattress. Tears began to prick the edges of your eyes with each second that dragged on.

“But… I’m a monster?” He asked quietly. “I thought maybe you were just horny and wanted a quick fuck with a warm body.” He flipped you around, your face inches from his. He stared at you with large, round eyes. The stern, controlling man who held you seconds ago was gone, replaced by a shy puppy. “You love me?” He asked. You could see uncertainty flash through his eyes.

“You’re my husband.” You replied, the doubt clear even as you said the words.

The handsome man looking down at you scoffed. “That doesn’t mean anything. You didn’t choose me. You didn’t get to have a say. I didn’t want to take advantage of our situation. I know…” he trailed off. “I know there are unfair expectations for physical relations in arranged marriages, but I swore I’d never be that kind of man, I’d never push you to do anything. I promised myself I’d never let you know how desperately I wanted you.” His eyes widened as he seemed to realise what he said as he said it.

“You’re my mate, I think.” You spoke softly, uncertain of yourself as well. You reached up and pressed your hand against his face. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back into your touch.

When he opened his eyes again, they were solid black. “Those are dangerous words, love.” He smelled your arousal on the hand that cupped his face. You hadn’t registered it was the hand previously fingering your cunt.

“I like danger.” You said despite its cheesiness. It worked. Your mate chuckled.

“You like monsters too?” He asked again. A smirk had replaced his wide eyed surprise. His hard cock pressing against your soft tummy reminded him of your current predicament. You nodded enthusiastically at his question.

“Who would have thought, my precious, little human mate would be a desperate slut for wolves.” You dipped your head at his words but he pulled your chin back up, dragging your eyes to meet his.

“I love you too, I have for a very long time.” He kissed you, long and hard. The first real kiss you’d ever shared. You felt yourself gripping him everywhere, both of your hands touching the others bodies. He squeezed your hips, fingers and claws digging into your flesh.

He nipped down your neck, not breaking the skin, but enough to leave a trail of marks. You felt his hand go to his waistband, and he groaned as he released his cock. You had known it would be big, but big didn’t even begin to describe the behemoth in front of you. You felt your face pale.

The wolf above you licked his lips. “I know you can take it. One of the reasons I like my partners to be a bit thicker, better to manhandle, eh?” He teased you.

You looked between his face and cock, and his apparent disregard of your concern just made you wetter.

“I can smell you, slut.” He looked down at you with smug eyes. “Yeah, you’ll take me alright. Even if it have to make you.” A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes, and you felt the head of his dick at your entrance.

You second guessed yourself. You started trying to protest, but he covered your mouth with one large hand. “Now now, none of that. As you said, you’re my mate. You’ll love it.”

He slowly worked his head into you, and it was already breathtaking. You felt fuller than you’d ever felt, but anxiety at his size rose even further. Before you had a chance to protest, he started pushing deeper.

He wasn’t rough, but he definitely wasn’t gentle. He fucked into you with shallow thrusts, each pushing deeper than the last, until you could feel his knot battering at your entrance. The stretch was overwhelming, but you could feel the shadow of pleasure behind it.

Once he was at his full length, minus the knot, he started fucking you in earnest. He bent your legs up and over his shoulders, and practically folded you in half. It felt amazing to be so easily manoeuvred. Any stress you’d carried about being too big for him, melted away with each desperate caress he gave you. It was like he couldn’t touch enough of you at once.

The pain from his size kept fading, but the pleasure only built. Soon you were loudly crying out with each thrust. He grunted above you. He spoke of filling you with his seed, breeding you.

You could feel your orgasm growing as his thrusts got rougher. His hand snaked up to your neck, and you watched a wicked smile cross his face. He pressed into your neck, squeezing your throat. Your hands raised to his arm, trying to pull him away. It was almost comical, your tiny fingers prying at his thick muscular arm.

You started seeing spots and panic filled you. Your husband stared directly into your eyes as you struggled beneath him.

“Good pet, you can do it, don’t worry.” His comforting words sounded like they were too far away. You felt his knot pushing against your cunt. You tried to scream, but no sound could move past his fist on your neck.

Everything collided at once. Your vision was fading and your orgasm rising in front of you when he slammed his knot deep into your pussy. You screamed, even though no sounds came out. You both came, hard. He released your throat, and peppered you with kisses while you rode out to spasms.

Hot cum poured into your battered cunt as his thrusts turned erratic and staggered. He couldn’t move much due to his knot, but he did what he could. You felt the huge pressure drag up and down the entrance of your pussy. He came for so long, longer than your entire orgasm. You were coming down while he was still filling you up. You gripped each other's bodies, sweat and saliva mixing.

He collapsed to the side, pulling you up and on top of him, his cock still wedged deep inside you. You moaned involuntarily at the movement.

“Hmmm, I hope that was better than your fingers.” He hummed, amused. You grinned down at him.

“Marginally.” You teased. He looked up at you with offence and you winked, leaning down to kiss him again. You didn’t think the excitement of that was going to wear off any time soon.

[decembermidnight]

Don't lose your focus

Summary: As a Jedi Padawan fighting during the Clone Wars, you and your Master are used to teaming up with Clones. But none are as intriguing as Clone Force 99 and their leader, Sergeant Hunter. Sparks fly immediately and it's difficult to keep your focus. With the mission complete, perhaps the two of you will finally give in and indulge in your desires...

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi!fem!reader

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: smut, 18+ MDNI, Dom!Hunter, use of pet names (sweetheart), shameless flirting, mentions of alcohol consumption, masculinity kink, voice kink, light choking, hand kink, body worship, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, orgasm delay, creampie

A/N: This is the result of me watching The Bad Batch while ovulating. This is (probably) not how the Force works but your honour I was horny. Thank you to my dear @thefrogdalorian for the immense help and support! I love you so much! Amazing divider by @saradika-graphics At the end of the fic you'll find the links to some amazing Hunter fanarts I found here on Tumblr! These were such an inspiration when writing and I wanted to thank and credit the artists for creating such amazing pieces!

Masterlist - Read on Ao3 - Read Part 2 here!

Another day, another dangerous mission in the Outer Rim.

Nothing new for you and your Master who are used to leading these missions successfully. The only difference is that this time you'll be assisted by Experimental Unit Clone Force 99. It’s the first time you even heard about them, but your superiors assured you they’re best suited for this job. A highly-skilled squad of defective clones with desirable mutations? Sounds interesting.

Apparently, The Bad Batch, as they call themselves, despise rules and protocol and adopt unusual methods to get the job done… Much like you and your Master.

Their ship has just made a bumpy landing on the field, causing a fuss. You watch curiously as the squad descends the ramp. There are four of them, and they undoubtedly look badass in their black armour.

The first one – their leader, you assume – removes his helmet and... damn. Damn. He's hot, with a confident look in his deep brown eyes. He also has long, wavy, dark hair; a feature which has always been a weakness of yours. His face is half covered in a tattoo that resembles a skeleton. He's undoubtedly the most charming of the Batch, and also the most attractive clone you’ve ever come across.

“I’m Sergeant Hunter,” he rasps as he greets you and your Master. His voice is deep and husky, very different from those of all the other clones you’ve met so far.

After introducing himself, Hunter moves to quickly describe the peculiarities that make each of the members of the team unique. As you stand back to observe them, you can’t help thinking just how much fun they are. Wrecker (the strong one) is getting reluctantly lectured by Tech (the smart one) while Crosshair (the laconic and lethal sniper) stands there in silence. He reminds you of your Master so much.

As much as you enjoy observing the rest of the squad, you find your gaze returns to Hunter, the clone with enhanced senses. You are unable to tear your eyes away from him. You know you have to keep it together, but you can’t help eating him with your eyes. Your gaze lingers on his body, on the way his pauldrons make his shoulders even broader, how much the black colour of his armour suits him. 

You have just begun fantasising about the way his strong body would look without the armour when you notice Hunter staring directly at you. Busted. You lock eyes for a few seconds and you just know that he understands the nature of the thoughts you’re having about him. Then, your pounding heart skips a beat when Hunter winks at you. It is a split-second gesture that is over so quickly amidst the chaos of the conversation, a little secret between the two of you. You smile flirtatiously at him in response.

The whole group begins heading towards their ship, The Marauder. While the rest of the Batch and your Master head up the ramp towards the ship that will take you to the rendezvous point, you and Hunter pause at the bottom.

“I’m afraid I haven’t caught your name, sweetheart?” Hunter asks, breaking the silence with his deep, raspy voice.

"I am a Jedi, not a sweetheart," you point out teasingly and look at him with crossed arms, trying to sound tough.

"A Padawan," he reminds you with a smirk on his face.

You watch curiously as Hunter takes your braid – the unmistakable sign of your rank as an apprentice – between his fingers. He gently rolls it between his gloved finger and thumb contemplatively as his brown eyes meet your gaze once again. 

"I technically outrank you, Sergeant," you say, challenging him.

"You do, Commander," Hunter nods, but makes no effort to move his hand away from your braid, or to interrupt eye contact.

Hunter can tell that you don’t mind the gesture. As if to push the boundaries further, he moves his hand from your braid to gently place it on your cheek. The leather of his glove feels soft against your face. You are stunned that a seasoned soldier such as him can actually be so gentle in the way he touches you.  

You can feel the tension coming from the two of you, a simmering fire somewhere deep within. It's only a matter of time before it boils over. You look at each other straight in the eyes, neither one of you daring to look away.

Just as you're about to tease him with yet another witty reply, you hear the sound of footsteps at the top of the ramp.

"Hey, Hunter, are you gonna come with us or what?!" Wrecker shouts, abruptly interrupting your shameless flirting.

"On my way," Hunter replies, without breaking eye contact with you.

His intense gaze lingers on you for a few more seconds before he looks at you apologetically and turns to head up to the ramp and onto the Marauder.

As soon as Hunter turns away from you, you realise just how hard your heart is thundering in your chest. His gaze was so intense that it made you forget to breathe properly. So much for the Jedi breathing techniques. It turns out if there is a handsome man with dark eyes flirting with you, they lose all effectiveness. You take a deep breath, filling your burning lungs with oxygen. 

When you enter the ship, you are still trembling. As you take a seat next to your Master, you try to ignore his accusatory glare. You feel his eyes burning into your soul as the guilt threatens to overwhelm you, even though nothing too scandalous happened.

As the Marauder enters hyperspace, your Master takes a seat on the cold metallic floor in an isolated area of the ship. Meditating before battle is a ritual he always follows and you immediately join him. It can help you shift your focus back to where it should be – on the mission. Only, you can't focus. 

Instead of your mind becoming one with the Force, you're highly attuned to the actions of the members of the squad. It is as though you can see them as if you were standing before them: Tech studying the holo-maps, Crosshair cleaning his sniper rifle, Wrecker taking a nap, and of course, Hunter. He is mindlessly playing with his vibroknife as he slouches on a crate. 

You are entranced by the way his fingers move across the handle and the blade. Maker, the movement of his hand and fingers – you can't focus on anything else as he makes the knife masterfully swirl between them. There's something so erotic about the way he plays with it. Your mind wanders to think about his hands roaming on your body, slipping between your thighs, skillfully rubbing your clit. You fantasise about how quickly Hunter would make you come, how hard your orgasm would be as it tore through you, leaving you a trembling wreck.

Your focus then goes to his muscular thighs. Hunter’s legs are spread wide and he looks so effortlessly masculine. The aura of confidence he radiates as he comfortably sits there, taking up the entire crate as he lounges on top of it, gives you even more thoughts that are unbecoming of a Padawan. It makes you almost dizzy with want as you think about how much you want to straddle him and ride him into ecstasy.

“Are you done?” your Master’s cold voice interrupts your filthy train of thought with a brief and concise message through the Force.

He heard your thoughts. Each and every single one. Your Master caught you red-handed. How embarrassing.

You are too mortified to even mumble an apology, through the Force or otherwise. Instead, you sit there wishing you could be anywhere else in the galaxy as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks and pull your hood up to hide your flustered face in your cape.

Luckily, before the awkward moment can continue for any longer, Tech announces the imminent jump out of hyperspace. You still cannot bear to make eye contact with your Master, shrinking into your blessedly baggy cape as you begin the descent into the planet’s atmosphere...

The mission was a success – you and your Master worked your magic with the precious support of Clone Force 99. What seemed like a desperate operation, turned out to be an extremely important victory for the Republic. Training with your Master has been so hard, but damn did that pay off. You slayed all your enemies elegantly and effortlessly, just like he taught you. The whole Bad Batch congratulated you two. Wrecker was especially impressed, electing the two of you as his favourite Jedi. What an honour. Hunter also invited you and your Master to celebrate the victory by having a drink all together in a cantina.

Just as you’re about to enter the cantina and join the Bad Batch, your Master calls your name. You stop in your tracks, scared that he might reprimand you for the way you acted today. You begin panicking and thinking back to what happened in guilt…

When you and your Master had taken off your heavy capes before engaging in battle, you noticed Hunter couldn't keep his eyes off you. You were wearing a skin-tight dark suit, after all.

It was a fact you decided to exploit after Hunter had given his squad their orders for the mission. You walked away swaying your hips, making sure you gave him a great opportunity to look at your ass. You remember how you could feel his eyes glued to it. You could also feel his desire for you. It was impossible for him to hide; it permeated him, radiated from him. Maker, you love making him crumble.

You think back to the way Crosshair rasped, "Hunter, don't lose your focus.”  You are certain that is what your Master is about to scold you for.

Instead, you watch in shock as a half smile appears on your Master’s face, something you don't see very often.

“You did good today. I’m proud of you,” he nods.

Since when does your Master pay you compliments like this?

“Th-Thank you,” you stammer, caught off-guard by how unexpected his praise is.

“You fulfilled your duties as a Jedi. Now, go and have your fun.”

You don’t have time to respond before he turns on his heel and walks away, cape billowing in the breeze. You know your Master doesn’t often like to stick around after missions, often needing some quiet time to himself to decompress and meditate. You let him go, knowing that he will find his way back to the Marauder before it departs, as he always does.

As you step into the Cantina, a smile spreads on your face when you notice the Bad Batch sitting at a table with a full flagon of booze and an empty seat for you to toast your success. You and Hunter lock eyes again as he invites you to sit in that spot close to him.

Hunter loses no time in placing his arm around your shoulders while smiling at you. You lean into his embrace, feeling comforted and protected.  The warm presence of his arm around you makes you smile contentedly. It feels so good to let the guard down for once, especially if you're in the arms of a handsome, strong and charming man such as Hunter.

As the night goes on, the three other members of The Bad Batch keep conversing with each other, giving you and Hunter the opportunity to speak privately. It’s as though the background noise fades out. You don't even bother focusing on the discourse the others are having. It’s just you and Hunter flirting shamelessly now.

“You know, I've never seen a ship like yours. I wish I had time to properly explore it... Thoroughly," you flirt with him while draining the last few dregs in your flagon.

"Want me to give you a tour, sweetheart?" he says with a smile on his face, perfectly understanding your intentions.

"Would be cool, yeah," you reply.

Hunter offers you his hand and you gladly accept it with a mischievous smile.

Just as you stand, you feel the alcohol has definitely kicked in. You’re not drunk though, just a little bit tipsy, enough to make you brave and go get exactly what you want.

As soon as you and Hunter get out of the cantina and find yourselves alone in the dark alley, you both give into the instincts you tried to suppress all day long. Hunter pins you to the wall as you pull him closer at the same time, until you join in a passionate, longing kiss.

You welcome his tongue in your mouth as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His touch and the way he kisses you are so confident that you clench around nothing, holding him tighter as you moan in his mouth. Maker, you want him. His whole body jolts when he feels that, pinning you harder against the wall, mentally cursing the armour that is preventing him from feeling the softness of your body against his. 

He stops kissing you just so he can look at how stunning you are under the moonlight, hot and flustered after that first, heavy session of making out.

"Look at you. So beautiful," he whispers as he cups your face with his hand, the other one still lingering around your waist. Hunter is treating you like the most precious thing in the galaxy now that he can finally have you all for himself. You lean into his gentle touch as he takes in all the features of your face, especially the way your eyes glimmer with admiration and arousal for him.

You look at his deep, dark and expressive brown eyes and the strong, masculine features of his face that make you throb with need. Your hand caresses his cheek, following the lines of his skeleton tattoo and the contour of his chiseled jaw. He observes you as a sweet smile appears on your face, making you look irresistible and drawing his lips closer to yours once again…

"Hey! Where's Hunter?!" you hear Wrecker shout from inside of the tavern, just as your lips are mere inches apart.

You and Hunter both laugh as you resume the kissing. It's like the whole galaxy stops existing. For a soldier who has seen nothing but war, his kisses are to die for. Your tongues twirl in each other's mouths and it's like his greedy lips can't ever get enough of yours. His mouth is hot like a damn furnace as he takes all the time in the galaxy to worship you with his lips, letting his hands wander throughout your body. You're getting soaked already, feeling your arousal slowly dripping down your legs as a throbbing need pulsates between your thighs. You moan in his mouth as you dig your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss is getting deeper and more passionate as you go on. 

Hunter's lips start to trail down to your neck, making you sigh deeply as he covers it in kisses. Your scent drives him wild. He can smell your pheromones, feeling you're unmistakably full of desire. He can't resist and just gives a swift lick from the base of your neck to your ear that makes you sharply stifle a gasp, arching your back and tightening your grip on his hair.

"Let's go to the Marauder, shall we?" he rasps in your ear, a voice full of lust that gives you goosebumps.

"Y-yes…" you stutter, feeling light-headed with arousal and being incapable of hiding it.

He offers you his hand as you enter the ship. The two of you cut a clumsy path through the Marauder towards Hunter’s bunk, frequently taking breaks where Hunter desperately pushes you against the cool steel walls of the ship, your arms clinging tight to his shoulders and his face buried in your neck.

"Maker... Take off your armour," you plead as his teeth dig into your delicate skin like a feral beast would do with his prey.

He does, letting each piece fall to the ground as you go on kissing each other, leaving a trail of armour pieces on the floor as you slowly make your way towards his bunk. He looks stunning with just his tight black suit on. You take in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his pectorals stand out, highlighted by the tightness of the suit and grope the strong muscles of his biceps. Oh, fuck. How much do you love a man. Tall, muscular, strong, confident, with dark eyes and a head full of long, wavy hair. A Man. 

You moan in his mouth when you feel his thick biceps flexing under your touch. A smile forms on his lips as he feels how much you like this. As his arms wrap around your body, yours go in his hair. Maker, how safe do you feel in his arms. It's such an innate instinct – wanting to be held in the arms of a strong man, surrendering and trusting him, something that usually you would never be permitted to do in your life as a Jedi.

You can feel his erection against your lower belly, straining against his extremely thin black suit. His fingers hook in the hem of your pants, yanking them down over your ass, exposing your drenched cunt as he sits you down in his bunk.

He kneels before you, taking your boots and pants off and spreads your legs, his dark eyes looking into yours as a smirk appears on his face.

"Hunter–" you sigh.

"Wanna get you nice and ready for me, sweetheart," he coos as he starts to kiss your inner thigh.

The vision makes you tremble with lust and your hands helplessly clench into fists in a desperate attempt to grab the material under you to keep you steady. Your legs shake but he keeps them steady in his strong arms. He goes on trailing kisses on your inner thighs without ever stopping looking at you. He's taking his time with it, wanting to enjoy the way your whole body is throbbing with need. Your breathing gets more and more shallow as his mouth gets closer to where you want him the most. 

You lift your gaze from Hunter’s dark brown eyes, shutting your eyes for a mere fraction of a second, trying to alleviate the aching need you feel. Hunter chooses that moment to finally give you what you need. With a quick lick to your clit, your whole body jerks into his touch and a whimper escapes from your lips.

Hunter smirks up at you, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards in a smug, satisfied look. Then, he proceeds to bury his face between your legs and masterfully lick your swollen clit. His tongue brings you so much pleasure that your back arches involuntarily, pushing yourself further into his mouth. You moan his name and grab a handful of his long, thick hair. He purrs in your cunt when you entangle your fingers in his hair and you notice how his grip on your legs becomes tighter.

"Oh... Oh fuck!" you exclaim in ecstasy, barely able to form words.

One of his hands releases its grasp on your legs, which he has been using to keep you spread open for him. You throw your head back gasping as he slowly slides two of his thick fingers inside you. 

"So tight," he growls with a smirk on his face.

Hunter pumps his fingers inside of you, slowly increasing the rhythm, ensuring that you’re stretched out for him. It is a motion that brings you so much pleasure you wonder how it could possibly get better. Your whole body jerks in pure bliss under his touch. He enjoys looking at you like this, you can see it from how darkened his eyes are with lust.

For a brief second, his fingers and mouth leave your cunt, leaving you devastatingly empty. You watch in awe as Hunter sticks them in his mouth, without breaking eye contact with you. He sucks on his fingers, humming while closing his eyes to savor your taste from places where his tongue can’t reach.

"You taste so good, sweetheart," he rasps as he resumes fucking you with his fingers.

He watches you contort under him, moaning and begging for him to return his skillful mouth between your thighs. Your hips thrust up and down right in front of his face. You are shamelessly fucking yourself on his fingers, inviting him to bury his face back in your folds. You desperately bury your hands in his hair in an attempt to pull him closer.

"Damn, you're so beautiful like this," he says before his mouth goes back exactly where you wanted.

Then, Hunter does something absolutely devastating. While he continues licking your clit, he starts sucking it gently, all as he continues pumping his thick fingers inside of you. Hunter wants to draw an orgasm from you, his actions becoming more and more frantic as you grow closer to your climax. He can feel by the irregular way you breathe and shake that you're close. 

"Yes. Yes. Like this. Let go, sweetheart," he encourages you.

It's only a matter of seconds before you come, writhing under him. Your legs are wrapped around his head, squishing it. You scream his name so loud it echoes in the Marauder. Hunter is pleased as he looks at your blissed-out expression and feels your cunt clamping around his fingers. Your back arches as you ride your orgasm, pushing yourself further into his tongue so you can feel him licking you through your orgasm. Hunter purrs into your cunt, loving the way you let go around him. He loves how his face is getting soaked in your arousal, so addicted to the way you taste.

Hunter holds you steady as your orgasm fades out. When you regain your senses, you slowly release your grip on his hair. Only then he props himself up and slowly unzips his suit, showing you the beautiful golden skin underneath. A warm contrast under the black, tight layer.

The dark hairs on his chest are perfectly trimmed, accentuating each of his toned muscles and the tattoos which decorate his thick, masculine body. Your gaze is locked on his hand trailing down his abdomen, his muscles rippling as he approaches the hem of his pants. 

You shamelessly look at the bulge in his dark suit, a sight that makes your mouth water. Hunter’s lips curve into a smirk once again, noticing that you like what you see. The smug look on his face makes you throb with need once again, despite the fact that he just gave you an intense orgasm.

He hooks his thumb in the hem of his pants, watching intently for your reaction as he slowly pulls the material down to reveal the trimmed, dark hairs around the base of his thick cock.

Hunter notices the intense way you look at it and hears the whimper you just tried to suppress in your throat. He can feel your heart rate going up. It makes him smirk confidently as he goes on, finally freeing his hard, thick cock. You gulp while looking at it, as he uses the same fingers he had buried in you to cover it in your arousal. He gives it a few, firm strokes to ensure it’s nice and wet for you. The mere vision of it makes you bite your lip to muffle another impatient whimper.

Then he is on you, peeling your shirt away from your quivering body, rejoicing when he can finally touch it and worship it with his mouth. Hunter trails kisses across your collarbones and down towards your breasts. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive flesh there, before softly biting your nipples. You gasp when you feel his erection hard against your cunt. He starts to thrust his hips against yours so his cock can rub against your drenched core, getting it soaked in your juices. Your mind turns completely blank at that, heart thundering in your chest as his hands roam across your body. 

Hunter aligns himself to your entrance, groaning as his cock slowly makes its way inside of you. You admire his restraint. You know how much he probably wants to take you with one thrust, but instead he is being so gentle and careful with you, making sure that you are well-adjusted to his size.

He takes your jaw in his hand, looking deep inside your eyes as his thick cock stretches you open. You struggle to keep eye contact with him, unlike earlier when you were flirting with him. Now, your eyes only want to roll backwards. The pleasure you feel as he splits you open is overwhelming your body and senses.

You pathetically try to mumble some incoherencies, but he's quick to shut you up with a kiss. Hunter growls low in his throat when he feels your walls desperately clenching around him, as he buries himself into you to the hilt.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good," he rasps, almost desperately before giving you another wet kiss. Then, he raises his hips only to bury his cock deep inside you, making you moan into his mouth.

"How – how can you feel so fucking good?" he whimpers.

Hunter’s large hands gently cup your face, as he continues placing passionate kisses against your lips while thrusting into you. You notice his kisses become more desperate as he slowly increases the rhythm. As Hunter picks up the pace, he buries his face in your neck, panting low in your ear. 

You are certain that he can’t go any faster, before he proves you wrong. He increases the pace to a brutal rhythm, fucking you so hard you start screaming.

"So loud,” he rasps, “They're gonna hear us in the Cantina." 

"Then make me shut up," you whisper daringly.

A blaze of lust glimmers in his eyes as you lay down that challenge. Something shifts inside of him as he gives you a feral, animalistic look. Hunter quickly covers your mouth with his hand, showing you his more dominant, commanding side which makes you clamp tightly around his cock.

"Oh, you like this," he smirks, satisfied that this is precisely what you wanted all along.

You nod frantically. There is no use hiding how much this turns you on. Despite how much Hunter shows care towards you, you suspect there is something darker which lingers below the surface. You want to draw it out of him. 

"What else do you like, hm?" he coos as he wraps his other hand around your throat, lightly choking you, his thumb rubbing your throat possessively.

The sight of you, looking so vulnerable under him as he can finally dominate you makes him frantic with lust. Gone are the measured thrusts and even rhythm of before. Something feral has overtaken Hunter, a desperate need to claim you. He continues silencing your moans with one hand around your throat and one across your mouth, muffling your gasps as he wrecks you with his cock. 

Having Hunter's hand muffling your own moans gives you the opportunity to hear his desperate grunts and pants as they mix with the obscene, squelching sound his cock makes each time he thrusts into you. You close your eyes in bliss, enjoying this moment of pure pleasure. 

"Can't keep your eyes open for me, sweetheart? Look at me with those pretty fucking eyes," he growls.

You can't help but whimper at that, at how authoritative he sounds. The Sergeant of The Bad Batch is dominating the fuck out of you. You are a moaning, gasping mess beneath him, unable to think about anything other than how good being furiously pounded by him feels. 

"I didn't catch that,” Hunter rasps as he slowly lifts his hand from your mouth. He leans down to put his ear against your mouth “What were you saying, sweetheart?"

"L-let me – fuck!” you gasp, too blissed out to form words.

“Use your words,” Hunter commands, slowing his thrusts down so you can finally speak.

“Let me touch you!" you beg, unable to care about how desperate and pathetic you sound. All you can think about is roaming your hands around the warm, firm expanse of his body.

Hunter smirks, intrigued by your request, only too happy to oblige you. He grabs your hand roughly by the wrist and positions it over his abdomen. You can feel his muscles flexing and contracting under your touch as he thrusts into you. His body is as hard as iron and on fire like a damn furnace, burning with lust.

"Maker…" you whisper.

You let your hand trail up to his firm chest. You grope his pectorals, appreciating the firmness of his muscles. Your cunt clenches around his cock at the sight of your hand against his golden skin. A smirk appears on his face, enjoying what he does to you.

Your hand goes up to his broad shoulder, rubbing over it before you move your hand towards his back. You feel how his muscles strain there with each thrust as he continues pounding into you at a relentless pace. Both of your hands are now caressing his back, feeling every single dimple under your fingertips. Just as you try pulling him close, he starts to give it to you even harder. You scratch your fingernails along his back. You watch in awe as Hunter moans in your mouth at that. 

"Could–could fucking smell how much you wanted me earlier. You distracted me the whole time. Couldn't think of anything else besides how good you'd look with my cock inside of you,” he rasps in your neck before biting you, growling wildly as he does. “I was so fucking hard for you, sweetheart," Hunter grunts. 

He's so feral for you, fucking you so hard. You can't even mumble a response.

"Smell so good – so fucking good–" he whispers in your ear.

"D-don't s–stop," you mumble in your cockdrunk delirium.

"I can't, sweetheart. This cunt's all I ever wanted,” he growls, “Gonna make you mine. Mine." 

"Oh, fuck… Yes," you pant as he props himself up, kneeling in front of you without stopping that devastating rhythm for even half a second.

He looks at your body, at the way your boobs bounce with each thrust as he gives it go you even harder, holding on tight to your legs, using them as leverage to bury himself even deeper inside of you. Seeing him like this makes you remember just how badly you wanted to ride his cock earlier.

"Hunter. Hunter. I want to ride you," you whimper.

"Is that an order, Commander?"

"Y–yes. Yes. Order. S–s-sergeant," you mindlessly go on as he keeps thrusting his cock inside of you.

The thought of you bouncing on his cock makes him throb. In an instant, Hunter lifts you in his arms as if you were weightless and makes you straddle him. He sits with his back against the wall of the bunk. His hands are on your waist and you immediately start rocking your hips up and down, giving into your fantasy from earlier.

"Such a good soldier… So good at following orders," you whisper against his lips.

"Yeah… Sometimes," he smirks before gripping your hair and stealing another wet, hot kiss that makes you melt into him even further.

Your head rolls back in pleasure at the way his cock feels from this position. It's devastating, hitting something deep within you. You almost lose yourself in that feeling, but Hunter won’t allow you to. Even though you are on top of him, Hunter is quick to remind you who’s in charge as he takes your jaw in his hand.

"Eyes on me," he orders firmly.

"Yes, Sergeant," you moan. 

You swear you feel him throbbing and choke a grunt when he hears the sensual way you pronounce his title. Clearly, using his rank in this context has done something to Hunter. He moves his thumb between your lips and you suck it provocatively, never stopping yourself from meeting his gaze. Hunter’s pupils widen at the sinful way your lips envelop his finger and your tongue gently touches it. His eyes take into your sensual, precious beauty, before bringing you to him and kissing you again.

Your bodies are damp in sweat and rubbing against one another. Your nipples deliciously catch against his hairy, broad chest. You continue moaning into each other's mouths; your tongues never stop touching.

"Hunter, I'm gonna come–" you whimper.

"Hold it for me, sweetheart," he rasps in a sweet, yet dark voice, having the opposite effect from what he intended.

"Please, I want to come on your cock," you plead desperately.

"Not yet," he smirks.

Hunter grabs your hips and guides your movements so that your clit starts to rub against his pelvis. You let out a loud moan as you hold on to him tighter, digging your nails in his shoulders.

"I can't hold it!" you scream with your eyes shut.

He grabs your chin in his hand, clearly uninterested in your desperate appeals.

"Look at me," he says firmly as you open your eyes. Your vision is too blurry to focus on him but you try nonetheless.

"Now come for me, sweetheart," he rasps darkly.

You obey his order and come hard around his cock. An overwhelming, intense wave of pleasure starts at your core and completely takes over your body. You’re wrecked by uncontrollable shakes as Hunter holds you in his strong arms. You scream and pant as you ride your high. Your eyes roll backwards while Hunter focuses on how beautiful you look when you lose control. Especially when he is the one responsible for it.

Hunter feels your heart running in your chest and every single contraction of your muscles around his cock. The unmistakable, heady scent of sex that fills the Marauder drives him insane, making him burst inside of you. He grunts loudly as he fills you up with his load, holding you tight in his grasp.

You moan in each other's mouths, your forehead leaning on his as you look into each other’s eyes. You never leave each other’s gaze as you both give into the highest of pleasure.

As you come down from your high, your rhythm slows down until it stops completely. Your bodies are intertwined like vines, naked and sweaty as you catch breath in each other’s embrace.

You really do make a great team, after all.

Fanarts: Hunter's back + Shirtless Hunter by @mesvi Hello handsome by @corukant Wet Hunter by @iszapizza Hunter under the shower by @shakall Hunter and his vibroknife by @ve-ti-ver Hunter under the shower by @cloned-eyes Hunter taking off his shirt + Tech by @constant-brain-fog Hunter taking a shower by kaijurave (on twitter/x)

[foreficfandom]

POV: You Are Actually MUCH More Powerful Than Alastor (1/2)

(Alastor x Reader, g/n, queerplatonic/sex and romance favorable, fan theories, God!Reader)

Overlords are common sinners that boast many indentured servants to their name. Some also focus on physical territory. Some, like Alastor, don't bother. After all, radio knows little physical limitations.

Every Overlord had their own method of gaining prowess. Know one knows how Alastor became so dangerous. The strongest of the lords. Possibly stronger than some goetia royalty.

You weren't sure, either, but you had an inkling.

Because unbeknownst to anyone, you weren't some common sinner soul.

You were unique. A being originating far from this Christian realm of Heaven and Hell. You were undying, or a reincarnation, or a demigod. But you kept on the down low, 'cause attention would have meant trouble.

You could feel that Alastor's magic was a dark, bloody thing, nestled deep in his chest and hooked tightly like barbed wire. It tasted like sacrifices. It smelled like ultraviolet. And you knew it was borrowed, almost seeing the leash around his neck out of the corner of your eye.

Through a shared interest in the Hazbin Hotel, you and Alastor became acquaintances. Months later, you were proper friends. You could tell that Alastor valued the kind and pure of heart, even if he also believed them pitiful. Because they reminded him of a pleasant, happier life. A hidden part of him wanted to believe in their hope and love.

He thought you were just another sinner soul, and you didn't give him a reason to know any better. You had a job as part of the hotel staff. Their accountant, or security, or maintenance. Or their head concierge, guest service agent, auditor, what have you. Something vital to the business, but nothing glamorous. Labor has always been your most successful mask.

He was growing to love again. His mortal self might have been more recipient of affections and bonds, but decades living in hell has twisted him, and you could see him despair over the lump in his throat. His defeat at the hands of Adam proved his limits. You felt him writhe for weeks afterwards, and you let him reap what he sowed.

Curious, you sneaked away one evening and drew from your well of power to step through the fabric of time, finding yourself on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain to watch a young Alastor drink the blood from a bloody corpse, and spitting it over his shoulder. Some loa watched this bastardized libation from across the crossroads, but what answered was far more malevolent.

Alastor agreed to a very dangerous exchange. He now had hold over magic impressive enough for a mortal, but you knew it to be a relatively bum deal compared to true power. He would hunger constantly for flesh just to feed its energy, which was a cleverly hidden clause to curse him further through devilish consumption. His shadow sprouted antlers and a maw of sharp teeth.

For two decades, Alastor hunted and ate. Always male victims, usually white men, individuals some might damn as monsters themselves - the abusers, the genociders, the murderously entitled. What was once a scared young man grew hollow and fat on the power.

You've seen enough. Stepping through once more, you joined Alastor in cooking an orzo for shrove Tuesday. Sharpening your gaze, you watched his reflection on the shiny metal surface of a pot, and saw the stitches embedded in his face, pulling tight and vicious.

You nonchalantly asked, "How did you become so proficient at the kitchen knife?"

"Well, I was taught that one could eat, or they could eat well," he replied in a sing-song voice. "And practice makes perfect! Hunger is truly the best teacher."

The meat he was pairing was pork, but you knew he's served human flesh for dinner at least once before. You didn't say anything, because they'd grow suspicious at how you could possibly know from just the smell.

Alastor allowed only you to join him in cooking, partly because he favored you so much more, also because you were a right hand at making a meal. You didn't mention that millennia of existence made one a right hand at any skill.

And tonight, he would begin to see it.

Leaving the broth to simmer, you grabbed a small pairing knife and one of the tomatoes. Instead of simply coring and slicing, you inserted 0.013'' of carbon, chromium, and manganese right between where the molecular cells of epidermis ended at the pericarp. In a single momentum of both your knife and the tomato, the skin was perfectly peeled within two rotations.

Alastor wasn't even looking at you. But he froze over the cutting board, rictus smile sharp.

You haven't even used magic yet.

Both the tomato epidermis and its flayed flesh were completely free of any trace of the other, so in one hand, you ignited the skin to transmogrify into a tiny figurine made out of its glycerin wax. In the other, the tomato was sacrificed in a hole of light-bending void for its animal equivalent - the tiny heart of some small animal, possibly a bird or an amphibian, beating calmly as if alive.

Alastor slowly turned his head to watch as a miniature wax replica of himself held the heart in both shaking hands, before doubling over to devour it whole, its relative size and gore very reminiscent of a large, juicy tomato.

A picture perfect snapshot of his fifth or sixth murder while alive. Some world war veteran that still longed for the battlefield and had exercised his frustration upon his mother and younger siblings. The man might have been rotten, but his warrior's blood had burned hot and nourished Alastor's gaping void particularly well.

(NEXT)

[reader-wandering18]

Yuu Leviathan

Yuu from the world of LEVIATHAN being a 4-star harpooner.

The boys (the one with diasomnia and the Heartslabyul duo) in Yuu's dream. Ortho, along with his brother and Grim, had accidentally gotten separated from them.

Scene from Malleus Overblot

— Where...

Ace was suddenly thrown to the ground, his head had been protected by one hand and he could feel the weight of another on top of him.

She opened her eyes in surprise to focus on Silver.

Beside him was Deuce in the same position as him, only with Sebeck.

I wanted to ask What the hell?! But then he saw him… He remembered that sleepover where Yuu told them about his world. A world under water and monsters. He thought he was making it up so together with Grim they made fun of him, Yuu complained about them but never got angry.

He told them about the Seven Sea Demons, each one worse than the last.

— The most dangerous one is gray and dark blue with yellow bioluminescent spots and, compared to other sea monsters, it is a giant in size. Its name is…

— Kentrassi

In front of him was one of the 7 sea demons. And it was the most dangerous of all.

— Up!

Silver along with Sebeck quickly stood up along with the two first-year boys and ran for their lives. When Ace looked back, he had the chance to see that in the previous place where he was standing, there was a large hole.

A chill ran through his entire body. The monster was crawling around the place.

During their escape, the boys noticed that there was nothing like buildings or the sky, only metal, hallways and many people screaming, children crying and some dying crushed or devoured.

While running through a window they manage to see the sea.

A ship, they were a large ship.

Union Busan

WHAT KIND OF WORLD WAS THAT?

LOST

DESPAIR

How can that be Yuu's world?

The Diamnsonia duo stopped followed by Heartslabyul, they raised their wands to attack that monster with magic, but their magic… It just wasn't there.

— Why isn't it working?!

Sebeck didn't understand what was happening, but Deuce remembered what Yuu had told him.

— He said that in his world there was no magic, also Yuu didn't seem to understand the concept of it or have heard of something like that.

— You can't dream, of something you've never known.

— Damn, Malleus-sama's unique magic helps maintain this dream so he's blocking our magic for the sake of this human's sweet dream! BUT THIS DREAM HAS NOTHING SWEET AT ALL!

— If Ortho was here, would he be able to go against that thing?

Silver was also in a bind, he had nothing at hand that could cut the tentacles. His wand was useless in that dream, so frustrated he could only hear all the people around him scream and cry.

He was a knight without a sword.

A knight unable to protect those people as he did with Malleus and his father.

"I have failed again"

Kentrassi raised his large right arm, his intention was more than obvious, so without thinking Silver along with Sebeck stood in front of the first duo and the other people who had been left with no way out.

Even if none of them had magic or weapons, they couldn't just run away, they were warriors trained by Lilia. Silver wasn't going to disappoint his father.

No more

"We're not going to die here!"

A shadow appeared from the sky, Silver and Sebeck were the first to notice it, it was raising both arms holding what they saw as a sword, it came down like lightning cutting Kentrassi's hand along with much of his face as if they were just butter in a matter of seconds, it moved like a snake all over his body and wherever it passed it seemed to leave its bite.

With a jolt the blood came out of his weapon, he stood up in front of the monster, without showing a hint of fear, his back seemed firm, big… like a protector

— It was very brave of him to stand in front of the civilians, and use their own bodies as a shield.

He turned around and the boys immediately recognized him

— Yuu

Until that moment, both realized that they were no longer seeing a lost human from another world.

They were seeing a HARPOONER.

Seeing that there wasn't much action from my request in the first blog, I finally decided to do it. Believe me when I say that you've been awake for several nights until 1 or 2 in the morning is when the most inspiration comes.

Anyway, my main problem with this is that I couldn't visualize how the boys would react to something like this, so if you see something that makes you say, he wouldn't do this, I'm sorry. I had to watch his letters, the story videos again, and read his personality on wiki to get an idea of ​​how they would react.

The first outline was in the Octavinelle arc in the Overlord of Azul but as much as I thought and wrote this one just didn't end up convincing me. I wanted them to EXPERIENCE how Yuu (from this blog) was forged that way, so I remembered that we are in the Diasomnia arc and I said THAT'S IT.

Once I had the scenario it was time to choose the actors.

At first I thought about all the dorm leaders (among them Jamil) but there were too many characters, too much study and not enough sense so I said no. Obviously Sebeck and Silver should be there since this is their arc, and that's how the duo of a neuron came to mind. After all, they met Yuu from the prologue and they are his friends. I removed Grim, Ortho and Idia because I didn't want to make this as long as people's reaction to a tablet, a robot as advanced as Ortho and also magic so I came up with something like Malleus' thing about blocking them to make YUU's dream more REALISTIC and so he wouldn't suspect.

Anyway, I hope you like it and I'll be thinking about more Yuu x other worlds.

[bengiyo]

Peaceful Property: There’s Nothing Noble About Being Poor

Coming off of episode 6 of Peaceful Property, I am feeling some consternation because once again GMMTV has given us a poor character who’d rather be poor than take the money. I’m also frustrated about the baiting of this show, because I don’t like TayNew enough to forgive Home his greed or his cowardice. 

From GMMTV we’ve had Akk having to work his ass off to get to Paris to be with Theo, Mork working his ass off to eventually get back to Day, Sailom not taking money in Dangerous Romance, Sand not taking the money in Only Friends, Kang upending his entire life for Moo in Only Boo! When I looked into stories that seemed to consider the perspective of poor people, only Dark Blue Kiss really seemed to consider the class dynamic of Pete and Kao, and Cooking Crush with Prem taking the needed money. 

This problem isn’t unique to GMMTV, and it’s been something that has annoyed me in global media for decades. We get these kinds of storylines where poor people would rather be poor than take the money of a rich person because rich people fund the media. For them, not taking their money is the harshest punishment they could envision because it’s their primary mechanism for solving problems. However, I come from the Brian Kinney school of thought that “There’s nothing noble about being poor.” On top of that, we know that Pang and Peach have no money, because they’re living in a goddamn bar that Home owns because they have no money. How could they go back to the apartment they got evicted from for lack of payment if this was so? Sure, it’s a TV show, but damn is it annoying that I’m asked to empathize with Home being sad about losing his friends over freaking out about housing security for the people whose lives he ruined.

Now, let’s talk about the lives he ruined. It’s actually so, so much worse that Home was completely sober when he hit Peach and fled the scene. He’s lived a pleasant life this entire time, when he had every reason to believe he killed someone and let his uncle cover it up. I care a lot about the future of cities, and car violence is one of the biggest violent killers of poor people in cities. The fallout of this accident led to Peach’s ongoing terror of ghosts, screwing up badly at work, and his sense of culpability in the death of his mentor. Peach and Pang’s lives are measurably worse because of his injuries, and it baffles me that the show would have Peach take zero compensation from the people who hurt him when he and his sister are struggling. I get Peach being proud in the moment, but I just don’t see a person faced with scarcity of that level choosing to walk away from money that he’s more than owed.

Speaking of Peach, I am so confused by the plotline that has him trusting Home with the food safety of a man he almost killed the last time he worked in a restaurant. It feels like this show just doesn’t take its own violence seriously. The drama of this episode is about Home losing his friends because he wasn’t forthright about the violence he inflicted on them, and they risked Chai-un’s safety to prove that Peach could trust home? Please be serious. They should have tossed out both of those bowls and started over rather than risk that man’s life again. Peach wants to become a chef again, and this is a huge misstep!

I just don’t think I really enjoyed this last episode much at all. I liked seeing Peach not crumble in front of ghosts, but that’s about it. I feel like the show is relying on Newwie’s charm (and TayNew shipping) to have the audience root for his redemption, which I am on the side of Peach wanting nothing to do with that man ever again. He deserves to be angry, and it felt so weird to me that the one lashing out at the end was Home as our focus point. Next week they’re going to be working near each other, and I’m just gonna be irked that once again we have a story about the inherent nobility of poor people who can afford to turn down much needed money to make a rich person sad.

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 24: Return

You're found in the snow. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-23 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Allusion to past SA, result of canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 5.4k 

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Joel!” 

He was so singularly focused on getting to the stable he didn’t even see Maria trekking through the snow toward him. He barely heard her. 

“Joel!” 

He didn’t stop or go to meet her. He just went inside. Ares was gone, he’d been here last night, you’d taken him it had to have been you. 

He cursed himself for not staying outside your door. He should have known that you would leave now, that the pain he’d caused you wouldn’t have stopped you. He should have fucking stayed, should have fucking held onto you even as you tried to shove him away. 

“Joel,” Maria ran into the stable, closing the snow outside. 

“Not the time, Maria,” he said, going to get a saddle from the tack room. 

She ignored him and she stalked over to him, thrusting the bundle she was carrying into his arms. He frowned. It took him a second to realize it was the coat you’d claimed as your own, the one that had been his once. The knife that felt like had been in his stomach since you pushed him away twisted. 

“I don’t know what the fuck happened,” she said. “But she’s gone and…” 

“When did you see her?” He looked up from the coat, ignoring the pinch at the back of his throat. “Did she say where she was goin’?” 

“A few hours ago,” she shook her head. “I should have come to find you sooner but… She seemed so upset, I didn’t think sending you out after her right away was the best thing.” 

“Did she say where she was goin’?” He asked again, even though he knew the answer. He knew. 

“Going after the raiders,” she said. “I don’t know that she’ll find them but…” 

“I’ll find her,” Joel cut her off. “I’m bringing her back, not comin’ back without her.” 

 Joel took Sergeant and started off. You’d left a few hours ahead of him but the tracks you made on Ares were deep enough that they were still visible even through the fresh snowfall, a steady groove in the powder that covered the earth. 

It was miserable, the wind biting and harsh, and Joel found himself worried about you. You’d left the coat. He hoped you’d taken another one, that you were warm at least. He wanted to be able to push his horse faster but the snow was too deep. You were a better rider than him, you and Ares had a unique bond after the extra work he’d required to fully train him. You knew how far you could push him better than Joel did any of the horses. You’d be able to ride harder and faster for longer than he could. 

But when the storm eased in the early hours of the morning after the sun rose, Joel found himself missing it. The howl of the wind and the pressure of the air had been a distraction. Something to focus on besides you, besides the way you looked at him, besides what you must think of him now. Something besides the danger you were in that he hadn’t been there to protect you from. 

Joel kept riding through the day, even though he could feel his horse growing exhausted. He almost felt guilty for not caring. If he couldn’t get to you in time, couldn’t bring you home, what did it matter? 

But, hours after it grew dark, he knew he would need to stop soon. He’d been riding for too long, if he wasn’t careful Sergeant would just collapse under the strain and then he’d never find you. 

He was just considering finding a place to rest for a few hours when he saw it, an unusual shape breaking up the moonlight reflecting off the fallen snow. He frowned and then the darkest part of the shape moved, a long neck and large head lifting from near the ground. 

“Fuck,” Joel jumped off his horse and almost tripped, trying to move through the snow faster than was really safe. He fell to his knees next to you and Ares huffed and nudged Joel’s shoulder. You were covered in blood, your skin so much lighter than he’d ever seen it, your body terrifyingly still. But there was just the lightest fog in front of your lips, the only sign he had that you were still breathing. 

“It’s OK Baby,” he said softly, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I’ve got you, you’re OK. Gonna get you out of here, get you all warmed up, it’s OK.” 

He lifted you as delicately into his body, a small, pained noise slipping from you as he did. Your eyes stayed closed. He just held you against him for a moment, clutching you close, trying to figure out what to do. 

It didn’t seem like he could make it to Jackson like this with you. You were too fragile, you’d at the very least need to get warmed up first, something to stabilize you. But if all this blood was yours, you needed a doctor. Joel couldn’t help you through something this bad on his own, you needed someone who knew what they were doing. 

Ares shifted in the snow, moving his large body so his neck was wrapped around your back and his head went over Joel’s shoulder. He was scared, too. 

“OK Sweetheart,” Joel whispered. “Gonna get you somewhere warm, then we’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.” 

He strapped your pack to Sergeant and set you as delicately as he could on Ares before urging the animal to his feet. Your horse moved gingerly, somehow aware that you were precious cargo and that you needed his protection. Joel patted his neck and Ares huffed at him. 

“I care about her, too,” he said. “We’ll take care of her.” 

Joel tied Sergeant’s reins to Ares’ saddle horn and then mounted up behind you, pulling you back against him. He tucked the front of his coat around you as far as he could reach, the back of your coat cold and wet, before heading off in the direction Joel thought the nearby town was in. 

He was relieved when he was right, stopping at the first house he saw on the outskirts of town that had a chimney. He tied the horses to the front porch and carried your limp body inside, thankful for the little groan you made when he moved you. Pain meant you were alive. He’d take that. 

The house he was in had clearly been raided at some point, furniture overturned, cabinet doors open and hanging off the hinges. But that made them easier to break off and he piled up what he could find quickly in the fireplace before checking to make sure the flue was open. The fire caught quickly and Joel moved the horses into the garage before coming back to check on you. 

With some light and warmth, he was able to figure things out. You’d been stabbed in the shoulder, the wound vicious and jagged. Your clothes were wet with snow and blood and your body was so limp and lifeless that Joel kept checking your pulse or placing his palm on your chest to feel it rise and fall with your breaths. 

He pulled blankets and sleeping bags out of the packs, making sure they were dry before setting them near the fire to warm up. He held his hands near the flames for a moment and looked down at you with a sigh. 

“M’sorry about this,” he said, unzipping your coat, a sickening tightness in his stomach. “But I can’t get you warm in wet clothes, Baby, I gotta take all this off…” 

He tried to look at you as little as he could as he undressed you. In a way, it was almost helpful that you were bloody and limp. It made it easy to see your skin and not think about how much he wanted you. Even if you weren’t hurt, it would have been wrong to look at you that way, wrong because you didn’t want it. 

You’re just like them.

Once you were undressed, he wrapped you in the blankets and set you near the fire before he found an old pot in the kitchen. He went outside and filled it with snow before bringing it inside and setting it over the fire, melting it and warming the water. He cleaned you as best he could and bandaged your shoulder before tending to the horses and hoping that you’d feel warm when he came back inside. But you were still cold, your breaths still shallow, your limbs still limp, your head still lolling lifelessly to the side. 

“No, no, come on, Baby,” his hands ranged over you, trying to see if there was something that he missed. “You can’t die on me out here, not like this, come on…” 

He stripped off his coat and shirt and cast them aside before lying beside you, turning you so your front was pressed against his, your skin cold and clammy on his. He pulled a blanket over the two of you and held you close and hoped that you’d forgive him for this, too. Christ, he needed you to forgive him for all of it. 

He held you until morning and the sun was high and the fire was low, your breath warm and wet and steady against his chest. You were warmer now, your body curving into his instead of listless and empty. But you weren’t waking up. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, pulling a hand out from below the blankets to smooth your hair back. “C’mon, Baby. Time to wake up. Need to get you back to Jackson. Come on now.” 

You didn’t move, your eyelids didn’t even flutter. 

“OK,” he said, more to himself than to you after trying to rouse you for a few minutes. “Let’s see if we can’t get some water in you, see if that helps.” 

Joel built the fire back up and went outside for more snow, checking on the horses again while it melted over the flames. He dressed you in his shirt and sat you up, delicately tipping your head back and trickling the water into your mouth. You instinctively swallowed it, at least. A good sign. Or so he thought, anyway. He didn’t really know. 

He ate what he felt like he could keep down, stomach in too tight of a knot for it to be much at all. He wished he knew what the fuck to do. Was it safe to move you yet? Was it better to stay here with you until your strength was up or better to bring you to Jackson himself and get you to the doctor?

It didn’t help, knowing that you wouldn’t want him with you if you were conscious. It made him question everything. Just a few days ago, back when you trusted him, he could have done this. He would have known that you’d understand, that you’d feel some sense of comfort because he was there for this at all. 

Now, it seemed like everything he did hurt you. You’d left Jackson alone because of him, had broken down because of him. He was trying to help you, protect you, but knew you wouldn’t want his hands on you, wouldn’t trust him to make these choices for you. 

He just didn’t have another option. 

“Tomorrow,” he said as he looked out the window. It was already after noon. Even if you were healthy and able to ride at your normal pace, there was no way you’d be back to town before night fell and there wasn’t much between here and there. There was no guarantee he’d find a place to hole up for the night. “Ride back tomorrow.” 

You were still pale and washed out. He gave you more water and arranged you in front of the fire again, pained little groans coming from you as he did. 

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart,” he said quietly, curling around you again. You unconsciously pressed yourself against him, your face in his chest, and breathed deep. “Sorry I keep… I just keep hurtin’ you and I’m not trying to I just… I never wanted to hurt you. Never.” 

He just held you and let his mind drift. He tried not think about what would happen if he’d chosen wrong. How he’d find a way to live with that failure, too. Instead, he thought of you whole and happy and safe back in Jackson. Playing guitar on his front porch, bouncing William on your leg in the mess hall, cracking a joke with his brother on patrol, teaching Ellie about riding at the stables. He wondered if he could crawl inside a memory like that if he tried hard enough. He’d shoved memories of Sarah away so quickly and fully as soon as she was gone, he hadn’t even tried then. He knew better now. 

Even if he couldn’t really live inside a moment like that, he wondered if he could surround himself in it enough that everything else fell away. In the end, did it really matter? If he drove himself mad with longing but he was so mad that he had what he wanted, did it make a difference? 

He wasn’t sure.

“Joel.” 

Your voice was so soft that, for a moment, he thought he imagined it. But your hand moved to his side, fingers sinking into his skin. 

“Joel…” 

He heard you that time. He pulled back from you enough to see your face. Your eyes were still closed, your face drawn into a tight grimace. But you still seemed out of it. 

“You’re OK,” he said gently, brushing your hair back. But he realized, when his hand touched your forehead, that you were warm. More than warm, you were hot to the touch. He hadn’t noticed it in your body, writing off the heat as a result of the two of you wrapped up together near a fire. But your head hadn’t been under blankets or against him and you were burning up. “Fuck, hang on Baby…” 

“Hurts,” you mumbled, eyes still closed but you tried weakly to pull yourself back against him. 

“What hurts?” He asked, trying to keep his voice calm. What if he’d missed something? What if you were dying here, in his arms, because he’d failed? What if he’d have to hold your body, too? “Can you tell me what hurts?” 

You just groaned a little and tried to burrow closer to him. 

“Hey,” he delicately pulled you back again, the pained look on your face sharper. “Need you to tell me what hurts, OK?” Your frown deepened. He sighed and brushed his thumb over your shoulder, making you whimper. “That what hurts?” 

You just nodded and he pulled the arm that you’d been using as a pillow out from below you earning him another little groan as he nudged you delicately onto your back. He carefully unwound the bandage on your shoulder until the wound was exposed and winced at the sight of it. The skin around it was angry and inflamed, the injury itself swollen and oozing. 

“Fuck,” he swore, glancing up at the window. It was dark. Moving you like this, in a place he didn’t know when he couldn’t see shit, wasn’t safe. “Alright… In the morning. Just… just keep hanging in there, we’re headin’ back in the morning…” 

“Don’t leave me,” you opened your eyes, squinting against the firelight, and reached the hand from your uninjured side out for him. He took it, squeezed it. “Please…” 

“Not…” his voice cracked a little. “Not leaving you. Never leaving you.” 

You nodded ever so slightly and went limp again, leaving him clutching your wrist like a talisman, counting the rhythm of your pulse. It was steady.

Joel didn’t sleep. He kept almost obsessive watch over you, over the rise and fall of your chest, over the temperature of your skin, over the pained expressions that came and went from your features. You didn’t open your eyes again. 

When he couldn’t take it anymore, he roused the horses and got packed to go, the sun not yet rising on the edge of the sky. He counted himself lucky that you were such a horsewoman that you instinctively latched onto a saddle horn when you were put on a horse, even when you were unconscious. He got on Ares behind you and you gave a pained moan when he tugged you gently back against his body, but you turned your head to bury your face in his neck all the same. 

“Just gotta make it to Jackson,” he said, more for himself than for you. “That’s all. Just make it to Jackson, Baby, please make it to Jackson…” 

He pushed the horses. He could hear you in his head, lecturing him about it, about how he wasn’t listening to what they were telling him but he was having a hard time caring. He could see the gates of Jackson when Ares’ legs gave out, collapsing to the earth. Joel clutched onto you as the two of you fell into the snow, the horse’s heavy breaths almost deafening against the eerie silence of the snow. It took Joel a moment to even hear that your breaths were coming sharp and harsh, your body tense, face drawn. 

“Shit,” Joel swore. “Come on, Baby, we’re almost back, almost made it, you’re so close, you’re gonna be OK…” 

He was trying to pull you from the snow and get you up to carry you inside, his heart beating so hard he could feel it against his ribs, when a hand appeared on his back. 

“Joel,” Tommy said, his brother’s eyes ranging over him as he pulled him back from you. “It’s OK. We’ve got her, you got her here, it’s OK. It’s gonna be OK.” 

***

Three weeks later 

“I really don’t know that I’m ready for this,” Olivia frowned as you guided one of the fillies, Splendor, into the pen. She tossed her head and raised her feet high, impatient and eager. 

“Can’t just be me who knows how to break horses,” you said. “Besides, nothing too dangerous yet, just pressure and release exercises. It’s going to be easier with her than it was with the ferals, she’s been around people her whole life. Just need to get her comfortable with touch, pressure…” 

“Right,” Olivia nodded. “I remember the steps, I think.” 

“Good,” you said. “Can’t just assume I’m always gonna be here, you’ve gotta know this, too.” 

You stepped back and watched Olivia start to work with Splendor, catching sight of Ellie in the doorway to the stable. You gave her a smile but she just glared at you. 

You frowned for a moment. 

“You alright for now?” You asked Olivia. She just nodded, not taking her eyes off the horse. “Holler if you need, I’ll be right back…” 

You shoved your hands in the pockets of your new coat - one that actually fit you - and made your way over to Ellie, who was still glaring at you. 

“What’s up, Kid?” You asked. 

“You’re leaving,” she said. She didn’t say it like a question. 

She was right. 

You sighed. 

“Ellie…” 

“I can’t believe…” She shook her head. “You know what? Fuck you.” 

She stomped off, sketch pad tucked under her arm. 

“Ellie!” You called after her. She ignored you. You looked back into the pen for a moment, Olivia looking like she had things with Splendor under control just fine, before jogging to catch up with her. “Ellie…” 

“Fuck you,” she said again, not stopping or slowing down. 

“Kid,” you said, trying to keep your voice gentle. “Things are…”

She stopped in Joel’s yard, turning to face you, her eyes narrowed. 

“If we really don’t mean anything to you, just say that,” she snapped. 

“No,” you shook your head. “No, Ellie, of course you mean something to me, you mean…” 

“Got a fucking funny way of showing it!” She was almost yelling now. “Were you even gonna tell me? Or were you just going to take off in the middle of the night again and act like we wouldn’t fucking notice?” 

That stung. You hadn’t meant to make Ellie feel abandoned when you’d left before, when you’d gone to look for… You just hadn’t been able to think about anything else enough to do something like stop and tell her. Things had been tense between the two of you since you got home. You’d thought it had just been because things had fractured between you and Joel but it seemed like there was more to it than that. 

“Of course I was going to tell you,” you said gently. “You mean the world to me and…” 

“Yeah,” she scoffed. “Apparently not enough for you to stay.” 

You sighed. 

“That doesn’t have anything to do with it…” 

“The fuck it doesn’t!” She snapped. “What, you think I have just… a ton of friends or something? You think I have shit like parents and family? Because I don’t. Until Joel, everyone I ever cared about either left me or died and now you’re doing it to and just fuck you, Bambi.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. You wanted to reach for her but you were worried that would do more harm than good. “I really am and it doesn’t have anything to do with you and…”

“You know, I never had a mom,” she cut you off, shaking her head, not looking directly at you. “Even when I was really little, like a baby and shit. I went straight to the fucking orphanage. And maybe it’s dumb since I’m an adult now but I thought…” 

“Baby Girl,” Joel’s voice appeared behind you, making you jump, the fear of it almost drowning out the ache in you as you thought about Ellie growing up alone. “Why don’t you go inside?” 

“She’s leaving, Joel,” she snapped. “Just gonna fucking leave us here like we’re nothing and…” 

“Inside,” he said again, voice gentle. 

“Joel.” 

“Please, Kiddo,” he said. 

She glared at you again before stomping off to the house, slamming the screen door behind her. You turned slowly to face Joel, your heart pounding as you did. 

He looked the same. Almost the same. His eyes were different, tinged with sadness and regret, and he looked exhausted. Like he hadn’t slept well in a long time. 

You hadn’t seen him since you’d woken up at the clinic weeks earlier. 

It was disorienting. You didn’t remember how you’d gotten there, what had happened after you set down Lacy. All you knew is that you hadn’t found your daughter and that your whole reality seemed to contract to a fine, painful point after that. 

“There you are,” Dr. Palmer smiled at you as you came to. “Welcome back to the land of the living! You were out for about two days after you got back, came down with a nasty infection after a stab wound to the shoulder…” 

“How…” your throat was oddly scratchy. 

“Joel got you back,” she said kindly. “He’s been waiting for you to wake up…” 

Your heart picked up. Joel. Your Joel. The one who told you he was a raider once, that he was just like the men who had hurt you, who had taken you from your child, who said they’d killed her. Joel, the person you’d come to trust more than anyone else, the man you loved more than anything and he was like them. 

“Honey?” The doctor said. You jumped a little and looked at her. “Want to see him? He’s been awful worried about you.” 

You thought for a moment. Did you want to see him? You weren’t sure you could handle it, looking at him and thinking of those men, their hands on you, the way they hurt you. 

But could you not see him? He was the only one here with answers. 

“Can I?” You asked, fingers tightening in your blankets. 

“Course,” she smiled. “He’s been here since he brought you back, he just came and got me when it looked like you were waking up. He insisted on waiting out there. I’ll get him…” 

You tried to keep yourself from panicking, gathering the blankets around yourself as she brought in Joel. 

He looked tired then, too. His hands were in his pockets and he clothes were dirty and he was watching you, cautiously, as the doctor went over something that you couldn’t actually hear. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” she smiled again and closed the door behind her. 

You instinctively shrank back from Joel and a pained look flitted across his face before he tightened his jaw. 

“I’m stayin’ over here,” he said, indicating the other half of the room. “Don’t… don’t be afraid of me. Please. I’m not gonna touch you, OK?” 

You watched him for a moment, not sure if you trusted him. 

But he was Joel. 

“OK.” 

He lowered himself slowly onto the bed across from you, his eyes never leaving yours as he moved. The two of you were quiet for a moment, so quiet you wondered if he could hear how much your heart was pounding.

“Glad to see that you’re awake,” he said eventually. “Been worried…” 

“You brought me back,” you said more than asked. 

He answered anyway. 

“I did.” 

“Shouldn’t have done that.” 

He watched you for a second. 

“You would have died,” he said quietly. 

You squared your jaw. 

“Good,” you said. “Better that way.” 

“No,” he shook his head. “No, it’s not.” 

“Yes, it is.” 

“Bambi…” 

“You were right,” your voice was thick. “You were right, she’s gone, she…” 

“Did you find her?” He asked softly. You just shook your head. You could feel the tears on your cheeks but couldn’t make yourself wipe them away. “Then I wasn’t right. Not yet. And I’m sorry I said it, I was just… I was so scared of losing you. I was so afraid and I just… I’m not right yet. So tell me about her.” 

“What?” You managed. 

“Your daughter,” he said. His eyes looked wet, too. “Tell me about her.” 

You watched him for a moment. Even after everything Joel had told you, everything you knew he was, all you could think about was every time you’d wanted to tell him about her. When he’d told you about Sarah, when you were teaching Ellie how to ride, when you held William for the first time. Everything you’d forced deep into yourself for fear of it shattering you if you even thought it let alone spoke it out loud. 

“Her name is Savannah,” you said quietly. “But I call her Savvy. I didn’t pick her full name, her birth mom did. She gave her to me when she was nine months old. She would be 14 now but she’ll be 15 on July 20…” 

Once you started talking about her, you couldn’t stop, the words falling from you before you could even think about it. You told him how she took to the life the two of you led like a fish to water, she was such a natural at trapping and riding. You told him how she liked to read to her horse, how her hair curled in a different direction at her temples, how your dogs liked her better than you.

You only stopped once you were too tired to go on, body and mind too fragile to keep delving into this dangerous ground. Joel’s hands were clenched tightly on his lap but his eyes were sad and gentle. 

“Sounds like she’s smart,” he said after you were quiet for a moment. “Skilled. She could be out there. She could. You gotta keep going, Bambi. You can’t give up. I know… I know what it feels like but you can’t.”

You looked away from him, a hollow ache in your chest. Part of you wanted so badly to just collapse against him, to feel his arms go around you and hold you together. 

But the rest of you was all but screaming at you to run. He was like them, you couldn’t trust him, he’d lied to you, made you trust him, made you love him. 

“Why did you do it?” You asked, looking back at him. He frowned, confused. You kept going. “Why did you lie to me? Make me think I could trust you? Make me fall for you? Was that… was that part of it for you? Did you like that you could make me feel something for you now when I wouldn’t have before? Or was it just so you could fuck me and make me ask for it instead of taking it?” 

“No,” he said softly. He looked pained, his eyes wet. “No, it was never that, I… I ain’t proud of what I did then. I did it to keep me n’Tommy alive but that’s not an excuse. But I never - never - touched a woman who didn’t want me to. Even then. I’d never do that. I… I wasn’t tryin’ to lie to you, Sweetheart, you have to know that. Please, Baby. Please. Trust me.” 

It was taking everything you had in you to not run from him, not try to force him to leave. 

“I don’t know that I can.” 

You hadn’t seen him since that day. The day you went home from the clinic, you gathered up everything Joel had ever given you - every shirt, the carving, the guitar, the violin - and left it on his porch. The instruments were back on your porch only a few hours later. It didn’t matter. It’s not like you were going to play anything. You spent the next week hardly moving from your bed, the pain of losing your daughter heavy and sharp inside you. 

You’d spent so much time avoiding him, not wanting to try to survive looking at him, not when your mind had traded the faces of the men who wouldn’t touch you with Mitchum with Joel’s in your sleep. Men who thought they were better somehow because they didn’t partake, they just watched you beg and plead and left you to die there. 

“She right?” Joel asked softly. He looked like he was in pain. It seemed like the only times you saw him anymore he was in pain. “You leaving?” 

“I can’t stay here,” you said. “I can’t stay where you are, it’s…” 

“I’ll go,” he said quickly. “I’ll be the one to leave, please don’t go, please. It’s not safe out there and it’s… it’s my fault, I’ll go. Just give me a few days and…” 

“Not going to let you leave your daughter, Joel,” you said quietly. “Your whole family is here, you can’t go. I’ll go.” 

“No,” he said, voice firm now. “You’ll get yourself killed out there…” 

“Not like I’ve got much to live for.” 

“Find somethin’,” he cut you off. “You’ve got Ellie…” 

“She needs you a whole lot more than she needs me,” you replied. 

“Do it for Savvy,” he ignored you. 

“Joel…” 

“We can search for her,” he kept going. But he had your full attention now. “Been talkin’ to Maria… I know you don’t want anything to do with me right now but I’ll keep you safe, help you look. They can let us go for a week or two, once it gets more into spring and we know the snow is done. We can take whatever supplies we need, we can search. Really search. Please. Stay, stay for her. I’ll keep away from you until then, won’t even have to look at me, promise you won’t. Just… just please. Please don’t go. Please.” 

You watched him for a moment. You’d never really had a chance to search for Savvy, not when you didn’t have raiders on your tail. You weren’t sure if you believed that she was alive. But you couldn’t bring yourself to consider the alternative, either. 

“You’ll help me look for her?” You asked. 

“Yes,” he said quickly, nodding. “We’ll look. Please. Stay for her.” 

Your stomach knotted and your chest got tight just being near him. How were you supposed to survive a search with him? 

But you had to try. For Savvy, you’d try anything. 

“OK,” you said. “I’ll stay.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: Yup, that's right. Joel and Bambi are going to go looking for Savvy.

GUESS WE'LL JUST HAVE TO SEE HOW THAT GOES!

Thank you so much for reading, everyone!! It means so much to me that you're here. I know this is a tough arc but I think it's a necessary one for these characters and I think a lot is going to come from it.

Thank you thank you thank you! Love you all!

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[beemochi-art]

Does the Matrix do any fuckery with Prime's mind or body at times? Is the Matrix even sentient?

The matrix unfortunately does create some fuckery in primes life. But not as much as you’d think, it’s more ambitious than straight forward. it’s other… factoids related to it to Op’s deteriorating mental state.

The power of the matrix

The matrix is like the key to primus (cybertrons.) spark (Aw). It creates a deep connection with the holder and the planets core. The Matrix will attach itself to the new Primes spark, where then they will get a unique feelings and a special power. Feeling that come from the matrix is usually a calming sensation, some says it’s like a powerful fire, other primes reports an endless supply of energy. It depends on the person I guess. In Orions case, the sensation he got from the matrix was calming and gentle, the feeling of absolute comfort. He ended up sleeping. (Of course he woke up depressed but that an thing Orion probably.)

But in dire circumstances the Matrix will let’s out extreme burst of energy that can cause the older to become feral and incredible violent. This is pretty rare but as of recent times Primes have made it a focus of their training to harness this power.

Not only that, but the planet as well as it’s creatures seem to bend to the will of primes. The surface of cybertron is always shifting. At times the environment will change for the prime, and other times it falls completely still. Some primes have the ability to connect with some of the most dangerous creatures on the planet. It works in mysterious ways but will never be completely tamed.

It also connects all the primes to each other, both dead and alive.

A prime doesn’t have to actually die to have the matrix passed to another. If a Prime were to die and just anyone pick it up and tried to use it, the matrix is a glorified paperweight. No one really understands how the matrix chooses and when it leaves. How long all this is or anything for that matter. It’s a mystery. It is said to come at dark times.

Even tho the Matrix is gone from the holder the bond formed with planet and past/present primes will never go away. Leading a curtain level of entitlement.

The point is the matrix never had any specific rules of in place except a description that reads till all are one. The matrix isn’t inherently a good or bad object either. It chose both sentinel and zeta at one point, but it also chose Optimus.

Right of passage

Any Rules and Rituals set in place have all been written by past primes. Shuttle interpretations her and there over millions of years just became law.

In cybertron society to be Prime is to be the emperor of the whole planet. It is the highest class system you can on cybertron. But a prime must prove themselves worthy to the people first.

One of Sentinels lessons was, if you can conquer primus creatures you can conquer her people.

So he’ll take his knights to Uraya for a lil field trip. The idea is to find the biggest baddest creature and tame it. Normally these trips are unserious and unsuccessful. But when he took Orion he was completely serious.

Conquering different cities and cultures being the main focus of most of a primes training. A prime cannot be a stranger to killing.

A prime is supposed to be a representation of cybertrons strength and strike fear to their lessers. So before they are presented to the public modifications must be made to not break this belief. Optimus is heavily modified. Most of him was reconstructed.

Older primes will share parts of themselves with the new prime. Allowing them to have pieces of their own frame. Optimus eyes are not his.

By the time a prime has been presented to the public, they have killed, dominated and changed into something else entirely. Leaving their old weaker self behind.

In Optimus quest to become strong he realized he lost his way. He never really committed to being as horrible as Sentinel classest and a complete psychopath. But he has killed.

(I really didn’t do some of these rules in order but oh well!)

[ps-cactus]

My MC-related posts

Screenshots collection

Memes collection

Fanfiction (short stories, oneshots)

#Amberlyn Salters #Amberlyn x Ominis

Introduction post - small and big facts about past, present and future

Q&As: partner, backstory, drunk MC, modern MC, biggest heartbreak, most traumatic thing, ancient magic, MC inspo, opinion on keepers, unforgivables, turning in seb, Biggest regret, accomplishments, ancient magic headcanons - ted talk, hair explained, coffee shop AU

Art: by thursdaymoonrise11, by ladyofsappho, by myokk

Hanging out with 💖MCs💖: #Alyn and friends

Mostly I take pictures of:

「 ✦ Amberlyn (MC) ✦ 」

「 ✦ Ominis Gaunt ✦ 」

「 ✦ Sebastian Sallow ✦ 」

But also have a bit of:

[ Poppy Sweeting ] [ Garreth Weasley ]

[ Natsai Onai ] [ Leander Prewett ]

[ Imelda Reyes ] [ Sebinis ]

curious vfx: focus potion, lumos, draft revelio

🌈 series: Seb, Omi, Natty, Leander, Amit, Imelda

tag me if you use any of these ⬆️ 🫶

Sebastian and/or Ominis

Other memes

Crossovers: HL x BG3, x Friends with Ominis

🔳 Oneshots:

ROOTED – Sebastian Sallow & GN!Reader & Ominis Gaunt

Summary: You died. Here is what happens after a short while.

tags and warnings: no smut, no obvious romance, however - established relationship, unreliable narrator, haunting atmosphere, mystery, dark magic, death and resurrection, identity loss and confusion, obsession, (a bit of) predatory instincts, survival instincts, blood, symbolism

🔲 Post canon SFW stories about my MC and other canon and original characters, covering 6th and 7th years at Hogwarts. Adventures, magic theories, first love (f!MCxOminis). You don't need to read them in this order, so I don't give them numbers. But the chronology is as follows:

Darkness Comes At Dawn aka DCAD - completed - AO3, Wattpad - 46k words

Some other tags: Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Flirting, Post-Canon, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Falling In Love, Friendship, Secret Crush, Friendship/Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Build, Sebastian and Anne are not at school Summary: Amberlyn and Sebastian's last conversation ended in bitter anger, leaving them estranged and unable to stand each other. However, she didn't expect "never seeing you again" to truly mean forever. As she begins a new year at Hogwarts, after an utterly awful summer thanks to the Ministry, Alyn discovers something beyond solace in the supportive yet cautious Ominis, feeling a building affection. Or does her anxiety make her imagine things? At the same time, some disturbing rumours and Sebastian's sudden appearance pull three of them (and many others) into dealing with an alarmingly unique form of ancient magic.

Shades Of Siver Lining - WIP, ao3, wattpad my estimate is 11 chapters, ~35k words

I cover and explain all important points from DCAD so you don't have to read it before this one.

Other tags: Adventure & Romance, Slow Romance, Teen Romance, Teen Angst, Eventual Fluff, Protective Ominis Gaunt, Good Friend Sebastian Sallow, Mental Health Issues, traumatized teens, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Room of Requirement (Harry Potter), Legends and Myths, Ancient Magic (Hogwarts Legacy), First weeks dating, Gaunt Family - Freeform, Sebastian and Anne are not at school

Summary: The new term was supposed to be much better for Alyn: Sebastian is no longer in danger, her relationship with Ominis is growing comfortably clear, and she’s learning to control the strange ancient magic within her. But new and old threats are closing in again. What forces are truly at play, threatening to shatter her fragile remains of peace? Is it Sebastian's latest dangerous research, or Aurors still investigating her magic, or even Ominis, who is ready to even face his painful past to protect the girl who means more to him with each passing day?

Nightmares Wide Awake (working title) - WIP, drafts stage

My take on why MC would be mentioned in all archives as "Unknown student 1890". Some events during MC's seventh year, the year Hogwarts was suddenly on the brink of closure.

[n1ght0f-nyx]

Silent Nights- kyle 'gaz' garrick x gn! reader tags/warnings- no warnings, kyle comes home from serving, reader is a civilian, kinda bittersweet word count- 809 words

The world outside was quiet, a rare moment of peace in a life that was anything but. I stood by the window, gazing out at the empty street below. The soft glow of the streetlights bathed everything in a gentle, amber hue, and for a moment, it almost felt like a different world—one where the constant hum of danger didn't lurk just around the corner.

But even in the silence, my mind couldn’t rest. I knew he was coming home tonight, and the anticipation was a double-edged sword. Relief, yes, but also worry. He always came back with new scars—some visible, others not.

I turned away from the window, wrapping my arms around myself as I walked over to the couch. The apartment felt too big, too empty without him. I settled onto the cushions, trying to focus on the TV, but the show playing felt distant, like it belonged to someone else’s life. My thoughts drifted back to Kyle—Gaz, as everyone else called him. But to me, he was always just Kyle.

The front door clicked, and my heart jumped into my throat. I stood up before I even realized what I was doing, moving towards the door with quick, anxious steps. It opened slowly, and there he was, standing in the doorway, looking as exhausted as ever. His dark eyes met mine, and for a second, neither of us moved.

“Kyle,” I whispered, my voice breaking the stillness between us.

He smiled, that tired, but genuine smile that made my heart ache with both love and concern. “Hey, love.”

I rushed over, wrapping my arms around him, feeling the familiar warmth of his body against mine. He held me just as tightly, and for a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. There was only us, in this small apartment, in this fleeting moment of safety.

“You’re home,” I murmured into his chest, breathing in his scent—smoke, gunpowder, and something uniquely him.

“I’m home,” he echoed, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Missed you so much.”

I pulled back slightly, looking up at him. His face was shadowed with stubble, and there was a new cut along his jaw, still red and angry. I traced it gently with my fingertips, my heart clenching at the thought of what he’d been through.

“Another souvenir?” I tried to joke, but my voice wavered, it was terrifying to think about what he went through, knowing that everytime he left again, there was a chance he wouldn't come back.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he replied softly, covering my hand with his, he always tried to act nonchalant about work, always staying humble when it came to the wounds that littered his body “It’s just good to be back.”

I guided him to the couch, urging him to sit down. He sank into the cushions with a groan, and I sat beside him, my legs tucked under me as I studied his face. He looked exhausted, but there was a softness in his eyes when he looked at me—a tenderness that he rarely let others see.

“Have you eaten?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

He shook his head. “Didn’t have much of an appetite.”

I sighed, standing up. “I’ll make you something.”

Kyle grabbed my hand, pulling me back down beside him. “Stay. We’ll eat later.”

I hesitated, but the look in his eyes made me relent. I leaned against him, resting my head on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around me. We sat like that for a long time, the TV murmuring in the background, but neither of us really paying attention.

Eventually, Kyle broke the silence. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I looked up at him, surprised by the raw honesty in his voice. “You don’t have to find out,” I whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes searched mine, as if looking for reassurance, and I gave him a small, but firm nod. “I’m right here, Kyle. Always.”

He leaned in, capturing my lips in a slow, tender kiss. It was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid I might break. But I kissed him back just as softly, letting him know without words that I wasn’t fragile—that I was here for him, no matter what.

When we finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “I love you,” he whispered, the words so quiet that they were almost lost in the space between us.

“I love you too,” I replied, my heart swelling with the truth of it. “More than anything.”

We stayed like that for the rest of the night, wrapped up in each other, letting the outside world fade away. In those quiet moments, I could almost believe that everything was going to be okay.

[k-s-morgan]

Hello! Could you please talk about Bedelia’s feelings regarding hannibal and her dynamic with him? it’s not just professional curiosity and we know she has some darkness but not like him or Will. So why is she so invested in hannibal? Going willingly with him to Europe, presumably sleeping with him and even goading him into killing and eating Will. She had already skipped town once and acknowledge he was dangerous, so why not stay as far away as possible?

Hi - sure!

I think Bedelia has a very high self-esteem and a painfully strong sense of curiosity, plus some darkness that she prefers to keep dormant. She always knew that Hannibal is dangerous, but she still continued therapy with him, genuinely trying to understand him, too fascinated to back off. She says she tried to refer him to another doctor, but based on their interactions, she truly enjoys sessions with him, likely because she feels in control. In S1, when Hannibal reaches out, she backs away, never letting him close but keeping him interested enough to keep him coming to see her. It's like she's playing a game of her own, getting to know this unique man in a person suit, understanding she's the only one he can more or less confide in, and enjoying her power. But the balance begins to shift when Will appears and when Bedelia realizes she underestimated the depth of Hannibal's depravity. Hannibal is focused on Will entirely now, he doesn't need Bedelia all that much, and she doesn't like it because losing Hannibal's interest means becoming disposable. As she sees more and more of the real Hannibal, she freaks out and runs.

Another shift comes when she sees him after Mizumono and agrees to escape with him. Bedelia thinks she holds control again: Will is gone, Hannibal is a wreck who desperately needs council, and she feels confident about her own importance. Hannibal tells her, "I never found you to be lacking," which she likely takes as a certainty that she's never been disposable, after all. In that shower scene, it's obvious how she gradually relaxes and becomes lazily arrogant. She thinks she can step forward now, getting to know Hannibal even better, behind the veil, being the one who'll gather the pieces of him, and also satisfying her curiosity along with a morbid and mostly latent fascination with darkness, as well as basking in knowledge that someone as dangerous and unique as Hannibal needs her.

All these motivations are gone as soon as she understands that Hannibal is not only not over Will but that he's also casually planning to kill her (in E1 of S3). She didn't expect it, based on her reaction, at least not this soon. That's where Bedelia starts another game with the aim to survive. Trying to get Hannibal to focus entirely on Will is the strategy she considers winning because Will is the only thing she can genuinely distract him with from his plans about her. If Hannibal is busy hunting Will, probably killing him and then destroying himself over it, she will have more chances of escaping to safety unnoticed.

Here is another post about Bedelia and her dynamic with Hannibal that you might be interested in. It focuses more on S3.

[icedteaandoldlace]

36 + Barry and Cisco! Either as a ship or friendship is fine by me

36: “I’ll do anything. Anything at all. Just let my friend go.” (from this list)

Here it is, hot off the Google Doc: one angst loaded prompt fill, with an extra side of "ow" just for you. 💝

Links for AO3 and FFN.

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This Can't Be How It Ends

Cisco really didn’t need any help having a terrible year. Losing Dante was already the hardest thing he had ever had to go through, and that alone was enough to upend his entire world, leaving him feeling hollow and incomplete as he struggled to process how someone who had been a part of his life since the day he was born could be gone forever. He would still be just barely holding it together if that was the only problem he had to face right now, but while Dante’s death was certainly the worst of his current troubles, it was also only the first thing on a growing list of reasons why he felt like his life was falling apart. His powers were getting stronger, for one, and developing new uses for him to explore—which should have been exciting (and to a degree, it was), but it was hard to focus on the positive aspects when the whole experience was inundated with its own unique and very unpleasant set of growing pains; more unwanted visions, more headaches, more nosebleeds, and more fear of what becoming too powerful might do to him. Especially with grief making him more irritable and impairing his sense of humor, he feared he was at an even greater risk of losing control of himself than before.

The icing on the very crappy cake that was Cisco’s 2016 had been learning about Flashpoint, and then dealing with all the fallout that had come from that. Now he got to worry about his best friend as she fought off her own powers, and with them a dark side that had emerged within her and was trying to take her over like a cancer; only instead of killing her, its intent was to turn her evil. And as for his other, former best friend…well, he was the reason that Dante was dead and Caitlin was struggling in the first place. And thanks to an arrangement Cisco had agreed to before he’d known the full story, he was also his roommate—which meant that he was virtually unavoidable, given that they both worked and lived together now.

Cisco had gotten past his previous beef with Barry, and he understood now that trifling with time was loaded with risks that were too dangerous to take. He also understood that healing through grief wasn’t attained by rejecting the reality of the loss, but by learning how to embrace his memories for what they were, and to be open to a future that was different than the one he had imagined. He didn’t expect Barry to change the timeline for him anymore; he knew that that was asking too much, and he didn’t harbor any resentment toward him for refusing. But getting Dante killed in the first place—not even telling Cisco that he’d been the one responsible—and then acting like it was no big deal, and like all it would take was an apology to make everything okay again? That was too much for Cisco to forgive. He didn’t seem to even care that he had made Cisco’s worst nightmare a reality, or that he would be missing Dante and regretting letting their relationship deteriorate for the rest of his life. Now not only had Cisco lost his brother, but he had lost his friend and his confidant and his hero as well. The person he should have been able to lean on when he was at his lowest was instead the person who had put him there.

So Cisco really had enough to deal with right now without anyone else coming in and adding more turbulence to his life. As his luck would have it, someone did, anyway.

It would have to be a break-in in the middle of the night, and it would have to be when Barry was the only other person around, and the last person Cisco wanted to be handling a break-in with. Yet here they were, crouched in the hallway outside Cisco’s bedroom, following the sound of someone rooting around in his kitchen.

Barry reached the doorway to the kitchen first, and he peered around the edge cautiously, while Cisco hovered right behind him, both grateful and annoyed that Barry had taken the lead on this mission. He definitely didn’t want to be the one to come face to face with the intruder first, but the thought of having to wait until a fight broke out to see what they were up against was not a desirable position to be in, either.

A moment later, Barry drew back, turning slowly to Cisco and motioning to him to stay where he was. Then, facing forward again, he took a deep breath, and in an instant, his presence beside Cisco was replaced with a sudden breeze, a streak of yellow light trailing in his wake. There was a sound of rapid whooshing in the other room, and intermittent flashes of speedster lightning coloring the walls���until a crash somewhere in the kitchen brought it all to a stop.

Cisco tentatively inched forward, checking to see if Barry needed his help or if he had been the victor in the fight—and then he jerked back immediately when the whole room became flooded in light.

A familiar female voice laughed as the sounds of Barry groaning and an upset chair rocking against the floor reached Cisco’s ears, and he slowly leaned forward again to see what was going on.

Barry grabbed hold of Cisco’s countertop as he pulled himself to his feet, and a look of bewilderment crossed his face as his assailant came into view.

“Trajectory?” Barry let out in disbelief.

“In the flesh once again,” Trajectory returned with a satisfied flourish at herself. “And you still can’t keep up with me, Drag.”

Barry shook his head, still looking a little thrown. “But you—you died,” he stammered confusedly. “That’s how we discovered that Velocity—”

“Uh, wrong,” Trajectory snapped over him, still smiling, but shooting daggers at Barry with her eyes. “You put me in Iron Heights after I poisoned your little friend. Remember?”

Barry’s eyes narrowed in puzzlement, and then they shifted to the side as he visibly tried to make sense of what he was hearing.

Oh god, Cisco thought, realization dawning on him. This was another thing Barry had changed in Flashpoint. His memories were all remainders from an earlier timeline.

Trajectory had almost died, running into a wall at S.T.A.R. Labs and knocking herself unconscious after taking a dose of Velocity 9 that Harry had willfully made too strong. And short though that run had been, it had taught Team Flash that Velocity 9 was what caused speedsters to have blue lightning. That had to be what Barry was talking about; her head injury must have been fatal in the original timeline.

“Okay, but you’re out now,” Barry said in a measured tone, eyeing Trajectory cautiously. “And you have speed again. How’d you manage that?”

Trajectory smirked. “Paid a little visit to your lab again after my release. Yeah, that’s right,” she added before Barry could ask, “They let me out on a technicality. Gotta love seeing our justice system hard at work. And you know, I’m not the only person you put in there that has unfinished business. Does the name Edward Clariss ring a bell?”

Cisco swallowed, fighting back the memory of the speedster that he and Barry had so recently taken down together. It had seemed so great at the time, working together as partners in the field, playing off each other’s strengths to stop a criminal who would have been too much for either of them to take on on their own. He wished working with Barry still felt cool and satisfying like that. Now it was a chore just to get through the day with him by his side.

Something that looked like sadness briefly crossed Barry’s face, but he kept his focus on Trajectory and just shrugged. “What about him?”

“Even in the women’s wing, word travels about what goes on on the men’s side,” Trajectory continued. “And before Clariss died, he had rambled to one of the guards that the Flash had taken a better life away from him—with time travel.” She shrugged. “Everyone else brushed it off as insanity, but I’m smart enough to know that speed is the key component in every credible theory on how to make time travel possible. And now I wanna know how you figured it out.”

Barry shook his head. “Eliza, time travel is dangerous,” he started.

“Trajectory,” she corrected testily. “And don’t think your noble hero act is gonna convince me you’re not just gatekeeping this ability for yourself, just like you did with the V9.”

“No, no, it’s not like that,” Barry explained. “I don’t even use Velocity 9—and I don’t time travel anymore, either. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Oh, Flash,” Trajectory chuckled. “I’m not asking for anything.”

Cisco frowned. That sounded like a threat. He drew a slow, silent breath, and kept his eyes fixed on Trajectory as he waited for her to either continue speaking or make a move on Barry. If she was going to attack him, he would have to move fast if he wanted to block her from hurting him.

All of a sudden, Trajectory was standing right in front of Cisco and looking him dead in the eyes, and he jumped back in fright. She had moved faster than he could even blink, and now he had nowhere to hide. It felt like a moment taken straight out of a horror movie, complete with the creepy, malicious grin she was giving him right now.

Everything that happened next was too fast for Cisco to process. One second he was standing face to face with Trajectory in the hallway, the next he was on the floor in the living room, his arms behind his back and the omnipresent vibrations around him now undetectable. A pair of hands grabbed him and drew him up to his knees, and it was then that he saw that his TV and multiple shelves had been knocked over, his whole apartment in disarray from what looked like a knock-down drag-out that he had never heard happen. Barry was once again on the ground, this time under a pile of broken model spaceships, and he was clutching his head in pain as he tried to reorient himself.

Cisco registered that it was Trajectory holding on to him now, and he tried moving his arms to get her to let go of him, but they wouldn’t budge. Something was fastened around his wrists, fettering them together.

Of course. Cisco rolled his eyes in frustration. She had found his spare power dampening cuffs that he kept in his junk drawer. Lovely.

The matter of not being able to move his arms quickly became a lesser concern, however, when she curled one arm tightly around his neck, and pressed her opposite hand against his head, forcing his neck into a tense, rigid position.

“You even try to fight back, you’re dead,” she snarled directly into Cisco’s ear.

Cisco remained completely still, taking his breaths slowly and deeply in an effort to keep calm.

Barry looked up at the sound of the threat, and he scrambled to his feet, nearly falling again as he stumbled over half a model X-wing and the now-smashed Millennium Falcon. “Eliza, don’t!” he exclaimed, starting forward.

“One step toward me and your friend dies!” Trajectory snapped, compelling Barry into freezing where he stood. “Get. Back,” she commanded then, and Barry obeyed, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Okay,” Barry said slowly. “Okay, I’m not gonna fight you anymore. Just let him go. He has nothing to do with this, alright? This is between you and me.”

“He has everything to do with this,” Trajectory retorted. “Because he’s the reason you’re gonna tell me exactly what I need to know. You teach me how to time travel and I let him live, that’s the deal.”

“Eliza,” Barry started again, a desperate look in his eyes. “Eliza, you don’t know what I know. You could end up destroying your life if you start changing time. Altering just one moment is all it takes to irreversibly screw up everything.”

Trajectory hummed boredly. “Sounds like you want him dead,” she said, and made a loose twisting motion that made Cisco’s stomach drop.

“No, wait, wait, wait!” Barry cried.

Cisco breathed in shakily as his heart began to pound. She was gonna kill him. She didn’t have the patience to deal with Barry’s attempts to talk her down, and there was no way Barry was giving another evil speedster the ability to toy with the timeline. Cisco’s life was about to end before he had the chance to see it get better.

“I’m trying to protect you here,” Barry continued.

Trajectory snorted.

“No, I mean it!” Barry said desperately. “Just hear me out, I can explain everything!”

“Yeah, you know, I’m not really interested in some big speech about speedstering responsibly,” Trajectory said. “I just robbed a big mall before I got here, and security cams will’ve caught the lightning, and y’know, if I could go back to before that moment, I’d still have all the money I took without any evidence that could send me back to prison. So if you could spare me the lecture and just skip to the part where you give me what I want, I can be on my merry way without having to snap this guy’s neck.”

Cisco honestly didn’t know which would be worse—Barry standing his ground and letting her kill him on principle of protecting the timeline, or actually breaking his own no-changing-time rule for him and making an even bigger mess of things by creating a Reverse Flash 2.0. Not that he actually expected him to care enough to do the latter; saving his life couldn’t be worth the risk it would pose to everyone else’s, especially the people he loved.

“I’m not trying to lecture you,” Barry said, “and I’ll help you any way that I can, honestly—but I’m serious, it’s not a good idea. You could die if you try to time travel.”

“And how’s that?” Trajectory asked. She gave Cisco’s head a slight push, straining the muscles in his neck uncomfortably, and he began to tremble involuntarily as the threat of death loomed ever nearer. “Better make your argument good, and you better make it fast.”

Barry nodded, breathing heavily as he hurried to make his case. “I have powers because I’m a metahuman,” he explained. “My speed comes from an organic source, so my body’s equipped to handle running at high speeds. Your speed comes from Velocity 9—you’re putting something into your body that makes you a speedster temporarily, but you have no natural defense against the force you’d be running against in a wormhole—which you would have to do if you were traveling through time.”

“Except the V9 gives me speed healing,” Trajectory rebutted, “so anything that happens to me in a wormhole would be quickly reversed.”

“Theoretically, maybe,” said Barry, “but at the speed you would have to reach to open the wormhole in the first place—”

“Blah, blah, blah—Caity already gave me the ‘don’t do speed drugs’ talk, and I didn’t buy that any more than I’m buying this. The V hasn’t made me sick or weak any of the times I’ve used it, it just makes me powerful, and if you think you’re gonna convince me that if I run too fast—”

“Damn it, Eliza, I ruined Cisco’s life!” Barry shouted, startling Trajectory into silence, and nearly making Cisco’s heart stop.

This was the first time he had acknowledged the damage he’d done. He had tried to apologize once—in a tired, halfhearted sort of way, right after Caitlin had outed his secret about Dante’s death. And then he had asked Cisco if their relationship would be okay later, and passively walked away when Cisco told him that he wasn’t sure. But he had never once given any indication that he grasped the full weight of what he had done, or that what Cisco was going through had any effect on him at all.

“I went back in time to save someone that I love,” Barry continued in a rush. “My parents—I created a timeline where they never died, and I thought that meant that everything would be okay—but I was wrong. I lost my brother in that timeline, and other people that I love lost him, too, and my friends didn’t even know who I was. So I changed it back—I thought I could fix everything, but I just ended up screwing up everyone’s lives even more, and it’s impossible to reset things to the way they were before. Every time I change time to try to save one person, I risk losing everyone else in my life, and I can’t—I can’t keep doing that. My last stunt cost me my best friend, and now he’s the one having to go through life without his brother—something I couldn’t handle going through even for one day—and if I try to use time travel to fix things, he may not even be alive next time, and I’d rather have him hate me forever than never get to see him again. I am stuck in this horrible paradox where I want to go back in time and undo all the pain I’ve caused him, but I can’t, because trying to fix things with time travel is how I hurt him in the first place. So trust me, you don’t know what you’re asking for. Even if you manage to survive the initial journey to the past—and there’s a very real chance that you won’t—it’s not worth risking everything else in your life and the entire rest of the world, just to change one thing that didn’t go your way!”

Cisco bit down on his lips and blinked back tears as his heart pounded in his chest. All this time, he’d thought that Barry simply didn’t understand or care how his actions had affected him. And here it looked like the Barry that he’d thought was his friend might still exist after all—but it was too late for it to matter now. Because he had just unwittingly shown his whole hand.

“So, just so we’re clear,” Trajectory drawled, “you’re definitely not teaching me how to time travel? Because if that’s the case, then there’s no reason for me to stand around and keep your friend alive—”

Barry’s eyes widened. “No, stop, I’LL DO IT!”

He was lying—he had to be. Even if he did care about Cisco, he had already made his stance clear, and there was no use trying to backpedal now.

“I don’t believe you,” said Trajectory. “You’re just bluffing so you can stall some more, and I’m not gonna waste another—”

“No, I’m not! Really! I’ll do anything. Anything at all. Just let my friend go.” Barry’s breath caught, and he was on the verge of tears himself now. “Please—please. I’ll show you how to time travel, I swear, I will. Just please don’t hurt him. I couldn’t stand to lose him forever. He’s too important to me.”

There was a pause as Trajectory seemed to consider his offer.

Cisco’s jaw clenched anxiously, and he locked his eyes on Barry’s, silently pleading for him to have a plan. They could not let another evil speedster learn to time travel. But even so, he wasn’t ready to die.

Please. Please get us out of this. Please be the hero I want you to be.

“Okay,” Trajectory said smoothly after a little while. “If you really mean it, then let’s do this. But first you gotta say the magic word.”

Barry just stared at her in confusion for a moment, then he tried hesitantly, “Please?”

“Wrong,” said Trajectory. “Panda.”

Barry looked even more confused at that, and Cisco was right there with him.

“Go back in time to the exact moment I knocked you into that shelf,” Trajectory explained, “say ‘panda’, and I’ll know you’re a man of your word, and we can go somewhere else, you can teach me how to time travel, and your sad little friend will never have to get mixed up in this. You have three seconds after I say it to change the timeline, or no deal. Panda.”

The panic on Barry’s face was clear, and Cisco swallowed back a sob as it sank in that Trajectory had won. Barry had never intended to let the timeline change again, and now that she’d proven it, she had no reason to bargain with him any further.

“I—wait,” Barry stammered desperately. “How do I know that—”

“Too slow,” said Trajectory.

And then she did it. For one horrible second, Cisco was in excruciating pain as his neck jerked in an unnatural direction, and he had just enough time to hear Barry scream out his name in anguish, only picking up the first syllable, before he lost consciousness. If there was any more to Barry’s reaction than that, Cisco didn’t live long enough to see it.

-

Cisco’s whole body seized up as he awoke with a gasp, shivering uncontrollably as one form of darkness was replaced with another. He continued to take his breaths in heaves as the shape of his bedroom door appeared before his eyes, and he started to pull himself into a sitting position, instinctively reaching up one hand to feel his neck—which was straight and unbroken, and not in any pain.

“Hey—hey, hey, hey,” a gentle voice came through the darkness as two hands lightly took his shoulders. “It’s alright. You’re okay.”

Cisco blinked, and the glaze over his eyes cleared up and he could make out Barry’s features hovering in front of him. He could also make out the other shapes in his bedroom, and he quickly looked around in a panic. “H-how am I—where did she—?”

“It’s okay, Trajectory’s not here,” Barry soothed. “It was just a dream. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Cisco deflated with relief as his words sank in. Just a dream. Just another dime-a-dozen nightmare from all the stress and sorrow that had persistently overwhelmed him for the last few months. Exhaling a heavy sigh, he dropped his head into his hands as adrenaline beset his whole body with tremors. He was alive. He wasn’t in any danger. He was okay. It was just a dream.

He could feel Barry still gripping his shoulders in a familiar, protective way, and massaging them soothingly with his thumbs. The instinctive urge to lean forward and let himself be enveloped in a warm Barry-hug nearly took him over, as he wanted to be held and comforted as the residual fear from the nightmare faded away. But as his memory of the dream began to fog over, his view of reality became clearer, and a heavy feeling settled in his chest. If dying had been a dream, then so had everything Barry had said just beforehand. From the speech about regretting changing Cisco’s life, to the way he had begged Eliza to let him go, insisting that he couldn’t lose him…

With a shudder of resistance, Cisco wrenched himself out of Barry’s grasp and slid away from him. None of it had been real. He wasn’t really that important to him, and Barry didn’t really care how deeply he had hurt him; he had just been saying what Cisco had wanted him to say because he’d been a figment of his unconscious imagination.

“Cisco?” Barry said in a soft, hesitant voice.

Cisco hugged his arms to his chest, turning away from Barry and forcing back the tears forming behind his eyes. Nothing in reality had changed; Dante was still dead, Barry was still acting like everything was normal, and everything still hurt, and Cisco was never going to get the friendship he had thought he’d had with Barry back. They were still just coworkers temporarily sharing an apartment, nothing more.

“Hey, man—” Barry reached out a hand to touch Cisco’s shoulder again, but Cisco promptly shrugged it off.

“Can you please just leave me alone?” Cisco said shakily, his voice coming out more fragile than he would have liked.

There was a pause. For a good while, neither one of them said anything. Then finally, Barry answered quietly, “Yeah, alright.” And he left it at that.

He then began to make his way back to his side of the room, and Cisco swallowed another upsurge of emotion as Barry once again gave in too easily. It was what Cisco had asked him to do, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt that he wouldn’t even try to object.

Cisco honestly didn’t know what he even wanted from him at this point. Maybe he really did want to be left alone, or maybe he wanted Barry to try to fight him a little, because then at least he wouldn’t feel like he meant nothing to him. As it was, Barry was always more interested in assuaging his own guilt than he was in really being Cisco’s friend, and even though it hurt to be around him right now, it hurt even more being abandoned. Though on the upside, at least leaving him to grapple with his late night demons alone wasn’t as bad as letting him die.

Cisco let out a small, bitter huff of a laugh with no humor in it. That was one thing about the dream that had been accurate at least; no way would Barry ever put saving Cisco above protecting the timeline. His priorities had been made clear, and his friendship with Cisco was not one of them. He had covered up the truth about Dante’s death, he let himself be pushed away, and he never made any effort at all to try to mend things between them. He just didn’t care.

As Barry settled again onto the couch at the end of the room, Cisco curled up under his blankets, and tried to calm himself enough to be able to sleep again. His mind was full and his heart was heavy, and he could only hope that he wouldn’t fall victim to any more nightmares tonight; the first one had left him rattled enough already.

If only he weren’t so tired and if only he weren’t so distraught, it might have occurred to him to question how Barry knew that his nightmare had been about Trajectory.

[bubuli-3110]

You are filling my Deidara neeeeeds.

Modern AU fluff with Deidara and a fem reader, he's a gang member with a soft spot for the pastel girl whose shop is under their protection.

Sorry this took forever dear but here you go~!

Pop Art

Deidara x Fem! Reader

HC: fluffy gang member Deidara would do anything to protect and spoil the cute pastel girl his happened upon by chance. CW: SFW, Some Language. Requests are: Open (JJBA, JJK, AOT, KNY, and N (Akatsuki Only)) Find my rules here.

Deidara and the rest of his gang took their usual patrols of their turf splitting up as per usual into pairs. He was only slightly annoyed by his new partner Tobi. possessing a totally different personality than the prideful artist.

On night patrol he heard the sounds of a struggle down one of the allies. Normally he would pay no heed to others, but when he noticed the brightly pastel dress girl being pursued by a strange man, clearly begging for help. his body seemed to move on its own.

After thoroughly beating the ever living breath the stranger, he kneeled down to the girl sitting in the ally and examined her slowly, checking for injuries.

"That asshole didn't hurt you, did he? hm?"

He cupped her chin gently and wiped her tears away with his thumb. his voice firm and fingers callused, but his eyes were soft and filled with worry.

"Don't worry m'kay? I won't let anyone lay a hand on you."

After the incident that took place behind Y/N's bakery, you received regular visits from your savior. He was quiet and not very talkative at first. Y/N was able to tell right away that he was a gang member without having to ask. The constant appearance of new injuries, and the way he dressed gave it away.

Y/N appreciated Deidara's concern and found him interesting more than anything.  She was able to talk to him a lot more calmly after discovering his passion for art. She noticed his intense focus on her as slowly created and decorated unique cookies, cakes, and anything else her customers requested.

He slowly started to open up to Y/N, sharing his ideas of art, helping her with new ideas, the two of them growing ever closer. Y/N's respect and feelings for him are also growing.

Deidara also loved Y/N color palette, though his own mostly consisted of darks and blacks, Y/N's palette was that of bright pastel's matching her sunny and soft personality.

"That's so creative Y/N. I'm sure your customers will love them." He'd say, unable to suppress his smile. You loved to hear his praises.

Y/N no longer felt unsafe at night or any other time for that matter. She could notice the other men who bore the same red cloud symbol on their jackets as Deidara keeping things in check around your area.

Though he'd never show it in front of his other member's or Tobi, He cherished Y/N very much. The other members also indulge in his requests to protect her and her shop when he's away.

"Don't go out alone at night. I'll walk you home. Hm."

His overprotective side often shows through, but never overbearing. She felt safe and relaxed in his presence more than anything. Y/N never refuses his help.

"It's dangerous, stick close to me, ok? I won't let anyone hurt you again. I'm here." He says extending out his arm to let her link her's with him.

The night's when she was too afraid to fall sleep, he'd lay next to Y/N until she drifted of into sleep, running his fingers across her forehead and face gently.

"it's ok. I'm here. I'll always be right here."

[lampiche]

An Aventurine-centric analysis of the 2.1 Trailblaze Quest - Part 3

These analyses are taking more and more time to do… But I’ll admit, I went a bit overboard with this part. Jade is too interesting as a character to bypass, even though I dislike her. All of her words are important, and she always says things in a calculated manner, so I felt like I had to analyse the whole dialogue. I wanted to add more, but this is already getting too long… Plus, her banner is coming in less than a week, so it’s a good way to honor her! I don’t know when I’ll post the next part because I’ll soon be busy, but it will be posted eventually! Even if Penacony is done! Like always, if you have things to add do go ahead, I love talking to people :D

All the Sad Tales (Part 1)

IPC Broadcast Memory

Interastral Peace Broadcast: "The case's main suspect originates from Sigonia-IV, and is one of the survivors of the "Second Katica-Avgin Extinction Event," who does not carry an Interstellar Refugee Travel Permit..."

→ When you focus on this line, you can note something interesting about its structure : Aventurine’s status, which could probably equate to that of a war refugee, is completely forgotten to focus on his status as a criminal instead. It’s to be expected coming from the IPC, who holds little care for the Avgins and was probably mad that Aventurine tricked them. Nothing matters except his crimes, except the fact that he’s a danger to the IPC.

→ Also, with the way the sentence is constructed, it almost seems like he cannot be considered a refugee anymore because he does not have the proper permit. His illegality overthrows his condition, once again reducing him to the state of criminal ; all to justify whatever the IPC will make him go through.

→ And the IPC basically strips him of a part of his life, of himself, all because he’s done something that harms them a little. They manipulate his experiences, because they want to have control over him. He’s too volatile, too dangerous, and so they must keep an eye on him in one way or another, and it starts with completely disregarding his initial situation and status. And it only continues with Jade’s actions.

→ It’s also important to note that the criminal image of Aventurine that the IPC is building is for the public. Meaning that the IPC fuels the stereotypes around the Avgins, especially since it benefits them.

Meeting Jade Memory

Jade: What pretty eyes. Tell me, do they shine in the dark?

Kakavasha: Well if they did, I'd sell them in a heartbeat.

→ Jade’s first comment is pretty creepy. Avgins’ eyes are one of their unique features, so Jade’s comment appears as both condescending and a jab at Kakavasha’s origin. Her question afterwards makes her original comment even worse : it’s like Kakavasha’s eyes are a toy, or a pretty jewel to acquire. Their only value is that they’re pretty, which makes them prized and desirable. And Kakavasha actually follows that logic with his comment, which reveals his current mindset about himself : at this point of his life, he considers himself like merchandise, something to be bought and sold. Furthermore, it also shows that Kakavasha didn’t value his Avgin origin that much at that time ; even though Avgins’ eyes are unique to their species, he is willing to sell them away without a second thought. Then again, it could easily be a lie, but considering how low Kakavasha’s self-preservation is, it’s possible that it really reflects his thoughts at the time.

→ So from the start, their conversation is not one between equals, but one between a buyer – Jade – and a product – Kakavasha. And it makes sense considering the IPC’s stance towards the Avgins and Kakavasha : for this big company, they’re just a useless group of people that should be kept as slaves if they’re alive ; they only have value as goods, not as living beings.

2. Jade: You don't know how many people long for your eyes to be closed forever. As a servant, you should not resist your master... Yet you went and killed that man anyway.

Jade: No lawyer has the audacity to defend you, perhaps you ought to represent yourself?

Kakavasha: Not difficult. But definitely pointless.

→ (I’m keeping these lines together because I feel like it’s important to present both Jade’s and Kakavasha’s words side by side to understand their dynamic.) The first sentence is just Jade calling Kakavasha out on his nonchalance, reminding him that although he takes his situation lightly and does hesitate to answer her, he’s actually in great danger. It could also be a threat, her way of telling him that the IPC currently wants him dead because of all the trouble he’s caused. Either way, it seems that she’s trying to remind him of his current standing, something she continues to do with her second sentence.

→ Next, Jade reminds Kakavasha of his position, and of the obligations he had that he went against. However, there are three things that are interesting in the way she says it.

First, she mentions his status as a slave despite him not being on trial for the murder of his master ; he was arrested because he’s a suspect in the Egyhazo Aventurine case. It’s once again her way to show him the difficult position he’s in : not only is he a slave, an individual that’s not even considered as a human, but he’s also a dangerous criminal, with the murder of his master adding itself to his case. At this point, it’s like Jade is telling Kakavasha that there's no way for him to come out unscathed. 

Second, she uses the word “servant”, instead of “slave”. It’s obviously very hypocritical of her, as an IPC executive, to not use the word “slave” considering the IPC’s active participation in making him a slave. It’s also probably a way to justify his criminal status : if he is considered a slave, it could make the murder acceptable, because slavery is also a crime ; but if he’s considered a servant, it implies employment or at least a contract between him and his master that makes the murder inacceptable. It’s a way to erase what happened to him before, to show that the IPC has control over his life and what happened to him. Clearly, the choice of the word “servant” was deliberate, Jade does not hesitate to modify the truth to keep Kakavasha in the IPC’s clutches.

Third, the sentence seems very nonchalant, like she does not care about the man that died — which she probably doesn’t —, but only on the fact that Kakavasha went against his status, that he dared to murder to keep himself alive. It shows that Jade’s intrigued by Kakavasha’s willingness to do anything to survive, probably because it makes him an interesting asset for the IPC.

→ With her question, Jade doesn’t really think that Kakavasha will accept, but she still pushes him to say things that will turn against him. She’s once again underlining how difficult his situation is, and how the only one who can save him is himself. She’s pretty vicious, she hopes to take advantage of his audacity to trick him, which really shows that she will use any tactic necessary to get what she wants.

→ However, Kakavasha refuses to represent himself. Maybe he thinks that there’s no point in trying to give out another image of himself since the IPC has already crafted one. Or, considering that he bets on the fact that the IPC won’t kill him, maybe he sees no reason to defend himself because with his luck, it’s unnecessary. Either way, it shows to Jade that Kakavasha is aware of the stakes at hand and already has a plan in mind, which prompts her next question.

3. Jade: You're pretty confident on your eloquence. Did you also think that when you lied to the Intelligentsia Guild?

Kakavasha: Ask and you shall receive. You wanted the perfect construction material — all I did was offer a possibility. It was just a small wager.

Kakavasha: If your luck holds out, the IPC will dig something up from the golden sands of Egyhazo, maybe even the Sand King's remains. Pity, your luck has run out.

→ Jade first points out Kakavasha’s ability to craft lies and his confidence that allows him to persuade people, and probably notes it down as something that makes him even more interesting for the IPC. Then, she finally focuses on the reason why he’s even here in the first place, the Egyhazo Aventurine case. The question in itself is not that interesting, but considering Jade’s goal it makes sense : she wants him to reveal his way of thinking and his goals so she can judge if it’s more interesting to keep him in the IPC or kill him.

→ Kakavasha’s first sentence seems weirdly condescending, he’s acting like he’s the one in control in this situation. It’s probably part of the poker face he’s started building to protect himself. As for the rest of his lines, there doesn’t seem to be anything particularly special, except for the two mentions of luck and the betting vocabulary with “wager”, that seem to show that he’s really adopted the mentality of his previous master. And while this seems slightly unhealthy — he adopts the words of the one who enslaved him even though they were used against him and brought him suffering — it also shows how much Kakavasha wants to protect himself ; with his luck, only in bets where everyone is equal can he surpass all the people that hurt him.

4. Jade: I'll admit that. What I'm more curious about though, is why such a grand scheme failed to benefit anyone in the end, including the perpetrator himself?

Kakavasha: Madam, I already have what I want — to be brought before you, for the next high-stakes gamble.

→ Here again, Jade aims to make Kakavasha explain his plan, which will give her leverage against him, and allow her to tighten the hold she has over him. Obviously, her questioning makes sense in the setting of an interrogation, but it must also serve this other purpose.

→ And once again, Kakavasha uses vocabulary related to gambling, clearly showing his mentality to Jade. Although the confidence is obviously an act considering what we know about him, it at least shows that he doesn’t really care about the danger that surrounds him. He’s daring, does not falter in front of authority even though he refers to her as “Madam” — which could definitely be ironic or even condescending —, and has very little consideration for his life, which are all qualities that Jade can exploit.

Uncertainty lies in Kakavasha’s reason for divulging so many details about himself. Did he think he'd come out on top anyway? Did he consider these characteristics of his persona too repulsive for the IPC to consider taking him in? Did he truly mess up and got tricked by Jade? Or did he do it on purpose in the hopes of joining the IPC, all to complete a plan he prepared in advance? Honestly, nothing from other dialogues really shows his intentions, so we can only throw questions in the air.

5. Jade: Then let's talk about the second gamble. Tell me, what are you prepared to wager this time?

Kakavasha: My life. I bet you won't send me to the gallows.

→ Now that Jade has managed to get information out of Kakavasha — specifically about his way of thinking and his goal —, she uses the same vocabulary as him. Whereas before she employed the word “scheme” to talk about his plan with Egyhazo, she now employs “gamble”, and then “wager”, which are both words Kakavasha uses himself. This change indicates that Jade is starting to understand him, but also probably tries to use this understanding to play the role of the confidant, or of the safe person : by talking to Kakavasha the same way he does, it instils some sort of familiarity, almost like she understands his troubles, all so he can fully rely on her. It’s her sort of ‘motherly’ side, that is actually manipulative and uses others’ weaknesses to her advantage.

→ On the other side, Kakavasha shows yet another side of himself more clearly : his willingness to put his life on the line. But unlike Jade, he’s not sugar-coating the situation nor using other words to refer to it. He’s direct, knows exactly what awaits him, and is not afraid to directly go against it.

6. Jade: Hmm... What do you want then?

Kakavasha: I want your Lanor to meet with me. I have something to say.

→ Obviously enough, Jade’s question is not genuine at all. Knowing what she does next — refuse Kakavasha’s demands and give him something else — shows that, while this was not a rhetorical question, she had no plans to actually listen to him, she just wanted to get the full picture of his intentions before she made a decision. This is only an analysis of the text and not of the voice acting, but maybe the tone of Jade’s voice can actually show that more clearly.

→ Here, Kakavasha does not seem to have realised Jade’s true intentions, which could say that he has been tricked all along during this conversation. However, considering how good he is at acting, it might also be part of his plan. The first possibility seems more realistic, but nothing’s really set in stone. Anyway, here Kakavasha plainly exposes his goals, once again radiating false confidence. He does not ask questions, almost gives orders — probably another behaviour he learned from his master — but since he does not have the power in this situation, his demands are in vain.

→ Also, he says that he wants Diamond to meet with him, not that he wants to meet Diamond, which definitely says something about how he views himself in this gamble.

First, he considers himself as pivotal, someone important enough to not have to move, but that should instead witness as others come up to him. It’s a way to give himself power, to not submit in front of the IPC, and to not make himself seem desperate, which asking to meet with Diamond would do.

But also, it makes Kakavasha seem almost like merchandise, it’s like he’s preparing to sell himself to Diamond. It reinforces his position as an object in front of the all-powerful IPC : he is not actually human, so he does not move, but he’s prepared to show all of his value and interesting functions when buyers come to him.

These two aspects show the duality between Kakavasha’s real opinion of himself, and the facade of confidence he creates to not be taken advantage of.

7. Jade: And then what?

Kakavasha: I want cash.

→ Not much to say here, Jade keeps up the same act as before now that she’s got something to use against Kakavasha.

→ Kakavasha’s answers are getting shorter and shorter. More direct, more clipped, and this has been going on for three lines already. It could be that he thinks he’s going to get what he wants, and does not bother sweet talking Jade anymore. Or it could show that he’s getting more anxious : as the ending of the gamble draws near, he grows uncertain, and does not allow his facade to slip up by answering sharply and confidently. Once again, the voice acting could shed some light on that, but even then, Kakavasha is a great actor, so it could easily be covered up. The second possibility seems more likely considering the context : Jade is in a position of power and has the final say, which makes her willingness to listen to his demands even more worrying.

8. Jade: It can't be that simple, can it?

Kakavasha: It is that simple. Thirty Tanbas —the remainder of my...market value. Thirty Tanbas, no more, no less.

Kakavasha: With this money, I'll climb to even greater heights than you, grasp even more riches than you... I wager you won't give me this chance... which is why you should call him here.

→ Jade is finally gonna get the full picture of Kakavasha’s intentions after her question. She asks it out of logic, but also probably because she’s curious. It’s possible that it’s the first time she encounters someone who relies only on luck and possibilities, and never on definite factors.

→ Kakavasha’s demand shows clearly that he considers himself as merchandise, at least in this discussion. And then he expresses his desire to rise higher, to overcome all the powerful people that loom over him, he shows clearly that his own goal is to move up and forward, and that’s probably what interests Jade the most. However, he’s held down by his situation and all the strong people that have a hold over him. And it’s precisely this duality that Jade will take advantage of by making Kakavasha lose his wager — maybe even the first one ever.

9. Jade: Interesting.

Jade: A pity Diamond won't see you. No one gets to see him. From here on out, I am Diamond's representative, and I will decide on his behalf.

Jade: You're wrong. Thirty Tanbas, I'll give you that, and much more than that. Wealth, status, power... the IPC will give you whatever you want, even what you don't want.

Jade: Kakavasha... A good name, but unfortunately destined to be buried in the dirt. You though, you deserve to live, to create even more wealth for us.

Jade: Go, pick the clothes you like, then choose your desired identity... and then use them well, child.

Jade: May your plans never suffer failure.

→ Jade ends the memory with this speech, and there’s a few interesting things to note. The first line obviously shows that she has made her decision regarding Kakavasha, with her next sentence explicitly saying that she successfully tricked him.

→ While she is interested by his luck and mentality, she almost mocks him for his naivety, and now finally reveals to him that he’s been sitting in the palm of her hand all along, and that he never really had a choice. And although her questions were not an explicit confirmation that she would listen to his demands, she at least entertained them for the whole discussion, giving him a tiny bit of hope that she crushed at the very last moment.

Also, Jade says “From here on out”, meaning that she was not Diamond’s representative before, but that she made the decision alone, in front of Kakavasha, as if she realised that he was right and that she needed to do something to keep him in the IPC’s grasp.

She adds “on his behalf” as if she knows Diamond’s precise intentions, probably to both give credibility to her decision and to slightly alleviate the blame from her decisions.

→ The next line is especially interesting because of the “even what you don’t want”. She does not aim to fulfil Kakavasha’s wishes, but to fuel his greed. She saw his desire for independence as a weakness to exploit, and under the pretence of proving him wrong and fulfilling his wishes, she makes him forever indebted to the IPC and herself. And with that, she encourages him to always want more and more, so he’ll always come back to her. (This seems to fit her character in the 2.3 quest too.)

→ Also, I’ve found that Jade does something pretty similar to Kakavasha’s previous master : she strips him of his name and identity to give him another. Before, he was called “number 35” and now she asks him to bury his name, to kill Kakavasha, basically. Although she does not say it explicitly, “to be buried in the dirt” hints very obviously at the act of killing his former, weaker self to create another one — shaped by the IPC. And even if it’s not a physical death, it does add to Aventurine’s plate of murders, especially since he considers that his family’s and clan’s deaths were his fault. He does refer to himself as a murderer in the quest description later on after all.

However, Jade still says “you deserve to live” but I feel like it’s not directed at Kakavasha, but more so at him as an asset. He no longer has a physical existence, he’s just an extension of the IPC, and nothing more. I also think it could be directed to his luck, as if she once again doesn’t consider him like a human being but more so like a blessing to be used. With the loss of his name, Kakavasha loses the rest of his humanity.

→ And even if Jade allows Kakavasha to build another self for himself, there’s still a catch : he must be useful, no matter what, it must be a self-object that generates wealth.

Also, the use of “child” is definitively the continuation of Jade’s ‘motherly’ act, and it says a lot about her relationship with Aventurine. Like a mother, she constantly watches over him and every single one of his wins and losses. Even though she offers him ‘protection’, it must be earned through good deeds for the IPC. It’s not at all familial or even caring, it’s purely transactional, even though Jade ‘takes care’ of him to an extent. 

→ And finally, the last line, which deserves special attention. The way Jade says it, it sounds like a blessing, or even a prayer. Even the structure resembles that of the prayer to Gaiathra Triclops. Specifically the lines “May your journey be forever peaceful…”, or “May your schemes be forever concealed.”. (The first one comes from the prayer recited by Kakavasha and Aventurine in the Horizon of Existence, the second one comes from the Commemorative Photo taken by Aventurine of Kakavasha in the theme park if anyone is wondering.) It could easily be a coincidence, but the resemblance is still striking, and could indicate that Jade is “blessing” Kakavasha, or more so cursing him, to reinforce the attachment between them. More than just a contractual connection, they have a spiritual one that really highlights the hold Jade has over Aventurine in the present.

→ While this is an analysis of text, I still want to linger on the cg artwork for a moment, precisely because it follows a few points I’ve made about Kakavasha and Jade’s relationship.

Obviously, this artwork focuses on Jade, mainly because we’re seeing this from Kakavasha’s memory. Of course, it shows her power compared to Kakavasha : she sits in the light, higher up than him, while he’s standing in the dark, forced to look up at her to discuss. This scene perfectly highlights the obvious power imbalance between the two. 

It also works very nicely even just in the context of an interrogation : Kakavasha is almost standing on trial, while Jade, the one who judges him, is seated at a large desk that allows her to spread her power and look down on him. With this image, Kakavasha’s attempts to be in control seem even more doomed to fail.

→ However, this image is particularly interesting if we consider the real intentions of the discussion. Jade is silently appraising Kakavasha’s value, she looks at him not as an individual but as a product that she will choose to buy or not. In retrospect, the dialogue makes the scene seem more like an auction than a trial, which contradicts the image we’re given. Even though Jade is in the light, the metaphorical spotlight is actually directed at Kakavasha, because he’s the one being studied and scrutinised. And actually, if we saw this scene from Jade’s side, maybe it would be even more obvious. It’s another detail that shows how much control Jade has over this situation, Kakavasha never had any possibility to be the winner in this situation.

[sylenth-l]

How do you feel about the fact that Shin and his story seems completely forgotten as Destiny leans into the whole loss of the Traveler and dead ghosts and all the panic all that inspires when there's actual lore about how Guardians don't /need/ their ghost? And how it's just not addressed in any of this light-focused story, especially as we just had an important guardian lose his ghost and he's still trying to get work done and figure things out?

I really wish we could see Shin show up...

It's... complicated. I feel like his story turned out to be unexpectedly good and too much for Bungie to handle (in a sense that it requires a lot of story focus, it's not something that can be mentioned off-handedly). It had such a complex and multilayered approach to the whole theme of Darkness/Light that everything the game plot itself says about it looks like a flat cardboard in comparison. Can you imagine Rezyl Azzir walking around the Moon, seeing some glowing green snot on the side of the road and going "wow, imma use it now, woohoo! :D"? We were told and shown Darkness is a dangerous tool in the lore multiple times, yet we saw 0 consequences when Guardians massively started to use it. There were some weak attempts to show conflict with Stasis, but it was forgotten super fast, and Strand is just a bland new toy. Dredgens spent years trying to find the balance in using Light and Darkness together and had a ton of lore buildup only to be never mentioned when the time came. Etc, etc. So I'm not surprised nobody remembers Shin never even had his own Ghost to begin with and then had several Ghosts accompanying him in different times, yet he still is one of the most powerful Lightbearers.

But, to be fair:

1. Shin was always shown as special in many ways. Maybe he's just that unique, we can't be sure. Then again, Osiris is no less extraordinary, and I really hope we'll see him in action again someday. I don't believe one's connection with the Light, especially as strong as he had, can be cut forever that easily. I wouldn't want him to simply find a replacement for Sagira though... More like finding a way to feel the Light again even without a Ghost.

2. Characters may never bring it up because they simply don't know it's possible. I doubt Shin shared his story with everyone (at least the true one) and if some people know the truth about how he was resurrected and how many Ghosts he had/has, they both are unlikely to chat about that either.

[foodsies4me]

So basically: Alec is super magically powerful and was able to keep a tendril of the unacknowlesged soul bond alive as a kid that was making him sick and corrupting the newly formed soul bond?

and now Magnus healed it and the bond is complete and Malec are currently cuddling in bonded bliss?

Wowwwwwwwwwwww 🙈🥹 I get more invested in AWG every single chapter. So excited to see Malbec exploring all the new layers of both of their magic + soul bond.

I wouldn’t say super magically powerful, but he is powerful yes! And it was maintaining that tendril that was a king him so ill, so yes for that part as well!

I apologize for the incoming ramble, it’s going to be a lot.

Alec’s magic is pretty unique in the sense that it reacts both in the way a normal shadowhunter’s magic works as well as the way a warlock’s would that is to say:

Shadowhunter magic - no intent, only runes. The magic reacts to the runes so even if you were to think about using a rune that would make you weaker (for whatever reason) if you use a strength rune, you will get stronger.

Warlock magic - mostly intent when untrained, when trained it’s intent + spell to focus. Intent will however always take the upper hand so if a warlock were to use a spell that should summon fire, but decides they really want it to create a jet stream of water instead, they would be summoning water.

Alec is using his magic the way a shadowhunter would (largely because he didn’t know he had magic the way warlocks do) except the intent is leaking through which is how the familias rune he drew on Bubbles by example ended up being a permanent bond that lets him track Bubbles (and more dangerously would let someone track him though Bubbles, which Magnus and Ragnor are going to have a conniption about).

In a similar vein, the philia rune which is just meant to be a decorative rune that shows familial love, was affected by his desire to draw this rune to show Max he loves him and that he’s safe/cared for when he’s scared. As a result, it now reacts to Max (or currently Madzie’s emotions), which in return makes it so other runes can activate if the magic in the rune feels it necessary to do so. Examples: the enlighten rune activating for Max when he’s scared of the dark, the familias rune activating and forcing Alec run over, the philia rune activating and spreading love and warmth to soothe etc.

Another thing with Alec’s magic is that it has never been restrained.

I already mentioned this, I think, but warlocks are used to containing their magic (even when they flare it in greeting it’s still not unleashing their full strength) because it’s considered impolite. The other reason is that it could be dangerous for untrained magic - a child could have a nightmare about monsters and, depending on how powerful they are, accidentally bring those monsters to life through their magic. (This is an extreme example, but that’s the main logic.)

Alec’s magic has however been given free reign to do what it wants because:

There were no warlocks around to notice;

Even if there were his magic mostly feels like that of a regular Nephilim at first glance;

His magic is perpetually exhausted because of the bond he had been unconsciously maintaining, so that would have made it even harder for a warlock to catch;

Alec didn’t realize he was doing anything in the first place so he wouldn’t have thought of putting a stop to it and trying to better control his magic.

All to say that Alec has the magical power of an adult (a young one, but an adult nonetheless) warlock with the finesse of that of a newborn. And just like how having a baby with the strength of a bodybuilder would be slightly disastrous, so is this. Ergo, the first time Alec tries to summon fire when Ragnor and Magnus are training him, he nearly destroys a full wing in the Spiral Labyrinth and burns off Ragnor’s eyebrows.😂

Sorry again for the long ramble, I have so much worldbuilding and nowhere to put it so you became the ramble victim. 😁

But yes, the idea is to wrap up the first part of this series in the next two chapters (with some more Malec being cute) and to finish with Alec’s official appointing ceremony before we start with the sequel that will focus on Alec’s magic, as well as some other plot lines that have already been set in place.😊