#and I relied far too much on how others perceived him

[mrs-han]

A continuation of this piece ♥️

Winter had come.

Standing outside of the C&R building, Jumin thanked himself for choosing to leave work early. Assistant Kang had… some words of protest, but he couldn’t miss this.

The first snow of the season.

Strolling languidly down the nearly empty sidewalk, Jumin lifted his head. Gray skies matching the color of his eyes, he had forgotten just how much he missed being in nature. Since your departure, he had purposely kept himself hidden away in his office, only coming out for meetings and to occasionally go home.

It was too painful for him to open the doors of the penthouse and feel, hear, and smell traces of you left behind. Jumin left Elizabeth the Third in V’s custody, an action that concerned V greatly.

But Jumin insisted that he needed to be alone.

Which was a lie. He needed you.

Stopping to take a breath, Jumin reached into his pocket and fiddled with his phone briefly. Maybe you had texted him in the short journey from his office to the great outdoors.

No such luck.

The image of your smiling face almost seemed to be mocking him now. As if you were taunting him; Look and see. I’m so much happier now that I’m away from you.

Jaw clenching, Jumin closed his eyes. No, he needed to stop his intrusive thoughts from manifesting into something he couldn’t control. There was no reason for him to be bitter or angry. He respected your decision. He respected your space, your journey, your choices. If those choices meant you needed to start an entirely new course, then…

Of course he would support you.

Thick snowflakes fell slowly around Jumin, immediately dissipating as soon as they landed on the warmth of his hand. Lifting his eyes to the sky, he felt a sense of calm and wave of loneliness bunched together.

It was tradition; Jumin would take the day off as soon as snow was announced to fall on the weather channel.

You would make two ginormous mugs of hot chocolate with a dash of Hawaiian coffee mixed in while he would gather pillows and blankets from the living room closet.

When you’d step outside, he would immediately wrap two blankets around you, and you’d argue that you only needed him to stay warm while plopping onto his lap.

And when you’d start to ramble about the shape of clouds and their meanings, he would sneakily wrap the same two blankets around you and listen until you fell asleep against him, a mustache of hot chocolate foam on your upper lip.

Jumin’s exhale created a cloud around him, one that travelled far beyond what his eyes could see. “If I had known that this would happen, I would have held you much tighter. I would have kissed you much longer. I would have done… anything.”

Defeat, loneliness, confusion, and hope — each emotion tied themselves around his neck, compressing his shuddering breaths.

This was why he didn’t want to be left alone in his thoughts — this was why he fought to keep his mind preoccupied. You were his undoing. You were his trigger. And you were the love of his life.

Desperate for a distraction before losing his mind completely, Jumin walked briskly towards the C&R building. He needed to get inside. He needed to get back to work.

Stopping to wipe his eyes and rub his face to regain some semblance of feeling, he looked up briefly. And his arms fell limply to his sides.

He could recognize you anywhere. A thick, puffy jacket hugged your body. A knit cap covered your ears and forehead. The same scarf you had stolen from him was wrapped round your neck.

You stood perfectly still, so still that Jumin thought he was hallucinating. And then, you started walking towards him.

Unsure of what to do and say, all Jumin could do was watch as you moved closer, closer to him. His heart hammered in his chest, his cheeks and ears flushed a soft pink. He had to be dreaming. This wasn’t real. No, perhaps he was mistaken; the way you dressed was all over magazines, and it wasn’t abnormal for someone to dress like you —

“Jumin?”

“I’ll get out of your way.” Fixing the flaps of his coat he quickened his pace and brushed by you. Jumin didn’t mean to be rude; he didn’t know what to do.

You grabbed hold of your husband’s arm; invisible boundaries were being crossed, you knew. Jumin seemed to know, too; while he didn’t yank his arm away from you, he seemed very tense.

“Jumin…” you tried again, voice trembling from the cold. “I… I wanted to…” your breath escaped you. “… How are you…?”

Jumin turned, the look in his eyes making you regret your first words to him.

“I’m… I’m fine.” The breeze picked up, drowning out the powerful man’s otherwise distinctive voice. As if nature itself told him to be completely honest.

“… Please don’t lie to me,” you pleaded softly, instinctively wrapping your other arm around his. “Then… be honest, please. How are you?”

Facing you, Jumin tenderly shook your hold on his arm and briefly smiled. “You went on a journey of self care, and yet, you still forget to wear gloves on a night as cold as this one.”

You stepped much closer to him as he took your hands and rubbed them vigorously. A blush crept upon your already rosy cheeks as he moved your hands to his mouth, exhaling the warmest air you had known.

The sensation made you jittery, shaking in place and letting out a nervous laugh. Jumin’s eyes moved from your fingers to you, not at all helping your current state.

“Let me ask this first.” Jumin didn’t release your hands; instead, his grip tightened. “Has your journey brought you back to me? Or has it…”

His voice caught in his throat. Closing his eyes to regain his thoughts and sense of control, he knew he couldn’t do it. He was far too weak for you, and he would always be.

Taking a step forward, you tried your best to keep from crying. But those crystalline tears slid from your eyes anyway.

“No,” Jumin uttered heedlessly, terrified of your answer. “No, please. Please, don’t leave me.”

“W… What…?”

“Forgive me, I —” the pain on his face showed you more than his words could tell. Still, his stormy eyes connected with yours. “I want you to do what is best for yourself. So please. Please tell me I am one of those forces of good. If not, I’ll… no. No, I don’t want to think of any other alternatives. Not now.”

Shaking your head, your tears felicitously landed on Jumin’s person. He didn’t know what to do, or say, or think —

“I’ve missed you so much.”

He didn’t expect that. No, Jumin believed you had made it all this way to tell him that you needed to part ways with him. That, he wasn’t good for you anymore. Even while he braced himself for it, he still wasn’t ready for it.

“I must have confused you so much,” you spoke, hesitant hands squeezing his. “And I’ll tell you anything you’d like to know, only if you agree to take me back into your arms.”

Jumin’s cheeks changed from a soft pink to dark boysenberry. He had no words. Instead, he pressed his forehead calmly against yours and pulled you much, much closer to himself.

You hiccuped close to his ear - he was so overjoyed by the sound that his hands reached down, cupping your face and holding you for the first time in months.

His thumb swiping the tears flowing from your eyes, Jumin’s heart was ready to jump out of his chest and make its residence with you. “Shh… I’m here, my darling.”

Those simple words strengthened the inner glow you had worked so hard to attain.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! CEO Headcanons

Just a little idea I had some time ago of a rather bizarre dynamic: a CEO with no time to spare, introduced to a young student his wife befriended. Perhaps he does have a moment, after all. (I need to dump my preference for a cultured older man somewhere)

Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, NSFW, dating the wife is optional

[Original works masterlist]

Yandere! CEO who is in his mid 40s and terribly invested in his job. So much, that he and his wife agreed on an open relationship many years ago and barely interact anymore. Not a gloomy business by any means: she gets to meet new people and he can enjoy his work and hobbies in peace and without guilt.

Yandere! CEO who doesn't think much of it when his wife brings home a young student she befriended at a convention. He nods dismissively, returning to his papers and phone calls. At dinner, he just hums in acknowledgement and fiddles with the cutlery while the woman talks about you excitedly. "You know, (Y/N) reminds me a little of you." Nonsense.

Yandere! CEO with whom you scarcely interact: he's a borderline workaholic, and your relationship is cordial at best. That is until you're asked by the wife to retrieve some important documents from their ridiculously luxurious apartment. You quietly tiptoe past the office, but can't help glancing at the imposing library, stacked with books. The man's sudden arrival startles and you begin to mumble apologies, but he seems more interested in your curiosity than anything else.

Yandere! CEO who can't believe you both like the same authors. He discreetly removes the folder from your hands, tasking one of the assistants to deliver it to his wife instead. There are more important matters at hand. Have you had your coffee yet? Oh, you must stay longer. What's the hurry?

Yandere! CEO who has become awfully perceptive whenever your name is mentioned in conversations, innocently probing for more details. Naturally, he wouldn't mind meeting you again, but it's not...a need, per se. He was just pleasantly surprised to find someone he could so easily engage in conversation with. Hell, you're old enough to be his daughter. Don't be ridiculous, he'll scold himself sternly whenever his mind wanders too far.

Yandere! CEO who begins to feel like each encounter is a flirty tease. Is it just wishful thinking, or are you becoming cheekier by day? The way you bat your eyelashes, the way you cast your eyes down whenever he looks at you. The next time you're alone in the apartment, he's too far gone in his delusions to act rationally. How unusual for him to act so nonchalant. Unbuttoning your shirt with haste, trailing your neck with hot kisses, lifting your leg and pressing you against the wall. He never considered himself the type to fuck a much younger woman out of raw lust.

Yandere! CEO who loves taking you on dates despite his busy schedule. Art museums, theatres, the Opera. He is eager to introduce you to his interests and will answer any question or curiosity you have. Who would've thought everything is better in two? Of course, there could be other factors involved. Like the added bonus of watching you squirm in your seat and biting your lips to be quiet while he fingers you at the peak of Act 3. Then smirking to himself when everyone stands up for applause, and you have to rearrange your dress to hide the wet mess underneath.

Yandere! CEO who worries about you when he's on work trips, so he tasks his right-hand man to look after you and keep you company. If you ever get lonely, you can rely on his assistant to take care of all your needs. Now, he's not one to share, despite his marital arrangement. As bizarre as it sounds, he just sees the employee as a mere toy, an idle occupation who can temporarily entertain you in his absence. What he does perceive as a threat is swiftly taken care of. It's enough for you to mention another student flirted with you, and you'll never see that person again. You have to understand that he doesn't play around with his assets. One he has something, he holds onto it with ironclad strength. And he's never been more desperate to keep something in his possession.

Yandere! CEO who makes sure to remind you why dating him is your best (and only) choice. You would've wasted your time with boys your age. He can offer you the world and more, all you need to do is ask for it.

[violenteconomics]

ace for the first time losing his cool and being forced to rely on the other 1st years,,, (an absolute nightmare for him, wdym ace trappola isnt in control of his emotions and how hes perceived?) im thinking maybe smh with his brother? he cares about him a tons so it probably would be him that makes ace panic sm that he cant even use his 'cool and unbothered' mask. putting this guy in situations where he has to acknowledge he actually has friends and open up to them but also feel so overwhelmed by it

PFFFFFTT OKAY I SEE YOU. anything with ace being a mess is an absolute win ❤️ anything 4 u, baby.

okay, so, here's how i imagine it to go:

ace is just hanging in the courtyard by himself, probably checking his grades on whatever portal night raven college uses for that, when he gets a text message from his dad.

his brother had an accident on the movie set he was working on, and he's in critical condition at the hospital.

which is honestly too bad, because according to nrc code, ace can't leave to go home and see him unless it's "a matter of school and personal pride". like any good nrc student, ace tries to bottle it up and go on about his day. but as the week goes on, and he gets no updates about his brother's condition, his facade quickly falls apart.

he gets in trouble for having his phone out in class — not that he can concentrate, anyway. he's handing in papers that are incomplete, quizzes that are unfinished, and you can forget about that 5,000-word essay he owes riddle.

deuce is the first to notice that something's wrong. he starts covering for ace, making excuses for why he can't come to see professor crewel "right this instant", or why he keeps missing ramshackle hang-outs. every single time his lies get more and more outlandish, ranging from "i asked him to go check on my macaroni that i put in the microwave six hours ago" to "we just saw a cow fall from the sky, yes i didn't go with him, what was i supposed to do, miss history class—" he doesn't know why ace is suddenly so quiet or so stressed, but he's not about to make it worse.

yuu notices almost immediately after deuce does — mostly because deuce is a horrible liar. and, as the housewarden of ramshackle, they start exercising their right to have ace stay at their dorm "indefinitely", so ace doesn't get bothered. ace spends most of his time on his phone, so he doesn't really do much, but at least this way, yuu can personally ensure ace sleeps and stays fed and gets off his damn phone every once in a while.

ortho is extremely adept at noticing anomalies, and it's easy to see that the silent husk that's walking around school isn't his smug, slick-talking friend. he doesn't know what's wrong, exactly, but he does know that ace isn't in any mental position to do his work. going against all academic responsibility (do not do this in real life, pls), ortho starts chat-gpting all of ace's essays and homework assignments. he analyzes ace's text messages, and asks idia to create a program for him that would allow him to copy anyone's handwriting. he then uses it to reproduce work that sounds like it would come from ace, and it's actually really convincing.

upon realizing that a) ace has moved into ramshackle and is basically catatonic, and b) yuu's meal budget is already pretty strained just feeding two people, epel decides to chip in. he starts getting even more discrete with the food he sneaks into pomefiore, going so far as to prepare meals in the gymnasium after school to decrease the probability of someone from pomefiore catching him in the act. when he can't sneak in any food, he gets a crap-ton of apple juice, shoves it into a box, and sends it to ramshackle, hoping that'll be enough to get ace through the day.

sebek starts to act as ace's bodyguard, after ace almost ran into someone while looking down at his phone, and said someone nearly slammed his head into the wall. so, sebek asks riddle for ace's schedule, and starts walking him to class everyday. he's more than a little worried about his tiny human friend, who goes about his days with glazed eyes, flat expressions, and one-word responses, but he's hiding it very well. /sar

jack doesn't get nearly as involved as the others with ace's sudden uncharacteristic behavior, but he does still worry for his friend, his ears drooping down whenever he sees him. he offers ace moral support and words of encouragement where he can, but mostly he's forced to sit back and watch as the vibrant reds that encompass ace's natural aura begin to gray. and he doesn't like it one bit.

the turning point comes in ramshackle dorm. all of the first-years have gathered for their weekly hang-outs, but it's more awkward than usual without the presence of a certain red-head that exudes talkative energy. everytime deuce goes to tap ace on the shoulder, or ortho goes to sit down in ace's lap, or jack's tail wags to the point where it's almost thumping against ace's back, they all stop midway through, because ace is clearly busy...

then, two stifling hours later, ace starts crying.

sebek frantically asks what's wrong, but ace is full-on sobbing at this point and finally drops his phone.

ortho wraps his arms around him, unsure of what else can do.

jack picks up ace's phone, eyes widening as he backlogs through ace's messages to his dad, and realizes exactly what's been bothering ace this whole time.

(needless to say, there are a lot of cuddles in ace's future, and a lot of screaming and cursing in crowley's.)

[starrtiny]

Can't Help Myself No More

a/n this is my first fic so i hope ya'll enjoy :)) I had this idea planned but it took me almost a month to write... i hope it's worth it for y’all

summary: To put it plainly, the guy was a nerd. A hot nerd you wanted to fuck! Chris is eye candy to everyone in the office - including you. Only, he doesn't see it. He's too sweet and innocent to see the flirting and the hidden intentions of everyone around him, or is he? Maybe he's not who he seems to be... words - 6.5k general - explicit content, chan + female reader, mutual pining, colleagues to lovers, semi-public sex, he's kind of a virgin, praise + degradation kink if you squint

🎵 007 - Tabber

You let out a loud sigh and sat up in your seat as you looked at the clock on the wall across from you. It was a Friday night and way past the end of shift, but you’d been given so much work this past week that you had no choice but to work overtime. And it just so happened to be with non-other than Chris.

Most of the lights had been turned off and it was just you two left in the office. You had barely spoken to him since the start of the week and the tension lingered heavily in the room. You didn’t know why, it’s not like what you had seen was a big deal, but for some reason it still weighed on your mind and no matter what, you just couldn’t shift it.

You didn’t know how to speak to him, after all, he wasn’t the person you thought he was anymore.

No! Stop being overdramatic!

He was the same person – he just wasn’t how you perceived him to be. He wasn’t a sad loser, he wasn’t weak, and he certainly didn’t rely on you.

You were bitter.

You needed him to need you and god did it pain you to admit it.

Monday morning. You were sat at your desk, still half asleep, praying for it to be Friday already. Your ears had pricked up at the mention that Chris had arrived. Pulling your head up off the table, you groaned at the thought of him being finely polished and his cheerful self this early in the morning.

‘How are you so happy on a Monday morning?’ you had questioned him as he arrived at the desk opposite yours, placing his bag on top and wrapping his jacket around the back of his chair, your eyes hesitating on his arms as his biceps flexed.

Chris was fit. Physically.

He loved working out and you were in awe of how strong a man like him was. Chris was eye candy around the office too, and it always made you laugh at how oblivious he was too it. The younger girls were constantly bringing him snacks and drinks, offering to do the littlest things for him, twirling their hair whenever he walked by or spoke to them to turn them away (extremely politely of course).

‘They’re just being kind,’ he had always told you.

As far as you knew, Chris was single. He had been the whole time you knew him. He had never shown any interest in anyone at work either, whether he knew pretty much the entire office was hitting on him or not. It did surprise you, but in a sad way, you kind of liked it. He was hot but you also found him incredibly adorable. The way he sought your approval on every piece of work he did, even though you two were on the same level. The way he would get you anything without you needing to ask. The way he would scrunch his nose as he pushed his glasses up at the bridge…

To put it plainly, the guy was a nerd. A hot nerd you wanted to fuck!

‘Guess I’m just a morning person,’ He smiled at you, and you felt your heart melt. It happened every time and it never got old. ‘I was about to go grab coffees for everyone, you coming’?’

The sun glared in your eyes as you walked down the street, side by side next to Chris, and you could feel your face burning, cursing yourself for not putting on sunscreen that morning. You laughed with him as he attempted to shield your face, bumping into each other multiple times due to lack of vision and personal space. Anyone walking past on the street would assume you two to be a couple and it made your heart ache. You ignored the pain and forced yourself to block that idea from your head. You didn’t have a crush on him, you just didn’t object to the idea of being with him... You were just curious what it would be like… Right?

He held open the door for you as you entered to store and you watched from a distance as he ordered your drinks, oblivious to the women behind the till writing her number on his cup.

That was when it had happened.

You blamed yourself for being too obsessive.

If you weren’t insistent on hanging from his every word and move, you would have missed it. You wouldn’t be in the position you are now.

Chris had pulled his wallet from his back pocket, using his card to pay for the drinks for the office. Your eyes were caught by the light being reflected from a packet inside and your heart sank, a pit growing in your stomach making you feel more nauseous by the second.

You spent the rest of the day, the rest of the week, fighting yourself on it, deciding whether to care or not. He was a grown man after all, and it wasn’t really your business, but it was Chris. You couldn’t argue that he was extremely hot so him being with other people wouldn’t really be a surprise, but this was the man who was blissfully unaware of the flirting he received from his colleagues for two whole years.

Maybe you just wanted him to be innocent. Maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did after all…

What you did know however, was that this only made you want him more!

“Have you finished for tonight?” you hear Chris utter as he looks up from his computer.

“Yeah, I think so,” you moan. “I’m not going to get very far with this tonight. I’ll have a fresh start Monday morning” you let out a weak smile in his direction.

“Give me a few minutes, I’ll drive you home”.

What the fuck…

You gave him a slight nod, caught off guard.

Chris had never offered anything like that before, what did it mean? Maybe you were reading too far into this, but then again, you’d known each other for years and didn’t even know where each other lived. What was with the suddenly change...?

Your thoughts were interrupted by noise of Chris rapidly tapping against his keyboard, your focus being instantly drawn as his slender fingers were lit up by the moonlight shining in through the crack in the blinds. You let your eyes wander as he reached for the mouse and delicately scrolled…

You cursed yourself for letting your mind drift, plagued by your newfound information about Chris’ sex life, only to get cut off once again by Chris fiddling with the buckles on his bag.

He’s your co-worker

“I’m ready if you are” You look up and he was returning the gaze towards you cheerfully and you instantly noticed the absence of his glasses. Your heart throbbed as your colleague had suddenly become 10x more attractive and a deep pit formed in your stomach, wondering how you are meant to survive a car journey with him while he looked like that.

On the drive home, you found yourself basically gripping the car door, begging for oxygen. Chris had once again removed his suit jacket and had leant over to throw it onto the backseat. You found yourself rushing to look away before he turned back in case you couldn’t control yourself and kissed him there and then. To make matters worse, he had proceeded to roll up his shirt sleeves, accentuating his thick forearms that made you almost break a sweat. He had one hand carefully gripping the wheel and the other placed gently on the gear stick. You watched intently through your peripherals, the way Chris’ arm flexed every time he changed gear or turned the wheel using the palm of his hand – you had learnt something new about yourself that day and as much as you wanted to be mad, you were enjoying it just a little bit too much.

Once you arrived home, you fought yourself on asking him inside.

He’s you co-worker  you repeatedly reminded yourself, before thanking him and getting out of the car. You took your time however, hoping for a sign that he might want this too, only, it never came.

You went to home that night, your chest heavy with guilt and regret.

Chris knew exactly what he was doing. He felt disgusting and he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help himself.

Chris had known he wanted you since the day he first lied eyes on you, and it only grew by the day. Watching you around the office pained him. You were so kind-hearted and caring to everyone there, he couldn’t help but want it all to himself.

He wanted you to himself.

He often found himself pretending to not understand something just so you could stare into his eyes while you slowly explained it to him, just so he could get a brief glance down your shirt and at your cleavage as you bent over his desk, just so he could see your skirt slightly lift as you leant over, and just so he could watch you walk away.

He found his slacks tighten every time you switched persona and dominated the office, assigning roles and complaining when work wasn’t up to standard. It was a shame though, he thought, that he was the only person you never seemed to be mean to.

This is my punishment  he had decided. His fantasies were disgusting, and the universe was taking it out on him for being a pervert.

He had to take his jacket off as soon as he got into the car. Chris had caught himself looking as you lifted your bare leg to fold over the other, skirt lifting and briefly showing your underwear (which Chris had accidently noted matched your bra that day). He felt his chest tighten and his cheeks grew warm. He felt suffocated, needing to calm and cool himself before you noticed something was wrong. Chris had worked so hard to keep up his sweet persona, hiding how truly disgusting he was from you, and he was not about to let it slip now.

He didn’t know what had come over him 10 minutes prior asking to give you a lift – a sudden wave of confidence. Never before had Chris had the courage to ask you out, not that this was a date, but it counted for something. Maybe it was because you had joined him earlier in the week for the coffee run and he had deluded himself into thinking you wanted him too. Maybe it was because he had noticed you strangely drifting away recently and needed to win you back. Maybe he finally was finally going to make a move…

“You’ve been avoiding me this week” Chris shocked himself when he noticed he was the one who had just spoken.

You shifted anxiously in your seat, “I’ve just gotten myself tired… too much work I guess”.

You looked over to Chris, sending him a smile, hoping that he believed you.

He didn’t.

But the way you looked at him caused him to forget to care.

15 minutes later, he pulled up outside your house after what felt like the shortest car journey of his life. The rain pattered on the windshield as you gathered your belongings and Chris racked his brain for any excuse to come in or to not let you leave the car.

He couldn’t find one.

You bid him goodbye and wished him a safe journey home before running inside to escape the rain. You threw your bags onto the floor as you entered your house, sighing, kicking off your shoes and falling back against the door. You rubbed your face, wondering how much longer you had to suffer like this and what you had to do to get over him.

Your thoughts, however, didn’t last for long as they were cut off by the panic caused by the feel of your coat pocket feeling strangely empty, where your phone once was.  You ran over to your bags, rummaging through and finding nothing.

Shit

You knew exactly where it was.

Of course it is

Chris’ car. It must have fallen out. You wanted to scream at the universe for this. No matter what, everything just circled back to him. You were not getting over him anytime soon…

You picked yourself up off the floor and rushed towards your door. He might still be outside you had convinced yourself – you prayed. You were prepared to run out into the rain bare footed, only to be stopped by a figure as you pulled open your front door. 

“You, um, left this in my car” He spoke, so quiet it was almost a whisper.

You didn’t realise how badly you needed to see him in that moment. He was like a drug, and you were having withdrawals. Nobody had ever made you feel like this, and it scared you. Your fingers brushed as you took the phone from him, not breaking eye contact once and you were convinced you saw a darkness flash over his eyes. Did he want you too? Did he feel the same? Your brief touch left you needing more, feeling empty without him and all you could think about in that moment was having his soft skin back on yours again.

Your hands had a mind of their own; you felt them reach towards Chris, dropping the phone that brought you two together onto the floor, and pulling him towards you. It didn’t take much, he was already moving you backwards, his hands on your waist and yours on his tie.

You felt him push against you hungrily while a hand snapped round the back of your head to protect it from the wall behind you. His other hand remained on your waist, caging you in and unknowingly keeping you up when you felt like your knees were about to give way.

His kiss was passionate and soft, but you could tell he wasn’t holding back. There was determination in his actions, and you let him. You swallowed your pride and any nagging thoughts in the back of your mind and just let him have you. You just wanted to enjoy the moment you had waited years for.

Only it didn’t last long.

It was over just as quickly as it started.

You felt Chris pull away, running his hand through his hair, aggravated, and muttering a shitty excuse about being sorry or how he shouldn’t have done it. You watched as he backed out of the door you two had conveniently left open and the deafening silence pulled you back to reality; you were abandoned against the wall, frozen in place.

You spent that weekend rearranging your house, putting any furniture you could against the empty wall in hopes to disguise it. Every time you looked over, you couldn’t help but relive your moment together, making you feel nauseous and yet, no matter what, you just couldn’t look way. You eventually decided on a pot plant, one you had found at a market you had dragged yourself to as a distraction. (It hadn’t worked)

The metaphor was ironic – something was growing and it wasn’t your love. You dreaded going back to work. You were used to the tension between you two over the past week but god, this was too much. Maybe you could hand in your two weeks’ notice? Do you think they’d accept two days? You wrote it up and printed it off nonetheless.

Maybe it’s for the best  you considered. This could be your way out. He tried it with you, he made it blatantly clear he didn’t want it and you certainly couldn’t face him again after that. If you quit and got a new job elsewhere, maybe you might have a chance of getting over him.

You can’t run away from your problems!  You ignored that thought. You weren’t really in the mood for thinking logically today.

You had shown up late to work Monday morning. At least you were there though, it was more than what you expected of yourself. Thankfully no one had picked up on the distance between you and Chris – metaphorically and physically. You were convinced he’d furthered himself from you…

You spat out some lie of coming down with a cold to anyone who questioned your tardiness and to your surprise everyone bought it. Well, so you thought.

“Hey, can I speak to you when you get chance?” you had called out to your boss as she rushed past your desk, mid task.

“If this is about you quitting, then the answer is no” she pinched the bridge of her nose and stopped in her tracks. You two had a great relationship and were extremely close, considering that she was your boss. Your friendship allowed you two to be completely honest and tell each other things exactly how they were; you only realised this was a curse in disguise as she saw straight through you.

“W-what?”

“You left your notice on your desk,” she sighed, and you whipped your head round to your desk, panicked. To your surprise, there sat Chris, adamantly watching the conversation unfold, a sad look glazed over his eyes.

You reminded yourself to laugh about that later.

“If you’re going to quit, can you at least wait and do it at a time when we’re not so busy?” She turned back to her assistant and proceeded to continue their prior conversation, walking off and leaving you frozen in your tracks. You tried calling after her, but you knew that was as far as you were going to get with her. Defeated, you made your way back over to your desk where Chris had decided to finally look away.

If the tension between you two wasn’t obvious to everyone in the office, it sure was now.

He wasn’t sure how he had ended up in this situation again. It was Monday evening, and everyone had left – except him and you. Every time Chris was left alone with you, he struggled to contain himself. The weight on his chest was a constant reminder of how badly he had fucked up at the weekend by letting his impulses take over and as a result, ruined one of the only good things in his life.

“You’re quitting because of me?” Jesus Christ, he needed to learn to stop talking whenever there was an awkward silence. You looked up from your paperwork and glared at him.

What a dick!

“Not everything is about you Chris”.

“You’ve been quiet all day…” he pushed.

“I’m just tired that’s all”.

“You’ve used that excuse before” he smirked at you from across the table.

“Why don’t you just mind your own fucking business?” You stood up, slamming your hands on the table in front of you and hovered over Chris. Silence echoed throughout the room, and you instantly felt a deep pit growing in your stomach.

“Shit! I’m sorry,” you rushed out, looking away. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that”. You were completely oblivious however, to Chris tucking his chair in as close as possible or finding anything he could to cover his crotch after your sudden outburst. Was it wrong for him to want to keep going, to keep pushing you? He knew you felt guilty for your actions, but he saw red and from then on, could only think with his dick...

The guilt, however, overcame you. You knew Chris didn’t deserve for you to shout at him like that and that you were taking your own emotions out on him. He was only teasing you, probably trying to lighten the mood and rid of the heavy tension lingering between you two and you went and ruined it – again!

You couldn’t take it anymore. You reached down to pick up your bag from underneath your desk and began packing away any files you may need.

I’ll finish it at home  you thought to yourself. You couldn’t stand to be around Chris anymore and needed to get out before you did anything else you regretted. That was until your thoughts were cut off by the feeling of being harshly spun around until you felt the backs of your thighs hit your desk. You were faced with the man you were trying so hard to avoid, caging you in and giving you a sense of déjà vu to the Friday evening you had spent together three days prior.

“What are you doing?” your voice small.

He had bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know” he croaked out. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell he was fighting with himself, and it pained you to go through this for a second time.

“You don’t want this” you let out in a whisper. His eyes suddenly snapped open, and his head whipped up.

“W-what? No, of course I want this”. He had shrunk his head down to your level and looked you straight in the eye.

He was genuine.

“Why did you run away last time then?”

“I was scared. I thought you didn’t want this”. He broke eye contact and backed away again.

You couldn’t help but smile, “I want this”.

“I want this too” He leant back onto the desk behind you and hesitantly left a peck on the corner of your mouth, feeling him smile against you. His body swallowed yours and you wanted to stay in his warmth forever.

That was until you felt it against your thigh.

You looked down and Chris felt your body shake against him as you giggled; his face flushed when he realised what was going on. He’d gotten distracted from his problem during your sudden confession that he forgot the reason he stopped you from leaving in the first place.

He leant behind you and swiped everything off your desk (a bold move for him), barely giving you chance to argue before pulling you towards him by the waist, spinning you around and pushing you forward, leaving you to catch and hold yourself up on the desk, now in front of you. Your button up shirt hung lose, exposing your shoulder, allowing Chris to pull it down where he began to leave a trail of kisses down your back as he lightly dragged his index finger up your thigh, underneath your mini skirt. You could image him smirking as you let out a gasp and arched your back slightly at his cold touch. “Do you do this to all your girls?” you snarked, breathlessly.

His touched stopped at your sudden comment and Chris spun you back round to face him, picking you up and placing you onto the table.

“What girls?” He asked, a look of confusion spread across his face.

“I don’t know, I just thought… you know,” you hesitated “I saw your wallet.”

“Oh”

You stared at him blankly as he worked up the courage to explain himself. “My friends put it in there as a joke on a night out,” He squinted at you, as if he was scared to see your reaction. “Something about hyping myself up to actually get laid” His voice faded out towards the end of his sentence.

You grabbed his tie, slowly bringing him closer to you. “Have you ever...?”

“Just once” He blushed.

You giggled into his mouth as you pulled him into a kiss. “Cute”

For someone with such little experience, Chris sure knew his way around your mouth. Your little pecks quickly turned into a heated make out where his hands began roaming your body, eventually finding your shirt buttons, and beginning to undo them. His lips followed, making their way down your neck and eventually to your chest. His hands found their way to your breasts, cupping them and causing you to question whether he really was as unexperienced as he said he was…

You watched as Chris’ eye line changed to your cleavage and you couldn’t help but adore how innocent he was, getting distracted so easily, which corrected your previous train of thought. You brought him back to reality by directing his lips back to your chest and you felt a pair of large hands grip your thighs, pulling you forward and causing you to fall backwards as Chris continued his way down your stomach.

The remains of his kisses sent chills throughout your body as they went cold, causing you to seek warmth in Chris, edging closer towards him and placing your legs over his shoulders as his warm breath heated your core. You choked out a gasp as his nose brushed against your clit and he laid soft kisses against the top of your underwear in an attempt to tease you.

‘Your wet…’ he spoke, almost surprised.

‘It’s all you’.

You felt Chris suck in a breath and pause beneath you, you could sense his nerves from above. You grabbed him by his curls, pulling his head up and forcing him to make eye contact with you. You begged him with your eyes before forcing his head back down, granting him permission.

You felt him leave a soft lick down your centre and waited for your protests. He was met with comfortable silence allowing him to repeat the motion, eventually picking up the pace and soon leaving longer strips that caused you to thrust your hips forward, pushing you even closer to him. You felt as he peeled your underwear off of you, letting it dangle around your ankle, and his tongue gently slipped between your folds, licking a few strips before finding your hole and began tongue fucking you. His free hand had moved down to your hip where his thumb reaching down to toy with your clit. Your hands were still in his hair, and you couldn’t help but pull at it, reassuring and guiding him as he began to go down on you. He peeled his last hand away from your waist and was brought it up to your core, feeling your slit before he slowly entered a finger. Your deep groan cause Chris to twitch in his jeans, encouraging him to push it in deeper before pulling out and entering a second. You felt his lips kiss at your nub where he started to lick and kiss. Chris vibrated against you as he let out moans, almost sending you into overdrive and you couldn’t help but grind against him; his thrusts speeding up to match you.

“Cameras” you had managed to make out in between moans as you felt yourself grow closer to finishing, shooting up and disappointingly pushing Chris away. You had suddenly been brought back to reality by your moans echoing in the empty room and you realised where you were. There was a very high chance that you two were going to get caught and as much as you loved this new side of Chris, you knew that even he wasn’t kinky enough to properly do you up against your desk in his place of work. Yes, you had tried to resign from your job only 5 hours prior but now everything seemed to be sorting itself out and you didn’t really want to lose your job this way.

Chris pulled away from you, horror spread across your face and you internally panicked, wondering if you had ruined your one and only chance of being with him like this… He trailed his hands up your hips before picking you up and helping you off of your desk. You both giggled as you wiped his mouth for him and he gave you a reassuring peck on the cheek, as if he could read your mind, before grabbing both your bags and quickly leading you out of the office by the hand.

The silence left Chris in his own thoughts, replaying the events of the last 5 minutes on repeat in his head. You were currently stood side by side with him in the elevator, the slight touch of your arms driving him crazy, and he used everything within him to hold himself back from finishing what he had just begun. He knew that if anyone saw anything, then both your careers would be ruined, but the memory of how you sounded and tasted underneath him was fogging his brain and he found himself struggling to stay focused.

He felt your hand reach into his trouser pocket, placing something inside. It didn’t take Chris long to realise it was your underwear and in return, you felt his hand begin to trail up the inside of your thigh. You bit back a gasp, knowing exactly where this was going and what Chris was trying to do. You felt his fingers play with the hem of your skirt and back to the inside of your leg. You tilted your head slightly to find Chris facing forward, straight faced, as if he wasn’t the one currently with his hands up your skirt. You took note on how he had angled your belongings to cover his actions from the camera in the corner of the elevator and remembered to reward him for it later.

The lift opened after what felt like forever and Chris led you out towards the car park, his hand on the small of your back and further positioning himself behind you as it gradually got lower. He didn’t know what had gotten into him but no matter what, he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. You were a magnet and the connection between you two was so strong, he couldn’t leave you alone. Once you eventually reached his car, he held open the passenger door for you, reminding you how easily he could switch personas and you struggled to believe this was the same man who was between your legs, ready to devour you, just moments prior. Chris threw your belongings onto the backseats in a hurry before rushing into the driver’s seat, removing his jacket, and pushing his sleeves up. He suddenly seemed anxiously frantic, and you would find him adorable if you weren’t pent up.

You gave him little to no time before you were reaching over to him, grabbing his hand, and pulling it underneath your skirt. Your eyes rolled back, your head hitting the seat behind you at the relief the slight touch gave you, “Just do something Chris!”

The way you spoke his name was like his own personal porn, and the sight of you being so needy for him and him only made him weak in the knees, willing to do anything you asked of him. You felt the way he froze in place, shocked by how direct you were; his fingers moving only slightly, hesitant to touch you. You sighed and leant over, grabbing him by the chin and smashing your lips into his to close the gap between you.

You pulled away, “You just had me over a desk and edged me in an elevator, and now you’re too shy to actually touch me?” you giggled against his lips. Obviously, you were exaggerating, but you knew Chris had put on a façade and it was beginning to crack.

‘I don’t want it to be here’.

‘I don’t think I can wait any longer’, you whispered in his ear before beginning to kiss down his neck, sucking slightly and leaving a trail of marks. You were proud of yourself, excited about your female coworkers seeing the mess you made tomorrow and finally being able to claim Chris as yours.

Too in the moment, you failed to notice a hand wrapping around your legs and pulling you into Chris’ lap. Your lack of underwear caused you to gasp as you moved against the bulge in your colleagues’ slacks, also receiving a deep groan from Chris that could’ve made you come undone then and there.

The sound was music to your ears, causing you to repeat the motion and begin grinding on his clothed cock. Chris threw his head back as he let out a string of moans and you proceeding marking him, down his Adams apple to his chest. His hands found your shirt, still partially unbuttoned and loose around you, and reached underneath, pulling your breasts from your bra and toying with them. Eventually, he frantically reached underneath you and pulled down his trousers. Your actions continued but the only fabric separating you now was the thin layer of his boxers. You could feel him. The outline, shape, width… You felt dizzy and didn’t know how much more of you two teasing each other you could take.

‘I need you’ You croaked out. ‘Now!’

He nodded aggressively at you, unable to formulate any words as he reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. You couldn’t help but share a giggle as he took out the item that got you into this mess in the first place.

You struggled to stop yourself from staring as he rolled the condom onto himself and didn’t fail to notice the slight smirk on Chris’ face. You had felt he was big, but you hadn’t expected this and your mind ran with ideas of what you wanted to do to him. You’d have to save that for next time however, because you felt yourself throb at the sight and you needed him inside you ASAP.

You rested your hands on his shoulders, pulling yourself up off Chris’ lap and positioning yourself.

‘Are you sure you’re ok with this’ Chris had asked, nerves lacing his voice, worried you would change your mind last minute. Internally you groaned; you were hovering over his cock, tits and pussy out, practically begging him to take him and he was still worried.

‘Yes yes yes,’ you managed to mumbled out, struggling to speak as you threw your head back at the friction from brushing against his tip. You appreciated him asking for consent and found his nerves adorable, but you were too inpatient to care anymore. ‘Just please… do something’

Your statement lit a flame in Chris, causing him to pull you down and push himself up, meeting you halfway and thrusting into you. The sting hurt so good, and you fell forward, leaning your forehead against his as you tried to adjust to his size.

‘Halfway there’ Chris groaned against your lips, kissing down your jaw as he waited for you to move again.

Picking yourself back up, your hands fell to Chris’ chest as you sank further down. He swallowed a moan as he watched you take all of him where you waited a few moments before moving, rocking against him. You rushed to remove the hand that Chris used to cover his mouth in attempt to muffle his moans, replacing it with your mouth. The kisses were sloppy, your tongues fighting one another but it didn’t matter to you, you just needed him closer to you in any way you could. You picked up the pace, starting to move up and down, and his naïve moans turning you on even more than any of your partners before. His pelvic bone brushed against your clit, causing you to whimper as he matched your actions, thrusting upwards and bouncing you on his cock. Chris reached out to hold your breasts still hanging loosely out of your clothing, not knowing what to do with himself and still aware of his lack of knowledge surrounding the act.

His lips left yours and instead, sucked onto your skin, returning the favour and leaving marks down your chest. You found your hands returning to his hair and you couldn’t help but play with the soft curls hanging down the back of his neck, tugging on them in surprise when Chris’ teeth grazed your nipple. He let his tongue swirl around your areola a few times to tease you before sucking on your nipple and squeezing your other with his free hand. He made sure to swap over, taking even turns on both your tits and you fell back, hands resting behind you on his knees as you grinded forward.

‘I don’t think I can…last…much longer’ Chris coughed out. You watched as mixed emotions flashed across his face, but you had known him long enough to be able to read him like a book. Due to his lack of experience, Chris was annoyed he couldn’t last longer for you, keep you in this moment for longer, see you like this for longer. You felt a grin spread across your face, once again adoring how cute you found him.

‘That’s ok,’ you reassured. ‘Doing so well for me anyway’.

Your hair tickled your back as you tipped your head back in pleasure as he thrusted harder at your praise, and you both began to pick up the pace. Beads of sweat rolled down Chris’ scrunched up face and you had never found him sexier before; the urge to corrupt him only growing stronger.

The sound of your skin slapping together rang in your ears as it echoed throughout the now fogged up car. You were thankful for the empty car park as you were sure the car rocking would give you two away to any passerby. You reached out to hold onto anything around you as you felt yourself growing closer, your hand smearing the condensation against the glass window.

‘I think I’m going to…’ Chris whined out, his head dropping to your shoulder and his large hands returned to your waist.

‘Me too baby’ giving him permission, you cut him off and grabbed onto the headrest behind him as you felt him harshly thrust into you a few more times before tensing up and letting out a loud, deep moan as he climaxed, one causing you to do the same. You continued to ride him through your orgasms before collapsing into his arms, too tired to move.

You pulled him into your apartment, his lips attempting to find yours in the dark as you stumbled around trying to remove each other’s clothes.

‘What the fuck is that?’ Chris had pulled away and you couldn’t help but giggle when you saw his silhouette fighting your new plant. ‘It’s in my spot!’

‘I had to cover it up after our previous rendezvous’ you muttered, guiding him back to your lips in hopes of changing the subject.

You felt Chris frown against you. ‘I’ll be moving that in the morning,’ he spoke in between kisses. ‘I liked having you against that wall’.

‘Oh… Staying the night, are you?

‘I am’ he gave you one last peck on the lips before picking you up bridal style and carrying you towards your room for round 2…

a/n if y’all read this far… i hope you enjoyed :)) Ellie-mai… this is for you pookie bear <3

🤍 please consider reposting or commenting if you like my work!!!

[thelonelysoulhome]

Doumeki is the first person ever to reach out his hand to Yashiro:

Part 4 (part 2)

(this time it's really the last part lol)

(Reminder to read the other parts before this one, if it's not already done, thank you)

(TW: suicide)

To go on, living a worn out life

Yashiro is done, so done with this shitty life, give him a break, the poor man is exhausted, living a life that never been his.

Would that be the answer to ALL of this suffering ? Wouldn't death put out this fire that been lighted inside of him since his childhood ? And that he never been able to put out, how could he do it alone, all alone. Letting it consume him till this very day.

(After he been shot, Y talks with kage in the hospital in chapter 10.5)

"Dont they say 'My whole life flashed before my eyes?' in my case, not a single good thing popped up though"

(He is awareee💔)

"But there have been some good things, you know? One or two... Or three" And Bam! D pop up in Y's mind, because D is one of the few or even the only good thing that happened to Y.

He comes in his life without warning and give him so much in such a short period of time, dismanteling so many hard belief he have, but it's too much for him, he doesn't have the time to proceed any of it, he just got out of the hospital that he already is in danger of death, again. And he knows it, he rushes straight into it.. Into his death, his only escape ?

Yashiro is tired, so tired of this worn out life, he is so over any kind of hope, he don't believe in himself and there are very few things you can do for someone that threw themself first.

Let me... Let me put an end to it..I'm tired, I'm tired of thinking, I'm tired of living, Ah.. I never lived, I just always survived, it's enough... Let me rest.

And that when Doumeki appear again:

Even if he been shot by Y just a few hours ago, sensing the danger Yashiro is in, he runs towards his side, he don't let go, he don't let him, he doesn't let Yashiro's hand fall, he tries desperatly to reach it again.

It is precisely because he is at the bottom of the abyss that he must reach out to him, he needs even more help. Even if this one person pushes him away, now that he knows, he can't ignore what's inside him anymore.

He don't want to let him face it all alone, not anymore.

If Yashiro doesn't have enough straight to fight anymore, Doumeki wants to fight for him, if Yashiro is not attached to his life anymore, Doumeki would be attached to it instead, until he finds a taste for life again.

He want's to also carry the burden, even if it only gives him a tiny bit of relief, he want's Yashiro to rely on him, and to share the burden of all those years with him.

Yes, Doumeki saved you my dear ❤‍🩹

Indeed without Doumeki, Yashiro would be dead.

He searched for him and he saved him from a death that would end a life he did not really live.

Doumeki saved Yashiro's life but not only that, he also saved him from the coldness of being ignored.

Even if it's really hard for Y, and that he is not ready for it yet, maybe not even realising yet, that he always deeply, truly, wanted someone to notice, someone to see, to see him, the litlle boy, stuck in the dark of this closet.

Even near of his one death, all of Doumeki's thoughs are going toward Yashiro (in the cd drama we can clearly hear him pant a "kashira.." out).

He is so devouted, so persistent cause he knows, he saw Yashiro for who he is, and he love him unconditionally. Those fragmants of the real Yashiro are enough for him to want to stay.

He is ready to do anything for him.

He is ready to overcome everything for Yashiro.

But it's without counting that, Yashiro is not ready.. Not ready to accept all of this.

(Seing Doumeki's face here fucking hurt..)

It's only here that he perceive a glimpse of Yashiro's trauma, cause even if D sees Y for who he is, he in reality have very few index and understanding of the causes and how far and deep Y's suffering goes.

And he at this moment realise that even with all the best intentions in the world, certain things can't be resolved.

We don't really know what conclusions D does of all of this, but there is one that I am sure that he did:

Doumeki understand that even though all he want is to love him

That will only hurt Yashiro.

He "give up's", he makes up his mind the moment he understand that he is shatering Yashiro, and that sadly, without Y's will he can't do anything about it.

He is at a dead end, and he quickly understands that he is obligated to make a very difficult decision.

(OMG that hurt so baad...cryinggg❤‍🩹)

The two of them have taken all their courage to let each other go.

Yashiro let go Doumeki, his only light, the only hope he ever had, to protect Doumeki (and himself) from further harm, the yakuza world is indeed dangerous and Y don't want D to be in any danger, especially not because of him. D still have his family: his mom, his sister Aoi, he still have a home, Yashiro doesn't have to be part of it.

(To know that he is the one that called D's family when he was in the hospital..💔)

Seing Yashiro make (what he think to be) his last goodby to what could be his only light in the darkness is trully heart wrenching.

This encounter with Doumeki make such a big impact, and changements in Yashiro's life in such a small amount of time (2 or 3 monts at most) I believe they needed to pass trough all of that, it's being part of their journey, to let's hope, someday become each other support.

In the end of the day, they are only, unfairly, deeply, wounded human beings, with qualities and flaws, and we can already be thankfull that their path crossed.

They both need to work on themself so they can after try to find each other.

The path is still long, but I believe in them, I believe that there is still hope, that someday, they'll help each other to heal, to live.

End.

Thank you very much for reading ❤ See you soon.

[skaruresonic]

I also forgot that one of the very first things we saw Flynnified Lanolin do was express her gratitude to Sonic. I think the idea was that he had inspired her to actually take action... but her approach is far more proactive than Sonic, who simply reacts to Eggman's wrongdoings.

If contained, this isn't a bad idea for a conflict. It fits with the general idea that she's high-strung and inexperienced, and doesn't want anyone to suffer like she did, while Sonic has been in the game (lol) for far longer and he's more relaxed.

But Lanolin has degenerated so much that it looks like she has legit spiralled into a breakdown. Now she is so rigid that she has become abusive, creating a climate of fear and control with her own companions - she has gaslighted Whisper in the real sense of the word! Her empathy for newbies makes her blind to Duo's obvious lies, while she holds veterans like Silver to such a high standard that any perceived failure deserves a verbal lashing out - but without the willingness to listen, to accept that maybe her assumptions were wrong, because she doesn't want to show any sign of vulnerability. And it feels like she holds so much resentment in her heart that she snaps at anyone vaguely irritating her, from Tangle playing to Sonic not moving out of the road fast enough (who cares about the possibility of them being hurt? Certainly not her! Everything has to flow smoothly and wounded people are simply a hindrance!)

And now we have ABT giving us a Lanolin who has been consumed so much by her own bitterness that she has gone from seeing Sonic as a hero to an irresponsible force of nature who simply doesn't care enough about anything. A danger. Something she cannot hold on a leash. Something to fear and look with suspicion. (and may have attempted to attack him, ABT's sketches are very confusing)

I would almost be impressed by this tragic villain arc, if I wasn't sure nothing I said is intentional.

I think the idea was that he had inspired her to actually take action... but her approach is far more proactive than Sonic, who simply reacts to Eggman's wrongdoings.

You know, I kind of think maybe we're even shortchanging Sonic by calling him "reactive." I know what you mean, but most people tend to exaggerate the whole "Sonic isn't proactive" thing to mean "Sonic isn't a perfect hero because he isn't surveilling Eggman 24/7."

We've seen this before with Flynn's "Eggman stormed Prison Island without knowing what Project Shadow was" argument. As if Eggman needs to be psychic and know what a classified top-secret military experiment is before he breaches the place and finds out for himself.

While it's true that Sonic doesn't take preemptive measures against Eggman, he also can't be expected to keep tabs on the guy all the time. (How ironic, then, that the one time he promises to check up on Tinker in issue 6, he actively neglects his duty.)

He does what he can with the knowledge he possesses. It's not like he can magically intuit that Eggman's going to go steal Ancient Document #3,487 and wake up another beast.

Plus, it doesn't mesh well with his freespirited nature. Superheroes are morally burdened by their self-imposed duties and obligations. Sonic just has awesome adventures because why not.

---

If contained, this isn't a bad idea for a conflict. It fits with the general idea that she's high-strung and inexperienced, and doesn't want anyone to suffer like she did, while Sonic has been in the game (lol) for far longer and he's more relaxed.

Not sure I agree. We've seen the "no one should suffer the way I have" thing from Shadow and the whole high-strung schtick from Blaze.

I don't really see what else Lanolin is bringing to the table other than that she's a normie. And frankly, her personality is too underwhelming to rely on relatability. We don't even know if the girl has any hobbies aside from ordering people around.

---

But Lanolin has degenerated so much that it looks like she has legit spiralled into a breakdown. Now she is so rigid that she has become abusive, creating a climate of fear and control with her own companions - she has gaslighted Whisper in the real sense of the word!

Nah man, she's peak because she's nasty and unpleasant. Let stronk women be bitches. Something something.

Kind of raises the brow how quick she is to resort to violence when she feels "threatened" by Whisper. You'd think she'd be more of a flighter instead of a fighter.

---

Her empathy for newbies makes her blind to Duo's obvious lies, while she holds veterans like Silver to such a high standard that any perceived failure deserves a verbal lashing out - but without the willingness to listen, to accept that maybe her assumptions were wrong, because she doesn't want to show any sign of vulnerability. And it feels like she holds so much resentment in her heart that she snaps at anyone vaguely irritating her, from Tangle playing to Sonic not moving out of the road fast enough (who cares about the possibility of them being hurt? Certainly not her! Everything has to flow smoothly and wounded people are simply a hindrance!)

Yep.

Control freak.

---

And now we have ABT giving us a Lanolin who has been consumed so much by her own bitterness that she has gone from seeing Sonic as a hero to an irresponsible force of nature who simply doesn't care enough about anything.

Which is dehumanizing towards Sonic, as well as belittling. Sonic does care. He demonstrates his care through his actions and the kindness he gives people.

Also, didn't Archie characterize Sonic as a living force of chaos? Hmm.

---

A danger.

Ironic, considering he bothered to save people from the mess she made.

---

Something she cannot hold on a leash.

The Sally Sheeples arguments are starting to look more and more convincing by the minute.

---

Something to fear and look with suspicion.

Again, though, why? She thanked him for saving her town in issue 57. Now all of a sudden she's afraid of Sonic?

And if that's the case, why is she sticking around? Why can't she do the sensible thing and ask Jewel to relocate her to go work somewhere else where she won't have to be around people she perceives as ticking time bombs? If she views Sonic and co. as a threat, then why doesn't SHE take any measures to protect herself? Clearly she can't feel that unsafe around them, otherwise she wouldn't even think to scold them.

That's the frustrating thing about Lanolin. She's supposed to be this no-nonsense drill sergeant, yet continuously expects the world to bend to her expectations rather than assume any agency herself. God forbid our stronk women make decisions! Heavens no.

The only logical explanation is that Lanolin is such a huge fucking control freak that even Sonic the Hedgehog must abide by her strict standards, his previous heroism be damned.

---

(and may have attempted to attack him, ABT's sketches are very confusing)

She reached into her cowbell to withdraw her Wisp. Doing that crossed the threshold from mere fantasy to premeditation, imo. It's one thing to fantasize about someone you hate dying - quite another to essentially reach for a knife hidden in your pocket while their back is turned.

[romana-after-dark]

Room's on Fire: So Afraid

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna learns her power.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Extra warnings for chapter: I dont wanna spoint things so just proceed with caution. DM me if you'd like specifics before reading. I dont think its as bad as other things but.... you'll see

3.1k words (so sorry)

Support artists, like and reblog!

BTW if you dont read the lyrics usually i feel it really hits hard this time

I been alone All the years So many ways to count the tears I never change I never will I'm so afraid the way I feel Days when the rain and the sun are gone Black as night Agony's torn at my heart too long So afraid Slip and I fall and I die. ~ Go Insane, Fleetwood Mac

“He’s fucking unraveling.”

Ben is pacing inside the sanctuary, Will leaned against the wall listening to him rant. They were waiting for the others and Madonna, having to perform a healing ritual. As far as Will could tell, she was going to be okay outside the lasting scars and the mental terror, and she was past the point of miscarrying from the incident, but the people needed assurance. They needed to feel a part of something. The doors were opened other guard had seen what had happened, and from what he and Ben had heard from the rumblings of the people, they were nervous. Unsettled.

Will had to set the course straight, concocting a story of possession and torment by demons to explain Santi’s behaviors… which of course cleared Santi of responsibility but still left Delta scarred. He continued to listen to Ben’s rants.

“He’s gonna fuck it all up. Doesn’t he know more than anyone what we’re doing here? He could have killed the savior.”

“And Madonna.” Will reminds him, but Ben turns to glare at him.

“I’m aware of that. I’m aware of how important Madonna is, you don’t think I love her too? You don’t think I’ve spend every night in her bed-”

“Next to Frankie.”

Ben stopped, stepping forward and looking like he might start a fight. He was drunk, and when Ben was drunk he was either madly horny or ripe for anger fits. Will’d seen him kill a man with his bare hands at a orgy for kissing Frankie. Orgies were orgies, but Santi kept rules around Frankie, rules that had been enforced by Ben’s rage he pushed down below his crown of sunshine on his hair.

But then Frankie opened the door.

“Hey guys.” He walked in his formal wear, and Will had to admit he understood why everyone wanted a piece of him. His eyes were bright in the yellow light.

“Where’s Madonna?” Will asks.

“She’s finishing eating, Rey’s with her. I wanted to talk to you guys alone.”

Will nods.

Ben seems frustrated, crossing his arms in that pout he likes to do. ”I don’t like her alone with him.”

“He’s her personal guard, Benjamin. We have to trust him.”

He shakes his head. “We should rotate her guard so no one gets attached. You know how she breaks down everyones walls better than anyone, Frank.” There was a bit more bite than Frankie expected after the close nights they’d been spending in each other's arms next to Madonna, but when Ben was drinking it was always a bit of a guess.

“He’s her only friend. The first friend she’s had since we decided to set her dad on fire. I think we can allow her-”

“UUUUGGGHHHHHHHHH” Ben rolls his eyes and his whole head in annoyance. “Can’t she just be friends with Iris?”

Will spoke up now. “I think you ensured that won’t happen.”

“And you ensured she can’t trust Jonah” Frankie snapped, not sure why he was defending Ben. He didn’t know he did anything half the time.

Sighing, Will scrubbed his face and then held out his hands. “Both of you relax. I’ve got it taken care of. I doubt Rey has any interest in Madonna, but considering I don’t this Iris is putting out with him, we can’t be too sure. And considering what Pope did to her, we can’t have her falling into his arms. I’ve got it.”

Frankie nodded. “Rey doesn’t have eyes for anyone but Iris.”

Ben’s drunk anger shifted to his horny drunk. “To bad Madonna doesn’t have eyes for Iris.” He looked far away, smiling, no doubt thinking of their wife fucking the pretty cook. Will couldn’t deny she was beautiful… it was a wonder she was unclaimed by the time her punishment began.

A smack from Frabkie broke Ben out of his thoughts. “Ow!”

“You’re sick, you know that?”

“I can dream!”

Will was about to shout at them all to shut up when Pope opened the door. He wore a red tunic, reminding Will of pictures he’d seen of pentecost robes from the before. Not as tight as Frankie, but Frankie gained more weight in recent years. 

“Gentlemen.” He greeted, eyes raking over Frankie’s form. “Are we ready?”

Everyone nodded, Frankie doing his best to hide the anger, the furry, the disgust he felt at Santi. He could hurt him, but how dare he hurt Madonna?

Will nodded over to the entry to the church. “Frank, Ben, start the prayers. We’ll come out in a bit when Madonna arrives.”

Pope narrowed his eyes, but told Ben and Frankie to go, watching Frankie’s ass as he walked through the curtains to the congregation. 

“You couldn’t be more obvious, you know.”

He breaks Santi out of his lustful view.

“Hm?”

“Everyone knows you want Frankie more than anything. Can’t keep your eyes off him.”

Santi attempts to brush his concerns away with a whisk of his hand. “I love all my spouses.”

“You love Frankie.”

“I love him, Ben, you, Madonna.”

“You just want the savior-”

Rushing close to Will, Santi presses his chest against his lover and whispers in a harsh tone. “The savior is a part of her!”

Will grips his tunic, keeping them pulled close as he whispers in his ear. “You need. To calm. Down. Breaking her breaks the savior. Breaking her breaks the whole community. You are losing touch with reality and if you do not get. Your shit. Together. Everything will come crumbling down.” He pulls back just far rough to meet his eye and walks forward, backing Santi up until his ass hits the slab of marble they all deflowered their wife on. A faint trace of her blood remained.

Santi was panting, chest heaving and his cock rose in his robes. “Everything I do is for our community. Who do you think got her pregnant? We’re going to save this doomed earth, we’re bring The One Mighty and Strong to earth and Divine Mother will finally let us all be happy.”

“Santi…” Will caressed Santi’s face, enjoying how easily Santi submitted. Frankie was easy. Frankie melts at the simplest touch of anyone who shows him affection. Santi only submits to him. “You need to relax. She’s pregnant, and she’ll be okay. The savior is coming. You just need to-”

“Don’t tell me what to-” He begins to snap at Will, but before he can finish he’s turned around and bent over the altar. His tunic is being pulled up, and when his hands move to stop him, they are pinned down to the cold stone. “WHat are you doing?”

Spitting on his hole, Will lines his cock up at Santi’s ass and leans in. “You hurt Madonna. You need to learn a lesson.”

*

You enter at your cue, giving Rey’s hand a squeeze before he lets go to open the door. You hated this, you hated being out in public knowing everyone knew what was done to you. Will said Pope was possessed, that he was fighting a battle with the devil, spiritual warfare and he needed prayers, he needed your strength. You had to be strong for him. You forgave your husband and felt sympathy he was in so much pain… But why do you still want to recoil when he touches you? You were sleeping in your bed again, but one always accompanied you to help if the nightmares returned…. You never slept when it was Santi’s arms around you

Francisco and Ben were leading the congregation in prayers, praying for Pope’s strength in his battle and you prayed along, Francisco getting up to walk you down to the raised area. You remember, as you always did, walking down the aisle on your wedding day, unable to bare looking at them for too long, finding solace in Jonah’s eyes… Now he was talking nonsense, and you were worried about him.

The other day, early morning, you’d slipped out of Ben’s arms to find something to eat. Baby was kicking, apparently wanting sugar and you hoped Iris wasn’t up. Things were tense between you, and you could make your own pancakes. You had, of course, thanked her profusely for caring for you when… when it happened, genuinely grateful for the care she showed you… You wanted to be her friend again, god you really did, you wanted to go back to singing with Rey and her and Jonah in the kitchen… but something in the air had shifted.

Wish granted, Iris wasn’t there. Jonah was. He was drinking coffee, PJ pants slung low on his hips… No shirt. He had a lean body even at his age, hip bones prominent below the weak elastic and a trail of hair going down-

When the floor under you squeaks, Jonah stands up fully, shuffling to move behind the kitchen table. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be alone…”

“Baby wants pancakes.” You rub your stomach. He’s not looking at you. You make a move to the cabinets, But Jonah cuts off your path.

“I got it, you should rest.”

Your shoulders slump. “I’m not a baby, I’m just carrying one. Let me do it.”

Jonah shakes his head. “Please, just… let me.” He gives you a small smile. “I know you’re not a kid. They should all be afraid of you, Madonna.”

He made good pancakes.

*

Will and Pope returned from their prayers in the sanctuary, Pope looking… Off. He looked ruffled, confused, his eyes a little glassy… maybe Will exercised the demon out?

Pope began his prayers. “Our beloved Madonna, Holy and Beautiful, our maternal bride, has suffered pain and scarring from the demonic attacks of the devil, we must pray for heeling over her body.”

Will’s hands reach for the back of your dress, lowering the zipper when you gasp, jolting away and turning back to him. “What are you doing?!” You whisper, eyes watering with panic. Francisco mutters Will’s name, but he ignores him, opting to pull you close. He cups your face, whispering in your ear.

“They need to see the wounds, Madonna. They need to see you’re healing, they're worried.”

“But… I don’t wanna be naked, Will.” You turn to glance at the crowd, catching Pope glare. You shiver. “There’s people here who made fun of me…”

His fingers lay your hair down. “It’s just your dress, Madonna. Don’t worry, we’re right here. Trust me.” 

Echoes of the past flitter in your head.

I’m going to touch you, just stand there and take it. Trust me.

Will unzipped your dress, the fabric pooling down around your ankles. Murmurs wave over your body, whispers from the people who loved you. Were they mocking you? Were they laughing?

Just down to her underwear, Francisco.

Your bandages were off, but the skin was marred horrifically. It was bad enough those in the back could see it spreading over your pregnant stomach. Were there jealous women in the crown? Your dorm mates that didn’t understand why you were chosen?

Will’s hands find the clasp of your bra, and you tense again. “Will?”

“Just relax, Madonna. Relax for me. Don’t worry.”

It’s just me, it’s just external, don’t worry.

When his hands went for your underwear, you didn’t protest. 

You stood naked, your scared body on display for the whole congregation.

Your husbands stood at your side, each laying a hand on your stomach as the crowd began to pray. You felt like you were being punished, humiliated. What did you do wrong? Your lip quivers, panic rising in your chest again. No, no you would not melt down here. You see a woman who was particularly nasty to you… she tried to make you eat a worm because you didn’t say hi to her when you were 10 and she was 12… You were in one of your “no talking episodes” as your dad called them, the playground was too loud, your new bra you had to wear adding a sensation to your skin you hated… she took it personal, and tormented you for the next 12 years. She was smirking. 

You feel Ben’s hand on your ass, coping a feel.

You think of Will’s lies.

You look at Santi, his eyes only on your stomach. 

You look at Francisco, not saying the prayers and looking at Be’s hand on your ass.. Did you and the baby even matter to him? Why was he so disconnected?

You didn’t feel sad anymore.

You were angry.

“Kneel.”

Your voice, while quiet, makes the four of them turn to you, surprised by you. But no one moves.

“Kneel. If you’re praying for my healing, kneel.” You don’t look at them.

Santi speaks. “We don’t kneel to you, Madonna. You kneel to us.”

Your body wants to shake, you want to fold like you do every time a boundary is crossed but you don’t. 

“I am carrying the savior. I am more important than your ego.” You say, firm in your stance and keeping your voice steady. “Pray to the divine mother to protect me, if you really want this child,” you turn to Pope. “And to forgive your sins.” You turn to Francisco now, his eyes wide with fear. “Get on your knees. I know you know how.”

There was a beat of silence, everyone waiting for Pope’s movement, you knew. Then, Francisco kneels to you. Then Will. Then Pope. Then Ben, only ever following in what the others do.

When they do, a hush falls over the crowd.

You raise your arms, shouting. “We pray for a hedge of protection around me and my child.”

A voice from the crowd shouts, “hail to the mother and the savior!”

All throughout the room, the congregation echos the sentiments, shouting your praises as the smile grew on your face. They adored you. They loved you. Standing naked wasn’t humiliating, it was power. You feel Francisco’s thumb caress over your bare skin. He smiles as he mouths ‘Hail to the mother.’

*

You were running high on the endorphins, even excited enough to ride Will’s dick despite your protruding stomach. It was an amazing high, knowing the power you held, the power to make Santiago- Pope, you mean- to make Pope kneel at your command… he owed you. He owed you this. When Will fell asleep, you were still wide awake, unable to get the giddiness out of your system… So you slip a nightie over your body, pulling panties on and sneak out of the room. Jonah had said he’d make you more pancakes tonight if you were hungry and boy, baby was hungry. Rey, as predicted, was snoring in his chair and you have to stifle a giggle as you creepy past him, bare feet light on the wood flooring. 

The kitchen was dark, no Jonah… maybe you should go get him. Turning on the kitchen lights you go to exit out the other door, the servants entrance leading to the rooms of Jonah, Iris, and the other guards, but when you did, Jonah was there.

Right away, you knew something was wrong. He wreaked of alcohol, looked like he hadn't slept in days and was piss drunk, stumbling into the kitchen so hard he crashed into you. 

“Jonah-oh- I… was gonna take you up on the pancakes…” You mutter, backing away. “But maybe I can make some for you, you seem-”

He catches your wrist.

“I don’t want pancakes.” His voice is gruffer than you ever have known it. Pressing you against the counter, he crowds you in. 

Your heart beat picks up, instincts telling you to run, run, run…. But you can’t.

“What… what are you…”

His lips brush your neck before you can blink, his movements clunky and strange. “I want you.”

You try to push him away, but he’s much stronger. “Jonah stop! You’re talking crazy, you haven't been well, please, just-” Again, you try to wiggle away but his hand grabs your waist. “Just go to bed.”

Jonah scoffs, laughing sardonically. “Just like that? I tell you I want to fuck you and you say to sleep it off? Jesus christ, do you have no survival instincts? At all?”

“Please… please stop touching me Jonah…” You want to stop feeling his breath on your skin. “I won’t tell anyone. Just stop!” The tears come, crying and scared and trying to smack his hands away desperately and still trying to push out of his grasp.

“You should be screaming, honey, what is wrong with you?” His hand grips your hip, and you need him away from your baby, now.

With a closed mouth scream, you kick his shin and the shock is enough for him to let go so you take off, but he gives chase. Once again, you are pinned to the door. You knew you could scream. You start screaming, and Rey, or Will, or any of the others will be on their way in seconds and you’d be safe… ‘’

“Why are you doing this?” You sob in his arms, his fingers entangling in your hair. He pulls on it, and you close your mouth intime to not yell.

His hand caresses down your arm, making you shiver and feel so, so sick to your stomach. “God dammit, have the broken every fucking piece of you? Is that it?” Why was he so angry at you? What did you do wrong? Did you tempt him? He hand on your waste again, he keeps almost moving it up towards your breasts or down to your ass but never going far. Jonah rests his forehead on yours. “Why won’t you SCREAM!” He shouts his last word so loud in your face, the strong smell of alcohol bursting on your skin and you shout out loud.

“BECAUSE THEY’LL KILL YOU!” Your whole body heaves, panicing and you feel you might throw up. “ThEY’LL KILL YOU AND I’LL LOSE MY DAD AGAIN!”

His face turns into something pained, and while his hand reminds gripped in your hair to keep you there, he pulls back just enough for you to see him run a hand over his wet face. Right before he slammed it through the wall. You couldn’t help it, your body forced you to scream before your mouth stopped the voice, Jonah’s fist curling tightening and pulling your hair against your scalp as you continued to shout. He continued to punch the wall next to your head.

When Will burst through the door, everything went blank. As soon as Jonah was pulled off you, your body slid down the wall where you watched Will pummel Jonah. At some point, arms were wrapped around you, but you couldn’t tell if it was Rey or Frankie. Only the smell of weed narrowed it down.

You didn’t hear much, your ears ringing as you watched blood fly out of Jonah's mouth. Muffles words weren't as loud as the beats to Jonah's body. You were sure other people were in the room... there was shouting... but you couldn't see anything except Jonah going limp, only jolting weakly at each slam of Will's fists.

You aren’t even sure how you made it back to bed.

Shout out to @hornystan for editing, our beloved Frankie in his formal wear

Okay. So that happened.

JONAH what are you DOING BESTIE??????

PLEASE leave your THOOOTTSS and THOUGHTS!!! Frankie kneelings? Madonna chaneling hr anger??? Jonah doing... ALL THAT!!!!!!!

What are we thinking?

love you all so much! I know theres a lot of bullshit happening in the fandom but just know, dont trust everything you hear. I know at the very least one person the stupid confessions page is attacking is genuinely a kind, amazing person who was in the right <3 If there is a writer you dont think is nice or friendly enough... just keep it to yourself or talk to a few friends. You dont need to air it out publically.

Lets keep it chill, I say to me and my uuhhhh 30 readers B)

ANYWAY

Im like 60 followers away from 1000 followers on this account and i have a fun event planned!!!

I did this poll befoe, but its been like 10 chapters soooooooo

Save the children (which has absolutely nothing to do with QAnon who hijacked their hashtag) our currently supporting relief efforts in the Congo above our listed some quick facts that I hope you’ll take a moment to read, and if you can afford it, please consider making a donation. I have made a small one, but if we band together small donations make a difference

LOVE YOU ALL!

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates (If you ask to be tagged, I ask you at least like the fic. Likes dont do anything to spread the work, but it at least lets me know you're still reading.)

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

Follow the tag Rooms on fire

Tags are working like SHIT these days for me and many, many others so make sure to follo wthe rooms on fire tag or my update account.

@winniethewife @femmeanonymelives @yorksgirl @pockcock @neverwheremoonchild @casa-boiardi @meveispunk @survivingandenduring @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @obscurexsorrows @hellfire-state-of-mind @christinamadsen @pimosworld @princessanglophile @rubyfruitjungle @simple-lovebot @missdictatorme @campingwiththecharmings @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @javier-penas-wifexx420 @stefani-topaz @alwaysmicado @mjnomaryjane @incorrectclassicbookquotes @axshadows @ghostslillady @movievillainess721 @justagalwhowrites @charethcutestory02 @pixielouise-blog @gogh-with-the-flow @justafandomgvrl @katw474 @loveable-liar @arrozconpepitoria @minigirl87 @runa-falls @pedge-page @angel-of-the-moons @beefrobeefcal @pixielouise-blog @miraclesabound @oliveksmoked @bubble-pop-eclectic @corazondebeskar-reads @pedroshotwifey @umnitsa @koshkaj-blog @hiroikegawa @mangoslushcrush @withasideofmeg @sub-aro @wand-erer5 @guelyury @readingiskeepingmegoing

[scroogemcducksbastardchild]

"too sweet is so hannigram coded" wrong. listen to shrike right now

buckle up cause this is gonna be a long post!!

[image id: screenshotted text from reddit user @yupsquared. it reads:

I've seen a lot of pretty varied interpretations of Shrike, which always kinda surprised me as I thought it had a very direct reading. Might as well type out my interpretation now in the chance anyone sees this, or maybe I'll make it into a post.

I read Shrike as a song in which the singer describes how his attitude towards love has been corrupted by a scornful and captivating lover, and how in a sense he has been 'ruined', having no other recourse now for new love.

He illustrates this with the image of the shrike, a bird—typically symbols of carefree or joyous life, but in this case a bird that relies on a brutal counterpart, a thorn, to live. The shrike impales its prey on the thorn and then tears it apart. The shrike needs its thorn.

We see the singer in the beginning, as generally timid, perhaps naïve, but ultimately good:

I couldn't utter my love when it counted

and

And I'd no idea on what ground I was founded

and

Then when I met you, my virtues uncounted

He doesn't seem to have much ideological ground or experience. Carefree, like a songbird. Moving on, we are treated to imagery showing just how asymmetric the relationship is; the lover is much more powerful than the singer. He is "hung like the pelt of some prey [she] had won." By all accounts he is under her thumb, and he is altered by it:

I was housed by your warmth

Thus transformed

By you're grounded and giving

And darkening scorn

The fact that her "scorn", such a harsh word, is perceived as giving betrays how awful this relationship is. Happy, healthy relationships are not scornful, they are affirming. The singer doesn't care, something within him has changed, has darkened. He now flies to "the hedgerows where bodies are mounted"— the final form this relationship takes, a killing field, terrible and grotesque. Ultimately, he is reborn:

As the shrike to your sharp

And glorious thorn

—and in this final transformation, he sees the thorn, by all means a noxious thing, sharp, something to be avoided— as "glorious" even invigorating. He has become a shrike, reliant, within the context of the relationship maybe even addicted, to a toxic lover's cruelty and scornful love.

The fact that this is set to pretty, melodic, gentle folk-blues music makes it cut even deeper for me. The singer has internalized this to the point where it is reflected as harmony, instead of grotesquerie. We see it, but he is slavishly devoted to this thing whose warmth seems superficial and who wears him like a pelt. There is no going back, no return to carefree songbird days. The shrike needs to eat. The shrike needs its thorn.

To wrap, this captivation with dark lovers seems like a pretty consistent theme of Hozier's. As It Was has those lovely closing lines:

And the sights were as stark as my baby

And the cold was as sharp as my baby

And the nights were as dark as my baby

Half as beautiful too

Dark, cold, sharp, and beautiful. Not despite the darkness, the sharpness, but because of it. And if we look at NFWMB, the whole of it describes his lover as apocalypse, literally warming her fingers on the pyre of the word and giggling at the sound of the dead rising from Hell. He likes 'em bad.

**rattled this out on the train, so lil grammar edits. end id]

i'd offer my own interpretation of the lyrics, but yupsquared did a far better job than i could (here's a link to the reddit thread in case anyone wants to check it out!) so i'll just go off their analysis.

I couldn't utter my love when it counted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now

The words hung above But never would form Like a cry at the final Breath that is drawn Remember me, love When I'm reborn As the shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

aside from the obvious shrike symbolism, to me, this is a contrast between mizumono and the wrath of the lamb. we know that will has difficulty accepting his feelings about killing- and by extension, about hannibal. he doesn't want to accept that he could love that part of himself, and in mizumono, we see him torn between hannibal and his life at the fbi. hannibal believes he's been betrayed by will and punishes him, destroying the possibility of a life with abigail. i think that if events had gone according to plan, will would have chosen hannibal ("i gave you a rare gift. but you didn't want it." "didn't i?"), but in hannibal's eyes will "couldn't utter [his] love when it counted" and suffered the consequences. a betrayal for a betrayal, a gutting for a gutting.

s3b has will go through a similar arc, choosing this time between hannibal and his life with molly. but he can make the choice this time, and he chooses hannibal ("this is all i ever wanted for you, will. for both of us." "it's beautiful"). even after everything they had gone through, everything hannibal had done, will chose hannibal, and his becoming is rebirth. he acknowledges their symbiotic relationship and accepts (to an extent; i agree with hugh that he's not fully there yet) that death can be beautiful. he becomes the shrike to hannibal's "sharp and glorious thorn."

And I'd no idea on what ground I was founded All of that goodness is goin' with you now Then when I met you, my virtues uncounted All of my goodness is goin' with you now

Dragging along Following your form Hung like the pelt Of some prey you had worn Remember me, love When I'm reborn As a shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

when will and hannibal meet, and as their relationship progresses, will is unstable and unsure of himself but still has faith in his morals. his job helps him save lives, and if it plays into some darker urges he keeps buried, well, so be it. but hannibal's manipulation of will and the murder of garrett jacob hobbs brought those urges to the surface.

i think hannibal's manipulation of will was equal parts curiosity and personal longing. he wanted to see what will would do, but he also saw in will the potential to understand and be understood in return, something hannibal never considered as a possibility. he saw himself in will and that allowed him to see a future.

I fled to the city with so much discounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now

this verse can have multiple interpretations. one, and perhaps the most obvious, is will looking for hannibal in s3a. the first two lines are from hannibal's perspective; he fled to the city (florence), with the promise of a life with will and abigail discounted, but found himself returning to will in the metaphorical sense. leaving him his broken heart. the second two lines are from will's perspective. he's sailing away from home but towards hannibal, towards the life of violence he could easily escape. will also returns to hannibal in the metaphorical sense with the firefly tableau. he has become the shrike, mounting his prey on hannibal's thorns.

this verse can also be taken within the context of s3b, with will returning yet again to hannibal and "the hedgerows where bodies are mounted." this time, however, all four lines are from will's perspective. his "city" is a normal life with molly, and what he discounted was not the possibility of a life with hannibal (as the latter did in mizumono) but rather the possibility that he could want such a life.

I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounded and giving And darkening scorn Remember me, love When I'm reborn As a shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

this is the final scene in the wrath of the lamb, the last step in will's becoming. he was transformed by hannibal; his manipulation, his understanding, the idea that someone could accept even the darkest parts of him wholly and completely ("you're not alone, will. i'm standing right beside you"). his love.

[mari-lair]

(the hanakou analysis: Here)

Thank you, Anon! That's an interesting question but a bit tricky to answer because I don't think Mitsuba needing to eat spirits to survive is comparable to Kou's trying to see Hanako as an evil spirit but I do want to talk about how Mitsuba's "exorcise me" moment have connection to Kou's journey with Hanako.

Before seeing how each relationship influences the other I wanna highlight their big differences, so bear with me.

Kou does not see Mitsuba as a threat, the 'he eat evil spirits to survive' reveal does not change that. Mitsuba goes out of his way to only eat supernaturals and Kou does not consider killing monstrous supernaturals as something 'evil'. He has seen Teru do it since he was a little kid, has seen Hanako do it to protect him, and even did it himself.

What makes Hanako be considered an evil spirit is that he is capable of murdering humans. Hanako can be genuinely dangerous, and so far, Kou had gotten no reason to believe Mitsuba is too.

Even if Mitsuba shows signs of being dangerous, Kou does not perceive Mitsuba as a supernatural nearly as much as he does Hanako, spending a good portion of the manga confusing him with Sousuke the human, and treating him like someone he wants to get close to, not judge.

Mitsuba is, first and foremost, someone Kou is desperate to be of use to, not very related to his identity as an exorcist.

If Hanako is the one he relies on. Mitsuba is the one in need of his help. Kou's role of being Mitsuba's guide is self-assigned, present even before the supernatural was born, all the way to when he interacted with Sousuke's ghost.

Kou failed Sousuke and Mitsuba many times, so his inclination to help him became a need. As the people he trust seem to not take him seriously he grows desperate for Mitsuba to rely on him.

So Mitsuba saying he wants to be exorcised is a spit in his face. He does not care about how inhuman eating demons is when Mitsuba is basically saying "I don't want to rely on you, I don't believe you can make my dream come true. I give up"

He is angry and frustrated. He wholeheartedly rejects the idea not even Mitsuba needs him. He does care about Mitsuba and doesn't want him to die, but he is also blinded by frustration that even the person he had been sure only had him to count on considers Kou a second option.

Even after he realizes Mitsuba is able to hurt human beings he does not focus on the new information, he does not care about 'how dangerous this supernatural is', his issue with the situation is still not being trusted. Not being needed.

Mitsuba had even commented it would have 'been quicker' if it was Teru who got there to kill him. As if even for giving up, Kou is not the first option.

It makes him feel lonely and incompetent.

The thing that makes him stop being angry is when Mitsuba, who saw him cry like a baby, still says "I am glad I came to see you" he was not disappointed by Kou

It grabs his attention, it soothes his insecurities a little.

But Kou's reaction gets interesting here:

Kou doesn't deny his claim that "you would be sorry to see me go, the same way you would for anybody."

What Mitsuba said here hits hard, because it makes him think of Hanako.

Even when faced with a cruel version of Hanako in the red house, Kou was frozen, aware he can't exorcise him.

Kou run away from every single wish in the red house, but killing Hanako is the only wish that makes him hide behind his hands. He does not want to think about it. He does not want to face the possibility he may need to kill Hanako.

So he can't argue with Mitsuba.

And that makes him angry because exorcising Hanako does not mean the same as exorcising Mitsuba. For Hanako dying is not giving up on a dream, it is a reward, something he craves. Or at least, that's what Hanako consistently tells Kou.

Hanako's beliefs go against Kou's beliefs. This is the one thing Hanako constantly tries to 'teach' him, that Kou refuses to accept.

It is also the only thing Hanako has ever shown to want besides saving Nene. It is important to Hanako, Kou can understand that much. So when the ghost say "I look forward for when you exorcise me." it is a huge show of trust, of expectations.

Hanako only ever explicitly trusted Kou to help with two things: protecting Nene and exorcising him. He seems to be under the impression Hanako no longer trusts him to be of help to Nene, since the supernatural did not share his plans about the severance or trapping Nene in Mei's canvas, and that hurts.

He can't mess up Hanako's hopes of being exorcised too.

He doesn't want to disappoint Hanako again. There is a reason Hanako's asked Kou to kill him in the house the show you your wishes.

Is no wonder that when Mitsuba makes Kou remember Hanako his view on the situation changes, he considers Mitsuba's nature as a supernatural more carefully instead of dismissing his behavior as the personal attack he had thought it was.

The idea that Mitsuba may share Hanako's view on being exorcised is so frustrating to Kou. He fucking hates it, but he is more willing to think about it instead of dismissing his wish with to die with all the grace of a heart shoved in his mouth.

When he does a competition and claims he will exorcise Mitsuba if he wins, he feels more... Detached than usual. Even if he is visibly troubled.

It feels like a more raw version of when he is trying to convince himself Hanako is a threat that should be exorcised, telling Nene of all people this:

Which makes me believe that deep down a part of him wants her to convince him otherwise. Make him believe that Hanako is not an evil spirit he needs to exorcise. But she can't do it.

Kou does not want to exorcise either ghost but Hanako is dangerous, and Mitsuba no longer believes he can be human. So both ghosts force him to think about exorcism.

Mitsuba claim Kou wouldn't have exorcised him even if he had won and that is true. Even if Kou is serious about it, he doesn't have it in him to go through with it and kill Mitsuba.

All he can do is to think about it.

I find that neat.

[positivelybeastly]

As a Hank McCoy stan, I must ask your opinion on a little idea.

A fan film about Beast.

No action, no battle, some drama, but overall a far quieter X-Men film that explores a side of Hank we don't see much if at all. His parental side.

Maybe he finds a lost or abandoned child and takes them under his care. But because this new character is human, this causes some problems. But in the end, Hank and the child agree to face the future ahead of them, no matter how hopeless it may seem.

What's your input?

First off, nice to meet you! Always a pleasure to see a fellow Beast stan in the wild, so to speak - and I like that there seem to be more of us over time; we're gathering strength, it seems.

Secondly, I think there would be a lot of mileage in this sort of project! X-Men is, at its heart, a metaphor about racism, prejudice, civil injustice, and I think it would be really interesting to examine those themes through an under-explored lens (at least in comic books), that of interracial adoption and parenthood.

You would, of course, have to be careful about the line to be struck between allegory and reality - this is always something I try my best to keep in mind when writing Hank, because yes, he is visibly mutated, and yes, in-universe, he is subject to prejudice as a result, but you generally have to make the struggles unique to the mutant race while being reminiscent of the struggles faced by other minorities.

For example: when talking about the multiple mutant genocides that have taken place in X-Men comics, I've often perused quotes that I think would be impactful for Hank to use, to communicate his state of mind, and I come across quotes that I think would be apropos, but because they're specifically about the tragedy of, in that instance, Native American genocide, I've felt uncomfortable using them.

Yes, they would be impactful, but I personally feel (as a white cis man) that it would be inappropriate for me to use them in relation to a genocide against a fictional minority, especially in dialogue spoken by someone who is, when boiled down to it, also a white cis man.

You would have to be very careful about making creative decisions like this one if you wanted to make a fan film - this is the definition of delicacy and sensitivity, and it can be hard! I don't really agree with the idea of 'kill your darlings' in fiction, but when it comes to media that wants to examine societal themes, sometimes, you do have to cut things that you think would be really impactful because you have to consider how it reads to other, real minorities.

That being said! Don't let this idea discourage you. Examining the way that Hank would be perceived around a small human child, examining the potential prejudices that would be levelled against him if he wanted to try and formally adopt them, examining the way that it would affect his work and cross over into his heroic life - and, of course, examining the way that this interacts with his own concept of himself as a parent.

Remember, after all, that Hank has complicated feelings about parenthood, and for good reason.

Like, there's a whole thread to be unravelled here, about Hank's feelings that he can't be a good parent because he's (in his mind) a chronic screw-up, because his bestial mutation could pose a potential threat to the child if he ever lost control, because he's a publicly known superhero with enemies (including another self who wouldn't hesitate to kidnap said child for nefarious reasons, I'm sure)

And what would those doubts look like to the kid in question? Would they interpret it as a lack of desire for a child, a feeling that they're a burden, making Hank's life that much worse by being there and relying on him?

But then there's all the sweet things, too!

In summation? There's a lot to unpack here - but provided it's done with some real care and attention to detail and sensitivity, I think you'd be looking at something really quite special, with a subject matter that, quite frankly, no MCU-Hollywood movie is going to tackle in the same way.

[magistralucis]

happy el muchacho monday folks im spinning my Wheels and Going Insane over this part in The Infinite and the Divine. Sure, they're talking about humans, but according to necron hierarchy Orikan? is also a 'lesser being'??? 😭 Especially since the necron he's talking to also outranks him and was happy to gloat about it five chapters ago??? If anything, he's quite fortunate that Trazyn's the way he is - who else could Orikan talk to like this?

I find this line fascinating. Not only is it proof of Orikan's moral hypocrisy, it's also proof that he sees Trazyn in a light he sees no one else in. There's no way Orikan could say this to any other Overlord. Consider how he leveraged himself against the authorities in the trial scene: think about who has my back, think about the debts you owe me, think about the services I could provide. His words cut deep, but these are bargains and threats and reminders, not personal judgements on someone's rank and character. Orikan is proudly anti-authoritarian and unafraid to show it, but there is a tangible limit to how far he can question his superiors before he'd be put in his place. It's what happens when he tries to give Trazyn's ship a command, and it's why we only see detailed justifications of his anti-authoritarianism in his POV, because as far as the higher-ups are concerned it's not open for discussion.

Keep it in your head. Or talk to Trazyn, since he's as weird as you are.

And that's a significant outlet, I think. Trazyn is about the only one whom Orikan feels comfortable commenting directly on his character: you care too much for the lowly, and that's not right, and you make me uncomfortable. I doubt he could say the same thing to Imotekh if the latter suddenly began displaying sympathy for human beings, nor to most other necrons of high rank. Clearly he said this because he did not feel Trazyn, as an individual, would retaliate against his judgement. And he was right - Trazyn just shrugs it off, without withdrawing his moment of compassion. Orikan pursues it no further and there is no punishment. It's bitter, it's dismissive - but it was a conversation.

He can actually have those with Trazyn. Something about beings approaching his own level, and it being nice to talk to them, yada yada.

But that's not to say Orikan doesn't suffer for his judgement. That's where the moral hypocrisy comes in. He's not doing himself any favours saying it like that, not just because his xenophobia is bullshit from our reader's perspective, but because he is willfully inauthentic to the space he occupies in the world. Necron culture is rankist. Elitist, classist, chauvinistic. The only necrons who aren't are either clinging to a sense of honour (not guaranteed to be returned, nor perceived by honour by non-necrons), insane, or so fallen down like the Flayed Ones as to be not considered necron at all. Necrons may or may not practice polite conduct with those higher up, but they do tend to know who's beneath them, and are happy to punch down as they see fit; for Orikan to speak of 'lesser beings' is normal, for him to talk about artisans that way is not, or shouldn't be.

The only artisans left in necron culture are the crypteks. They create things, they maintain things - it's the crypteks who wrote the play, War in Heaven, the theatrical piece our protagonists rely on so much. When Trazyn speaks of the human artisans' suffering on Serenade, he's really making a statement about the value of art - what kind of person does it take to create such a thing, what does it mean to consume them? - and for Orikan to dismiss it as a lesser act for lesser beings is to dismiss his own profession.

It's exactly what the nobility he hates likes to do.

Which: fair enough. There is not much love between crypteks. But I don't think Orikan's judgement is the kind of thing that stops at interpersonal rivalries, nor is it just a humanities vs. STEM argument. You could read his line at face value (humans are just insects to necrons, newsflash of the year), but you could also attribute any level of hypocrisy, denial, and/or self-deprecation to it, and it would be consistent with his character. None of it stops him from growing, or making him worse, depending on what mood seizes him. Gotta love me some bad faith necrons, they are such intriguing food for thought

[aheathen-conceivably]

🎶 Lost in the Light 🎶

After hours of trying to sleep, Zelda rose from her makeshift bed in her parent’s workroom sometime before dawn. She paused momentarily to ensure that Violette was well asleep and then headed to the front door of the cottage. Her feet still knew the path in the darkness as though it hadn’t been over a decade since she had last done this.

Stepping out into the night was almost like stepping back in time. The air swirled with the same sounds and smells that she had known her whole life, the same ones that she had always relied on to clear her mind and cradle her thoughts when she couldn’t sleep.

When she entered a clearing that she recognized from her youth she stopped to look up at the shivering leaves. Far too embarrassed to speak aloud in the silence, Zelda spoke in her mind, Poppa, I suppose if you are anywhere you must be here. Are you with Mother and Rosella? I would like to think so, to think that none of you are alone.

She stopped for a moment, hearing the morning birds begin to sing and taking a deep breath. There was no answer to her question. No sounds other than the songbird. As if refusing to admit her own perceived foolishness, Zelda quelled her disappointment and continued,

How is Antoine, Poppa? Can you see him? Can you hear him? It’s been so long since I’ve heard his voice. Over two months now, and Violette asks after him constantly. Even she knows that we should be home by now, that it has been longer than I intended to be here.

A momentary anger rose in Zelda’s throat, one that she had been stifling every day since she boarded the steamer. She told herself that she had considered staying in England for Violette’s future, for her safety and happiness; but she knew that her daughter couldn’t have that without her father.

No, she had considered staying here out of spite and fear, of keeping Violette away to make Antoine suffer for her loneliness. She was angry, inordinately angry that Antoine wasn’t there - that he hadn’t boarded a ship to come and find her as the weeks went by. But that was the thought of a young girl with young dreams, the type that had once wandered these woods with her mind full of romance novels and grand gestures.

Her years in New Orleans and the harshness of the world had tempered the girl she had once been; for Zelda knew that Antoine’s memories of the bloodshed of war here were blinding, and that her absence wouldn’t change the reasons he had stayed. It would only cause him to dig his heels in deeper and fall further into the trenches of his own mind. After almost ten years together she knew that she couldn’t pull him out, and that he had to want to let go before she could truly help him.

And she wanted nothing more than for him to let go, to experience the same freedom that she had felt in England, the unexpected lightness in her soul and her heart when she realized that she was no longer afraid of the things which once brought her so much pain.

For to her great surprise, she had borne every ounce of grief and memory without breaking. She had found an unexpected peace here that could perhaps bring more stability and security for herself and her daughter. Yet it was also devoid of the life and love she had found in New Orleans. For as much memory as was in this place, she couldn’t deny that it felt no more like home than after her father died. The strongest bonds to her family were now all truly gone, each of them nothing but memories amongst the leaves of the Bramblewood.

She knew that she could spend her days tilling the fields that her father had sown and attempting to replace the fulfillment that being somewhere ever-changing brought her. But it also meant the loss of her daughter’s trust and the love of her life; for despite his actions she did still love him, deeply, and wanted nothing more than to be with him. Although she knew what the safe choice was, her months here had shown her that the pain of being apart was even worse than the pain of being together and that she was at home with the family she had found in New Orleans.

Poppa, tell me please, what do I do?

[shychick-52]

Headcanon

The main reason Cedric was always so deeply reluctant and resentful to help Sofia (and even the other kids, including her friends) in the first two seasons was really because of the Incident from his childhood. He'd developed a real "No good deed goes unpunished" mentality ever since then. He once tried helping his sister make her big entrance at her ball special, and look what happened. So, ever since then, he wanted nothing to do with helping others (unless it was on the king's orders, but that's different) or doing good deeds if asked (and certainly never voluntarily).

Even though he always knew the Incident from his childhood wasn't his fault, the pain of everyone in the kingdom- including his own friends and family, those he thought he could trust- immediately turning their backs on him and treating him with lifelong contempt/ridicule over what they perceived was a mistake (and refusing to even believe it wasn't his fault) never left him.

It was to protect himself, a defense measure, similar to why he also emotionally distanced himself from everyone. So, as part of how he masked his insecurities, he acted like it was a waste of his time or like it was a huge bother for him to help Sofia. But it was really his fear that if something went wrong, whether it was his fault or not, Sofia would immediately turn her back on him too. And she was the first one in so long to have such faith in him and his abilities, consider him a friend, and treat him with such kindness and support; it probably both terrified him and meant so, so much, and he knew it would make it all the more painful if one of these days she too changed her mind about him if something went wrong when helping her... especially the closer he found himself getting to her.

In fact, Cedric was probably shocked at first that Sofia constantly had so much trust in his abilities to keep relying on his help (when everyone else didn't think he was capable of anything and saw him as a clumsy bungler), because he was not used to that.

But gradually, the more he helped her, the more he realized he genuinely enjoyed it. He realized it felt great, like how it felt when he was so eager to help Cordelia all those years ago. He slowly realized he was good at doing good. Nothing bad happened. And Sofia and her friends, and even James and Amber, saw him as a good sorcerer (he began to realize he was earning others' respect and appreciation without seizing control of the kingdom). Best of all, he had a true friend in Sofia.

I think Cedric seemed especially reluctant in s3's 'Cedric Be Good' because even tho he'd already been gradually learning from Sofia about how rewarding it is to help others throughout the show, he'd never had to do so many nice things for others all in a row (of his own choosing to, no less, even tho it was technically for selfish reasons) like in that episode, and it intimidated him more than any time Sofia asked him to help.

And because he always struggled with his whole 'no good deed goes unpunished' trauma, that's why he told his mom in 'Cedric Be Good' he doesn't know the first thing about being good (despite all the good he already did during the series). He was still scared to wholly embrace it, because he was still scared something would eventually go wrong and it would be the Incident all over again.

And 'Cedric Be Good' very cleverly showed that he is far better at being good than evil. Every time he did something nice for others, people would be happy and he'd be granted a power from the amulet, but every time he did something bad he'd be cursed. I love the subtle symbolism! And by the end of that episode, he truly reached a milestone in his character development/arc (especially when he returned her amulet; he did it not only to rid himself of the last horrible curse inflicted on him, but also because he truly realized how much it would mean to her, so a big part of it was from his own heart).

@bettathanyou @fantadym @moonypears-blog @mushroomsie224 @majoresca @ushsblog @sweetmariihs2 @cedric-my-beloved

[thisuserislilsilly]

Codex entry: Neran Solticence, the Hollowgrace and the Painless Mutes

Summary: My own take on one of the redacted lost Primarchs and Legions

TW: none

Goblin tag squad: @cardinalcanis @finchly-tintinnabulation @artemisareia @echo-of-damnation @meervalv0 @jaghatai-khock

Name

•Neran Soltilence "Hollowgace"

Titles

•"The Blank Stare", "Hollowgace","The Soulless"

Legion

•Relentless advance. Frontline combat, "Painless Mutes"

Date of Reunion

•852.M30

"There are no words for the emptiness I saw in the eyes of the Emperor's son that stood in front of our leader; it was simply as if no living soul resided in that inexpressible face. The choir that was in front of me quieted down, no more prayers nor chants were sung, everything seemed to stop at that moment in total expectation of what would happen.

I have no doubts of what I saw, even if it is not true, even if the penalty for this words are death. I saw the Emperor frown at the sight of one of his children."

- Remembrancer Edyth Matthoa

Deeds done prior to Reunification

•Neran roamed the Tagaroid System for an unknown number of years in which the Primarch brought the end of the Shakrim dynasty of the Voscax Xenos race with their own technology. Whatever the case and reason for that campaign was, the reunion of the Emperor with his lost son was done in a quiet and empty planet

The bones of that Xenos race was found in the course of the travel towards meeting the lost Primarch; spread everywhere without rhyme or reason as far as the eye could see, Solticence approached his father surrounding a hole which was filled with those bodies.

Size

•Approximately 13'5ft tall.

The most accurate depictions of Neran compared him as to be slightly bigger than Lion and Russ although this didn't translate quite so well with his physique, various rembrancers noted the skinny and noticeable "weak" features of the Primarch who seemed to be in an advanced stage of starvation. He wasn't the best of fighters with neither a blade or a gun, but some unnatural features made Neran an enemy to not underestimate so easily.

Mutations

•White as snow color of skin, black eyes with red iris and inhuman pain threshold; often compared with the Primarch Vulkan from the Salamanders in terms of how much damage his body could endure there was one significant difference that made Neran even more unnatural than the others. While his brother could die and feel pain before being resurrected, Solticence couldn't feel 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 at all, even the pleasant sensations or smells couldn't be perceived by Neran.

It is said that the armor he wore at the time of his discovery was what stimulated his body to react and feel everything around him; when it was discarded by it's null defensive capabilities the common theory suggested that it too shattered the only form of sensation his body had. Leaving Soltilence completely deprived of that important human feature.

Psychic Abilities

•"None" known

Personality

•Neran was detached from those around him and mostly failed at making consistent progress in the relationships he formed with others around him.

Distant and seemingly disengaged with the people that would engage in a conversation with Neran. The Primarch failed constantly in political discussions or agreements with others heavily relying in his equerry to speak for him in many social activities or interactions with others outside of the Legion.

Despite of his disadvantages at the hour of expressing himself, those who got to knew him better could easily spot the intentions behind his words or infer the meaning of whatever phrase Neran was trying to articulate. In the battlefield this lack of emotion and failure to express any kind of emotion was actually beneficial for Soltilence; no injury nor psychological attempt at demoralize the Hollowgace seemed to affect the Primarch in any sort of way, the enemies of the Mutes would lose their confidence and would see their morale rapidly decrease as their enemy kept staring blankly as it marched towards them, any kind of damage was proved to be useless as Neran kept moving forward disregarding how much pain his body was under or what sort of damage the enemy fire had caused in him.

Likes

•Neran and his legion followed a strictly set of rules on their daily lives. No sound was allowed to be made neither in the ships that the legion fleet was composed of nor in the common gathering places of the Legion unless it was extremely necessary for a clear purpose that once fulfilled would resume the quietness that once reigned those places. The only moments where noises weren't prohibited was the personal chambers of the legionaries and the practice cages; only then and there the Marines bonded with each other and little personality traits would surface in their small talks and training.

This instances were held in high regard and venerated by the Mutes; legionaries would long for and count the days for their next visit to the training cages, missing one of this events was considered a tragic experience that would affect the Mute physically and too psychologically, desperate to have another chance of participating in training as soon as possible.

•Neran and his legion particularly disliked being in public places or in a large gathering of people. Too much noise would often drive the Mutes irritable or aggressive towards anyone who would get near them.

Due to the silence that took a hold of every place Neran and his sons inhabited, the human assets that accompanied the legion would often feel a certain unease whenever they were in the presence of the Legion never fully understanding their odd rituals and customs. Most of them would ask for transfer after a few months or years claiming that it was too quiet and odd for their liking. Those who stayed with the legion became just as solitary and weird as the Space Marines they shared time and space with.

Dislikes

Titles and ranks too were less likely to be displayed by Neran and his sons, presenting a very simple heriarchy amongst their ranks where age and experience was privileged rather than acts of valor or honor, thus the eldest would be the chief commanders of the legion while the newborns would always take the low positions and titles that the legion was structured upon. Once the Marine was old enough he would simply move up in the heriarchy leaving his empty previous position to the youngest. Those who were created before their reunion with his Primarch would become Neran personal guard and rarely took other positions.

Closest Brother(s)

•Amongst the relationship with his fellow brothers, Neran would only truly speak to in a repeated manner with Corvus Corax and Konrad Curze. The solitary personality of Soltilence seemed to be understood by and accepted by Corax, who would made adjustments to his language and general behavior in the presence of Neran, creating a sense of comfort for the two brothers to engage in friendly conversations or some little philosophical advices exchange between them.

Curze and Neran however had a love-hate relationship. Konrad mocked his brother or would remark the odd mannerisms of Soltilence but at the same time he would jump to defend his brother from incoming criticisms given by other members of the Imperium or amongst the other Primarchs. Neither of then admitted to one another how much relaxing it was to spend time with someone who perfectly understood the solitude of the other and the need of not being ridiculed by their different ways of expressing themselves.

Hated Brother(s)

•A completely different relationship was the one Neran had with Fulgrim and Roboute Guilliman. It was virtually impossible for both of this Primarchs to understand the reasons behind the behavior and actions of Neran and his legion.

While Fulgrim treated Soltilence as an insensible man incapable of understanding or creating art in even the poorest manifestations of it, the Phoenix didn't understand as well how could someone aspire to be as mediocre and uninteresting as possible; the quiet and inexpressible face of Neran drove Fulgrim mad every time the brothers met, it was said even that both of then intentionally left planets or rooms whenever they were informed of the presence of their brother in the vicinity.

Roboute on the other hand would disapprove of the way Neran commanded his legionaries in the Great Crusade. The Primarch would be visibly frustrated after reading the reports of the victories that Neran would claim as his own, hating the seemingly chaotic and deprived of planning methods in warfare that the Mutes showed in battle.

Armor

•"Entombed resolution" was the name that the Artiticer armor of Neran was known as, very heavy and specially designed to limit the movement speed and flexibility of the wearer, the Mutes Primarch while wearing this armor was seen more as a caged beast in his armor more than a conqueror or a proud warrior.

The process of suiting could take long hours before Neran was ready to march unto war; always showing some sort of discomfort or even "pain" for a couple of minutes after ending the suiting ceremonies. However once the Primarch joined his sons on the battlefield he was practically invincible, a towering wall of defense or a unstoppable soulless tool of the Imperium who only knew one simple directive "push forward and kill until there are no more enemies of Mankind"

Wargear

•Another feature of Neran that caused unease amongst those who fought alongside the Primarch was the fact he had a certain disdain for weapons as a whole; preferring to use his hands or feet after being prohibited from keeping the strange and foreign technological advanced weapons that were found in his possession on the moment of his discovery by the Emperor.

However after sustaining the pressure of his own legion to use anything, any sort of weapon at all to defend and attack without having to rely on the sacrifices of his sons to keep the Primarch alive, Neran grumbling and begrudgingly opted for the usage of a spear and a storm shield.

This two weapons composed all the arsenal Soltilence used throughout his life up until his redaction from the Imperial records and history of the Imperium as a whole. No glory or legend could be traced back to this weapons, rembrancers of the time that were a part of the Mutes expedition fleet didn't even had a nickname for it, they were simply known as the "Spear and shield of Neran Soltilence" and that is as far as a description this tools of war had.

Allegiance

•The Primarch of the Mutes seemed to have a neutral opinion of his father and the loyalty he displayed to the Imperium was the bare minimum required of him. It is to be believed that at the moment of his redaction from the Imperial records Neran became more and more rebellious from his Father although no signs of devotion to the Chaos Gods was ever found in his personal life nor in the actions of his sons.

Backstory

"The child looked around, nothing to his left nor to his right. He raised a hand to the vast space and it only saw the shadow his limb casted upon the earth. All alone, the boy was left in solitude and without any stimulus to do anything, his mind traveled amongst the stars until he found life. But it was far too late, the boy deprived of every feeling, was simply a blank living organisms without a soul, without a name, without his humanity"

- Remembrancer Edyth Matthoa

•The gestation capsule of Neran Soltilence landed on a empty world named Tagaroid 0HI. The planet possessed only the most basic forms of life that the universe could produce, barely having enough fauna to form a small food chain of small creatures feeding upon even smaller ones.

Neran spent his first five years of lifetime surviving in complete loneliness, only having the flora and small living creatures to feed upon and develop the basic capabilities of a human. Even so, the child had in his blood the genes of his "father" the Emperor of Mankind, which manifested itself upon the infant Neran as he was capable to "travel" in ways that have been long since censored to other planets.

Once the young Soltilence was old enough to have a better grasp of this "gift" of short space travel, Neran appeared in the blink of an eye in other planet of the Tagaroid System; this world had a Xeno race as the dominant species while the little human population that remained from the first colonizers that traveled there being hunted for sport, as the Voscax population saw Mankind as merely sub-developed animals.

It is at this point there is a confusion amongst remembrancers as to what exactly happened; some suggest the Voscax killed the last remaining humans on the planet right in front of Neran eyes, making the Primarch enter some kind of frenzy that led to his decision of purging the Xenos from the face of that world in an attempt to avenge the deaths of those who were similar in appearance to him. Others claim that Neran was discovered by a small group of humans who adopted the Primarch and venerated him as some sort of deity, a reflection of the Emperor that their ancestors probably knew and passed down the stories about Him unto his sons; this humans inspired Soltilence to start a revolution that ended with both races existence and left Neran as the only survivor of such bloody war.

No matter what the truth was, whatever caused the death of both humans and Xenos in Tagaroid 00-4 left the remains of both civilizations out in the open, with their bones and decaying bodies in the surface plunging the planet into the quiet and barren wasteland in which both Primarch and Emperor met on.

Once Father and son reunited at last, the ■■ legion was passed on to Neran; this first generation of Astartes looked slightly different from their "father" as their skin wasn't as pale as Neran was, but the Marines had the characteristic solitude and loner demeanour of Soltilence imprinted in them. The army and their general didn't exchange a word in their first encounter but both parties knew there was some sort of blood bond between them.

The ■■ legion counted amongst their accomplishments the liberation of the Sulivis Passage, discovery of the lost humanity settlement in Oxvin-68 and victory over the Xe'minar xenos race in Cirog-052.

Upon the arrival of his Primarch, little was changed of the behavior and customs of the Legion, in fact it became more stricter under the direct command of their Father. Their participation in the Rangdan Xenocides cemented their reputation as a unrelenting force to fear, as no injury or foe would stop the advance of the Mutes to their objective, following their given orders until it was done.

Reason for Redaction

•The Rangdan Xenocides were just one of many signs the Mutes and Neran were created for no higher purpose other than to fight for the Imperium so others could achieve the dreams of the Emperor of Mankind for humanity. They were just the lesser evil the Emperor chose over the extinction of his people.

As all the attempts of making Neran have a personality of his own failed one after the other, the Emperor and the brothers of Soltilence didn't knew what to do with the primarch of the Mutes. The tensions between the brothers were raising up to a boiling point, at any moment the fragile bonds of brotherhood could break and have catastrophic consequences for Neran and his sons even if they were blind to the path of destruction their actions were causing and the mistrust their behavior caused in those around them.

The event that triggered the redaction of the ■■ legion and it's Primarch was the misunderstanding escalating to a fight that Leman Russ from the VIth had with his brother after a tough war against an Ork Waagh!. Russ voiced his discomfort for the collateral damages caused to the planet by Neran and his sons, screaming and shouting at the lack of response coming from his brother until the Wolf-King lost control and punched Neran in the face to get a reaction out of him.

The shouting competition that followed was brutal, with both brothers accusing each other with every bad decision or action made up to that point by either Primarch. When the conflict was presented to their Father, Neran refused to apologize with his brother and, redacted records suggests, the Primarch of the Mutes left with the following words, never returning upon the presence of his Father ever again:

"𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖨'𝗆 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗈𝗁 𝖤𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝖬𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽, 𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖡𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝗒 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖬𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗒 𝖧𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖨𝗇 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌o, 𝖨'𝗆 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈.

𝖬𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗡𝗢, 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖨 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗈𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗑𝖾𝖼𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖬𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗌. 𝖨 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿...𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝗈-𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌; 𝗇𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖨 𝖻𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖨'𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖺𝗅𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍?!? 𝖡𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖨 𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱, 𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗼𝗿: 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗱 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝘂𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗴𝗼."

Before Leman Russ was given the order of purging his brother for the outrageous offense against the Emperor, Neran had already flee from the Imperium as a whole, his Legion disbanded and given the explicit order of remaining spread across the galaxy by their Primarch; awaiting the moment the ■■ would unite once more to put an end to the long slow death of the Imperium, either to save it once and for all or to give it a quick painless death. The legion was redacted from the Imperial records and the statues in honor of Neran were destroyed and the population was fed with the lie of his death and his legion.

In the silent and secluded planet that quietly saw Neran grow, the Primarch remains to this day. Watching the universe run it's course. Meditating and awaiting patiently, still reflecting upon the right action to do for the best interest of the Imperium. If it's best for Mankind to die and rest, or to keep fighting and some day achieve the greatness it once could aspire to achieve.

[naffeclipse]

*Arrives at Internet Explorer Speed*

Hey guys! Those new chapter of Lack of Light, am I right??!

FDKHKFGH Sorry I needed to make a silly entrance back in your inbox Naff XD

But aaaaaa I finally came back to read these and I'm here with a brand new comment!! For the two chapters I was missing no less! :D

So let's get to it!

Ok so first off I don't know if I'm just looking too much into it but I read this line: "You rely on your eyes to adjust to the darkness" from th first paragraph and it just felt significant to the rest of the chapter, you know? Very literal but metaphorical at the same time!

And oooh something I definitely have to praise in this is the amazing description of the anguish through all the physical sensations that the reader is going through. I think I've mentioned before that when I read reader inserts I don't truly put my real self in the story but rather try to imagine it through the main characters eyes, but wow did I feel this one. The way you detail all those physical effects that anxiety has on the body, beautifully described through images and comparisons, just made it seem so very real. I basically could almost feel them myself, just remembering times when I had definitely experienced something similar, even if the causes were different! I will always applaud your descriptions, Naff! Makes me want to take notes!

And AAAAAAA I gotta say that I absolutely love how just, hrrrr, I'm struggling to find the words to describe it, but I would say how there's a clear parallel between what both Reader and Eclipse are going through?

Because ok, first of all, is the matter of hiding right? Reader seems to be trying to hide (kind of like Eclipse does his true self), but through a mask instead of blindness. Even through previous encounters they have tried to present themselves a very specific way. The unshakable one. Unaffected by everything, at least in a way that goes beyond mild funny venting. And it feels like something they force themselves to do in their daily life, beyond the forest. It's just they're so used to doing it, that it became a part of how they perceive themselves and failing to do so feels to them like they're showing a part of themselves that is intolerable. And aaaaa then Eclipse also because clearly he must have enough experience having met other humans to know that even those that dared stay after learning of his presence ran away after seeing him. So both hide and hide while they wish for more and hate themselves for it, and might even think they don't deserve it.

(Sidenote: I love this description: "The mysterious being who exists in pure darkness, cast by the sun and the moon." Obviously because it references his name (be it a solar or lunar eclipse), but also because it reminds of his strange nature. Because an Eclipse is an event! A phenomenon that is not exactly a natural object, but something that can only be seen under the right conditions!)

And oooh speaking about Eclipse and hiding, I just love the contrast between Eclipse's darkness coming from being unseen vs the darkness born from emptiness. Because Reader so far hasn't been daring at all in pushing to see him, because they fear the latter. Eclipse's nature is intimidating, and it's often said that we fear not the darkness itself, but what we might find in it. But here it's the contrary! Both Reader and Eclipse fear that potential emptiness. They have found company in each other thanks to the darkness, but should something go wrong (pushing too much or scaring the other one away), they would find themselves staring into the void and nothing else.)

And that exactly leads into the doubts about what the other thinks once they've revealed themselves! And it's so interesting how they fear so intensely that the "flaw" they see in themselves, which are kinda opposite, is what will make the other regret meeting them. Like for Reader is that vulnerability, that inability to be perfect about everything that hits them in their daily life and dealing easily with it. They fear their "weakness" will disgust a great being as Eclipse. And for Eclipse is fearing that his form, great, strange, intimidating, monstrous, is what will leave him without his dear one. His very nature enough to drive them away. When in reality, it's likely those very things that made them initially appealing to the other! The Reader a precious little creature, that despite not having horns or sharp teeth lives their daily life bravely (enough to befriend a shadowy being). And Eclipse, a fascinating and fearsome creature, that despite it all demonstrates he's gentle and kind and capable of becoming that friend that provides the most comfort in Reader's life!

Ooooh I just adore how two very different beings, with way more differences than similarities, still have this experience in common. That fear and uncertainty about letting themselves be known, because past experience has thought them it's unwise, and yet they find relief from that terrible all-consuming anxiety when they let themselves trust that this time it will be different and that it is worth it, even if it is raw, to open up and let the right person in.

Now for Mothman Moon!

Just starting and the Reader is already turning the headlights on and off repeatedly jfhdsgkh Prime conditions for Mothman sightings! XD

Oooh I love how you build up the paranoia! Different situations, but it makes me think when it's late at night and for whatever reason you need to go out in a hallway of your home and you gotta reassure yourself that no, there's nothing lurking in the shadows of your home, be an adult and walk calmly jghdkfsj The feeling of being exposed and on edge is so very well achieved! But also all the little hints, like the raven falling quiet. And that instinctual feeling of being watched! Related to all this, I adore this line: "Your optimism slips in the slightest before you yank it back up by the throat and continue marching along." I felt that in my soul fkijhdfgkñjh

Aaaa I love how everything falls quiet at the flapping of wings! Everything knows to be quiet and freeze. And I love Reader is part of that everything. Like they are connected to the forest around them by virtue of not wanting to draw attention to themselves, something they share with all the creatures around.

And oooooo such a spooky sight when we finally get a glimpse of him!! Kinda gave me the urge to hold my breath as well as I read! Just the sight of the glowing red eyes coming from a shadow within the fog would paralyze anyone for sure! And then gjhfdkg poor Reader just shifts horror flavor from Creature-in-the-forest-that-could-kill-me to Stranger-Danger. Pick your poison and all that XD But man that instinct does seriously kick in when a stranger gives us bad vibes huh?

(As a sidenote, I love how you've given the different readers between chapters different responses to fear! Like the first chapter with Sun had Fight if I remember correctly, then the second chapter had Fawn, which I think it's trying to please to prevent from being harmed, even if the fear wasn't so much of Eclipse but of abandonment, and in this one we have Freeze! Which we see twice when Moon first appears and then when the car races towards them!)

Oh. My gosh??? The fact that Moon is just able to take on a car that's going full speed though?? Damn! And oooh he was not happy. He does not appreciate assholes/downright murderers in this area. (Btw I can't help but think that he did in fact break that second light slower on purpose to seem more menacing fjkhdaskjh)

Aaaa it's fascinating how he seems so perplexed by the Reader's response to everything that just happened! Like he doesn't quite understand the freeze response. It's something animals do as well, but I'm guessing if it doesn't work then most would ultimately run from the danger. It's probably the first instance of this he has encountered! And poor reader seems to just be very badly affected by it, physically as well as mentally judging by the lightheadedness.

(sidenote: "He looms, his wings flaring out beside him in magnificent flares of warnings and death." Me, helpless DCA simp, vivid image of the majestic view in my head: Um yes, hi, hello? 👉👈 GFÑLKDJHGÑLJ)

And aaaaa I loved the flight scene! I myself am pretty scared of heights so I likely would have screamed gkjhfdksj but! I love that we continue the theme of braving a bit of the fear to discover something wonderful! Despite my fear of heights I've always imagined how wonderful it would be to have wings and this scene just striked me as something terrifying yet beautiful because it really is an experience that Reader wouldn't get anywhere else! And despite the polarizing feelings of fear and safety just warring inside of them, the wonder was just so tangible as Moon carried them through the air!

And ooo I find it so interesting how he refers to multiple things as the "lights", which from his perspective must be the most notable characteristic of the stuff that emanates it! It's clear he's familiar with cars, and likely has witnessed what happens when one hits a living thing. And the light of the gas station tells him that it's a place humans go to. So he knows it's not just lights, but he still seems to perceive it as their most important characteristic. Aaaa I'm so curious about what the world looks like to him because of this!

And ough it's so sweet he keeps watch over them as they go trying to get the help they need. It seems to me he finds them really intriguing and the fact that he gave them his name could mean he hopes it will not be their last meeting!

And that's that!

Aaaaaa everytime I come back to your writing I keep being taken by surprise by how well you manage to make the reader immerse themselves in the story! Your descriptions are so vivid and your use of the language so *chef kiss*! Everytime I'm just dying to know what's the word that follows the previous one, what will happen, and when that tasty tension you build so well will reach it's snapping point! This little series was a delight to read and a very nice journey into what fear and darkness means to different people. And of course, meeting some very strange and fascinating creatures that make the unknown not as bad as it seemed <3

Thanks for this delicious chapters Naff! It's always a delight reading what you make! 

(Sorry if something is phrased weirdly btw, it’s kinda late as I’m writing this fgkjhdsk)

AHHH CHAOTIK! HI, HELLO! WELCOME BACK!!! I'm so glad to see you in my inbox again!!

Oh, I am rattling you so hard right now! I live for your analysis and I especially love that you caught how much Eclipse and Y/N complement and contrast each other—the same fears but different reasons. They are dear ones, your honor!!!

And Moon! My Mothman!Moon! He's so much fun to write! I'm really glad you enjoy his spooky entrance and his descriptions!

Also, with the readers, that's so funny that it changes from Fight, Fawn, and Freeze! I meant for Mothman's Y/N to freeze but I also think it's neat to explore different responses to fear, so I'm happy that stood out!

(He did break the second car light slowly—he's so dramatic lol)

He does have a different view of the world due to lights—humans have lights. Humans drive with them, live with them, and are afraid without them. Lights are just as foreign as those humans! But he does have a particular interest in Y/N—they were almost hit by the lights themselves. It's now every time he sees that, but he was curious from how they froze to how they were terrified yet in awe of flying. He even finds them cute but doesn't expect to see them again! But Y/N has plans of venturing back to the words with the mothman hehe

Gah, thank you so much, Chaotik! I love how in-depth you go and reading your thoughts makes my day, babe! <3

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Poets and Painters (Deep Night) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Warnings and Information: In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over…

2nd person POV. Reader is undescribed save for minor details like personal touches to a uniform, and has a gender-neutral alias. Allusions to canon-typical violence, mention of injury and loss. Plo just being a dad to the 104th Battalion in the background. Swearing. Discussion of more adult themes and some lewd jokes (this is not an Explicit fic but it is Mature; Minors please DNI). Takes place on a fictional planet. 

Word-count: 7,300

Since Commander Wolffe left you with the sketch in your hands so suddenly, you've been in something of a daze, trying to make sense and meaning out of the phrase he left behind below the sketch of you in phase two armor. 

‘Behind the teeth and claws, there is a beating heart.’

You don't understand. Is this supposed to be about you? Is the phrase in reference to him? And regarding what, for that matter: how he feels about himself, or something he sees in you? 

You selfishly wish he would have explained what he means with the deliberate fashion of these nine words before answering the Jedi's summons. Who are these words meant for, and why did you choose them? will have to wait until Wolffe is dismissed, however. He, Sinker, Boost and Plo Koon have been locked in something of a private discussion for what feels like the last half hour.

Arguing. 

(If you can call it that.)

“We should contact another general and let them know what's going on in the event something happens.” Wolffe has insisted for the fifth time. 

“And exactly what are you expecting to happen, sir?” Boost asks just as insistently for the fifth time. He's known that his brother and leader has been on edge all day, he’s been far from blind to it. But the perceived unwillingness, perhaps even stubbornness to refuse to elaborate on what it is Wolffe fears will happen to the battalion in this encounter is starting to get on Boost’s nerves. Why won't you tell us? you're sure he wants to come right out and ask. 

“This is a largely uninhabited planet. We don't know by whom, or how many times Little Archossi has been visited by someone other than us.” 

“What are you getting at?” comes the half-snarled reply to Commander Wolffe. You’re not sure which sergeant the question came from. Or why the Kel Dor hasn’t said a single word in this whole time. General Plo, in your opinion (and experience with risk analysis), is not helping matters by choosing to remain silent rather than encouraging his commanding officers to pause and take a few clarifying breaths before tackling the concerns at hand. 

Paranoia and overcautious stratagem verses being a smidge too lax. 

Commander Wolffe must be paranoid enough for the whole of the battalion. These are his men, his brothers. Whether it was drilled into him under Kamino's rainy skies, or taken up as his own, personal creed since the Abregado battle, he sees to it that they will stay safe at all times whenever they are not in the thick of battle. 

That much is clear to you now.

Were it not for a duty to the Republic, his General, you want to, almost could imagine him abandoning his post and absconding with every brother he can, or at least wish to. I refuse to lose you to war, were I a more selfish man. 

Not another brother lost. 

And throw a largely-untrained civilian in the mix, someone without those primary and secondary instincts these men rely on, it’s hardly surprising that you hear your name cropping up in hushed or hissed voices that have only become easier to hear since everyone has been instructed to ‘tighten formation’, more or less. 

“Hold on- Is- Isn’t that one of the Commander’s blasters? Why does Arcadia have one of Commander Wolffe’s blasters?” one Clone asks, nudging a brother with the edge of his elbow. 

Their voices drop into deep, conferring whispers for a moment, and they either work out that it was offered to you for the purposes of self defense, or come up with their own creative explanation. You can't hear a word they say before the second man turns to the first and tries confirming suspicions. 

“You think maybe the two of them-? What? Don't look at me like that! Commander Wolffe has been spending an awful lot of time with Arcadia today, don't tell me you haven't seen it, Hash!” 

Hash shakes his head and answers he hasn't been paying much attention to what everyone else is doing today, murmuring something about how it ‘must be a sniper’s thing’ to pay that much attention to everyone at all times. He's been too busy daydreaming about new and unique ways to lay waste to the Seppie clankers the next time the 104th battalion faces them. 

“It is not just a “sniper's thing”, Hash...” 

The brother's glowering look is answered with a confused (or maybe unconvinced) shrug. “Sure, Ricochet, if you say so.” Ricochet sighs bitterly, the words forget it jumping from his lips in that same breath. Getting up, he brushes away what he can see of the wet, loose blades of grass that cling to the sterile white plastoid, and politely excuses himself before Hash calls out to remind him of something left behind in the grass. 

“Wait, Ric, your rifle!”

Everyone has been reminded of the sentiment from this morning that above all, if it can be helped, the one-oh-fourth should not appear to the inhabitants of this little, largely unrecorded planet as an open threat. You’re all encouraged to keep your weaponry close as a precautionary measure. Besides: say you did have the means to contact them in the early morning, what could you have said? 

Come to think of it, would either party understand each other’s intentions if there was a barrier in language? Hmm…  Suddenly that’s of some concern to you, but you’re not willing to crash the discussion being had by the Jedi and his commanding officers, now that Plo has stepped in to offer his thoughts and insight. Now doesn’t seem like a good time, given what concentrated expressions you can make out in the moonlight, so you’re going to give it a few minutes, at least.

That should give you the time to come up with some solutions to offer them, actually. In the event you find the inhabitants don’t speak Basic, how best could you come up with a way to draw or show such broad concepts like peace, or convey a message that promises you mean them no harm in the spiral bound pages of your sketchbook or the screen of someone’s datapad?

… This is proving harder than you thought. 

And you are not alone in your confusion, your mild frustration, that the conversation between Plo Koon and Commander Wolffe, has continued even now that Sergeants Sinker and Boost have been dismissed. (What could they be talking about now given the comforting nature of the Kel Dor’s hand clasped over the Clone’s shoulder, just above the symbol of the wolf head?) It’s none of your business, but you’re certainly free to wonder, free to let your mind wander in the same way the fireflies continue to float through the glade.

Roused from your thoughts, you find someone calling your name. “Man, the Commander's still busy… Arcadia! Hey, Arcadia, do you want to join us for a quick strategy game or something?” Tack offers, holding up his datapad in demonstration. “It's real simple. I can teach it to you while we play since it's team-based.” 

What the hell. Why not? “Who are we playing against?” you ask with a curious perk of your brow. You pull your datapad out of the canvas bag among your other things, hiding the art book away for the time being as you scoot over next to Tack in the grass.

“Suds and Orchid.” says Tack.

“Oh hells,” Soapsuds moans in mock-complaint, “we're doomed.”

“Don’t be such a cadet about it, Suds, we'll be fine! Just gimme a second to finish what I'm reading…” Orchid insists, halfheartedly raising his right index finger to say one minute please.

Soapsuds makes the mistake of leaning sideways to read off the screen of his shoulder-partner’s datapad, lips fluttering wordlessly as he indulges curiosity. He swears for the first time all day to your knowledge. “What the fuck are you reading? ‘There was only one bacta tank’...?” 

“Great flying Aiwhas, shut up!” Orchid demands in panic, trying to flip over the screen where it lands face-down in the grass in his hurry. “If you're gonna look, don't read anything out loud, bucket-brain!!”

A knuckle is stuffed into your mouth in efforts to keep yourself from giggling at Orchid's expense; you feel it's only fair after how he covered for you this afternoon. What you read is your own business. Just like what he reads is his. If fanfiction (because there's no damn way that's not a fanfiction trope) for some medical holo-drama is Orchid's guilty pleasure, then good for him. Tack pointedly says nothing altogether, instead taking it upon himself to make sure you either have or need the necessary game installed to your datapad. 

Orchid groans defeatedly when he picks up his device. “Oh fuck, I lost my place…” Sighing, he says everyone might as well start playing the strategy game. He won't look Suds in the eye right away, either, clearly frustrated. 

“I'm sorry.” Suds says timidly, gap between the top of his shoulders and his ears shrinking in shame.

“I… I know you are, Suds, you just-” Shaking his head, the Clone with the namesake of a flower just silences himself before he says something he might either regret, or knows will only serve to hurt a brother's feelings in order to spare his own. “Let's talk about something else.” Orchid mumbles after a rather pregnant pause. “Have you played this game before, Arcadia?”

“Not sure what we’re playing and if I have,” you say, trying to find a more comfortable position to sit in, “but Tack’s offered to teach me.”

Suds visibly perks up, retracting his teasing statement from earlier. “So maybe we’re not doomed.” The optimism is short-lived, but it’s precious to see in the moment. 

“Don’t be so sure about that...” Tack returns ominously with a shit-eating grin and a wagging finger just for the sake of theatrics. “We’re all going to play a short and simple game so Arcadia gets a feel for it before anything, and then we’ll play one round for real.” While he walks you through the settings, Tack explains that the game is an espionage simulator of sorts, and a proper game can carry on for ages, making it perfect for those prolonged periods of deep-space travel. Maybe the next time the one-oh-fourth is tasked with a peace mission, they’ll come find you if they can and wrangle you into someone’s team so you get the full experience.

You find that offer very sweet. “Heh. I think I’d like that very much. Sounds like a plan.” 

Just as Commander Wolffe predicted: his brothers would likely wish you were around more, or looked to include you when it came to “doing nothing”. Surprised that it happened this soon, perhaps? Whatever. You’ll take whatever reason, whatever excuse to keep your mind from gravitating towards worrying about what could come crawling out of that living sea of bark and leaf and twig that goes beyond the pale of typical anxieties.

You’re not going to demonize or vilify or think poorly of the inhabitants before you even meet them, of course, that would be wrong of you. Same way it would have been wrong of you to pass verbal judgment of Commander Wolffe this morning before talking to Tack, before giving Wolffe a chance to prove his character to you.

He was a touch dour, at times, certainly… but wouldn’t you likely be, too, if you endured such things and survived? When you survive hard times, you are forever changed by them; the evidence of your ordeal clings to you like thousands of tiny, root-like tendrils, invisible to all but your own eyes.

But forgetting all that for a moment, you really should focus! You’ve been invited to play a game, and while the nature of it invites ample opportunity to sit in long stretches of silence and thought, you can’t keep getting distracted while Tack has offered to teach you the ropes.

You can spend as much time as you want thinking about the once-maroon commander’s history when you’ve completed the game and raised your concerns to him and the Jedi about communication with the people of Little Archossi.

It’s been easy enough so far, helping Tack deploy countermeasures and set up defenses in hopes of trapping Orchid and Soapsuds while each team navigates a large, digital compound in order to steal generically labeled “galactic secrets”. The idea is each team must contend with not only the facility’s failsafes, but deliberate sabotage efforts that will trigger impassable blockades meant to slow the other infiltrating team down, and find an alternate route. Soon enough, you and Tack are roughly neck-and-neck with Orchid and Suds.

It’s currently their turn to make a move, leaving you and the Clone researcher to wait. Suds taps Orchid’s shoulder-plate to get his attention “Hey what if…?” Orchid shakes his head, showing what he has in mind. Suds doesn’t seem to approve, grimacing. “I dunno… Bit much to execute that on someone who’s never played before, don’t you think?”

“Mm? That’s not what I- Oh, sithspit, sorry. Showed you the wrong thing.” Orchid apologizes, making a few hurried taps along his screen to fix the mistake. “This. I meant this.”

“... that’ll work.” 

They activate the responsive measure, meaning you and Tack are now sealed off from taking that route, and they’re a step ahead in claiming the prize. You’ll have to take a longer route to get around the doors, unless you want to waste time and risk the codeslicing at the control panel failing. 

“What happens if codeslicing fails?” you ask everyone as you and Tack plot your new path, “Like what can happen, as some general examples?” 

“Failing to codeslice triggers a few things, and it’s all randomized.” Orchid jumpstarts the explanation for everyone. You might end up sealing up the entire compound and locking everyone in by mistake. Sometimes you end up electrocuting yourself… somehow. Sometimes the wrong thing opens, instead, like a trapdoor. There’s a couple of other outcomes that you’d have to worry about if you were playing on a higher difficulty, or against others of their brothers who believed in ‘gunning for it’, too. All and all it’s a rather informative summary. 

(Never blindly agree to play against an ARC trooper, is heavily emphasized advice.)

“Huh… yeah, think I’ll leave any slicing to the researcher, just in case.” you offer with a slightly nervous chuckle as you adjust the position of your legs. You’re not used to sitting for most of the day, and you’re uncertain if you’re becoming antsy, or if the slight tingle in your toes hails to a budding circulation issue. You never really thought about just how much walking you do around the durasteel halls of the Triumphant until your expectation of a typical day had been taken and turned on its head. When you spend so much time on your feet, so little time at rest, you kinda just get used to being on the move. 

Kinda like Commander Wolffe, actually… Except you’re privileged enough to know how to relax; to even have that option.

The game is over rather swiftly, Orchid and Suds beating your team by a matter of seconds. Incredibly, the secret files contain actual information, always in the form of either a recipe, or some general trivia. It’s a recipe for roasted nuna legs on a bed of your least favorite vegetable, glazed with bantha butter, in this case. Orchid generously offers to share the spoils with you and Tack even though you lost since he’d want a brother, or a friend, to do the same for him. 

You make sure to tell him that’s rather kind of him, smiling over the transferred file name he sends. (anythins_better_than_rations.file)

“Hey, good effort, Arcadia.” Suds tells you encouragingly, and not just as a show of good sportsmanship. “I think you did pretty good! Seemed like Arcadia was picking it up pretty quickly, right, Tack? Was going really smoothly for the first time playing.”

Tack agrees with a wink while you gather up your things. “You’ll get even better next time. But where are you off to in such a hurry? I thought you were interested in doing a real round after the practice.” 

There’s a slight slowdown in your gathering, wondering how to explain yourself.  “I, uh, had a question for the General and-  and…” you say haltingly,  glancing in the direction of where both Commander Wolffe and General Plo had been, only to find it is now just the Kel Dor on the crown of the hill. “... where’d Commander Wolffe go?” He won’t be far, surely, but with some cloud cover creeping in, it’s limited your visibility allowed by the moonlight. Dawning on you now, you don’t have a ‘plastoid sunbonnet’ to utilize night vision like the rest of the Clones in the 104th who are compensating for the shifting environmental conditions without so much as a murmur while each man dons his helmet.

“Question about what?” Tack tries to ask, hoping that with a bit of gentle prodding, he can make sense of why you’re acting like this. Maybe he thinks you’re feeling fearful, apprehensive of the pressing dark while more and more men don their helmets, the soft hiss of setting seals sounding off all around you. “Do you need a light, or something?”

You shake your head politely. You can probably make your way to the other hill even in the semi-darkness safely enough without one, if you mind your footing. By what moonlight you still have, and maybe a little guiding glow of a datapad or a light clipped to someone, you're confident you'll make it okay. 

You’re not a lamb, you tell yourself. You only look the part among so many armored men in the glade. You find you feel more instances of courage than fear in your steps as a lamb walking among so many wolves, today. 

“I’ll be okay.” you promise. 

With a subtle turn of his head, your approach is acknowledged before you’ve spoken a word of greeting to Plo Koon, his eyes trained on the space between two trees in particular. Trees where the moonlight has not yet been snuffed out by the continual, creeping cloud cover. 

He greets you first, while you’re distracted, your name almost a pleased purr. “Arcadia… What can I help you with?”

Plo Koon breaks apart the loose lacing of his fingers and lays one of those same steady hands, previously folded against his stomach, on your own shoulder in a gesture of comfort, a silent measure of guidance. “I… well I had a question for both you and Commander Wolffe, General Plo, but I’m not seeing him.” you explain, any tightness of fear in your voice answered by a slow stroke of his thumb along the top of your shoulder. You suppose you could just tell the Jedi from Dorin, if needed, but… you’d rather Wolffe was there too. 

You think the Force-wielder can sense that, too.

“Don’t worry, Wolffe will return from the gunships in a moment. We’ve put some preparations in place before I intend to return to the settlement discovered earlier.” you’re promised in a tender tone, though he makes no elaboration of the preparations. The shoulder he grasps is graced with a comforting squeeze, just for a moment. It reminds you of times involving your family, your relatives, the people you call your close friends have offered you some of your greatest comfort. “If you would prefer, we’ll wait until he returns before you pull out your sketchbook and explain what concerns you before I depart.”

Voicing your amazement can’t be helped. “How’d you know I had something in my-? The Force?” 

“Mmm… Perhaps…” Plo Koon suggests. “Many gifts can be found in the Force, little one.” he adds sagely. (Deduction likely swings in his favor when people are creatures of habit, as well, if one thinks about this from all sides.)

“That sounds… That must be very overwhelming.” Admittance that it sounds rather confusing is traded for sympathy in its place. If the Force is in every living thing, surrounding and combining everything in an inexplicable weaving, then making sense of all the extra noise must be nothing short of challenging. That’s the moment when the usual comfort found in ‘the Force is available to all lifeforms’ sentiments becomes perverted and transformed by doubt and fear. How can you use the Force to calm your mind - like the young troopers were shown just the morning - when you’ve received no training, you wonder. 

Because as far as you understand there involves some level of training in order to wield it, no matter one’s capacity. 

Certainly doesn’t take training to discern the sound of boots picking their way through the grass and knowing they belong to Commander Wolffe before you and the General turn around to acknowledge him. After hearing him patrolling the edge of the clearing for hours this morning, the perfectly-paced drumming of his feet even across uneven terrain has become well known to you.

“General Plo. Arcadia.” His bucket is neatly tucked to his waist in the crook of his arm, rather than adorning his head, when he draws nearer. Action-ready best describes his appearance, even in the thick of twilight. “Didn’t I see you with Tack, Orchid and Soapsuds, just over there?” He’s asking you more to be sure of something, rather than accuse. “Unless, I’m mistaken. Apologies, if I… perhaps kept you waiting.”

The honeyed timbre of his voice sparks an odd warmth in your chest. “N-no, I was over there. They were teaching me a game, while you and the General were talking.” Suds offers an endearing, jovial wave when he sees the three of you looking in their direction. 

Saving the two of you from yourselves in the slow bloom of bashfulness he notices taking root, Plo Koon steps in, offering assurance and spurring the conversation along. “We haven’t been waiting long. Arcadia had something to ask us, Commander.” The unspoken oh, good in the release of Wolffe’s previously tense brow and overall expression is promising. If he hasn’t kept you waiting long, then there’s no need for further apologies. 

Instead, he’d like to get straight to it. “Understood, sir. When you’re ready, Arcadia.”

Extracting your spiral-bound, you quickly flip past all the spent pages once it’s in your hands to what you need, but you hold off on showing them the loose, airy sketches in graphite and ink right away. “I had a concern about a language barrier, in the event the native peoples don’t speak Basic. Is there a plan for that?” 

The Kel Dor and the Clone trade silent looks, only briefly. It gives you pause. If you went with your gut and hazarded a guess, you’d conclude that they have no such plan. 

In place of cupping his chin, Plo Koon taps a component of his anti-ox mask once in thought. “I don’t recall a protocol droid currently aboard the Triumphant… Commander?” 

“No, General. Hasn’t been a protocol droid aboard in some time.” Rather than regret, the reply seems like masked relief. “Which is unfortunate for today.” Wolffe adds a little too quickly to be a casual afterthought or a follow-up. 

“There are soldiers with experience in communications,” the Force-wielder points out, “so it would be wise to make them aware of these valid concerns.” While it is always a relief to have one’s concerns validated, validity given your current situation feels that much richer paired with the comforting hand that finds its place once more on your shoulder. “I will ask them to be prepared, soon, if that would bring you comfort, Arcadia.”

“It would. Thank you, General Plo.”

You can sort of tell, or at least guess, that Commander Wolffe is wrestling with something to say following up with this; in the end all he can offer you is a curt nod. Funny, that a simple gesture can tell you so much. 

That answers that. Glad your concerns could be addressed. 

Expressing further relief, further gratitude, you laugh off those dark graphite illustrations you tried coming up with. “Guess that also means we - heh - likely won’t need to fall back on these right away.” Though it will force him to either clip his bucket to his belt, or set it at his feet, you choose to give the art book to Wolffe to look at everything you tried coming up with. Giving it to Plo Koon, you worry he’d see his commander’s sketch of you by mistake, and doing so would put him on the spot. Force an explanation out of him in an inorganic manner, maybe. “I… I had the thought to start making those. Just in case we- well, y'know.” 

Again, all he offers is that same, curt nod while looking over the simplistic depictions. Each page is examined silently, tucked back tenderly when he's seen all there is to see. Loosely-shaped silhouettes, some with the ends of their arms overlapping - meant to depict shaking hands - makes him smile when he comes to that page square in the middle of the rest of the spread. 

“Friendship or peace?” he asks you, showing you your own creation and offering the general the chance to see it himself. 

You offer a shrug. “Either. Both.” 

Closing the book, Wolffe extends his hand to return your property to its rightful place. You reach out to take it, expecting him to release his own hold, only it remains in his hand as well. Just for a moment. 

One singular, eternal moment disturbed only with the low whistle of the wind through the forest and the glade. And the look on his face, between the scar, the cybernetic eye, you see an understanding of sorts. Sympathy. It’s a pity to him that you’ve done so much to help his anxieties today, and now you’re experiencing anxieties of your own and he feels he can do, say, so damn little to help. 

“Mmm. I suppose I see both.” he says at last, his voice a low, throaty hum when he prompts you to take the book back from him. “Here, you should hold onto this, for the time being, Arcadia.”

“I’ll keep it handy, just in case.” you promise in a short, breathless whisper. “Should you and the General decide to show it to the… the uh…” There was a flash of something in the trees in the now-scant rays of light from the moon, just over his shoulder, something swooping through the peripheral zone where forest meets clearing. It had been so swift, so silent, you can’t be completely certain you saw something to begin with.

The right, scarred brow quirks with curiosity before it furrows with concern. “Arcadia?” 

You point over his shoulder to both the Jedi and the Clone. “I saw something in the trees… just for a moment.” Instinctually, a gloved hand reaches for one of his DeeCees before the flint-gray commander fully turns around, facing down the forest. Just when the prickling dread begins to fade into the thought that your eyes are playing tricks on you and filling in information due to the low light, there’s a second sighting that is entirely enveloped in shadow, moving just as swiftly and as nimbly as before. A slight tremor begins in your hands, making it difficult to put away your things within the canvas bag you brought today. 

If they suspected danger, you’d likely be asked to shelter in the center-most LAAT. Something. You trust they’d keep you safe, without question. Without doubt.

“Quick, small. Movement pattern suggests it's likely a bird.” Wolffe determines as he resettles the weapon into its holster while turning to face you once more. “Nothing to be too frightened of.” He places the softest of emphasis he possibly can on the fourth word, a small action of assurance and compassion. I understand that you are scared, but I think you can relax. You’ll be safe. 

The initial, innocent murmur of reply that he’s right, it’s just a bird is followed up with self-scoldings and further rambling. You feel silly for feeling this anxious. Actually, you’re not even sure why you do feel this anxious. Yeah, everyone’s nervous of course about General Plo’s intent to return to the settlement and make contact with them, even though it’s a relief he won’t be going alone this time, but- Wait. Who’s even supposed to go with him? 

The general begins with an apology. “My apologies for failing to bring this up sooner, dear Arcadia…” He had forgotten momentarily, and had meant to inform you that in the discussion with the sergeants and the commander, you had been considered among those who would be coming with him. Commander Wolffe will be making this venture, along with Sergeant Sinker and a few other Clones while Sergeant Boost was left in command of those remaining behind in the clearing. But if you would prefer, you could stay with Boost instead. 

It should be your choice to go, no one will pressure you, or question your decision because you are not a soldier.

It feels like an incredible honor, a privilege even, to have been counted among those considered given your civilian status. But you’re not sure. Yes, you’d love to be of further help - because that’s what you’re here for, this is what you signed yourself up for. But what if things go wrong? Yes. you’re oh, so very curious about the Archossians. But there were so many concerns you were unaware of before, worries that had not previously existed. You’d be so exposed, ill-equipped compared to a Jedi and members of the wolfpack.

“C-can I have time to think about this? I’m sorry, I just think that bird got me a little worked up.” 

Yes of course, you’re promised. Taking time to think about this would be for the best, would have been given to you anyway had Plo remembered to tell you when he meant to. You don’t need to apologize or feel poorly for the nerves, either. That was only too understandable. 

It is Plo Koon who speaks, but Commander Wolffe’s hand that is laid on your shoulder this time, heavy and grounding. He is so warm through the raven-black gloves, the slate gray of your uniform. These are not insignificant layers, so how is he so warm? It could be because the ambient planetary temperature has dropped, but the heightened awareness of his touch makes it feel so much more intense. How does the entirety of something so small like his hand remind you of times you’ve basked in the glow of firelight, the warmth that encompassed you, cradled you head to toe simply sitting near it?

(Oh, Maker. How could one be so warm when he’s cloaked in glacier-cold plastoid?)

“We will leave, only once you’ve decided. Take what time you need.” General Koon promises, bowing his head as a mark of his sincerity to you. 

The warmth of his touch remains with you even after he’s released you, even after imparting his advice to you with an encouraging nod and a kinder, more tender tone you can’t recall him speaking to any other civilian crew before now. Before you. 

When he tells you “Go take a walk to clear your head, Arcadia.” you hear it in the voice of a concerned friend, rather than that of a superior.

“I’ll- We’ll wait for you.”

On forested planets, the fresh air should feel so rejuvenating, so invigorating. It should remind you of those beautiful vernal times in your life, the tender sprouts of new growth so precious, so timeless, poking through winter-hardened soil. It should bring to mind things like frog-spawn and the skittish, hooved things that stare at you in mingled fear and wonder as they stand shock-still; their thorning, arching crowns of bone that always look too heavy for such a delicately shaped creature. You should think of those wispy childhood memories punctuated with the presence of crisp linens and budding fruit and petrichor in a place like this. 

So why do you feel so suffocated instead?

You told your fellow crewmates that you were staying. Staying for whatever reason. First you’d be armed with Soapsuds’ blaster. Now it’s one belonging to the flint-gray commander. There had been no initial, serious qualms about meeting with the Archossians, but now, you’re practically dragging a growing web of worry after you with every additional step in the ankle-high grass as you ponder. Every step is measured, deliberate. For safety, you shouldn’t get too close to the trees while you plot along in your pondering patrol.

You had been considered. But you don’t have to go. Maybe you had been wanted for your risk analysis. But they would have said as much, when they told you. Perhaps Plo Koon, his commander, thought you’d be safest if you were kept in closer proximity to them, being responsible for your safety. So surely, they would have laid that out as their reason, were that the case?

And what in the Maker’s name is going on when it comes to your thoughts of - for - the gray commander anyway? Where are all these thoughts coming from now that the sun has been felled from the sky, and the pewter moon has taken her place?

“What is wrong with you, Arcadia…?” you hiss under your breath, not for the first time, or the fifth. Not even the nineteenth, if you count all your unspoken self-questioning. Something just feels amiss. There’s something that’s wormed its way in between the folds of ever-churning thought and new observations from today.

Commander Wolffe is the epicenter of all of it. 

You’re sure of it. 

The planet, the patrolling, the history of the armor paint, the sketches both done by you and of you… it’s all becoming so connected to him. You could never disentangle him from what’s transpired today. From tension to tenderness, you’ve been witness to too much to forget anytime soon.

You almost fear you’ve gotten yourself too involved too soon, entangled yourself too tightly by making your goodness and your heart so freely available to a man who only just this morning had you questioning if a briefing was overboard. Now it just seemed so harmless. Tame, even.

Ground rules laid out with good intentions, his brothers’ safety in mind… How could you think he was overbearing for that?

You didn’t know. Tack had to tell you, was the one who volunteered information about Abregado to help you understand as someone fairly green to the one-oh-fourth. It was the researcher who first divulged that a formidable enemy to the Jedi was responsible for claiming his commanding officer’s right eye. Eyes that have watched you, studied you, tracked you since calling across the other hill to ask what you were doing from his place under the tree. 

Terra cotta, marigold and sunflower leaves. Fawn trunk. Sage grass. And no gray coloring pencil.

You struggled with allowing yourself to call him a friend only a short time ago, but now, that doesn’t feel like it’s enough for the profound respect and sympathy he’s extracted from you. No. There’s something more.

Is what you're feeling merely limerence? Is it love? Has Wolffe charmed you so quickly - perhaps without even truly trying - that you're in such a tumultuous tailspin that you're… almost scared? Almost afraid that should you continue to chip past a grizzled exterior and the ever-roiling anxieties Commander Wolffe keeps a lid on, you'll find yourself truly and too deeply entrenched? Know for a fact that you are falling in love? (Loved by him in return?) 

Distracted in all your storm of thoughts, you’ve strayed too close to the edge of the clearing without realizing; for this, you are targeted. 

The people of Little Archossi are awake. 

Something lands with a sharp thunk! at your feet, narrowly missing your left foot. In the darkness, with the moon still enshrouded in clouds, it’s hard to make out exactly what it is, but it looks to be a… A blow dart?

"What the-?"

"Arcadia, GET DOWN!" Commander Wolffe shouts, nearer than you’d think. You're suddenly pulled backwards, and Wolffe, in most of his kit, throws himself on top of you. You're trembling and twitching in fright below him; wracked with disbelief that he's using his body as a shield for you, of all people. 

You're not one of his men. You're not too important to the crew of the Triumphant. You're by and large unimportant. But it's you who Commander Wolffe has put himself in harm's way for, growling into the sensitive skin of your neck to stop squirming as he tries to ensure you're properly covered under him and make sense of why you’re flailing so much. "Are you hurt? Arcadia, were you hit?" The combined, pressing weight of his body and his armor feels crushing with him practically sharing oxygen with you. 

His helmet must lie in the tall grass somewhere, forgotten. There is no narrow, oddly crimped visor that can soften, or break the strength of his roaming gaze over you now. Storm gray and warm hickory bore into you, and you’re sure nearly through you with the intensity of that gaze. And it’s not the burning, lustful intensity you’d read about in some trashy, guilty-pleasure romance novel either: it's the intensity that you find in the desperate and frightened.

"You're heavy!" you wheeze, fingers clutching the grass for some semblance of support or as an anchor. "Ge-get off!!" Being forcibly pinned down, almost caged, by the man on top of you is a hair's breadth away from triggering your fight or flight response. 

You understand he's trying to protect you - shield you from harm as there's a few more muted phoomp!s coming from the treeline - logically, but… Instinctually, your brain is saying this unexpected bodily contact needs to be fought off. 

Suddenly an amber emergency flare sings into the sky with a shrill FWEEEEeeeeeeeee! before bursting apart far above the glade, and there's a cacophony of panicked voices from the hills. 

"The Commander's been hit!" you hear Soapsuds call - he must have been the one who shot off the emergency flare. 

You do your best to shout back, trying again to shove Wolffe off of you as you hear someone racing down the last hill with the tell-tale buzz of a kyber-blade drawing near. "No! No, we're fine!" One of your palms is planted on the chest plate of his armor, and it just so happens that it's directly above the Commander's heart. Even through the firm and immovable shell of the plastoid, you feel his heart hammering madly. 

You've never felt a heart beating quite so fast in all your life. 

Has he been hit? 

"R-right?" 

The Kel Dor expresses his concern for his soldier as he encourages Wolffe to sit up, "Come now; let little Arcadia breathe… Are you hurt, Commander Wolffe?"

"N-no, General," Wolffe fails to swallow back his stammers, at last pushing himself off just enough to allow you the clearance to scramble backwards out from under him, "I only… I was only trying to pro-protect Arcadia…" 

Plo disengages his lightsaber, and first looks into the thick shadows of the treeline, then up the hill where more soldiers have gathered, weapons drawn. "Wolfpack, stand down." 

On your feet, you take a cautious half-step closer to bridge the distance between yourself and the strangers before you, peeling themselves in increasing number from the treeline. You hear the Clones bristling in their nervousness behind you, feet scuffling through the grass and soil as they shift their weight, and the soft squeeze of their gloves as they slowly, deliberately re-holster most of their blasters at the order of the Jedi. 

“Steady…”

Hands raised to chest height, you show them flat, empty palms to prove you don’t intend to do any harm with the weaponry tucked in your waistband. The darts were merely warning shots, you assume. Another half-step. A half of a half.

“He-hello-” Your voice comes out in a slight tremor, but it's nothing you can’t recover from. “My name is Arcadia. I’m sorry for coming too close to your forest before we had a chance to introduce ourselves to you.” The other party in this delicate encounter only stare back in return; not immediately extending their own greeting or lowering most of their own weaponry.

It’s apparent, at least from what you can immediately see, that the weaponry they possess is a lot more traditional than modern. You’re seeing bo staffs and short, hooking knives in the hands of those with graying hair, adorned in copper-based jewelry that has lost most of its luster thanks to the gradual development of patina from the look of things. There are very few who boast something that looks like it would be only slightly out of place in the weaponry of the Grand Army of the Republic; these… Archossian (you don’t know what else to call them!), some men, some women, are younger, their hair dark like shadow and tied with twine up out of their faces.

The features are familiar and human; the most marked difference in their appearance when compared to you or the Clones is the ash-colored, leathery skin and the long, unbroken lines of what appears to be either chalk or mud painted on the skin of their arms from shoulder to wrist. Their nails are long, almost claw-like, as well. 

All eyes, pale yellows like the color of starmelt, are trained on you rather than Plo Koon, who is much closer to them than you are. You seem to be the only one who can’t seem to fucking shut up no matter how urgently either Sinker or Boost advises silence. “We don’t mean any harm. What… what do you call yourselves?” Commander Wolffe has been steadily creeping closer, just an arm’s length away from reaching you and possibly saving you from yourself, intent on pulling you back and away.

“Arcadia… What are you doing?” He’s nearly pleading with you to come to your senses, to let the General take it from here as he intends. 

One of the Archossi raises their left hand in a futile attempt to stay the Commander’s, speaking for the first time in raspy, imperfect Basic. “Now come, gray one, there is no need to silence your messenger. The one who calls themselves Arcadia was speaking, had not yet invited us to speak. Merely being polite.” It’s an elderly man with a bent back who leans on his staff for support that addresses you and the commander, likely some figurehead to the people you’ve encountered, or at least someone who is deeply respected. Many nod in show of agreement when he concludes the word polite. “We are the Chossi. Simple, humble star worshipers.” 

“Chossi. What a unique name.” 

The compliment is paid in hopes that it will settle everyone, temper the challenging expressions given by those presumed to be young adults of their people at the very rear of their group. This is when you notice some women and men alike are carrying children on their backs. From the inhale that hitches in many men’s throats behind you, the Clones have noticed too. 

Breaching the thick blanket of mounting silence, Plo Koon addresses one of the curious children who has walked forward with a Dorin greeting and a solemn oath. Offering his hand to the child, the Force-wielder speaks, “Koh-to-ya, little one. As my friend Arcadia promised, we mean your people no harm.”

Humble clone-simp baffled that the story continues to gain more segments. Okay, not really. Commander Wolffe and Arcadia (Reader) just had other plans for me and I wasn't about to subject anyone to a chapter larger than it already was. Taglist form, for any interested, can be found here.

Taglist: @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636

[Masterlist]

[Early Morning] [Midday] [Late Afternoon] [Evening] [Here] [Golden Dawn part 1]

[Golden Dawn part 2]