#and that he'd never done anything to betray his trust

[la-petite-lapin]

Killer Queen | Part One

Killer Queen masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x 141!reader Word Count: 1.3k Chapter warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, 141, retired (not for long) soldier reader, reader's callsign is Tiger, enemies to lovers (but currently just enemies), referenced/hinted past trauma, swearing, no spoilers but this series will be darker than my other works

The air buzzed with a nervous kind of energy as you made your way to the meeting room. They were right to be anxious - the whole lot of them. Kate had pulled you out of early retirement for this, so it was bound to be something big.

You pulled the coat tighter around yourself like armour. Like the excess of black fabric would swallow you whole and you could slip about the base like a shadow, unnoticed. All the sideways glances were starting to set you on edge. As you rounded the last corner to the meeting room you'd been told to go to, a tingle shot up your spine.

How many people here knew about you? Your callsign? Your extensive kill record? You'd never operated out of this base in your years of service, but still - someone was bound to recognise you sooner or later.

Taking a deep, centring breath, you pushed the thought as far back into your mind as it would go and turned the handle on the plain, plywood door.

It was the standard fare as far as base meeting rooms went. Popcorn ceiling; scuffed linoleum floor; plywood table marked with rings from many generations of coffee cups; plastic folding chairs scattered at intervals. You made a beeline for the chair against the wall opposite the door, feeling safer in the knowledge that you could survey the room's only entrance from your chosen perch. It was far from the window too, but you still closed the shutters on your way past just in case.

Old habits die hard.

It took a couple more minutes for Laswell to arrive, offering you a pleasant smile and cursory nod on her way in. "Tiger," she said warmly, lips uttering the callsign you'd been running from for the past six months. From the blood-soaked history it held. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. I appreciate that this decision must not have come lightly for you."

Ever the diplomat, you thought, lips pursed.

"I've come to hear you out," you corrected, voice gentle yet firm. Kate was not a bad woman, and you couldn't fault her for reaching out. After all, she hadn't done anything to wrong you personally - which was more than could be said for others at her level of clearance. "Then I will decide if I want to stay or leave. You can at least ensure me that courtesy."

Kate nodded again.

Before long, three more bodied filed in. The eldest was introduced to you by Kate as Captain John Price - an old friend of hers. A man, who she greatly emphasised, could be trusted. A novel concept indeed.

He took great delight in introducing himself and then the two sergeants who accompanied him. The Scottish one - Johnny MacTavish - introduced himself by name first and foremost, tagging his callsign of Soap on at the end like an afterthought. It struck you then, looking into those baby blue eyes - so open and trusting, that he'd never had a reason to crave anonymity. Never been betrayed into knowing the preciousness of the information that he dished out so freely.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick was the last to approach you. He seemed like a solid, dependable man - one of few words but an innate warmth. Kind, dark eyes scanned your face, searching your features like you're a puzzle to be cracked.

You stayed seated throughout the entire exchange, pointed avoiding the hugs and handshakes being entertained by the others. Physical contact was a complete no-go.

"Not to sound rude," you said after a few minutes, watching as people start to take up chairs around the table, "but is this everyone?"

Captain Price lets out a gruff sigh. "Not quite. Just waiting on one man, though he's not normally late."

You nodded, settling back into your chair. A loud, curious part of you itched to find out why you were there. During all of your correspondence with Laswell, she'd neglected to mention any of the specifics. No matter how hard you'd tried to drag it out of her, she just kept telling you to wait for the meeting. To wait for...

The door creaked open one last time, revealing a figure you were all too familiar with. Bitterly.

Fucking Ghost.

You stood so abruptly that your chair dragged, making a horrible screeching sound as the legs dug into the already-scarred lino tiles. He stands there - all six feet and however many inches of black-clad, antagonistic muscle - head cocked to the side like he was bemused by the very sight of you.

"Absolutely fucking not!" you snarl, round the table to shove a finger into the centre of his broad chest. The captain and his sergeants faded into the background as you focused on him with laser-like intensity. "I told you that I would never work with you again. Not then. Not now. Not ever." Your attention switched to the woman you'd trusted enough to even be there in the first place. "And you! Are you out of your fucking mind, Laswell?"

There was a heavy beat of silence that weighed over the room, coating all six of you like a thick layer of silt.

Ghost folded his arms across his chest, shrugging off your finger. It did nothing to soothe your raging temper.

A cursory glance around the room painted an almost comical picture: MacTavish was slack-jawed and astounded, more likely than not at your fierce display of aggression to the feared, mighty Ghost; Garrick was still and watchful, hands steepled on the tabletop; and the Captain wore an expression somewhere between terror and bewilderment.

Laswell, on the other hand, was calm and stoic as she said, "Tiger, you know me. I would not have asked you to come here - from your retirement, nonetheless - if I didn't see a very real, very dire need to have you here with us." She swallowed, the column of her throat working as her gaze darted between you and Ghost's towering frame. He looked almost smug; like he'd been hoping this would happen one of these days. "But if you think that any effort to work together will result in another... display like this, then-"

"All due respect, ma'am," Ghost huffs, his unwavering gaze still boring into your soul, "don't give her the easy out. Little coward will probably up and leave the second you give her the chance to. I would know."

Anger rises in your chest, vision listing a dangerous shade of red as your chest squeezed. Gritting your teeth, hands clenched into fists at your sides, you refused to give him the satisfaction of shying away. No, you continued to square off against him, unflinching.

"Hey, Ghost," MacTavish interjected from the table, one hand scrubbing the shaven side of head. "With respect, LT, 'ah don't think tha's a fair thing to say." He gave you a sheepish glance. "If tha's the Tiger, then I've heard a fair few things..."

You winced.

"You don't know her like I do, Johnny," Ghost grumbled, not skipping a beat. A vindictive light shone in those hollow eyes as he tacked on, "Trust me when I tell you: don't turn your back on this one. She's a sneaky fucking-"

A loud thump sounded through the meeting room as Captain Price bought his large, meaty fist down onto the tabletop. "Right, enough, both of you! Either listen to Laswell or get the fuck out. But, let it be known, if you leave this room there will be consequences - retired, in active duty, or otherwise."

Reluctantly, you held your head up high and retook your seat against the wall. A sick feeling of satisfaction spread through you a second later when Ghost realised that he had to take the last remaining chair - the one opposite you. The one that would force him to sit with his back to the door.

Grinning smugly, you leaned back and folded your arms across your chest. "Fine. Will someone finally tell me what's going on here? Why did you want me to come back to the force?"

Kate's eyes darkened in a way that you'd never seen before, and you sobered up in an instant. "We've received some credible intel that an old enemy of ours has resurfaced. We also have reason to believe that he intends to rebuild some operations that a lot of our finest men gave their blood to put an end to."

You choked on an inhale. It felt like the room was shrinking; like your skin was too tight over your bones.

No, no, no, no, no...

"There's evidence to suggest that Makarov is back."

a/n: hey folks, long time no see. I can't promise that this is going to be the start of regular uploading again, but I am making an effort to try. - much love, lapetitelapin 🧡

[baby-tini]

Can I request cheater! Bonten Mikey (angst) but then regretted/ try to win her back? Thank you in advance!

TW- Cheating, implied abuse You didn't know how stressful running a gang could be- much less the biggest criminal organization in the whole of Japan. So you thought it might be best too give Mikey some space, give him time too himself and let him relax. You fully trusted Mikey, he's never betrayed your trust, never lied to you and never gave you a reason too doubt him. He was sweet to you, buys you the prettiest things and treats you like a princess. But, when you got back to his office, after being out for a couple hours, you could hear the sounds of skin-slapping and the creak of his desk. You didn't have too open his office door too know what was happening and you didn't, you doubted you could handle seeing Mikey like that, especially with another person, you knew he wasn't... as attentive as usual but, it wasn't too weird for you. Mikey just needs some alone time, you didn't think it would be anything like.. this. You didn't know how fast you ran out of the building, your head was so foggy, everything felt.. fake.

You knew you couldn't stay, that was it. You loved Mikey, promised too stay- he made you promise him over and over again until your throat was raw as he stared at you blankly. But, you couldn't take knowing that he was so intimate with someone else, so... physically connected to someone that wasn't you. You truly believed with everything that Mikey would never do something like that- like this to you. But then again.. you truly didn't know anything about Mikey, he never opened up, never gave you any unnecessary or personal details from his childhood or his life in general. You packed everything you could fit in your bag as soon as you got to the penthouse you shared with Mikey- well, not really shared.. he payed for everything, it truly was a beautiful penthouse but you couldn't stay. How long and how many you wondered, did he ever fuck women in the bed you shared together? Did he ever caress your cheek with the same fingers that were.. inside someone else...? Ever kiss you after kissing someone else? Ever.. ever spread your legs open and make love to you after he was done with someone else? Did he ever think of someone else as he fucked into you and told you he loved you? You knew he kept a stash of cash in the closet in case of emergencies, he told you if anything ever happened it would be there, should you need it, knowing he couldn't be with you all the time. It felt like a good reason so you took it, took a good couple thousand dollars, at least enough too last while you figured everything out and got far away from him. You couldn't.. go back after this, this was just too much. You knew realistically this could never be fixed and there was no going back for the both of you, you just hoped that Mikey would leave you be after he found you gone, would accept the note you left in place of your presence. It had been a couple hours after you left when he came home, exhausted and yearning too relax with you. He didn't like that you never came back to his office, but that was probably for the best, considering the session he had with that woman took a lot longer then he thought, but it's no big deal, her pussy wasn't nearly as tight as yours anyway. He quickly became irritated when he kept calling your name, you know he hates repeating himself, you've had bruises before, physically showing you how much he hated repeating himself. But, he'd just have to teach you anothe rlesson, be a little firmer with you this time. He froze when he saw the room you shared together a mess, clothes thrown about and the closet door open, the room was a mess the bedsheets were tossed and the gun he kept hidden away behind the clothes in the closet were gone. He had immediately grabbed his phone, planning too have all of his executives out looking for you, assuming it was a kidnapping at first. Until he saw the note, the white paper crinkled and under messy, crinkled blankets. Assuming it was a ransom note, he snatcjed it, eyes looking for a sum of money, when he didn't find one, he read over the paper carefully, making sure he didn't miss a word.

"Mikey, I truly don't know how too start this note... something like this has never happened before- never thought it would happen to be honest with you. I never thought you would do something so... unforgiving, after all the moments we shared together. The way you'd hold me when I cried, the way you'd kiss my tears away. I never knew a man like you could be so gentle, but you were. You held me, treated me like fragile glass, sometimes I thought, that you thought I would break if you were too rough. The way you would hold me while you made love to me, made me promise too stay and I did, but.. I can't anymore after hearing you in your office with someone else. The thought of you being so intimate with someone breaks me.. it'll break me for a while. I don't think I could ever look into those beautiful onyx eyes that I love- use too love. Knowing you've looked into others eyes as you did mine. I can't bare the thought of you holding someone as they called out your name, kissed you as they yearned for your touch. I promised too stay... but this is the only promise I'll ever break to you. I love you, more then anything, I'll always love you even when I'm gone. I just wished you'd feel the same. Goodbye Manjiro Sano, hopefully forever." There were wet spots on the note, bleeding through the paper as he got to the end. Reaching up to his burning eyes, they were wet, vision clouding and becoming blurry as his wet lashes stuck together. The salty tears ran down his cheeks as his hand started too shake and his breathing became heavier. He was struggling too breathe, too understand the note, his head was foggy and blank.. but also over-whelming with different scenarios of you, he doesn't even recognize his own voice when it comes out hoarse and rugged. You're walking out of his life, and as you wanted, possibly forever. "I can't... that can't happen angel. You can't leave- can't leave me. You promised and I won't let you break that promise. You'll understand how much I love you when I get you back" He pulled his phone out, calling Sanzu too immediately track you down, you belonged with him- with home. You were- are everything to him, the only thing left that he holds close. He's selfish, he knows that, he knows why you left but he didn't actually think you would... his chest hurts, feels like it's caving in on itself. He needs you, more then he thought, he can't and he won't let you leave- let you just walk away from him like this. Over his dead body.

[rowretro]

YANDERE ENHA REACTION:

you ask for cuddles after they had punished you

✧warnings: toxic/yandere themes, somewhat violence

✧synopsis: Yandere Enhypen as your boyfriend. They had punished you for a mistake you had done, perhaps running away or interacting with another boy, and yet there you were asking them for cuddles...

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

✧LEE HEESEUNG✧

He just snickerred. It wasn't that long ago when he caught you hiding behind a tree, burying your face in your knees, hoping he didn't find you. It wasn't that long ago when he locked you in the basement, chaining you to the wall, depriving you of comfortable sleep, good food and even water. Yet here you were in front of him asking you for cuddles.

He fucking loved it goddamit. You needed him, you wanted him, and even after all that running away and Ethan Lee's torture, you were still in love with him. "Hee hee pleaseeee" you whined with a pout, fear still evident in your eyes. "Then promise me you'd never pull such a stunt ever again kitten..." Heeseung said as you promised him. The male smirked, satisfied, and carried you to his room as he really did miss having you in his arms when he'd peacefully drift off to his dreamland.

✧PARK JONGSEONG✧

Jay scoffed at you. The audacity to run off like that when he wasn't home. He trusted her for one day. only to find the lock broken and his girl gone. So he punished you. and here you were, 2 days after, the wounds barely healing, asking for cuddles "You think you deserve any?!!! I spoil you with everything and yet you broke my fucking trust. Go sleep and do not touch me." Jay warned, putting a pillow between them.

For at least a week or even a month, Jay would put up this cold facade, seeing you cry and beg, and have meltdowns. He needed you to crave for him, just as equally as he craves you. At least a month passes, and he hugs you tightly, placing soft kisses down your neck, and finally letting you cuddle him "See princess? you need me... so don't ever run off like that okay?"

✧SIM JAEYUN✧

How could you run away y/n? all he ever did despite kidnapping you and killing your boyfriend, was love you dearly and buy you everything you've ever wanted, yet you betrayed him, you hurt him, you fucking ran away. So it was no surprise you were stuck in the basement, with healing cuts and a growling stomach. As soon as Jake let you out, he made you a nice meal to make up for all those days, he helped you shower, and treated your wounds.

Yet he was so cold toward you. "Jakey... c-can we cuddle?" you suddenly asked as you softly tug on his hoodie. The male turned around to look at you. oh the desperation in your eyes, you wanted to be in his arms. It was like everything he suffered for was worth this very moment. "Of course darling, anything for my love" he said with a smile as you hugged him tightly and fuck. he fucking loved it.

✧PARK SUNGHOON✧

Sunghoon was one to get easily jealous, plus him being a yandere, it's surprising he even lets you go out. The man just wanted to take you out on a nice date. You, him and the beautiful scenery. Yet there he saw you smiling and talking with Sunoo, his best friend who happened to be your cousin. He was fucking mad. As soon as you got home you regretted even looking in Sunoo's direction.

You were still bleeding from Sunghoon's punishment, and yet he saw you on the floor, cleaning up the smashed shards of glass that pierced your skin. He picked you up and slipped off your clothes, treating those cuts and slipping on one of his shirts on you. The man silently cleaned up all the smashed fragments, and mopped the floor, not wanting you to get hurt. "Hoon... can we cuddle?" you asked as the man looked at you "Fine..." he trailed off, finishing up the cleaning as he joined the bed with you

✧KIM SUNOO✧

Sunoo wasn't the type to get jealous that easily. Yet when he saw you smile at Haruto, and laughing at his jokes, he was beyond jealous. He was fucking pissed. The whole car ride home was filled with arguments and as soon as you got home, you knew what was going to happen. He yanked your jacket off of you and threw you in the basement, locking the door while you screamed and cried for him to let you out. He fucking hated your attitude.

When he did let you out, all he could do was smirk. You weren't arguing or glaring at him, you weren't biting at him every ten seconds. You was silent. Sunoo dried your hair and brushed it "So pretty... love you most when you aren't being a bitch to me you know love?" Sunoo asked as the girl turned to him. "C-Can we cuddle?" you asked as Sunoo smiled "Of course we can pretty girl, right after I do your hair" He said with a smile, kissing your nose.

✧YANG JUNGWON✧

Jungwon can easily hide how he's feeling when he's around others, which is probably why you failed to notice how jealous he was when you were smiling and laughing with one of his colleagues. But you knew what you were in for when you saw the glare Jungwon sent you. You immediately pulled away from the male and went to Jungwon's side. Since that day, you were chained to your bed, wounds barely healing and you so badly wanted Jungwon.

The male walked in and out every now and then ignoring your cries. "J-Jungwon please can we cuddle?" You finally asked. It was way beyond your punishment time, and he missed you like fucking crazy. so he unchained you, and kissed your forehead "Go shower first, then we can cuddle." he said as the girl nodded.

✧NISHIMURA RIKI✧

Everyone knew how much Riki hated Jisung. So to see you, his own girlfriend, help him had him insanely raging. Fuck what pissed him off more than that and your smiles, was the way the male checked you out. Riki dragged you home, slapping you as soon as he locked the door. Fuck he was so mad, locking you in the basement after piercing his initials into your thighs. He didn't let you stay in there for over a day. He didn't want you to die, he needed you alive, he needed you full stop.

So he let you out, helping you shower and get dressed into his clothes, after treating your wounds. This side of Riki, you loved like crazy. "I should just tattoo my name on you... maybe on your lower back, it's be pretty there, or on your wrist, gotta make it tiny tho-" "Riki can we just cuddle?" You ask as he stared at you. After a while he just kissed you, trailing more kisses down your neck "Stupid y/n... you can't let that mother fucker push you around like that baby" Riki said as he snuggled you, your head buried in his chest.

[clauscielo]

✧ yearning

pairing: joel miller & reader, arthur morgan & reader.

warnings: angsty. self-conscious, touch starved men. age difference, slight nsfw for joel.

requests are open!

joel looked at himself over and over again in the mirror. it had been so long since he'd cared about his appearance… last time he'd worried about looking good was in his teens. he would've laughed if someone had told him a few years ago that he'd be worrying about this again.

but here he was. looking at himself with contempt. his wrinkles, his gray hairs… the bags under his eyes, his teeth, his skin marred by sun and survival. and when, somehow, he finally managed to find himself..., not necessarily attractive, but halfway acceptable, he'd then look at you and his whole world would fall apart.

you were beautiful.

no matter how hard he looked at you, he couldn't find a single flaw. in some conversations you had mentioned some insecurities you had, but he was unable to understand them. you were just perfect.

“are you okay? you were taking so long,” you said, concerned. and he just stared at you, pained, analyzing every detail of your face, comparing it to his own.

“i'm fine. let's go,” he replied with a heavy sigh. his voice quivered slightly, perhaps from the effort he made carrying his backpack, or from something else.

he had long ago realized his feelings for you. normally he wouldn't care about feeling something for someone, attraction, or whatever. but this was different. he wanted you, deeply. he drooled over you. every night, he closed his eyes, imagining how your bare body would look, how your bare breasts would be, how it would feel to be inside of you. god, he hated himself for it, but he loved to fantasize about you before he went to sleep, the image of you being the last thing on his mind before he drifted off to sleep, sometimes even conjuring up dreams that were exquisite to him.

but when morning came, he could hardly look you in the eye. he felt disgusted, ashamed. you trusted him, and joel felt as if he was betraying you, with all these thoughts of his.

you were too young for him. you were too naïve for things to work out between you two. you were… too good for him.

and yet, he still allowed himself the luxury of watching you sleep when you rested next to him some nights, leaning against his shoulder, your lips half-open, soft little snores escaping from them. he loved you. he really did.

“you get some rest,” he whispered, stirring on the couch, a little restless. the scent of your hair flooded his nostrils, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back. he wasn't sure he could take much more of this.

“joel…” you snuggled a little more against him. “take me to bed…?” you whispered, half asleep, if not completely asleep.

“ah… sure,” he murmured. he carried you in his arms and gently, laid you on your bed. you opened your eyes a little and as he looked at you, he felt like kneeling before you and begging your forgiveness, for all the things he craved with you, for being so nasty and for never being enough.

“don't go,” you asked, your voice low. and he nodded, his gaze low with guilt.

“i won't, baby,” joel said, his voice barely a whisper, “i won't.”

you hated washing dishes. you preferred anything to this. you didn't know why, but it disgusted you terribly. the remains of breakfast mixing with the remains of lunch and dinner under water and soap... and when you touched some lump of unknown origin without wanting to, you panicked. was there anything worse than this?

being in a gunfight, maybe. you weren't so sure either.

whenever it was your turn to do the dishes, you procrastinated longer than it actually took you to clean them. you'd spend a whole hour whining, dreading the moment you'd have to face such a horrible, excruciating task. and then it would only take you fifteen minutes to get it done. it was the same thing, every time.

so arthur, whenever he got the chance, helped you. almost every time, he stood in for you, he cleaned up while you stood by his side, chattering about whatever nonsense, his gaze lost in your smile, his mind in the sound of your voice.

and of course, every time he got you off the dishes, you were so effusive with your words and gestures of gratitude.

“i sure do ‘ppreciate this, arthur. thank ya kindly,” you sighed, stroking his arm and squeezing it a little. he relaxed under your touch, a goofy grin creeping across his face, his cheeks warming.

he felt like a complete idiot. a young lady as pretty, as cheerful, as deep and intelligent as you, with a bitter simpleton like him? it was ridiculous. it would never happen.

his smile faded as he stared at the dishes he was washing. his chest ached at the thought that he could never be honest with you, could never touch you, hold you, whisper the words of love he thought every time he looked at you. he was disgusted with himself for being so attracted to someone like you. what the hell was he thinking?

arthur would do anything to make you happy. and it might seem stupid, but seeing you so relieved and grateful for something he did, even if it was as silly as washing the dishes, made him feel... important. important to you. and he loved it when you stayed by his side while he did it, telling him your stories, your thoughts.

he just wanted you to love him. and he liked to fantasize that you did, every time you touched him, every time you smiled at him, every time you got close to him because you wanted to and not because you had to.

“thank ya so much, arthur. you're the best,” you told him, with a coy smile, watching him dry his hands after he had washed each and every one of the dishes. he smiled sadly. he didn't want this brief moment with you to end.

“thank ya? the hell ya mean? that’ll be five dollars,” he replied, jokingly. you laughed.

“how ‘bout one little kiss? that enough for ya?” you asked.

he turned red and stammered, surprised by your answer.

“and what good would a kiss from you do me?” he replied, defensively, flustered. but when he saw your smile fade, morphing into an expression of embarrassment, he regretted it. “i’m sorry. didn’t mean it like that. just caught me off guard,” he muttered.

you giggled, stood on tiptoe, and planted a sweet kiss on his cheek.

[murainhell]

I really like Alastor and Rosie, so I spend a lot of time thinking about them and I am fascinated by the different approach they take to obtaining power and deals.

Alastor is all about control. Yes, he's going to do something for you, but you have to sign that you're going to pay him back one way or another. Binding deals, there's no escape, he has secured his end of the bargain. Like with Vaggie, he'll make the commercial but they can't bother him any more on that subject; no argument there.

Rosie, on the other hand, deals in favours. I suppose this is old information, but I remember reading that most of Hell owes Rosie a favour. And that makes her a powerful and dangerous Overlord, in Alastor's own words. Seeing the way she acts with Charlie, I think Rosie plays with psychology and little manipulations. For example: have one thing for free -> it'll make you more likely to buy something much more expensive next time.

Let's face it, Charlie owes Rosie a huge favour right now. Rosie's been friendly, she's helped her with Vaggie, a lot of her cannibals have died to protect her hotel… Right now Rosie can ask for anything. "Oh, no, we've had to take up donations for the families of those we lost…" and out of sheer guilt Charlie is going to try to repay an emotional debt.

Alastor could be in this situation if he wanted to. He's helping the hotel, almost giving his life to protect it, Charlie is genuinely glad to see him at the final song. If he says the right words, Charlie is going to help him with anything. Help him escape from his deal? Sure, anything for my friend! But no, he needs total control of the situation, so he secures the little favour with a deal.

And another difference between them that I like, Alastor needs to be sure he has this future favour in his hands before telling Charlie what he knows about the angels. Rosie just as soon as she sees him offers Alastor information! If he acts on it, that's when he would owe her the favour.

When she says that Alastor has never done her wrong it makes me think that their relationship is forged around Rosie's way. Not binding deals, because then he'd be bound by them; if she can say that nothing wrong has happened, it's that Alastor had the opportunity to betray her.

And he hasn't!

In a place where only the worst go, two such powerful demons, one of them famous for destroying the souls of other Overlords… they are able to maintain a friendship around the trust that the other will always honour the favours.

Their friendship means a lot to me, I hope we see them interacting more in s2.

[mustainegf]

ELENA HEAR ME OUT I GOT A GENIUS (?) IDEA

Imagine James cheating on reader and she’s devastated and he regrets it too cause he was drunk. But one day she bumps into Dave and he comforts her cause he DEFINITELY knows how it feels to be betrayed. And soon this develops into marriage? And imagine Metallica and Megadeth are on the same festival together a few years later and Dave just have to shove it into James’s face that she’s his wife know and they have a kid together? Like it’s his ultimate revenge? Can be we have a line “I don’t know how dumb you have to be to cheat on her, no way she kept you unsatisfied”.

I KNOW ITS WEIRD IM SORRY

AAHHHH I LOVE A GOOD REVENGE STORY this is such a dave/james trope

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐇 ¹⁹⁹⁰⁻¹⁹⁹⁶

What I am going to say now is that I had always known that James Hetfield had his own demons. Well, hell, I had mine too.

When the whiskey slurred his words and the nights ended in shattered bottles tears rather than I love yous. I thought I was strong enough to manage things or probably even mend it, but I turned out wrong.

I stood across our living room, staring at him, when I came to know about the other woman.

James slumped his shoulders, his blue eyes swam with guilt, yet there was something more in them, a look that told me he was somewhere else already, with somebody else.

"How could you?" My words were a whisper, choked in my esophagus.

"I was drunk, baby," he muttered thickly. "It didn't mean anything. I was out of my head… I swear it."

"Out of your head?" I parroted. This disbelief cut like a sword. "So what? That’s the best you have to offer as an excuse? You destroyed everything we had because you couldn’t control yourself for one night?"

He stepped toward me, reaching out to perhaps touch me, comfort me, but I flinched back. His touch was a branding iron, burning with his betrayal.

"I love you," he said, his voice finally breaking. "I never meant to hurt you. It was a mistake, one I'll regret for the rest of my life. Please..."

The damage was done. The trust split in two. The man whom I had loved was now a stranger to me, a ghost. I shook my head, feeling the tears finally soak over my face.

"I need a break, James. I need space," I admitted, my voice shaking. "I just can't be around you right now. I don't know if ever I'll be able to again."

His face crumpled, a look of sheer devastation slapping him in the face. "Baby, don't go. Don't leave."

But I was already walking away, grabbing my jacket, and reaching for the door. I needed to breathe.

Stepping into the rain, the droplets cold against my skin as they mixed with my tears, the sky was crying alongside me.

I don't know how long I wandered, the rain soaking through my clothes. There was no place to go. I just didn't know what to do further. Clearly, all that was clear was the impossibility of going back to James. Then, fate had decided to intervene.

I ran into him… Dave Mustaine.

It had been years since I last saw him, but the fire in his eye was clear. In so many ways, he looked the same, yet different, like a man who the years had only sharpened at the edges, this man I used to know.

"Oh.. Hey," Dave's voice cut through to me, that unique and endearing voice of his. "You look like you've been through hell."

I managed a small bitter laugh. "Something like that."

Dave took in my drenched and trembling form. "What happened?"

"James," I whispered, the name tasting like poison on my twisted tongue. "He… cheated."

Dave's face almost reconfigured: His jaw was clenched in anger. Of all people, he knew how it felt to be betrayed by James, to be messed over by one you called brother. And I could see that look flash in him.

"That son of a…" he muttered, shaking his head. "I always knew he had it in him, but I didn't think he'd really do it. I’m sorry..."

I looked down nervously. "I don't know what to do, Dave. I don't know where to go."

"Come with me," he offered without a second of hesitation. "Stay at my place for a while. You don't need to be alone right now, and not with him either..."

There wasn't anyone else I could turn to, and the idea of being alone was terrifying. I nodded, and he steered me toward his car, using his jacket to shield me from the rain.

The 6 years went by, and life with Dave became my new normal, full of love, and a stability I never thought I would ever have. We did eventually get married in a very small, private ceremony with just ourselves and some very few very close friends. It wasn't about all the fuss but about the love.

Then our son came along, a little ball of fire with his daddy's red hair and my sweetness.

We named him David Jr., though to all of us he's just DJ. Most people just think it’s his name, From DJ’s first day on the planet, Dave was smitten, and watching him hold our son made me fall in love again.

Today we’re together, huge rock festival that included both Metallica and Megadeth, among many other bands. This was the first time that the two bands had shared a stage in… well ever, and I knew what that meant to Dave. It wasn't just a performance—it was the sweetest revenge.

As the festival approached, I saw the old sparkle in Dave's eyes again, that exact fire which had warmed me years ago.

The day of the festival, we went backstage with DJ in hand. He was excited to see his dad perform, all bouncy, bouncy with the kind of energy only a 4 year-old could contain. Dave was focused, his mind obviously on what was to come, despite the chubby little hand tugging at his pointer finger.

Within seconds, in front of us, was James.

He had been standing by the catering table, talking to one of the crew members, but when he saw us, he stopped, his eyes finding mine first, then shifting to Dave's. No one said anything for a second or two.

Dave was the first to talk, his smirk curling onto his lips as he went up and down on James. "Well, if it isn't the great James Hetfield," he said, his tone with sarcasm. "Long time no see."

James met my gaze for a moment, and I thought I saw a flash of regret in his eyes, but before he could say anything, Dave moved to stand in front of me. “This is my wife, I believe you two have met,” Dave grinned.

“I- uh, congratulations…” James mumbles, offering an extremely forced smile. "I don't know how dumb you have to be to cheat on this gorgeous woman," Dave chuckled bitterly. "No way she kept you unsatisfied."

James sucked in a breath through his teeth, his face whitening. He opened his mouth to reply, but DJ chose that moment to run up, grabbing onto Dave's leg. "Daddy, are you gonna play soon?" DJ asked, staring up at his father with wide, blue eyes.

James's gaze fell to DJ, and I watched as understanding hit him with the subtlety of a freight train. This was my son, Dave's son.

Dave's smirk grew wide as he started to playfully rub his hand on the top of DJ's head. "Yeah, buddy, I'm gonna play real soon." Then his gaze drifted back to James once more, his eyes steely and hard. "I hope you enjoy the show, James. And thank you by the way, wouldn’t have my wife or son without ya." Dave grinned, looking more satisfied than ever before.

James didn't say a single word. He just stood there, dumbfounded, as we walked away.

[haunted-xander]

I think one of the (several) reason for why Shadowbringers is so good is because the narrative is more about the individual characters than it is the Greater Conflict.

Like, the Greater Conflict is definitely there, obviously, it's what keeps the story going, but the focus is always on the people, much more so than the other expacs. HW and STB also have some level of character focus ofc, but it's very selective and even then the focus is based on them in the specific context of the current conflict.

But in SHB, the story bends around the characters' narratives, rather than the other way around. The story forms to put them in situations that challenges their flaws and limitations, by forcing them to confront it and actually deal with it. Even just at the very beginning, you see the twins being dealt a terrible hand that very neatly clashes against their faults.

Alisaie is confronted with a situation that she can and could never do anything about. She has no means to help the patients (at the time at least). The only way for her to help them is by eradicating the source of the affliction itself: the Light. But the Light isn't just some Big Bad she can kill and be done with. Even when all the lightwardens are down the Light is still there, it's just more manageable. Alisaie learns to not only see the bigger picture, but to care for it for her own reasons. For all that she has participated in Big Operations, it has always been because that's what others were doing, what others cared for to be done. She feels for the people of Doma and Ala Mhigo, but she didn't set out to liberate their homelands because she has any personal investment in it. But other people do, and she cares about what other people- be they strangers or friends- care about.

Caring about other peoples feelings and opinions isn't a flaw by itself of course, but doing things without any sense of personal purpose, is. This is what SHB helps her fix and confront, because it is personal now, she does it because she cares.

Alphinaud is forced into a situation where diplomacy and negotiations does and would never work. He can't talk himself into Eulemore, and he sure as hell can't convince Vauthry or the free citizens to let go of their life of ignorant luxury. The problem here also isn't as straightforward as a corrupt ruler, because even after Vauthry is revealed for the bastard he is, it takes considerable effort and convincing to get them to get off their asses and get to work. It's one thing to change the minds of people who wanted the same outcome just in a different way (like Ishgard- they rejected unity with the dragons, but they still wanted an end to the war), but it's another thing entirely to convince people that another way of life is even worth it.

And this is what SHB teaches Alphinaud, that words and deeds can achieve much, but that there is much more to diplomacy than appealing to their wants and/or sensibilities to convince them of an alternative outcome. His development may not be as immediately noticable as some of the others (largely bc he had a lot of it already from HW), but it is still very much there.

Urianger's development had already been build up and sort-of started already, but we don't really get to see it until it near explodes in his face after we kill Vauthry. Even after he swore off secrecy, he's forced to confront his morals when the Exarch bids his assistance. Urianger has always been looking at the greater picture, to the point he'd almost lose himself in it if it wasn't for the overwhelming guilt he feels. He works with the Exarch, because he knows he's the only one capable of it, and he hates the very fact that he is. When the climax of the plan is about to be executed, he is pained to the point that even he can't mask it anymore. He has betrayed their trust once more and once more it will result in the death of a friend.

But it doesn't, and that's what's needed for him to confront himself. As terrible and unexpected as the circumstances around it was, it did show him that there are other ways. There is no one way to solve a problem, the first choice doesn't need to be the only one. And he would find those other ones of he had just talked to the others.

The pay-off doesn't quite come until EW, where we see him actively make the choice to go against his first instinct of acquiesing to the Loporrits' plans, and instead chooses to consult us, but that scene wouldn't have made sense or even happened had it not been for his development in SHB.

Now, Y'shtola is a bit of an odd one because while she does get her due focus, she doesn't quite get the same amount of development as the others. Rather, it shows how she thrives when not held back by others interests and (often somewhat needless) bounderies. Her intelligence and charisma have the chance to shine, her independence and confidence now rewarded rather than punished. In ARR, she is constantly annoyed by the Maelstroms way of dealing with things, and how no one bothers to actually listen to her. Her advice and reprimands are almost entirely ignored until the problem blows up in their faces and they have no choice but to concede that she was right.

Being independent and confident aren't flaws by themselves, but her sometimes aggressive approaches to telling others off does her few favors. In SHB, she has the Night's Blessed who actually heed her word and respect her, they listen to her and actually take what she says- be it advise or reprimand- to heart.

She does also, however, have to deal with Thancred who, much like the Maelstrom, ignores her reprimands and doesn't listen to her. The difference here is that her bluntness actually serves a purpose. In ARR, her bluntness lacks tact and meaning, simply a result of frustration. The Maelstrom won't listen to someone who doesn't come up with fleshed-out arguments and solutions, but Y'shtola doesn't bother giving them any until she knows they'll listen. But with Thancred, she does give him the solution. It's just that the solution is him. His words, to be precise, and his acceptance. And he needs to be reminded of that, and she does. It doesn't automatically solve anything, but that's simply how it is with complicated situations like that.

Speaking of Thancred, his narrative is probably the most important of all for SHB. He's always been shown as a capable, but ultimately self-destructive man who genuinely does not know how to deal with himself in a healthy manner. Theoretically speaking he knows, he recognizes that he is self-destructive, but he still has no idea how to actually fix it. It's been shown as early as ARR when it results in him getting possessed, but it's not really made a point of until it almost ruins his relationship with Ryne. Up until now he could just ignore his problems, but with Ryne he can't because now The Problem(s) aren't just his anymore. Anything that would hurt him now would also hurt her, meaning that if he wants to continue doing the one thing he actually cares about (protecting his loved ones) then he needs to get his shit together.

But Thancred doesn't know how to. And for all that his friends try and try to help him, he doesn't know how to. He's paralyzed. Thancred is so deep into his self-destructive habits that it takes the threat of both his and the person(s) he loves the most in the worlds deaths to get him into action. He doesn't know if it's Minfilia or Ryne who will return, and I'm not sure he expected to survive Ran'jit. He only has this chance, and if he wants to die without (as many) regrets he has to do something now.

And he does. He does and what it is he does is tell Ryne that whatever happens, it has to be her own choice. That he will accept any outcome, that he will still care about her no matter what, that as long as she lives or dies as she wants to, that he still loves her. He still loves her. And it works, because that's what he's needed to do all this time, to be able to just tell her that she matters. That he cares.

He tells her to live her own life, and he learns to live his own too.

[gay-jesus-probably]

Let me just preface this by saying everyone is allowed to have their own opinions, TOTK is a really fun game, and I'm glad that other people have been able to enjoy the story as well.

...But I'm being dead serious with my complaints about the narrative being 100% imperialist propaganda. And I'm getting really tired of people replying to those posts by saying it can't be imperialist propaganda, because imperialism is bad and the game says that Hyrule is the good guys.

Like, guys. That's not the argument you think it is. Yes, I am aware that the game tells us Ganondorf is a flat, one dimensional character with no ambitions, interests or motivations beyond destroying the entire world for the hell of it, and also it's totally not racist because he's green, not brown like literally every other member of his race. Unfortunately literally all of these things are kind of the entire goddamn problem.

See, the thing is, everyone trying to make these arguments is accepting the game at face value. Hyrule is the perfect and almighty nation chosen by the demigod Zonai, and whose royal family has the right to rule due to their divine heritage. The other races exist to serve the glory of Hyrule, and they're happy to do it. Ganondorf is pure evil and must be stopped at any costs.

But that's not how anything works. The story informing me that Hyrule is the ultimate good that has done nothing wrong is the whole goddamn reason why I don't trust Hyrule at all. There's always more of a reason than that. And the game fucking suggests there was more going on! Ganondorf mentions Rauru has repeatedly 'invited' the Gerudo to become Rauru's subjects, and let's be clear here, it doesn't matter how peaceful those 'invitations' were, when the guy who owns every single magical nuclear missile in the world repeatedly demands you surrender to him, there's always going to be an implied threat of 'do it or get magically nuked'. Just that power difference alone shows us exactly why Ganon would feel threatened enough to invade. It's because Rauru was holding a gun to his head, and Ganon was expected to just trust that he'd never pull the trigger.

And yes, even if it wasn't intentional Hyrule was always threatening to wipe out the other nations, considering the entire royal family walked around openly wearing their magical nukes as cute accessories. If they couldn't be safely hidden away, there wouldn't be four other secret stones sitting untouched in a vault until the last second.

But that's never acknowledged. Of course Hyrule is the only nation with the right to the secret stones; even if other races get to touch them, they can only have them if they swear eternal blind loyalty and servitude to the glory of King Rauru and Princess Zelda. Ganon wanting to have one magical nuclear bomb out of a stockpile of eight of them is proof that he's dangerous and evil. I mean my god, what if he just walked around all day wearing a magical nuke and using its power for his own benefit, that would be terrifying. It's only okay when Hylian royalty does it.

And you can't argue that Ganon betrayed his own people, considering we don't get to know fucking anything about his relationship with his people. He's shows as the leader of the Gerudo, we're told he's a hero to his people, he has soldiers that loyally follow him into battle... and then oh nevermind, they all hate him and will spend eternity trying to atone for sharing a race with him. How did the entire race do a complete 180 in the span of at most a few months? Who cares, what's important is that now they accept they exist to serve Hyrule so they get to be the good guys now and we don't need to know why they were following Ganondorf, or why they stopped following him.

Basically my point is that yeah, I fucking know how the game insists everything went down. That's the entire reason I think it's imperialist propaganda, because the entire story feels like Hylian propaganda to conceal and justify some horrific atrocities that caused all of this. I literally do not believe that I'm getting the story through reliable narrators, especially considering that the only people allowed to actually tell me the story are all the characters that have the most reasons to be heavily biased in favour of Hyrule.

When the game shows me protagonists that have a massive amount of power and control over the entire world, then says the bad guy doesn't like that system just because he's evil, and literally nothing and nobody in the game says anything to oppose that take, I have some questions about what the fuck the story isn't telling me. And I'd really appreciate it if people would stop trying to argue with me just by telling me to stop asking those questions.

[draculasfavoritewife]

Touch Me Please

Summary: Aftereffects can be painful to work through by yourself, and a little help from your partner can be a godsend.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Unwanted touch from a gross man, initial lack of communication, suggestions of a panic attack. Extended sequence of getting handsy in the shower. Possessive! Din.

I will never tire of writing shower scenes ❤️‍🔥. I love the thought of Mando's partner sometimes going undercover to flush out particularly oily bounties. And I really don't know what came over me for this one's ending...I have to blame my senselessness on the utter chokehold this man has on me hehe.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

"I had it handled."

Din gives no response to your annoyed statement, simply lowers himself on one knee to yank his vibroblade from deep in the throat of the male Twi'lek on the floor, whose body has just barely ceased twitching.

You angrily stalk towards him, wrenching your chain along in one hand, your own knife still humming loudly in the other. "Don't you tune me out, Mando," you warn, using his professional alias as much out of displeasure as necessity. "I. Had it. Handled. But no, you just HAD to have things done your way. And now he's dead and we have to make a run for it."

"Warm or cold, makes no difference," he says gruffly, still not looking at you. He's a little too focused on the prone body of the asset, and you briefly wonder what's bothering him.

He doesn't usually act so impulsively when you're undercover.

With an exasperated snort, you shake your head and turn your attention to your modified slave collar, pressing the hidden release so it falls away, leaving you unchained once more. "This was a waste."

"We got what we came for." He rises and hefts the dead man across his wide shoulders with breathtaking ease, indicating the doorway with a sharp jerk of his head. "Let's get out of here before too many of his lackeys come looking for him."

You sheathe your knife and pull his pulse rifle from its holster on his back. He doesn't object.

He can tell you might need to disintegrate a few lowlifes before it's safe to hold a conversation with you again.

Your escape goes smoothly, more so than the actual mission, ironically, and soon the two of you are standing in the ship's hold, watching the carbonite seal over your latest asset. Din is acutely aware of how close you are to him, all his senses on high alert as his religiously conditioned mind struggles to process how you can just STAND THERE so exposed. Your slave dancer disguise is perfect, as far as it can be called a disguise.

As much as the pair of you shares under cover of darkness, he's never really seen so much of your skin before, bared between little more than straps of leather and the drape of filmy netting. He has to remind himself repeatedly that you consider yourself dar'manda.

He wonders too, if you'd done jobs like this before your partnership. Not once did he see anything in your stride that betrayed your discomfort. Images flash through his head unbidden, of the way you moved before your new "master", of how you remained still and silent even as that crime lord TOUCHED you....

Din Djarin is a controlled man. So his admittedly violent and perhaps unnecessary reaction to seeing that filth's hands straying -- too close to areas of you that belong only to him -- has him slightly shaken, though he'd never say so.

Does he regret having buried his blade in that scum's neck for his sins, for trying to take what's his?

No.

He doesn't.

He finally emerges from his brooding at the sound of your voice beside him. "I'm not angry at you, Din." Everything from this mission has finally caught up with you, drowning the adrenaline in exhaustion. "I just wish you trusted me more. I know I don't look dangerous like this --" you gesture down your mostly unclad form, not seeing the Mandalorian's gaze subtly follow, "-- but I can take care of myself. I had to, for a long time. I was in control, not him."

"I know." His voice comes out cold; he's struggling to keep himself from unloading all his confusion and dismay on you at once. "I do trust you, Cyar'ika. I just...."

You wait, but it's like waiting for a stone wall to open up for you.

Nothing gives.

Normally you would gently cajole that stone wall into eventually breaking down, but you just don't have the capacity to do so at the moment.

"I'll be in the 'fresher if you need me," you sigh, turning away. "I need a shower and a change of clothes."

He says nothing, and you don't invite him along.

For the first time in a while, the silence that falls between you two is taut, barely stretched over spiking emotions that are too rampant to reach the air.

The feeling of hot water pounding into your skin clears your head as it always does, letting your patience recharge and your frustrations bleed away down the drain. Sense slowly begins to reclaim your thoughts, and you let your mind drift as you wash away the scent of smoke and spice, your fingertips trailing absently across your body as new questions rise of their own accord.

You can't understand why you feel disappointed.

The job went well. It doesn't matter in the wider scheme of things whether you were the one to acquire the asset or Din, not really. You both get paid the same.

Were you simply hoping for more of a reaction to your dancer outfit from your laconic partner?

Your hand slips in the water, brushes over your ribcage. It's one of your favorite places to find Din's hands lingering when the two of you are half-awake in bed, your skin sensitive enough there that the calluses on his fingertips still raise shivers from you every time.

But to your disgust, this time it isn't his hand you feel on your body, but the memory of a much different hand, one with overlong nails searching for something that isn't meant for it. A hand that's been dead for over an hour now, but the sensation is still there, and not only there, but trailing down your neck, slithering around your waist, loitering a moment too long atop your thigh, and you can't keep back the sound of horror that forces its way up your throat.

You feel disgusting and helpless with the mere idea of those hands crawling your body.

And all you know is you need it gone now.

Desperately.

So as the sensations continue to heighten unpleasantly, you do the only thing you can think of.

"...Din?"

His footsteps are swift, and he's in the 'fresher before you even need to call for him a second time. You can see his hulking dark form outlined through the frosted door panel.

"What's wrong?" He sounds concerned.

"I...." You pause and take a deep breath. "I need you, Din. Please."

He doesn't protest, doesn't question you. The lights go out and you hear the clack of the beskar as he strips and sets it aside. Scant moments later, he's under the water with you, solid and familiar and radiating heat, and you're suddenly so needy for his touch it's all you can do to keep from throwing yourself at him.

"What do you want from me?" he breathes, water dripping from his hair down to your face.

"You." Most times you're a playful flirt, but this time you have no room left for games. You just want him to remind you who you really belong to. There will be time for other things later. "I want to feel your hands on me, Din. I need to get the feeling of that miserable scum off of me. Touch me, please."

He pulls you into him, a tad more roughly than usual. "Where, Cyar'ika?"

You melt into the welcome haven of his chest, your hands immediately finding their way to some of the more distinctive scars that ridge his skin. "Anywhere you want, my Love."

He's ravenous in his compliance, all but devouring you with his touch, lips joining his hands as he focuses first on your throat and shoulders.

It's as if he's as desperate for the contact as you are, and suddenly his strange actions become clear to you, as his hands flawlessly overrun all of the places where the other man had been.

He took note of every single unwelcome caress, each one still burning in his mind's eye, each movement of foreign hands a wrong against you and him that cries out to be righted.

And so he follows that path diligently, his heated touch obliterating any claim that vermin tried to make on his sacred space, reconquering everything you offer him like the Mandalorians of old.

You're surrounded by him, blind in the dark and the steadily falling water, held flush against his body, your senses reduced to purely touch and hearing as he growls broken phrases in Mando'a into your skin.

"I've never seen you so territorial," you huff out in a laugh.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs against your lips, as his pause in their journey across the landscape of you.

"Why?" you ask the well-loved chamber of his mouth.

"For my actions. I let my jealousy rule me in the moment and I offended you." He lifts you in his arms, your back resting against the 'fresher wall and your arms wrapping around his neck. You settle into the new position with a happy hum, letting your hips kiss his and feeling his hands slide down the backs of your thighs in reply.

"But seeing that son of a Hutt with his hands all over you like that --" his forehead comes to rest against yours. "That did something to me I can't explain."

One of your hands finds its way into his hair as the other gently scratches across his muscular back, making him sigh.

"Thank you, Din."

You can FEEL the curious eyebrow raise.

"For caring so much. For coming to my rescue when I need you -- every time. Next time," you add, mischief creeping back into your tone, "we can reverse the roles, if you'd rather. I can think of a lot of people who'd pay an exorbitant amount for a dancing Mandalorian. Think of that -- you, dressed in that get-up, but with the helmet still on, of course -- that would intrigue any crime lord, all right."

"You sound like you've imagined that more times than you should have," he chides teasingly.

Your only response is a soft laugh, though you do press yourself more insistently against him and give his hair a suggestive tug.

"Hmm. Someone's still not satisfied." He lets you slide from his embrace back to the floor, and you whine with disappointment, though to your relief all echoes of unwanted hands have dissipated.

Now you're just left hungry for more of HIM.

"Hush, Mesh'la, I'm not refusing you." The extra grit in his lowered voice suggests he wants more as well. His thumb brushes across your lips, rough and sensual. "I just think it would be more...pleasant to finish this in my quarters, don't you? Cold water and romance don't always go so well together if the heat runs out."

You nip at his thumb and smirk. "Thinking as always, Djarin."

"About you, at any rate." He falls quiet abruptly as he pulls away, as if abashed that such a flippant admission actually left his lips.

You laugh and duck back under the water. "Go. Get your hair dry and whatever else you need so I don't see your face. I'll get out when I hear you leave."

He starts to open the door, then suddenly thinks twice and is upon you once again, his fingers digging into the softness of your hips and his lips grazing your collarbone.

"You're beautiful," he grates out in a rush. "And I can't stop thinking about you in that costume. I just thought you should know that."

You sigh into his firm hold, a sinful idea taking delightful shape in your mind.

"How about I dance for you then, Din Djarin? Would you like to see that, ner'alor?"

The breath leaves his lungs all at once in a sharp exhale. "Yes, Mesh'la. Dance for me."

When he finally goes, you're left to finish your shower with an overwhelming ache for him and some very tempting plans turning over in your head.

Dar'manda = Not Mandalorian; separated from one's heritage

Ner'alor = My leader/boss

[the-kr8tor]

Katy…. For the 1 year anniversary

Garlic cloves and 💧

Vampire hobie and some angst

Vampire hobie and a human where other vampires find out hes in love with a human (maybe they cause him to purposely goes mad, to where he will attack and be the cause for rs death. Possibly?)

Then when he snaps out of it, he realize what hes done. To the person he fell in love with (can totally see him trying to make R into a vampire while sobbing choking out apologies while trying to get them back) 😭

I dont know i thought youd like this possibly, you have full control over the ending or how anything goes or could go. Some of its just a small ideas to give your brain maybe to help give you ideas for how you want to go. But i know you love angst and you are amazing at it

First thing i requested for your Apothecary. Do whatever you want with this idea. Just knew itd give a lot of angst potential for our favorite punk

Hehehhehe vampire! Hobie angst 👀 thank you for requesting, bestie!!

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except her clothing), TW death, CW blood and gore, CW violence, vampire AU, Angst.

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

Blood coats his tongue like a thin film of gore and death. It sticks to his fangs, red dripping off his unhinged maw where his fellow immortals’ crimson flows out like your own blood spilling from the numerous bites marring your precious skin. Skin he used to hold and love, skin that is now littered with specks of rubies as if a constellation of stars has touched you in your dying breath.

He heaves in place, adrenaline coursing through his veins like the raging rapids. Sharp claws still red and dripping, rage filled eyes roaming around the violence he did not start but had to finish.

Hobie never thought that he'd be betrayed by his immortal kind that he has spent centuries with. Vampires they used to call friends, even family. He never thought that being called upon by a trusted friend would result in you lying in your own pool of blood in the same house he left you, in the same dress he last saw you in, in the same floors he danced on with you holding on to him as he glides you around the home he once built for you.

Home, it doesn't look like it now. The oak walls that you've painstakingly painted that resemble tree branches stretching across the abode like a warm embrace are now coated in every shade of red. Numerous portraits of your life with him now lay scattered by his feet, glass crunching under his footsteps like dry autumn leaves. The pretty candles that you always light on the same hour every night are nothing but wax melted upon the ashen skin of fellow vampires. His hands are coated in the same ashes, grey amidst dark red, dark red among his skin, skin that he thought he has washed away from a millennia of sin— skin that he thought was worthy of your sacred touch.

As he walks closer to your limp body, his eyes bore into the river of red left in your wake. His expression is akin to an empty, apocalyptic look— dangerous, yet, a tragedy lies underneath his wine red eyes. He's starting to hate his eyes now that you lay in a pool of the same colour. You used to tell him that his eyes were like the purest of crimson, similar to a stirling ruby no king or emperor could ever possess. With your words he vowed to keep you close to him until your skin has etched into his own, until his own ribs rip apart to embrace you and take you into his very being. Now that he gingerly holds you close to his chest, he should've done that to protect you better, now it's too late as you gasp, fending off death itself from taking your soul before you could say goodbye.

Your eyes no longer show the light he once admired, light akin to the sun that would burn and turn him into ash— but he could not stop looking at them, even if it could possibly be his demise, because it'll be worth it to feel the righteous sun kiss his skin once again.

“‘m sorry,” Hobie cried as his tears from his own blood dripped down across your cold cheeks. “I can still fix this.” With a shaky inhale, he feels mortal when your freezing hand taps his long dead heart. You don't speak nor blink at him. He wishes you could but with your life seeping out of you, it's impossible for you to do so. He feels it, how your life is being drained from the numerous bites along your body. He also wishes he doesn't feel you slip away. “Please, l–let me bring you back.”

With your last strength, you curl your lips to a soft, weak smile. Hand weakly gripping his shirt, mouth mouthing the words— “not your fault.”

Hobie chokes on a sob, shaking his head, he cannot, will not let you go. You're the only person who truly knows him, the only person who has seen the real him that he hasn't shown to anyone since he was turned. He loves you, and he'll continue to love you until his dying breath, whenever that may be. Ten years from now, twenty, a hundred— he'd love you until he steps out of the shadows and back into the light of the sun that reminds him of your eyes.

He feels your heart slow down, the blood rushing out of your veins are like drums in his ears. Opening his jaw, fangs in full show, you let out your very last mortal breath.

But he's too late, you have no blood left, drained until the last drop. No spark of life left to be brought back to earth with. Without a flicker of light, there's no embers to set fire to. Yet, he still tries in despair. Teeth sinking into you, a hungry bear to a corpse of a rabbit, he bites and sips into nothingness. Not even a glimmer, a hope lighting a fire in you brought by the kiss of death— nothing, absolutely nothing can bring you back to life. He cries, sobs wracking his body, a hurricane of emotions flooding through him that he has never felt in his immortal life until now.

Calling your name, he cradles your cold body, hand behind your head, lips upon your neck. He doesn't bite this time, he knows better. But if it does work, will you hate him for it?

The door creaks open, a familiar face he just saw a few hours ago enters the sheer violence Hobie left in his vengeance. His face contorts into sorrow but it quickly turns contorts to disappointment.

“You should've listened.” He utters, mouth dripping with venomous words. “Was she worth it? Breaking our law?”

Hobie slowly glances at the man without leaving your side. His once pure ruby eyes have turned into a flurry of bright red fury. “She was.” His claws dig into your lifeless body, lips shaking from sheer anger.

“I still cannot understand you.” He scoffs, “and you even tried to turn her. You're a fucking disgrace.”

Hobie slowly brings you back down, carefully laying you and closing your lifeless eyes. He looks at the man, someone he used to call a friend, someone he once trusted. Vampire blood and ash coats his very being, staining his soul, but they don't compare to your blood on his hands.

“Then I'll make you understand.” With a pounce, Hobie will drench his hands in more ichor until it's enough for him.

[cursedkeyboard]

Funnily enough, I've never been too big of a Jason Todd fan. Not because I don't like him, he's a great character, but because DC fails over and over again to give him justice and treat him right.

The number of times alone this boy has been beaten by his adoptive father, betrayed, and forgotten are far too many, far too much.

And the constant portrayal of Jason as this volatile, violent, mindless man is tiresome, lazy in all senses of the word and overdone. I understand that Jason was unstable after he left the pit, I mean, who wouldn't? The trauma of his death alone could've sent anyone crazy, but then to experience everything else afterwards, including having to come to terms that Bruce not only did not kill his murder but also replaced him, leaving Jason to grieve what was once his and what he should've gotten, of course he'd be less than okay.

Again, I'm not the biggest Jason Todd fan but I do wish more people would see just how much good Jason has in his heart, how kind and gentle he can be once his walls are down, when he's no longer constantly analyzing your actions and wondering why would you bother talking to him, getting closer to him.

In my opinion, a man who is so gentle with children, who constantly gives second, third, and fourth chances to people who don't deserve it, who despite it all still wants to make a change and protect the city that failed him, couldn't possibly be anything but the most caring partner. Not just partner, no, also brother and friend.

We all know what he did to Tim and Damian, there are reasons, such as his mental instability at the time and rage, and though those are not excuses, I believe Jason would still drop everything to go save his family. He might complain, he might brood, but family is something important to him even when just looking at them hurts him. He lost his loving mother, stepmother, far too early and it's not hard to imagine that even with all the pain and grief inside his torn heart, the little boy inside Jason still craves the warmth of a family.

Just look at the way he treats his friends, at the way he helps them through situations no one else would, how caring and attentive he is. Jason is gentle, sure, he is rough and mean and he's got blood on his hands, but Jason is made of love.

Jason was made to be loved.

So I think, whether platonic or romantically, Jason would treat you so well. He'd scold you for not wearing warm clothes during winter, "We're in Gotham, you fucking moron, you wanna freeze to death?", all while wrapping you with his jacket or scarf. He'd make sure you're eating at least something every day, and if not, he would immediately put you under his arm, maybe over his shoulder, and take you to the nearest food chain he could find, "I don't want to hear you complaining about headaches when all you had today was a cup of coffee and gum.".

Lord, he'd be torn between freaking out and being extremely annoyed that you got hurt, be it at work, a fight, or just out of clumsiness. But no matter what, his hands would always be so, so gentle when touching you. The tip of his fingers brushing under the injury, as light as a breeze, his other hand holding the back of your neck, or your bicep, perhaps even your hand just to make sure you're there, with him.

Jason would both hush you gently, "I know, sweetheart, we're almost done.", and also tease because he's a little shit at heart, "If you had a little more awareness than a ten year old this wouldn't have happened, idiot."

And physical touches? Oh, love, Jason is a sucker for intimacy.

I know for a fact he wouldn't be comfortable for a long time with anyone in his personal space due to the torture he went through. The trauma would make his skin crawl any time someone got too close or brushed past him, he'd hate it so much because it makes him weak but also because he can't let anyone try to hug him without feeling sick to his stomach.

And with you it's no different. It would take a long time, a lot of trust being built up, conflict and confessions, maybe he'd even open up to you with his head on your lap as you brushed his hair softly, a big, big step for him after years of not letting anyone close. He'd tell you about the Joker, about having hope in Bruce, about his biological mother. And he'd feel vulnerable like a child when you wipe his tears gently without a word.

Once he starts craving your touch, though, regardless if you two have a platonic or romantic relationship, Jason is putty in your hands. Forehead kisses when you part ways, cuddling on the couch while he reads and you're on your phone, thighs touching when sitting close, even a little bit of hand holding when he's stressed and needs to play with your fingers.

He's like a big cat that's constantly making his way onto your chest, stealing your breath and making biscuits on your skin, making sure you're giving him sufficient pats every day.

It's a little part of him that he's barely able to properly allow space for. There's still so much hurt in Jason, so much confusion and desperation, hatred and upset, that he'd probably still close off sometimes, try acting tough so you'd see how fucked up he is, how he's not truly worth of your love.

And yet.

And yet all it'd take for him to go soft and pliant in your hands would be a single touch, cupping his cheeks, brushing his skin softly with your thumbs, right under his pretty emerald eyes, making sure his gaze is on you and only you. Just like that, he'd slump his shoulders and bring you into his arms, breathing a sigh of relief and squeezing you close, your heartbeats synching.

He wouldn't remember when he started feeling safest in your arms but it'd feel like it was since forever. Like there was no one else but you.

Jason was made to be loved, though he is a little broken and a little tainted, lost like a child and hateful like a sinner, your love might just be his salvation, something he's greedy for, selfish for, even when he's so hesitant of somehow hurting you.

[elswing]

in defense of elrond

it is ironic that elrond keeps accusing galadriel of being too blinded by pride while he's fallen equally victim to being blinded by his own frustrations. neither of them are being particularly rational about the situation because they're both hurt and feeling betrayed, and i think elrond's remark about how galadriel only sacrificed herself to save the ring instead of the company perfectly encapsulates that—because, yeah, that is a fair interpretation of it, but she did just tell him five seconds ago that she was only there to protect them, a fact that exists simultaneously with her possessiveness over nenya.

it isn't One Or The Other, just like both of their opinions on the rings, because in actuality they are both right about them. elrond has a limited perspective on it, but from his pov he is completely justified in hating the three feanorian crafted shiny magic jewels that everyone around them covets (🤨). all he knows is that sauron had a hand in making them and no one can possibly know how much influence he has over them because the true art of his craft is subtle. as in, you don't know it's happening to you until you're suddenly slapped with the consequences of it. it is equally fair of him to be suspicious of galadriel herself, because it is impossible to rely on whether she now believes herself to be free of his corruption when she never knew it was there to begin with. also, again, for emphasis—she knew sauron walked among them, she knew he'd helped make the rings, and she let it happen anyway. that doesn't exactly inspire trust, especially when it's the exact antithesis of the point she's trying to prove to elrond and she hasn't done anything to try and rectify that breach of friendship except offer an apology that does sound quite empty given she is still championing the rings.

on the other hand, galadriel is the one who spent time with sauron all this time. galadriel is the one who befriended him, and while even we as the viewers can't be sure which parts of halbrand were an act and which were genuine moments of connection, the main point is still clear: whether she wants it or not, they understand each other. even without their friendship, you can't spend thousands of years dedicating your life to hunting someone down without them becoming familiar to you in some way, and i think there is a specific manner of vulnerability that loss and grief gave her and it just tore her wide open for all sorts of habits and traits to take root. she became so devoted to her vengeance against sauron that the lines between identity and purpose began to blur.

i am not of the opinion that galadriel loves sauron (or vice versa, but that's a whole other post), as fascinating as their dynamic is to me. i do think that she is a passionate individual who was made for love and boldness, and losing everything she did was never going to mellow her out or slow her down. in her, vulnerability takes the form of rage, and it is there, in that twisted, not-quite-galadriel version of herself, that sauron was able to find a reflection.

there is no way elrond can possibly understand any of that, even despite suffering similar losses, because that's just not who he is. galadriel has the better intuition on sauron's manipulations, and she has a far better understanding of the depth of them, so of course her opinion should count here.

the issue is that they're both too raw and hurt that neither of them are willing to say "okay, so we BOTH have good points here. let's hear each other out instead of waiting for one of us to see reason and blindly agree with everything the other is saying"

i think it should also be noted that galadriel does end up being right about the rings' capabilities as a force for good, especially since the One to control them hasn't been forged yet. as unlikely as it might seem to elrond, her intuition isn't leading her astray here. we just haven't reached that point in the story yet (nor have we reached the point where galadriel begins to humble herself to the elves and seeks to redeem herself like morfydd mentioned, but i have a feeling they're getting into that now. after all, she did give nenya up to the guy who hurtled face-first off a cliff hoping to destroy them, so that's gotta count for something. baby steps!)

[veilkeeper]

breaking the cycle

alt title: why a sunshine boy beat solas at his own game

i need need need to talk about corentin and solas. like, the rook/solas dynamic is insane, right? it's insane. you meet him knowing he's the dread wolf. despite his protests, he is a god. you know him to be deceitful, cunning, and willing to betray allies and friends alike. if you uncover his memories, you learn that he has always been like that. there is no one he will not stab in the back.

despite that, you can respect him. more astounding, you can earn his respect. you're mirrors of each other, diametrically opposed but united in a common enemy, and you are literally following in his footsteps to stop the gods. you're in his base, uniting armies and earning the loyalty of your companions with his advice. whether you're willing to admit it or not, you are carrying his mantle, at least insofar as he was the leader of a rebellion that opposed gods.

remember, whatever it takes was his refrain first.

for corentin specifically, he never trusted solas. but aside from being morally opposed to his plans, corentin didn't really have... ill intent? all he knew was that while solas had to be stopped, he and varric had once been friends. so when he meets solas, he resolves to never trust him, but maybe to listen. he's done all this before, after all, and corentin isn't going to turn down expert advice when he's this in over his head.

and he does come to like solas. genuinely. he's the most frustrating person in the world, he hates when solas gets a little condescending but the scraps of approval are like a straight injection of endorphins (not unlike how he feels around emmrich, sometimes). the greatest sin anyone can commit around corentin is to be boring, and solas is anything but. he wants to impress him. he wants to believe that even after everything, solas can change. maybe seeing corentin succeed where he hadn't will help him realize that he'd been wrong.

then he betrays corentin. sends him to a prison of regrets for weeks. trapped in a circling, desolate place that was made to hold gods. worse, corentin finds out that not only had solas killed varric, but that he'd intentionally manipulated his mind to prevent him from realizing it.

but even after all that, when corentin finally confronts solas in minrathous, he thinks maybe there's a chance. solas needs him! he can't do this by himself! he seems genuinely impressed that corentin was able to escape, and it feels like he's telling the truth when he says he regrets manipulating corentin's mind and killing varric. and corentin is... well, he wants to see the best in people. he wants to believe people can change. he wants solas to do better.

and solas lies to him. again. the veil is going to come down with the death of elgar'nan—corentin's success was always going to be his failure. from the very beginning, he had been a pawn of the dread wolf, just like elgar'nan said. at every turn, it had been manipulation and doublespeak. were solas' feelings towards corentin, the respect and the regret and the borderline fondness real? maybe.

did it matter? not anymore.

because even though everyone is telling him to try, to give solas another chance, he can't. he already has. and across all of history, thousands upon thousands of years, other people solas cared about and respected gave him chances, and he turned them down every time. and the thing about corentin, the thing that brought him this far and let him kill gods where solas could only imprison them, is that he knows when to move forward instead of stagnating.

so when the time comes, the most genuine person in the world hands a fake dagger to a god, and he offers solas a final regret to carry with him across the veil.

[lovequinn]

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN YOU FINALLY TOLD ME YOU WERE SUPERGIRL YOU WERE WEEPING BIG CROCODILE TEARS WELL I WEPT REAL TEARS BITTER TEARS OVER YOU WEEKS BEFORE WHAT I THOUGHT HOW LONG HAD YOU KNOWN I FOUND OUT THE DAY I KILLED MY BROTHER LENA YOU DIDN'T KILL LEX THAT WAS ME I WATCHED HIM I SAW HIM FALL YOU SAM HIM FALL BUT DID YOU SEE HIM LAND DID YOU SEE HIM DIE I DID AND LET ME TELL YOU IT WASN'T PRETTY THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE ANYTHING'S POSSIBLE WHEN YOU'RE A LUTHOR LEX USED HIS TRANSMATTER PORTAL WATCH I KNEW EXACTLY WHERE HE'D GO THE CABIN WE LOVED WHEN WE WERE CHILDREN SO I WAS THERE WAITING FOR HIM HAD THE GUN READY LOADED I COULD FEEL THE WEIGHT OF IT IN MY HANDS EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING REBELLED I DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT BUT I KNEW I HAD TO BECAUSE IF LEX LIVED THE WORLD WOULDN'T BE SAFE MY FRIENDS WOULDN'T BE SAFE SO I FORCED MYSELF TO PULL THE TRIGGER I SHOT MY OWN BROTHER IN THE CHEST HIS FINAL WORDS TO ME WERE THAT I WAS A FOOL AND THAT MY BEST FRIEND EVERY FRIEND I HAD WAS LYING TO ME WITH HIS DYING BREATH HE TOLD ME YOU WERE SUPERGIRL LENA YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME I NEVER MEANT TO HUMILIATE YOU NO WHEN I CAME TO THIS CITY I PROMISED MYSELF THAT I WOULD NEVER TRUST ANYONE EVER AGAIN AND THEN

I

‎‎‎　　MET

　　　　　　YOU

AND YOU CHIPPED AWAY AT MY ARMOR WITH YOUR WARMTH AND YOUR EARNESTNESS AND YOU CONVINCED ME TO TRUST IN PEOPLE IN FRIENDSHIP AGAIN AND AGAINST MY BETTER JUDGEMENT I DID ALL THE WHILE TELLING YOU ABOUT MY ACHILLES HEEL BETRAYAL I CONFIDED IN YOU THAT EVERYONE IN MY PAST HAD BETRAYED ME ABOUT HOW MUCH IT HURT TO HAVE SOMEONE YOU LOVE LIE TO YOU AND BETRAY YOU I SPELLED IT OUT FOR YOU OVER AND OVER ESSENTIALLY BEGGING YOU NOT TO VIOLATE MY TRUST BEGGING YOU NOT TO PROVE ONCE AGAIN THAT I WAS FOOL YOU REASSURED ME AD NAUSEAM THAT YOU WOULD NEVER LIE TO ME THAT YOU'D NEVER HURT ME AND ALL THE WHILE THERE WASN'T A SINGLE HONEST MOMENT IN OUR FRIENDSHIP NO THAT'S NOT TRUE NO I KILLED MY BROTHER FOR YOU FOR OUR FRIENDS DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'VE DONE WHEN YOU FOUND OUT WHY DIDN'T YOU COME TO ME RIGHT AWAY SO I COULD EXPLAIN EXPLAIN YEAH IF YOU HATE ME SO MUCH WHY NOT OUT ME AT THE PULITZER PARTY WHY PRETEND TO STILL BE MY FRIEND THIS LONG BECAUSE I WANTED YOU TO EXPERIENCE WHAT YOU DID TO ME FEEL WHAT I FELT I UNDERSTAND YOUR PAIN AND YOUR FURY AND YOU'RE RIGHT I MADE A BIG MISTAKE MAYBE THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE BUT PLEASE LENA PLEASE DON'T LEAVE THE FORTRESS WITH MYRIAD PLEASE DON'T LET MY MISTAKE PUSH YOU TO DO SOMETHING TERRIBLE YOU ARE A GOOD PERSON NO NO YOU DON'T EVER GET TO TELL ME WHO OR WHAT I AM AGAIN DID YOU REPROGRAM THE FORTRESS'S DEFENSES TO ATTACK ME YES AND I RIGGED IT TO ANSWER TO THIS LITTLE BUTTON I HAVE IN MY HAND ARE YOU GOING TO TRY TO KILL ME NO SUPERGIRL I'M NOT GOING TO KILL YOU I'M NOT A VILLAIN YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE TREATED ME LIKE ONE!!!!!!!!!!

[shinjisdone]

Could you please make a scenario where the reader is being spied on by the rest of the ban and thorfinn deals with them real well🙏 I can feel his rage through my screen

I take it that the reader in this case is seen as female and the bandmates are reacting to it in a perverted way as they are/were depicted in their peak time as vikings.

TW: bandmates spying on female!reader while she bathes, hints at sexual harrassment and SA, not done at all but Thorfinn thinks about and decides to protect you from it, mentions of pervesity, Thorfinn pondering about killing them/committing violence, fuming Thorfinn

Such men pride themselves in being "warriors" but you and Thorfinn both knew this couldn't be further from the truth. They cackle and sneer at whatever they hold power against in the most vile way. In and out of battle they search for a kick, for something to make them feel powerful. So with grins so big it could crack their face, they shadow after you two as you look deeper within the forest for a lake.

Thorfinn had long sensed the group and would often throw glares over his shoulder as he made sure you walked in front of him.

He had long learned to get keen hearing for both on the battlefield and for situations like this. The both of you tried to make such trips short and discreet but some were insistent to tag along.

The blonde cannot afford to really break their bones and cut off a few fingers as they deserve since they are still Askeladd's manpower. It would be so easy to get rid of them for how predictable they are but Thorfinn has to deal with this in different ways.

You've long adjusted to put your trust in the young man. He has proven himself to be a friend even if it's only to you. So you say nothing and do as you always do as you step into the lake.

The corner is well hidden behind bushes and Thorfinn awaits the men's arrival. You've long undressed and began to clean yourself and as the bandmates eagerly hide, they are just met with Thorfinn's glare and him spreading his body wide, shielding you as best as you could.

The blonde is small but with the bushes and you hunching, not an inch of you could be seen. The men grumble in disappointment again as the blonde protects you, unnecessarily in their opinion, but still wish to not be spotted. You are quick to finish your routine, having thrown your belongings over Thorfinn's shoulder as he kept on guarding you, broad and unmoving like a boulder. The bandmates jokingly call him a scarecrow in these situations.

They also joke how lucky the young man must be to be so close to a woman's beauty. All he'd have to do is just peek over his shoulder to indulge in it while they have to hide over hills to even get a slim chance of finding the both of you.

Killing the men off would end up being a bigger hassle since the leader would have to find replacements. And anyone willing to become a viking is also someone who'd spy on you without a second thought anyway, so what is the point?

What they do not understand is that Thorfinn is anything but delighted. He silently fumes and has to press down his anger again and again only because they are Askeladd's men. How dare they? How can they call themselves warriors? Don't they understand how you feel? This isn't a 'priviledge', it is protecting you. Thorfinn would never think of betraying your trust by even having his sight go anywhere near you, even if he has feelings for you. He stands there not to indulge but his back is your shield, a brief safe space of anything that dares to threaten you. He will stand there until you are done and dressed, and even then will Thorfinn keep an eye on any bandmates. He won't even look at you, hours after your bath, dried and dressed, until you initiate any contact and tell him it's okay.

His priority is keeping you safe and having you feel safe. It doesn't matter if you were not hurt, if you feel violated in any way, then Thorfinn did not protect you. If you feel scared and uncomfortable, then Thorfinn did not an good enough job protecting you. Whatever needs to be done, he will do even if it means shielding you out of sight, including his own.

If, however, they were local perverts, Thorfinn would have no problem striking them down. He does not think of how vile they might be but is making sure any kind of danger for you is eliminated. He can't let that happen. In cases like that he is quick to deal with them but if somehow, harrassment has been going on for long, he wouldn't be able to contain his anger. How dare they talk about you that way? How dare they?

If he feels platonic towards you, he tends to silently fume in general. He doesn't want to cause more trouble than needed and prefers to just take care of the problem. If he can kill them, he will do so to stop whatever was going on and to have it serve as a warning to others in the future. He doesnt care if he has to call you 'his woman', he will make it clear as they that you are not to be messed with.

If he has romantic feelings, Thorfinn tends to freak out verbally. The acts of violence and warnings are the same but he will curse and scream a lot more. Don't they dare go anywhere near you! Or even speak your name! Any look thrown at you will be met with a glare of his!

For the case of the bandmates, he will end up holding a grudge against those who would attempt to spy on you. Doesn't matter how often and how long.

[ikamigami]

Noooooooooooo

Sun is back to normal damn it QwQ

But it was to be expected..

Especially when Moon took care of him..

How Sun could still continue to be such a bother, right?

Bxbxbbxbxbbxbxbxbxb

Sun, honey, I know that you have a strong will and you can withstand all sorts of trauma but I don't think that's the best idea to just get straight back to work when you couldn't even speak or walk or do anything for quite awhile solely because Moon took care of you for a bit 😭

Idk how to feel about it..

It bummed me out QwQ

Nxbxbnxnxnnxnxnxnxbbxbx

I think that Sun isn't okay.. cause he seems to be careful about the portal in a way "I messed up once already and Moon was angry so I can't do that again"..

Cause something about Sun trying to make Sonic and Shadow to leave immediately and keeping an eye on them and trying to fix the problem all on his own while repeating that he knows what to do in a really "I should know - I'm so stupid that I don't know" way and also saying that Moon is the smart one indeed and that Sun has to clean up Moon's work place.. hmm.. something about it..

It came off as if Sun really didn't want to be a burden to Moon any longer and he seems to be trying to appease to Moon once again..

Though maybe I'm completely wrong and Sun much longer break and Moon was taking care of Sun this whole time and was the nicest brother ever..

But idk..

Cause Sun mentioned that Moon is doing something in a lab or whatever and it seems that he doesn't know what it is..

Which rings more bells in my head..

Cause like why it almost feel like a deja vu?

Like it feels like it happened before?

Why Sun seems to act like he used to before Moon's reset?

Or maybe I'm just imagining things and it's just me 😅

Xhnxnxnnxnxnxnnxbxb

But still.. this was so unexpected..

Because it was Sun meeting someone coming from portal and not like a family thing when he'd talk with Earth at the Daycare that he's feeling better and he can get back to work..

It just feels so out of place..

Unless..

Sun is hallucinating..

Or it's his dream though usually at the end of episode we know that it's a dream..

Or Sun is regressing and he's really trying to appease to Moon like he used to do before..

Or he's actually fine and it's just huge timeskip or something compared to laes where just in yesterday's episode Earth wanted to talk with Moon and Lunar about how they poorly treat Sun and her etc

Ndndnfnfnfnfnncnnfnffnc

But I have a bad feeling about this..

What if it's aftermath of Earth talk with Moon and Lunar?

What if Sun was also there or overheard the convo and he doesn't really want to be a burden to his family?

I just feel like today's episode happened completely out of nowhere.. like whole context is missing..

And about today's laes episode..

Lunar Lunar Lunar.. what have you done? Do you want to follow in Nexus' footsteps?

You can't trust Rez.. and it's all because you hate Eclipse.. great just great..

I know that Astrals weren't the best in this whole you need to move on thing.. but you can't betray everything Lunar solely because of this one thing..

Like it's exactly what happened with Nexus..

Nexus betrayed his family and everything he cared about solely because he couldn't do what he wanted - because it really boils down to this actually.. cause like Eclipse so many damn times tried to say that he has better way to bring Solar back and others were telling him that killing Bloodmoon to bring Solar back is awful idea.. but no cause he "others are so mean and they don't allow me to do what I want. It doesn't matter it's bad. They should allow me to do it"

That's how Nexus really sounded QwQ

Minus the stuff with Sun.. that his concerns about Sun's mental state were completely dismissed.. but he never even admited even to himself that this is why he lost it.. vzvzvzvz

Overall things don't look good with Lunar making a deal with Rez..

And stuff with Sun are just odd.. it's just weird..