#and then forever on purpose failed to protect an egg

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

no but im still thinking about bad saying he was willing to forgive slime for killing dapper, so he's willing to forgive Forever for this but being so reluctant about it..... slime's crime was worse but with forever bad just seems so betrayed

[pythoria]

feeling some feelings about gale tonight *cracks knuckles*; he was a child prodigy, he was in tune with the weave, and inevitably mystra, since he was just a little kid. imagine being so in tune with magic, feeling so comfortable and safe within its bounds, falling in love with something so beautiful as a child. it becomes your whole world. imagine being filled with such childish idealism, such hope, that your only desire becomes getting closer to this thing, this goddess, finding that love and safety and giving it form.

imagine growing up, finally getting the attention of your goddess, how starry eyed you must be, how proud of yourself. this is your whole world, the reason you're alive, your purpose in life. mystra is everything to you, the magic in your veins, the giddy feeling in your heart, the proud ego in your chest. and then she finally *sees* you for the first time, you end up sharing her bed, touching her, talking to her, earning her approval, and, you think, her love. magic is your job, your lover, the motherly embrace of childhood. of course you would try to ascend to be with mystra forever. of course you would want power, so she sees you as an equal. of course you want to impress her, she's all you've ever known.

and then when you fail, when a ticking bomb gets stuck in your chest, you get none of that love and care. she doesn't protect you, she doesn't even talk to you anymore. so you've lost everything you've ever held dear in one fell swoop, the basket you put all your eggs in shattered, and you're left with nothing. you're now a middle aged man, your whole life spent in service of your goddess, who abandoned you at the first sign of free will you've shown. you feel like a failure. you don't have any friends, nor lovers, and you fall from being an archmage to nearly becoming an ilithid thrall. and maybe you realise that were it not for the astral prism, you'd have become a mindflayer and mystra wouldn't have saved you.

maybe you realise she's completely written you off when elminster shows up and tells you she wants you to sacrifice yourself. maybe you think "is this what my life's work is worth? a lifetime of devotion? a second hand missive asking me to die?". but no matter how ridiculous the request, you're in too deep now. nobody would care if you died, mystra made sure you were always focused on her, never making meaningful connnections with other mortals, having no friends, foes, or lovers. if mystra forsakes you, you might as well not exist. so death to serve her might be the best ending you could've hoped for, really.

except along comes someone, and they also have a worm in their head, and you team up, and soon enough there's a bunch of you strutting around faerun, and suddenly someone *cares*. for the first time in years, you actually have... friends? and they're telling you mystra is insane, that you've been manipulated, they tell you that what mystra is asking is too much, that they want you to live. and you're defensive, of course. you still love mystra, and you can't get away from her either, because you feel her presence every time you cast as much as a firebolt, magic running through your veins like ambrosia, nectar and poison all at once. you conjure her face to gaze at, and when you start falling for tav, you show them the weave, because that's the only way you know how to love. eventually you accept that you might have to defy mystra to stay alive and suddenly you have a choice again. but in the process, everything you knew and loved turned to dust, and you had to build yourself back up from the ashes, all while smiling and laughing and trying fruitlessly to fit in with your companions, who find you stuck up and weird after so much isolation.

gale is such a tragic character, if you think about it.

[the-crimson]

I was just listening to some sad music while thinking about q!bbh and… the eggs changed him. They saved him in a sense. All of them.

When Bad first arrived at the island he was aimless and much like Foolish, looking for the next subject of entertainment. He was only out for himself and couldn’t be bothered to lend a helping hand to anyone.

Then he was given a little egg with a top hat and everything changed. He had someone vulnerable to look out for, to provide for, and suddenly he was given purpose. All of these little eggs were precious beyond words and everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

Charlie tried to murder Dapper right in front of Bad. That was the first time Bad felt fear in a long long time then a deep sadness settled in when he learned Juanaflippa had died and that’s what sent Slime on his rampage and everything suddenly felt so much more real. The illusion of perfection broke and Bad realized, truly realized, just what Dapper meant to him.

Juanaflippa was brought back but then a hat trick of tragedy strikes and Bad is forever changed. Bad has a chance to walk Tilin home but she chooses to go with Slime who accidentally kills her. Juanaflippa chooses to stay with Mariana and he accidentally kills her - again. And Trump dies of neglect alone in an empty house. (Cc!Bad mentioned on stream a while back that the admins had asked him if he could do Trump’s tasks but Bad didn’t realize how dire the situation was- he blames himself)

Within the span of 24 hours, three eggs died and Bad could have saved each of them. This is when everything changes for Bad’s character. This is where Bad vows that no egg was ever going to die of neglect again. This is when Bad started grinding to become the richest person on the server and ensured that all the eggs had maxed out armor at all times. These eggs dying the way they did is what created the Badboyhalo we knew.

Bad created the warp plate system in the sky so he’d be able to reach just about anywhere near spawn to save an egg if they went down. He is the one who discovered the true utility of warp stones and spread that information across the server. He is the one who informed everyone of the autoeat and XP pump functions of the backpack and set up all the eggs with infinite XP so their armor would never break.

He was so incredibly damaged by these eggs dying that he turned all his hyper vigilance towards protecting the remaining eggs even if he barely knew the parents or the eggs themselves. He would never say no to someone asking for help ever again.

Bad went from selfish and out for himself to the most selfless person on the server. He was a demon seeking entertainment in the wake of eternity and transformed into a servant of the people who gave his life again and again for others without question.

Getting Dapper primed Bad for change. Dapper was the crack in the stone that allowed the walls within him to shatter when Juanaflippa, Tilin, and Trump died. Ever since that tragic day, all of the eggs became part of Bad’s family.… and now they are gone.

Dapper and their siblings brought out the best of Bad. They saved him from a cycle of chaotic indifference. And now he’s alone again. Everything he’s done to protect them has been for nothing. Everything he’s changed, the steps he took towards healing millennia old traumas… all of that was for not.

Some wounds cut too deep to heal. Even with all the progress Bad made, he still valued his entire self worth on how useful he was to others, on protecting the eggs. Every time something happened to the kids, he took it as a personal failure. When Bobby died, he blamed himself for not going with them on the adventure. Now they are gone gone. They fled. They are somewhere Bad can’t follow. He failed them. He had one job and he failed.

It doesn’t matter what happens to him now. Getting them back is all that matters. Bad’s world has lost all vibrancy and he’s physically fading away. He doesn’t notice because he can’t let himself. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting them back. But even if he does… it’s already too late. He failed. He couldn’t protect them. He failed.

When the eggs come back changed (hatched?) all he will see is his failure. If he lives long enough to see his babies return, will they give him the strength to come back from this? Or will their presence give him the reassurance that… it’s okay. He doesn’t need to fight anymore. They are safe now. He can let go. One last goodbye.

Fuck man. I’ve been here since the beginning. Since the second day Bad had Dapper. I’ve watched almost every single stream since. I’ve watched Bad change in real time. I’ve watched Dapper and the other eggs change him. I stayed up until 3 am watching Bad bargain with god to save his son from an unfair death. I’ve watched Bad chase desperately across the map only to arrive moments too late to find Ramon’s corpse. I’ve watched him sit silently weeping while waiting for Jaiden and Roier to say their last goodbyes. I still remember his screams for Dapper when they were killed by pillagers. I remember them stranded in the snow tens of thousands of blocks from safety with no items no food Dapper couldn’t even speak. Terrified that it could end then and there.

The fact that this whole journey has lead us here. Bad is literally dying because he failed them. He failed them in a hundred different ways but this was the big one. This failure broke him. If Bad does end up dying dying at the end of this arc… that would both be the most narratively satisfying yet heart breaking thing that could possibly happen. The eggs saved him in a million different ways. It makes sense that they would also be the death of him.

Bad’s a demon and a grim reaper so I doubt he’d stay dead but I could see Dapper and friends going on a quest to bring him back from where ever demons/grim reapers go when they die. Maybe he’ll finally get some closure from the tragedies he’s left in his wake all throughout history. Maybe he’ll get a chance to truly start over with a clean slate.

Fuck now I’m thinking about Dapper having ti live through their dad sacrificing himself for them and their siblings. We know Dapper was borderline suicidal before being taken so just… Dapper seeing themself in Bad too late and not being able to save him. Killing himself for the greater good. Dapper refusing to accept that Bad is gone and spending every waking minute researching how to bring him back by any means necessary but knowing Bad would want them to move on, to live, to live, to live.

I have no idea where Bad’s character is going. I have no idea if he’s gonna go full villain and burn the server to destroy the federation. I have no idea if he’s gonna sacrifice himself and die trying to get the eggs back. I have no idea if his grief is literally killing him and he’s acting so desperate with the knowledge that he’s on borrowed time. All I know is cc!Bad is gonna take us on one hell of a ride and I can’t wait to see what happens next.

[quitealotofsodapop]

You was minding the island/monkeys in "SWK is MK's stone egg dad au"?

Ask 1: Wukong would only trust someone he knew would be able to protect the island if he wasn't available. Originally his idea was for that to be Macaque but well... that didn't turn out so good.

Guanyin would try to kill him herself if she knew Wukong was trying to create a Stone Egg on purpose.

Princess Iron Fan is similarly discounted, cus for all her joy surrounding having a child, she knows it's stupid to try and make one when the eventual result is death of the parent. She'd tattle on SWK to Guanyin.

Erlang would remember to unbury Wukong, but him and the Plum Hill boys dont gots a good reputation with the island's monkeys or monkey demons in general. Also the dog might try and dig up Wukong before he can even start the Egg-making process.

That leaves the people he 1: Is good friends with and/or 2: Owes him a favor.

DBK and Nezha ultimately are the two entrusted with the knowledge of what Wukong's doing.

DBK worries because of the risks involved, but understands why Wukong is so adamant on becoming a parent. DBK was willing to bow to the bodhisattva if it meant his little firefly could be born safely.

Nezha is told a little different version of the story since Wukong still sees him as a kid who will panic. Wukong just tells him that he's "Trying out a new mediatation technique", and to check in on him in a few centuries. Nezha is suspicious, but assumes Wukong is planning to isolate himself for the sake of the Rings of Samadhi. Can't tell anyone where his Ring is if he's entombed after all. Nezha makes sure to check in on the island every other year or so just out of duty, but also because he's a little attached to the island's monkeys.

The Pilgrims aren't told of what SWK's gonna do in case they try to stop him. But Wukong grants them and their reincarnations/decendants special access to the island in case his original plan fails. He knows if something on the outside went *really wrong*, they'd be able to eventually find him.

Which leads to...

I was thinking perhaps DBK was a good candiate to protect the island + wake Wukong.

Until something happened in their lives (a shared tragedy), that caused DBK to go nuts trying to stop Wukong from doing something that could have taken his little sworn brother away from him forever.

The death of a fellow sworn brother/Wukong's own best friend and mate; Macaque.

Wukong and DBK had agreed to only reveal the news to Macaque when Wukong's body had already started the process. Far along enough that even if Macaque dragged SWK up out of the ground in anger; a Stone Egg would still continue developing with the parent "awake".

Macaque died not knowing what Wukong had planned.

And DBK lost it.

He couldn't bare to lose his last Sworn Brother on top of losing his brother-in-law. It made no sense for Wukong to create the Stone Egg if his own family would never be able to greet it!

Wukong is forced to seal DBK away once the Bull began deliberately causing Havoc to draw him out of his cave. Enough trouble that there was talk in Heaven of feeding the Bull to the Furnace.

Wukong hates to admit it. He too didn't want to lose his brother.

So he's forced to seal DBK in stasis in the Underworld for the amount of time SWK planned to stay buried.

500 years would be enough for Wukong's body to produce a full-term egg without needing to leech life energy/dao from another source. So hopefully by the time he's ready to birth, Nezha will atleast be able to wake him up. And once his Egg and baby arrives, he will be able to release his sworn brother without the risk of getting stomped on in anger. His child would be old enough to protect themselves, and his in-laws no longer mad at him. Win win!

Unless something say... a curious, clumsy reincarnation of his former master stumbled upon his burial spot inside Water-Curtain Cave and dug him up thinking he was a pot and woke him up prematurely, forcing Wukong to carry the Egg to term for about a year while he spirtually drained others. But that defintely wont happen!

Right?

[sleepsonclouds]

Clouds tropespots: The Spirealm, E06

Episode 6 (Birthday party, 2nd door)

People are… actually reading these? I'm pleasantly surprised! This is the last complete episode in the 2nd door. The egg drama continues, romantically.

Sleight of hand: Lin Qiushi unknowingly breaks his egg, which is a death condition. Nanzhu sneakily switches their eggs, hoping he'll be the target instead. So very… touching.

Propriety in the face of death: Tan Zaozao is scared and wants to share the room. Qiushi offers to sleep on the floor, but Nanzhu immediately, absolutely forbids this. Zaozao should sleep on the floor - because it's still improper for men and women to sleep in the same room! It's not at all because he wants to sleep with Qiushi.

There is only one bed (variant): It is also fine to share the bed if you're both on top of the covers and wearing clothes. Even if you're sort of gravitating towards each other. Distance between elbows: 2 cm.

Holding hands: Totally proper in the face of danger! It evolves in a beautiful sequence from a shoulder grab to mutual wrist-grabbing to what I think is off-screen hand-holding. If you don't obsessively pause the video, it looks like hand-holding, that's for sure. There's also comforting shoulder-touching to complement this. Nanzhu just can't let go.

Lying to protect partner (egg edition): Qiushi realises someone's triggered the death condition. But his egg is fine… "Whose egg is broken?!" Nanzhu, the lying liar, claims it's his.

Worrying about reckless partner: So that's why Nanzhu didn't sleep (Qiushi noticed): he thought he'd be murdered. Qiushi, understandably, would have liked to know. Nanzhu: "It was meaningless to tell you that." Oh dear. Worrying intensifies.

Someone cares about me???: Nanzhu (enjoying this): "You care that much about my life?" Luckily, frustration triggers Qiushi's logical thinking.

Shoulder-touching (lingering): Qiushi has started doing it, too. Carry on.

Plot item of innuendo, cont.: Qiushi: "Protecting our eggs is the most important thing." Didn't you tell Nanzhu off for saying about the same..?

Lying to protect partner - caught!: Qiushi realises someone's trying to kill him. And he pays A Lot of attention to eggs - this isn't his egg, his had a tiny black spot!

Worrying about partner: Nanzhu actually admits to being nervous when his attempt to switch eggs and targets fails. This is Nanzhu we're talking about.

Romantic egg exchange (I can't even): Qiushi wants to switch eggs back (though it doesn't even matter). But we get a beautiful scene where they exhange eggs in a very romantic fashion, crossing wrists and all! The camera makes sure to capture that.

Breaking eggs for your beloved: AND THEN Nanzhu, the perfect, beloved drama sprite that he is, drops his egg on purpose. "It slipped." Yes, I'm sure that's what he said. Now they're… egg-mates. Egg equals. About to be murder-killed anyway! (Nanzhu's puppy dog eyes may kill me first.)

No one has ever cared for me like this: Qiushi STILL can't fathom why Nanzhu would care about him, but he is starting to think this is a pretty extreme hiring tactic. Nanzhu: "I think you're talented, and I want to be your friend. Not everyone gets to be my friend." (Says the man who doesn't do friends.) Qiushi is wising up: "So you entered the door just to help me?" (Nanzhu totally did.)

There is a light in you: Nanzhu believes in Qiushi. "I see a light in you that others don't have." Shameless. Meta-level. Flirting. And eye-contact that just lasts forever.

Clasping hands: How is this gesture so romantic? Is it because Nanzhu's hand nearly covers Qiushi's? Is it the staring? Is it the duration? Forgetting to let go? The soft piano music? Yes.

Am I the prettiest: Nanzhu, upon realising he was the only one who slept: "So do you think my sleeping posture looks good, or does Xu Xiaocheng's look better?" Qiushi tells him they're both pretty. This is acceptable… for now.

Partners in arson: Excellent teamwork again - Nanzhu gets to do the dramatic cannibal cake reveal, while Qiushi and Zaozao light the kitchen on fire. Nanzhu also gets to throw the door god in there. Sadly, arson isn't the answer.

The conclusion to this arc and more dramatics follow in -> Episode 07

[dudeandduchess]

Yakuza!Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Sugar and Spice (Mafia!AU, Modern AU, NSFW Series)[Chapter 8]

Summary: Kyōjurō and (Y/n) meet at a party, only to find out that their lives would change forever— since they had been arranged to be married.

Note: I have nothing against McDonald’s; I love some of their things (Nuggets!!!). It’s just that the contrast between what (Y/n)’s mother had always had, compared to something so normal makes me laugh.

Warnings: Smut, Making Out, Candy Swapping, Semi-Public Sex (Private Beach), Teasing, Champagne Blowjob, Cum Swallowing

||Sugar and Spice Masterlist||

***

It had been a couple of days since the pleasurable incident at the Rengoku clan’s mountain home and, for the life of her, (Y/n) couldn’t get it out of her head. Especially at night, when she begun fantasizing about having Kyōjurō’s hands all over her again, with his chest pressed flush against her back.

She would never admit it, but she was addicted— after only the barest taste of him.

And she would have devised a plan to wring the same pleasure from him again, had he not called her the following morning to say that something had come up in Osaka. That would have been find, if it only took a day to fix it. But, apparently, it was going to take a few days.

(Y/n) had tried not to let her disappointment show in her tone, but Kyōjurō must have picked up on it, since she had gotten the most beautiful bouquet of pink and white hydrangeas— as well as one of Kyōjurō’s button down shirts— a mere hour after they had said goodbye to each other.

The card had even held the sweetest inscription she had ever received, which she quickly used to cover her face— as she raced back up the stairs to get back to the privacy of her room.

At that present moment, with her already done getting herself ready for the day, she took a brief moment for herself and sat down on the edge of her bed; taking the card where she had left it on top of her nightstand, and biting back a smile as she read her fiancé’s writing.

‘You are much like hydrangeas; Beautiful, but selfish with your love. I hope that I can take a piece of your heart while I’m gone, And I hope that someday I’ll have your love, (Y/n).

P.S. I’m giving you my shirt, so that it will keep a little bit of me with you.

Forever Yours, Kyōjurō’

(Y/n) couldn’t help but bite down on her lower lip, if only to bite back the giggle that threatened to spill from her lips. She had been reading the card frequently, yet it still managed to elicit the same reaction from her; as if she were a lovesick teenager.

It was very unbecoming for her; especially over someone whom she was still getting to know.

Kyōjurō was going to become her husband, that was a fact, but there was a tiny voice in her head that always warned her to not get too close. Thankfully, it had been small enough to bury beneath all of her foremost thoughts; yet when she was alone— like at that moment— it gained enough momentum to make itself known.

And the smile on her face, which brightened up her features, turned down into a barely perceptible frown. It was dangerous for her to fall so easily for a man; especially a man that she knew was still keeping his cards close to his chest.

She knew that; after all, she wasn’t that far gone in her blossoming feelings for him.

It would have been so easy to keep herself in check, to guard her heart and keep herself sane… if only he didn’t make her feel like throwing all caution to the wind so she could jump and fall right into his arms.

Just like he had told her that she made him happy, Kyōjurō made her feel the same; along with feeling protected and appreciated.

Before (Y/n) could delve in deeper into her own thoughts however, she quickly shook herself from her reverie and placed the card back down on her nightstand. Then, she got up from her bed and straightened herself out; after all, Rin hadn’t been coming to her room to pester her about attending events in her parents’ stead.

Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t been tasked to attend any political functions ever since Kyōjurō had warned her mother to lessen her tasks. It gave her enough time to actually relax during her break, and it felt amazing.

She had to remember to give Kyōjurō a kiss once he returned. And if she were to be honest, she would say that she missed him.

“You’re too invested, (Y/n),” The young woman muttered to herself with a playful scoff, before shaking her head and making her way down to the dining room. It was time for breakfast, after all; her most dreaded part of the day, since she had to sit there and take all of her mother’s ill-concealed jabs.

Her tasks may have lessened, but her family life sure hasn’t improved.

With all her apprehension about going to see her mother, (Y/n) even dawdled a little bit during the walk downstairs; purposely taking her time to admire some of the paintings that caught her interest, until she arrived at the doorway she was trying to avoid the most.

And with a deep breath, she stepped through and expected her mother’s mildly displeased expression to greet her. Only, the first face that she saw had her immediately brightening up; especially when those lips that she missed tilted up at the corners to give her a handsome grin.

“Kyōjurō!” (Y/n) breathed out, just as a wide smile colored her expression. And before she could help it, she already found herself practically skipping over to where he now stood— only to freeze when she saw her mother’s narrow-eyed gaze boring right into her.

Immediately, the arms that wanted to wrap themselves around her lover froze at her sides; while Kyōjurō engulfed her in a tight embrace, before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Did you miss me, princess?”

“I… I did.” She admitted, her smile almost faltering once, as she felt her mother’s glare boring right into her back. However, she was shielded by Kyōjurō’s face, so she allowed herself a little bit of rebellion and leaned in to peck his lips— all while her hands lifted themselves up and settled themselves at his sides in a pseudo hug.

As her mother had kept repeating to her while she was growing up: it was unbecoming of someone of her social status to show too much emotion to anyone, as it gave people a leverage over her. And it was obvious that it had stuck to her, since she could only act normally whenever she wasn’t around any people who gave a damn about who she was.

Thankfully, she was shaken from her reverie by Kyōjurō guiding her to sit down on the empty chair next to where he sat. “Go and eat, baby. You need your strength for today.”

Kyōjurō’s words were innocent enough, but they didn’t fail to make goosebumps raise across her skin. They were so laden with hidden meaning, at least in her mind, that she couldn’t shake the warmth that pooled at the pit of her stomach.

With those words hanging in the air, she turned her full attention to the food set out on the table— holding back a surprised expression when she saw that it was laden with carry-out boxes from McDonald’s. A laugh wanted to bubble free from the sight of the lavish table paired off with something so… common, yet (Y/n) could only purse her lips together as she grabbed the laid-out silverware to serve herself a pancake.

Breakfasts used to be such a droll agenda whenever she was at home, but Kyōjurō had managed to spin such a humorous twist on it that made her want to kiss him.

The best part? Rengoku Kyōjurō had practically forced her mother— the wife of the Prime Minister, and the prissiest woman to ever live— to eat an Egg McMuffin.

(Y/n) would never forget the undernoted look of disgust that she kept shooting the blond at her side; the very man whom, she was naught to admit, was starting to become such an essential part of her life.

“How’s your McMuffin… okaa-sama?” Kyōjurō asked quietly, looking so regal even with a paper cup of coffee in his right hand. And (Y/n) could only get swept into him even more, when he turned to her and gave her the most attractive wink; one that had her heart practically skipping in her chest.

***

When (Y/n) had heard that she should keep her strength up for the day, she had expected so much more than just going to the beach— which Kyōjurō’s family apparently bought a few years ago— and being told that her fiancé only wanted to relax.

If she were to be honest, she would say that she expected to get railed so hard on the blanket. After all, it was why she had worn the sundress that she was sure accented all of her curves; one that would entice Kyōjurō into doing just what she wanted him to.

There wasn’t anything wrong with hoping to get fucked by such a sexy man, but it had been a few days, and she was sure that he was trying to put on a show just to tease her. That was the problem: he wasn’t giving in to her.

He merely laid down next to her on their blanket— in all his shirtless glory— while he kept eating that goddamned hard candy that was in the glass bowl next to him. And to make things worse for her, he looked so attractive— especially with his abs out on display, and his sunglasses framing his face so perfectly.

She would have long straddled his hips and slipped his cock inside her, had she been that shameless of a woman.

It wasn’t much of a statement coming from her, based on how they had first met, but it was different because they were out in the open; where anyone could happen by and take pictures of them humping like rabbits on the beach.

That wasn’t a headline that she wanted the entirety of Japan to see, even if she knew that the property was as secluded and secure as it could be.

Still, Kyōjurō was making it so hard to resist him. And he knew just how badly he was affecting her.

“Do you want to eat something, baby? Maybe a drink?” Kyōjurō asked softly, raising his sunglasses to the top of his head while he turned to look at (Y/n)— whom was no longer scrolling through her phone, and was blatantly ogling his body.

He would be lying if he said that he didn’t like that, or if he said that that wasn’t turning him on.

In fact, he had wanted to push her down on the table at her house, had her mother not been there to keep giving him ill-concealed glares. But he had to keep it in his pants, since he wanted to see how she would react with a little bit of pushing from him.

After all, he could make her so needy for him that it would make for the hottest nights of their life; especially if he kept on teasing her bit by bit until their wedding night.

It was too little too late, after he had already had a taste of her tight pussy, but it only made things much more exciting for him. If only he wasn’t constantly close to asking her to fuck him.

“A glass of champagne would be nice…” (Y/n) answered softly, the flush on her face getting more evident in the shade, especially when her eyes flickered up to meet his own. They were so intense with need that Kyōjurō couldn’t help it…

He cupped her face with one hand and pulled her in to his face, as he sat upright to meet her halfway.

The first touch of his lips to hers had his entire body tingling with warmth, as if it was coming alive under her touch. And it was only made better when their slow and tentative kisses slowly escalated to open-mouthed ones; ones that had him feeling himself getting hard.

Especially when she reached down and cupped her hand over his hardening cock.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Kyōjurō’s lips then, as he got it in his mind to push the piece of candy in his mouth into hers.

(Y/n) was clearly surprised at first, tensing up the tiniest bit, before getting swept up in her fiancé’s pace. His tongue kept prodding at hers, trying to pull the candy back into his own mouth, which she complied to.

Gingerly, she allowed him to take the sweet from her mouth, instantly missing its sweetness, before it was gently pushed right back in— so warm and a little minty, with a hint of something that was uniquely Kyōjurō.

Or maybe that was her lust addled mind talking.

However, before things could escalate further, the blond pulled away with a grin— his candy back in his mouth. “I’ll be back with your champagne, princess.”

To say that she was shocked and feeling cross with him was a total understatement. She was feeling so irate that she wanted to get some sort of revenge on him— which had been fueled by her less-than-innocent searches while he was gone.

So, she stewed in her own impatience— even sitting up on her knees— just so she could take him by surprise when he came back.

Thankfully, Kyōjurō didn’t take too long with getting her drink; grinning right at her even if she could see the obvious bulge in his swim trunks. It provided the perfect opportunity for her to get back at him, at least even a little.

And when he got back on their blanket, giving her the glass of champagne before making a move to sit back down, (Y/n) got up on her knees and placed a hand on his right thigh— looking up at him and licking her lips, before sliding that hand up to cup his hard-on once more.

“You look uncomfortable,” The young woman whispered, as she slowly undid the tie to her fiancé’s shorts and gently pushed them down his hips; much like how she pushed her own trepidations aside, and threw all caution to the wind.

She was on private property. And she trusted, deep down, that Kyōjurō would protect her and her reputation if it came down to it.

So, she let go of her inhibitions— especially when she was greeted by her fiancé’s hard cock in front of her face. It was thick, and long, and a little bit curved— which had her pussy getting so wet already.

Remembering how amazing he felt inside her even had her squeezing her thighs together, if only to alleviate the lust that she felt bubbling within her.

Gingerly, she took his cock in her right hand, pumping it slowly, and using her thumb to spread the precum that beaded at his tip. A low groan was her reward for that, which only spurred her on even more— especially when she saw his eyes close in pleasure.

Just the faintest of touches and he was already like that. She couldn’t wait to see what his reaction was going to be when she set her plans into action.

And when she leaned forward to suck on the tip of his cock, she felt confidence flaring up within her when Kyōjurō moaned aloud— with his right hand making its way into her hair.

It was hot, but she was not going to get swept up in his pace again.

So, before he could try to give her a nudge to take more of him in her mouth, (Y/n) pulled the head of his cock out of her mouth and took a big sip from the champagne flute in her left hand. And with that, she set the drink down on the blanket— hoping that it wouldn’t topple over.

She kept the cool and bubbly drink in her mouth— looking up again at Kyōjurō, whom was watching her with such a lust-filled gaze— before taking his cock in her mouth once more.

That time, however, Kyōjurō actually cried out in pleasure; hips bucking involuntarily as he felt the champagne’s bubbles teasing his cock. Partnered with the coolness of the drink, and the warmth of (Y/n)’s mouth, the blond was on his slow descent to thinking that he was going crazy with pleasure.

His head was already spinning from the sensations, and she had barely even taking his cock.

But when she swallowed around his tip, before circling her cool tongue around the crown of his cock, he felt his fingers curling into her hair. Hell, he had barely even managed to look up at the security camera perched on a light pole, as a warning for whoever was watching to turn away at that moment.

Slowly, pleasurably, (Y/n) kept taking more and more of Kyōjurō’s cock in her mouth— until she was all the way down to the hilt, with her nose pressed against his trimmed pubes.

And he thought that it couldn’t get any better than that, until she took the hand that was on his thigh to cup his balls and start fondling them.

His eyes almost rolled back into his head at that moment, as he threw his head back and lost himself to the heady feeling of her sucking him off; trying to bring him to the most intense orgasm that he was ever going to get from a blowjob.

Instead of trying to prolong his pleasure though, Kyōjurō began to gently rock his hips into (Y/n)’s face; breathing heavily and moaning aloud as he felt his orgasm crawling up on him.

“I’m cumming,” The blond whispered breathlessly, close to outright fucking his fiancée’s face, when she pulled his cock out of her mouth— leaving just the tip inside— before jerking her off with one hand.

All while the other one kept fondling his balls.

It was so heady that Kyōjurō could only cry out “Fuck, baby! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” as he spurted thick ropes of cum right on her tongue. She was white hot pleasure personified, and he was sure of it at that very moment.

Maybe he really couldn’t wait until the wedding night to have her again.

Especially when she made a show of popping her cock out of her mouth, and sticking her tongue out to show him his cum— before closing her lips and swallowing his thick seed.

“How did I get so lucky, princess?”

[stellarcat52]

The wizard could’ve helped you.

Scott awoke, the fire and lantern were out, he could see anything. “Who’s there?”

Only you, I’ve been gone for a while.

Scott felt the cold creep up his spine, the voice was whispering to him from somewhere unreachable.

“Aeor?”

Who else? I’m sorry this is happening to you, Aeolus. Or, Scott if you prefer that, My champion.

“I failed you, I hurt my kingdom, my friends. I’m not the ruler you wanted.”

Aeor sighed, My wish for you was never to rule Rivendell, although you’ve done such a good job. You’re loyal to your people, and your friends, and I will never regret choosing you as my champion. The purpose of you, as the same for all of my chosen ones, in the grand scheme of things is to protect others. Yes, sadly, you have hurt people. But wanting power, being scared, being upset. Those are all temporary, they hardly make you any less of a protector.

“What did you mean when you said Gem could help me?”

Oh, I’m sure she didn’t mean to hold something back, she seems very good hearted, but she may have forgetting she holds the key to restricting the power you, and your sibling, hold.

“The egg? The ender dragon’s egg?”

Yes, Xornoth and Exor fear it, but you could use it to restrain your powers and train properly. The dragon falling is supposed to begin the end of the world, but due to a sheltered existence up until then, you had no experience to stop it on your own. You relied on your friends, and if anything you’ve done so far made me disappointed, it was that. You had no choice, so I’m not al that upset. But I don’t want you to be weak when it happens again.

Scott feels a hand press against his cheek, although to anyone else the skin would be freezing, it warms Scott. He leans into it, it felt familiar. He closed his eyes and soaked in the small comfort for a moment, before the hand pulled away and he opened his eyes again.

He wasn’t in his shack, he was in a throne room, kneeling before someone dressed in white robes and adorned with golden jewelry. Their eyes are light blue and shone with love and magic, and just above those, Scott’s eyes catch the shine of golden antlers.

Aeor, in the flesh. “Am I dead?”

The god laughed, quite literally an angelic sound, and helped Scott stand in front of them. “No, you’re still safely resting in that tiny shack you’ve accepted as protection. I thought it finally time to speak face to face, spirit to spirit.”

“You’ve done me so proud, and I’m sure if your parents could see you, they’d be proud too.” Aeor continued. “You’ve found powerful allies, too powerful if you ask me, you’ve found your own goals, and you’ve seen accomplishments. I fear for you, peace will not last forever even if you can bring the dragons back, but if you listen to me. If you return to me for guidance, you can protect the world indefinitely from the cruelty of shadows.”

The god embraced Scott warmly, “Thank you,” Scott whispered as the light fades from around him.

A flickering orange light replaced the scene, crackling fire instead of the angelic voice of a god, and icy still air instead of a warm embrace.

Scott was back in his body, in his shack, in a land that was safe from his powers.

He needed to go back to Gems, he needed to steal the egg.

He needed to revive the montrous protector of the end.

He wondered if bringing it back in the overworld would help control his powers more.

[animepopheart]

Wonder Egg Priority, Episode 7: The Scars to Prove It (or, Love for the Moms, the Cutters, and the Drunks)

Wonder Egg Priority (WEP) has felt like the successor to Puella Magi Madoka Magica in many ways throughout its run, but in episode seven, it almost went full Madomagi by driving the stakes to their utmost height—to the death of one of the main characters. But as has been consistent with WEP, what it did instead, after some moments of true worry, is to instead deliver hope in the face of pain, resolve against overwhelming circumstances, and strength in weakness.

The series returns to Rika Kawai’s story in this episode, which starts with her turning 14. And on her 14th birthday, after leaving her hungover mother halfway asleep at the bar she works at and which they call home, Rika opens up to the rest of the girls, explaining that she doesn’t know her father (it could be any of five possibilities, or even more) and her mom won’t reveal any further information about him. As she trashes her mom, Neiru and Momoe are incredulous, which only drives Rika away from them. And though Ai goes to comfort her, Rika is in a terrible state of mind as she enters her next fight.

This was a difficult episode to watch. They’ve all been somewhat hard since the series never shies away from brutal and violent situations impacting young people, but I found myself squirming especially here as Rika’s cutting takes center stage. At one point, she decides to cut herself and it seems certain she will, before her turtle-like partner, Mannen, prevents it from happening.

Challenging, also, is how strained Rika’s relationship is with her mother, who’s life revolves around drink—alcohol both pays the bills and helps her forget how miserable her existence is. And in the midst of all the bad behavior in this episode—the usual Rika talk, her mom’s alcoholism and neglect, and the selfishness all around, one begins to feel deeply sorrowful for the Kawai women. Yes, Rika is often obnoxious, but her family life is in shambles, and she still exhibits goodness, including a curiously gentle relationship with Mannen. And Rika’s mother is a tragic figure, used by men and quite on the road to an early death, it would seem, unable to lift herself out of the gutter as she tries, in her own sloppy way, to protect and reach out to her daughter.

It’s in this hopelessness that Rika turns again to cutting, and then finds herself tempted by something even more dangerous. Her foe this time is a religious leader who led the egg, a follower who continues to believe in him, to commit suicide as a way of “connecting” with the universe (Heaven’s Gate, anyone?). Rika decries the ghoul as a charlatan, but is confronted with her own weakness when the egg shows her own scarred arm to Rika, revealing that she can tell that the latter cuts just like she did. And then she explains that Rika can be released from this pain.

The scars, evidence of what Rika does to cope with her pain, now become the weakness that they truly are, revealing how hopeless she feels, and how powerless she is against the mechanizations of her family life. And defeated, she’s about to allow herself to be killed when a surprising savior comes along—a turtle. Mannen attacks the spiritual leader, to Rika’s surprise as well, until she remembers that he has imprinted on her. Rika is Mannen’s mom, and as he did when he prevented her from cutting, Mannen is again protecting his mother.

The conclusion that Rika reaches is unusual but inspiring. She understands, in this moment, the need to protect one’s mom, finally admitting to herself in a de facto way that maybe her mother is in need of love, too. It’s funny to consider the need that mothers have for love since culturally and socially, they’re always seen as the providers of it. But of course, they need it in return, especially when they falter. My own mother is sick right now, and I think of the support I need to give her and the lack of that I’ve provided through the years.

Warning: Screenshot involving cutting after the jump.

My mother was a good one, however. Rika’s, on the other hand, has struggled with the charge, which reminds me of a story from one of my favorite books, The Ragamuffin Gospel, about another bad parent—a far worse one, in fact, and a real one. I’ll quote part of the passage from chapter seven:

“‘Our daughter Debbie wanted a pair of earth shoes for her Christmas present. On the afternoon of December 24, my husband drove her downtown, gave her sixty dollars, and told her to buy the best pair of shoes in the store. That is exactly what she did. When she climbed back into the pickup truck her father was driving, she kissed him on the cheek and told him he was the best daddy in the whole world. Max was preening himself like a peacock and decided to celebrate on the way home. He stopped at the Cork ‘n’ Bottle–that’s a tavern a few miles from our house and told Debbie he would be right out. It was a clear and extremely cold day, about twelve degrees above zero, so Max left the motor running and locked both doors from the outside so no one could get in. It was a little after three in the afternoon and…’

Silence.

‘Yes?’

The sound of heavy breathing crossed the recreation room. Her voice grew faint. She was crying. ‘My husband met some old Army buddies in the tavern. Swept up in euphoria over the reunion, he lost track of time, purpose, and everything else. He came out of the Cork ‘n’ Bottle at midnight . He was drunk. The motor had stopped running and the car windows were frozen shut. Debbie was badly frostbitten on both ears and on her fingers. When we got her to the hospital, the doctors had to operate. They amputated the thumb and forefinger on her right hand. She will be deaf for the rest of her life.'”

Max—a real person, mind you—was a successful, well-liked man, but his drinking problem led to an unconscionable decision and profound failure as a parent. And yet, this book is about grace, an idea which to humans feels unjust, but  which has the power to change hearts and tear down walls, sometimes literally.

Could Max be given grace? Could Rika’s mother? If not directly, she’s done her own physical damage to her daughter in the form of those cutting scars (difficult and perhaps triggering images below). As mentioned earlier, the egg that she’s helping knows her pain and insists that letting go of everything, including life itself, is the way to peace. After all, to a young, suffering girl, what else could these scars mean?

But in the midst of giving up, in the moment that she actually capitulates (and this episode takes you 99% to the edge, both in the cutting scene and in the apparent death scene), Rika experiences something powerful. She experiences grace.

Have you ever been challenged to forgive someone when you don’t want to, when you feel completely in the right? Maybe it’s easy for you, but perhaps it isn’t. The girls surrounding Rika experience differing degrees of this with her sometimes maniacal and often hurtful behavior. Ai forgives easily. Momoe gets fired up and then equally seeks to make peace. And Neiru…well, Neiru holds onto “justice” more than love (setting up what I imagine will be the most powerful transformation in the series of all, in true Homura fashion). But in the moment that Rika is about to give her life, the girls yell out their love for her, even Neiru, and then more profoundly, without any hesitation, Mannen puts his own life on the line to stop the death from occurring. Rika has already given up, but this turtle hasn’t—not for his mother, whom he loves very much.

And experiencing that love from a different angle, Rika is changed just a bit. She begins to see her weakness as a “mother,” failing her turtle-child, and thinks of her own mom who is overwhelmed by hurt and a failure as well. And if just a little—for as the final scenes indicate, it is just a little—the path toward forgiveness begins.

But a little bit of grace is like a little bit of a flood—its power overwhelms, and it defeats the enemy, whether that means bitterness, a physical person (or manifestation of one), or the devil himself.

When Rika returns from the event, having killed the cult leader monster, it’s interesting to note that she isn’t a wholly different person. She’s changing little by little. And her scars remain. In fact, as she admits, she probably will cut herself again. But strangely enough, those scars now represent something different. They show someone trying—failing, yes, sometimes considerably and maybe very often—but trying, and only able to try because love was shown her, and through that, she is now able to show love as well.

You may have such scars in your life, physical or emotional, battered by the world and by people. I hope that you can develop relationships that help you heal as well, and that you’ll also remember that there are other scars which are meaningful to you, but which you cannot see on your person, scars that were borne out of a desire to heal you. Christ took the piercings, on his head, hands, feet, and side, so that while your heart and flesh may be cut, your soul need not be. And through his wounds, you may be healed.

The grace offered through Christ is one that, as he explains about everlasting water at the well to the Samaritan, for now and through eternity. The egg seeks peace forever by dying, but Jesus, unlike the cult leader, died for us so that we may not have to. He took the nails, the cross, and the spear so that we don’t have to inflict pain on ourselves and receive the punishment of our actions against him and others. He is our scar.

That’s grace. That’s the power that it has. And it can reach anyone—even a terrible dad, an alcoholic mom, a tempestuous child, and, and most significantly and personally—you.

If you’re suffering and in pain, maybe self-inflicted, we encourage you to explain such to a parent or trusted adult and ask for help. It’s a difficult first step, but one that will help you begin recovering. And we also advise that you turn to Christ for help—in prayer, community, and scripture. He provides people to us that will aid us in our times of need, as well as himself and the Holy Spirit if we are believers.

Additionally, there’s a scene in this episode where triumphant, Rika concludes that cutting is okay. That’s said in the context of her moving forward bit by bit and forgiving herself for her failures, even the upcoming ones. That’s an important lesson, though we must certainly be careful not to let it be a license to continue cutting with impunity.

Wonder Egg Priority can be streamed through Funimation. Read more of our articles by signing up for our weekly newsletter.

[wokestraightpuffy]

Hallo, i hope you are alright and that my ask aren’t annoying but I wanted to ask do you have any c!puffy headcannons? —🤡

YOURE NOT ANNOYING AT ALL !!! NEVER THINK THAT ILU VERY MUCH. MUAH /p

as for c!puffy headcanons, i am not the best person to ever organize their thoughts properly but ill try my best >:’D

ahaha. this got. super complex and way too long and more of like an introspective study to puffy now instead of harmless fun headcanons so, uh. under read more <3 (also reminder this is all /rp and /dsmp)

* i like to think that she has a hero complex, but its a bit different since she never really sees herself as an ‘important’ part of the story, not the main character but a support one, hence ‘im fine with being the side character’ or how she’s said she doesnt care what happens to her and would gladly sacrifice(?) herself if there werent other people she had to protect. girl u need therapy urself <3

* though very open with how she feels and never afraid to say when someone/something is upsetting her, ‘opening up’ is still a whole mountain climb for her, apparently. like, she’d rant about the egg, get mad at the eggpire, let off some steam by committing arson or exploding stuff, she’ll rarely ever talk about how much the stuff that upset her actually HURT her. does that make sense? LIKE, she’ll lash out, she’ll get mad, she’ll take NO SHIT thrown at her face, but to show the kinda vulnerability of dealing with that? to cry about it talk about those feelings with someone? I think she’d rather eat her own foot lol

* adding onto the thing above, she doesnt necessarily actually realize this about herself. less of actively doing it and rather growing... used to the ‘cycle of violence’ in the smp as they call it. and the fact that rarely have people really asked, that no one’s actually available for that, w her losing her closest friends, bad and ant, sam being busy w the warden stuff... and niki. yeah. there’s foolish, but i doubt she’d ever see venting to someone she considers her son appealing

* also. puffy is just sometimes... really bad at conveying sadness. i think she’s a rare crier. id go as far to say that shes even more emotionally constipated than dream, lol (but maybe not while the guy’s in his prison arc) and that she’d be the type of person to tell you its okay to cry but beat herself up over something if she let a tear slip in a heated moment

* speaking of sadness. she’ll only ever actually Be Sad if she’s alone or with someone she doesnt necessarily care the opinions of. yknow how she mourned for tommy and blamed herself? those dialogue bits? yeah, those are only times shed actually be vulnerable

* puffy’s go to response to the egg and how its fucked up her relationship w her friends is pure fury. but, going off of her line about ‘failing bad and ant’ i like to think that she probably hates herself the most about it. THAT IS A STRONG WORD LOL BUT YEAH. she yells and curses and gets mad, but sometimes i wonder if the words she had spat before were more directed to herself

* THIS GIRL HAS SELF-IDENTITY PROBLEMS. CAN WE GET A HELL YEAH FOR THAT CHAT? outside of having no goddamn clue about where she came from, how she got here and who she even is, scrounging up a role for herself in a server with a war on the background and traumatized kids got her resignedly coerced into thinking that she is only a Parent. Only good enough when she’s actually doing something Useful for people. SO. when she finds that ship? of having a crew and having a curse? OF FINDING OUT SHE MIGHT HAVE/ HAVE HAD A MOM THATS WAITING FOR HER?  the sense of control she has on herself is absolutely crushed. shattered, and she’s left to pick up the pieces w no one to talk abt it with <3

* adding onto the above, it’s why the line ‘I’m supposed to be mama puffy. me.’ hurts me so much! so yes! please cry with me :D

* also to add more on the fact that she thinks she’s only worth something when she’s being useful, puffy literally contemplated leaving the server, thinking that it wouldnt matter leaving since no one really needs her anyway, since she’s failed so many people. bad and ant, tommy, dream. shes said how foolish can take care of himself on how tubbo and ranboo have each other, how she and niki have drifted so far away from each that it might as well be a break up.

HOOOOOOOOOO OBOY . anon youve really given me the perfect chance to ramble huh? sorry for the rather incomprehensible brainrot, here’s more lighthearted headcanons about puffy asdhfkd

* she cannot stand still sometimes. she always has to be doing something extra, walking when the prime path is right there? shed rather go through tedious little holes or hop and balance onto fences to get where shes going. she’ll mindlessly fix up the path when there are holes or mismatched wood, and one time went on a long, long LONG journey cleaning up the paths tommy purposely DESTROYED near lmanburg and even added cobblestone sidings which werent there before

* puffys a bit of a sentimental person. writing in her log to clear her thoughts sometimes and cared enough to try and preserve lmanburg with the glass sheet and trying to find possible surviving artifacts of history to respect it, even though she’s never been a part of it. its also why, when doomsday happened and lmanburg got permanently poofed, she began to appreciate the buildings that are still standing and began taking more pics 

* she’s not used to being... what do you call it, um, cared for? she’d deflect compliments sometimes, when shes having a particular bad day, like, she’d laugh nervously and change the subject, sometimes she’d outright deny it, most days she’d jokingly say ‘staphhh it’ and add a very genuine thanks. my point being is, do something for puffy that is mildly nice and she’d keep that moment in her heart forever. 

* also funny story regarding the above. u know how karl is notorious for stealing her materials? and how puffy was contemplating doing something in retaliation for them? karl says hi for once when she joins the server and she goes ‘alright fine youre safe for saying hi’ LOL THIS WAS PROBABLY A BIT META WISE but something about this implying that the bare minimum or LESS is enough to make puffy forgive someone is very sad and funny at the same time for me. girl really said ‘oh you said hi to me? thats nice all the crimes youve ever done towards me is now forgiven. <3’ (this is a bit of an exaggeration on my part, ofc, i just think its funny LMAO) 

* ironically, despite being the ‘captain’, whenever riding a boat with someone, she prefers being on the backseat and letting them drive. ig shes just there for the ride i suppose, her and her uber drivers :3

 * she either has a rather unhealthy obsession with baked potatoes or she just doesnt wanna waste eret’s massive potato farm

* idc what cc!puffy says is c!puffy will always and forever be 5′2″ in my HEART. u are the shortest member, u cannot change this <3

* shes really fond of animals/ neutral mobs. she often baby talks to them and they help boost her mood a lot when shes having a bad day :D

* up to this day, the little secret rooms she’s created around the server have all been yet to be discovered, unless the one under bad’s house has been found. she rarely ever really keeps tabs on them, and more often than not they are just collecting dust. she still visits sometimes and cleans them up ofc

* she still genuinely thinks dream can change. cc!puffy’s line about that, ‘i’m his last hope.’ really makes me think about this a lot. 

* ive seen people talk abt it a bit but the headcanon that puffy acts as the server mom to fill the ‘void’ of her missing her mom makes me cry at night /hj

* she really likes her rainbow onesie! i headcanon that eret gave her that along w the sunglasses, but she started wearing that less when she found her old captains uniform. shes never really said why, though, and nobody ever really bothered to ask

* god bless this woman but sometimes the server members get on her nerves sometimes so she goes out of her way to traverse along far away from the main community to maybe commit a few crimes. let off some steam. these take a few days but she always returns

i probably have a lot more hcs but i cant remember them >_> THIS IS A LOT ANYWAY. HOPE U ENJOYED MY BRAIN VOMIT. IF U READ THIS FAR ILU THANK U

if there are mistakes it is bc i am crying and cannot see my keyboard and also i am sleep deprived /hj

[feralphoenix]

HOWMST BELL THE CAT? - A treatise on one aspect of how the Pale King sealed the Radiance

sup hollow knight fandom, i’m back with the picante takes again after having Noticed A Thing.

as with my previous essays i’ll put this guy up on dreamwidth later for accessibility purposes, since my layout text may be too small for high-res pc users. i will attach that in a reblog at a later point.

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR TONIGHT’S PROGRAM: This essay discusses canon-typical body horror and bodily boundary violations, with some side mentions of colonialism.

all game screencaps are mine. the screencap of the wiki is from the “developer notes” (style guide) section of the “cut content” page.

ALSO: if youre from a christian cultural upbringing (whether currently practicing, agnostic/secular, or atheist now), understand that some of what i’m discussing here may challenge you. if thinking thru the implications of this particular part of hollow knight worldbuilding/lore is distressing for you, PLEASE only approach this essay when youre in a safe mindset & open to listening, and ask the help of a therapist or anti-racism teacher/mentor to help you process your thoughts & feelings. just like keep in mind that youre listening to an ethnoreligiously marginalized person and please be respectful here or wherever else youre discussing this dang essay, ty

HOWMST BELL THE CAT? - A treatise on one aspect of how the Pale King sealed the Radiance

We understand more or less how the Pale King’s plan was supposed to work. Stuff Radiance into a no-thoughts-head-empty and silent Pure Vessel to trap, isolate, and silence her, both putting an end to the Infection and killing her for good. Stick that vessel in the Black Egg, which harnesses Void BS to both keep the vessel alive indefinitely and to cover Hallownest (and its neighbors) in a time-defying stasis so that the Pale King could successfully hoard his favorite shiny FOREVER, threatened by nothing. Then put a seal on the Black Egg to prevent anyone from getting inside and harming said vessel while it’s strung up and helpless. And THEN, put protective seals on the anchors (the Dreamers) to the Black Egg seal to protect them from any external harm: The stasis means the Dreamers won't die of old age or starvation.

All in all, a pretty foolproof plan!

...except that the Dreamers are still vulnerable to having their minds breached with the moths’ magic... and the Pale King failed to take into account that his Pure Vessel was a person actually and the amount of toxic stress his training/upbringing put on them made them REALLY POORLY SUITED FOR THEIR JOB... and also that killing 99% of his million children and turning the Abyss into a landfill for baby corpses would take enough of an emotional toll on his wife and #1 enabler the White Lady that she would walk out on him, ensuring he’d only ever have one shot at this whole deal...

Basically it’s the sort of plan that an emotionally constipated, low-empathy sort of guy who pours all his points into INT and has a big fat zero for WIS might think is foolproof. It has big holes in it that the Pale King did not consider to be big holes until he got owned by the various consequences of his actions and fell down said big holes, making the shocked pikachu face all the while. Rip in die, my guy.

Anyway, there’s a lot of incidental information scattered about the game that gives us more insight into the stages of TPK’s plan. Looking at Monomon’s notes in the Archive suggests that she was probably involved in designing the Black Egg; the hidden room in the Weavers’ den points to their being the ones to blueprint the Dreamer seal; the White Palace’s hidden rooms reveal both TPK’s morbid fascination with the Void and his mea culpa wrt his motives and the Path of Pain is certainly suggestive of a lot of things. The White Lady tells us straight out that she walked out on the Pale King because she wanted no part in a second vessel batch, but how TPK didn’t handle that is only revealed via map design and some incidental dialogue from the Old Stag.

This stuff presents us with, if not a full picture, then at least a decent connect-the-dots of certain aspects of crater politics and Pale Court drama at the time, and how exactly TPK’s plan came together.

But there is still one glaring question that these cookie crumbs do not provide us an answer to:

Who shall bell the cat?

How did TPK et al manage to stuff Radiance into Hollow in the first place?

This is the subject of a lot of memes and jokes within the fandom because it's so absurd. Radiance fuckin hates that dude! She’s probably gonna be pretty wary of him considering how he stole her people in the first place! And considering the anti-colonialism slant of the writing - beyond the general sympathetic view Team Cherry gives of each indigenous bug society, Seer makes it very clear that Radiance has very good reason to take violent action against Hallownest - the answer is probably not something like “she’s just that stupid” or “she rolled a crit fail”.

Well... I have an idea of how TPK managed to get Radiance in there. It raises about as many questions as it answers, mind, but it may be someplace to start.

[desc: the hollow knight's entry in the hunter’s journal. top text/ghost’s comment reads: “Fully grown Vessel, carrying the plague’s heart within its body.” bottom text/hunter’s comment says: “The old King of Hallownest... he must have been desperate to save his crumbling little world. The sacrifices he imposed on others... all for nothing.”]

Here we have Hollow’s bestiary entry. Most of what we’re concerned with here is the top text, which says the seal has literally trapped Radiance inside their body. (First of all, ew, TPK.)

We already knew Radiance is literally actually inside Hollow, though: The Infection is leaking out of their body, and to get to fight Radiance, Ghost has to go traipsing into their sibling’s mind. So what’s significant about that here?

[desc: screencap of the outside of the black egg temple, post-infected crossroads. there are large infection blobs in the foreground and background, connected to each other by veins that come from inside the temple.]

The infection blobs are weird and get weirder if you kill enough Lightseeds for the Hunter to tell you their origin story, i.e. that the literal actual sun has been having a very long bad day and cried a lot, and some of the liquid coalesced into living flesh, and some of that living flesh took on a mind of its own to become Lightseeds. (Hollow Knight is a WILD place.)

Lightseeds are Radiance’s accidental children and share a lot of her traits: They are harmless creatures that try to avoid conflict if possible but if pushed will get creative and find ways to fight regardless of their physical limitations. (For the Lightseeds this involves hiding inside Broken Vessel’s corpse and puppeting it around to try to stab you.) They even have her same distinctive yell. And according to the Hunter, they’re born from the infection blobs. These enemies only ever appear in the Ancient Basin, which both Radiance and the Void have ransacked, and in the Infected Crossroads.

The infection blobs are connected to and sort of a weird extension of Radiance because the Infection itself is sort of a weird extension of Radiance. In the game’s internal style guide Team Cherry explains that the Infection started as an accident, not her original intention but what happened when Hallownest tried to block her out.

[desc: screencap from the wiki of style notes attached to seer that describe a sketch of radiance’s finalized backstory. text reads: “The moth tribe were (perhaps) descended from Radiance. However, the King convinced them somehow to seal Radiance away. I guess so he could rule Hallownest with his singular vision, as a god/monarch with no other gods. The moths sealed Radiance away by forgetting about her. Hallownest was born and flourished. However, the memory of Radiance lingered (eg [sic] the statue at hallownest’s crown) and soon she began to reappear in dreams and starting [sic] exerting influence. The King and the bugs of Hallownest resisted this memory/power and it started to manifest as the Infection. Thus the first attempt to seal Radiance failed, and the King had to try another method - the Vessel.” emphasis mine.]

Some fans have posited the blobs as deposits of pupa juice, but given Team Cherry's description of the Infection’s origins I don’t know how likely that is. Since the Void also sticks its squamous tentacles into things via veiny looking things and the Nightmare’s Heart has similar veiny nonsense in the Nightmare Realm, I wonder if it isn’t just a Meddly God Shit thing in general.

Whatever the case, the blobs are very much connected to/a part of Radiance.

And when you’re hanging around them, you will notice two things: They pulse like they’re part of a circulatory system, and you can hear Radiance's heartbeat emanating from them.

[desc: screencap of the game’s title screen with the infected menu theme in use: a glowing orange ball at the center of a lot of black tendony webbing.]

Let’s also think of the Infected menu theme, which you unlock after getting either of the endings where Ghost takes over from Hollow and absorbs Radiance out of them. Ghost is infected and then sealed inside the Black Egg in Hollow's place. It’s suggested by the animation’s staging that Radiance briefly struggles to get out of Ghost after absorbed but is ultimately stuck in them, at which point the seal is reestablished.

If you haven’t used the Infected menu theme yourself, the... interesting thing about it is that it moves organically. The light ball expands and contracts - y’know, sort of like a living organ - and so does the black webby stuff around it.

Also, Radiance’s heartbeat is included in the theme's ambiance.

[desc: hollow’s bestiary entry again]

To cut to the chase, this part of Hollow’s bestiary entry that says “the plague’s heart”? I don’t think that’s just Ghost/Team Cherry being poetic. I think there’s a good chance it’s LITERAL.

I think TPK is the sort of person who could cram a native woman’s literal living beating heart inside his own child’s body so they can use it as... say, a focus to absorb and trap her mind/spirit inside their body, too. Mr. No Cost Too Great is capable of a lot in the name of keeping other people’s claws off his Big Shiny kingdom. This is kind of his whole brand.

But also, like, yuck.

This fits the worldbuilding too; generally speaking Hollow Knight is Body Horror City. Also there’s the case of Grimm: While he and Radiance are loose counterparts at best with WILDLY disparate outlooks and ethoses, his existence serves as precedent that a Higher Being’s heart specifically can be separate from the rest of them.

As I said before, though, this DOES raise as many questions as it answers. If this is another piece in the puzzle of how TPK belled the cat, we’re now left wondering how he got Radiance’s heart to use as Hollow's focus to begin with.

We know he has access to the Dream Realm because that’s ultimately where he hid when Hollow’s seal failed, but who did he send to do the stealing and how did they get away with it? (TPK certainly wouldn’t have gone; his own life’s the one cost too great for him to willingly pay.) Was Radiance’s heart separate from her like the Nightmare’s Heart, or was it a part of her body? (I think the latter is more likely just from her personality; Grimm’s hidden heart makes sense because of how he keeps even his own servants at arm’s length emotionally, whereas Radiance is all heart all the time. I think this makes more sense with their equal opposites schtick too. But this would make for a WAY riskier mission.)

I can imagine all kinds of possibilities. None of them are definitive, but the thing they have in common is that they are all Awful... and how on-brand that is for Hollow Knight as a whole is, maybe, the most persuasive argument for It’s Literally Actually Her Real Physical Heart there could be.

[doorsclosingslowly]

Your death is a number but I cannot count that high (13/16)

In which Maul learns what he has done to his brother.

3.8k | Zombie Savage AU | warning for graphic body horror

The world is sluggishly textured, a mess made of strings of gentle metal and rough sleazoid skin; the breath is soft, and Maul is safe. Tame fat cables undulate and rivets melt into him as if they had finally found their home. The skin does not recede either: it encloses Maul into its arms and soothes the worries in his hearts, the questions, the force battering against it, as green and swollen as summer wind. The skin and the steel are his brother, Maul realizes and has always known.

He must not have managed to catch himself, this time, before he tumbled down onto fallen Savage inside this half-remembered nightmare, must not have braced himself up and grabbed hold of his brother’s face. He must have failed his desperate attempt at controlling air and force and life.

Still, there are no wet gasps—no sounds at all, and no blood on a dirty Sundari floor that he left weeks ago.

There is no frivolous apology gasped out with a weak apprentice’s final breath.

Only the steel and the skin remain.

Maul’s hungry hand digs itself into the warm cables and dissolves into shrapnel, into gristle; the cilia of his lungs and the bone marrow and gut bacteria unravel eagerly into a boy that was never allowed to exist. A boy that is held—that is safe, here, for this moment that lasts forever, because this fleshy soup will not harm him: Savage would never, Savage loves him, and this tangle of sweet metal and worried bone and tender force that is melting Maul down with it is Savage, Maul has always known and remembers over and over with every jolt, every breath, every second the pain of being unguarded does not come.

Outside, the howling force and the spluttering green light churn and spin a cocoon.

Inside, they are safe. There is no more child in an empty facility, trained up to become a pointless attack dog by a malcontent liar. There is no first loss, no dissection, no empty exile. There is no vengeance. There is no heinous defeat at the hand of Maul’s—abuser—Master and there are no lightsabers piercing his brother’s—it’s not his, never was, this disfigured fake—chest and their hands do not have to hold on and cling to the one person they ever possessed. They do not have to stand back up and beg for mercy—they do not have to lie helpless and feel every millimeter of their useless torn ‘saber worm itself into their charred torso—they do not have to feel themselves tossed over and over into walls and floor before their Master carries them off to further torture—they do not have to wake up alone after they failed the one brother they had left—they do not have to lose their sisters, their mother, their clan—they do not have to mourn—they do not have to mourn—they do not have to mourn, here, they do not have to mourn, they are liquefied and safe. They are wrapped in each other, alloyed, and neither the force nor the Mother could assort what is left to make any coherent wholes again. Neither the force not the Mother could let one die and another survive, not when all that’s left of their lives is each other. They are amorphous and safe. They are cartilage and rivet and cortex, oleaginous and oozing and ready to eclose. They do not have to mourn.

They are safe.

They’re safe.

Safe. The feeling is terrific; terror-filled; tearing; suddenly, it is far too alien to bear. Safe. Safe? Reality lays its tumescent eggs into the goo of his conscious, eggs bursting and birthing memory and rationality and dread: bringing forth everything Lord Sidious has ever taught him. Safety is a lie. Maul has never been safe. There is no mercy. The very desire is debasement, pathetic for its infantile holdout against education, eradication. Life is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short; it is impossible to bear, and the only reprieve is victory. Passion, strength, power, victory: and Maul but a loathsome worm who lost everything that could ever be taken from him. Legs. Purpose. Grace. Duty. Mother. Title. Planet. Brother, over and over again. Safe? There is no safety in a world of power and irrelevance, where those who wield might will slake their base desires using those who are weak. Where those who wield might will extirpate Maul’s brother before his very eyes and he can only scramble and beg, impotent wretch that he is, for the person he deluded himself into loving. It hurts. It hurts. It shouldn’t. Pain is no teacher, Maul reminds himself. It serves no purpose. He is but a failed apprentice to the Sith, and that dark power will never be his. Pain is pain is pain.

Hope serves no purpose either, save the acolyte’s attempt to protect herself. Savage lives, Ventress had said, and yet, Maul saw him on the cot motionless and her crouched over him with her ‘saber and he begged again and—it is but false hope. Hope is nothing but pain, pain deferred.

Maul’s head rests on the chest he is so sure belonged to his brother, and he forces his hearts to beat louder to drown out the silence where his own rhythm should meet an answer. It hurts. It shouldn’t. Pain is pain is pain, and there is no power to be gained from wallowing in it. From hoping.

He must open his eyes. The false safety will not return, however long he begs childlike again for his brother. The cocoon has disgorged him. He is in the lair of Sidious; he lies unconscious on the sacrificial altar of his brother’s corpse. He must open his eyes.

He does.

The torso looks much worse than it felt. The torso: adorned with Savage’s familiar markings, but that is not all it bears. From his vantage point resting right above the silent hearts, Maul catalogues open sores, suppurating and infested with shining maggots and dark worms, yet clear of any blood. And why should there be blood, when the dead do not bleed, and Savage is dead? Unutterable pain is inscribed gaudy and blatant on Savage’s body. On his brother, whom Maul had left for weeks, abjectly paralyzed by defeat and apathy and fear of his Master—had left him there for weeks, and Maul is learned enough in the decomposition and rot of humanoid bodies to recognize that Savage could not have died weeks ago. Of course, the rate of decay could have been affected by water contact, humidity, the presence or absence of certain insects, availability of oxygen, or heat—though if Master had had the corpse refrigerated for imaginative torments to visit on his failed apprentice, there should not be this many nimble insects inhabiting Savage’s carcass.

This many insects—the body is teeming with steel-shining creatures, far too massive for mere blowfly eggs, and yet there is no bloat. Maul runs his fingers over the belly, carefully pushing aside the shreds that remain of his brother’s old armor and prodding feather-light against unbroken skin, avoiding the edges of burns and slashes so as not to hurt—he cannot hurt a corpse, though the piteous superstition rides deep within him. He can’t hurt Savage. Anyway, Savage’s dead. Dead, but not for weeks. Not for days, even. Not for hours. No bloat. It should have started in the belly—unleashed enzymes should have broken down his intestinal walls—but the stomach is slightly pudgy, soft, warm, not turgid in the least. The muscles aren’t rigid. Its state does not match up with the steel-colored insects, heads like cross-recess screws—the steel-colored…

The corpse moves.

Hot air snorts against the top of Maul’s head, once, twice; the body underneath Maul shudders and stretches. Savage wakes the way he always did in the months he and Maul played at being crime lords, deeply unhappy with his sudden consciousness but far too dutiful to turn over and give in to sleep once more. A warm steel hand touches the back of Maul’s neck.

“This is a dream,” Savage’s familiar baritone rumbles.

Maul rears up and falls to the ground.

“Maul, is that really you? Where did you go?” Savage is sitting up now, the back of his right hand—the arm bisected by a deep wound and full of ferrous maggots though it was whole and hale when Maul last saw him—right hand carefully wiping sleep grit from his eyes. He yawns. “I have not seen you for so long. Is this a vision again? Tell me it is. Tell me where you are, brother. Please—”

Maul scuttles backwards.

“Brother?”

“Lord Maul?”

Voices, taunting. Maul has fallen for these tricks too often—fell for them again, just now, even though the naïve child apprentice was deceived and hurt so often that even he learnt one day not to trust the offerings of his Master. Hope is a foolish pursuit. In the wretched company of his honest brother and loyal fanatic Death Watch, he must have unlearned this most vital of lessons.

Hope is foolish. Mercy will not come. Maul is accustomed to agony.

And yet, he cannot bear this.

Savage’s corpse, moving, and did he not just wonder whether Master refrigerated it to prolong the torture…

“Fight me, Master,” Maul growls. Attempts to growl. It comes out as a plea, a whine, a sob. “Fight me. Kill me. There is no need for puppetry.”

“Brother—”

“Lord Sidious, what do you gain from—”

“Lord Maul! ‘Alor! Maul!”

Rook Kast enters the edges of his narrowed darkening vision, Kast who does not serve Sidious, or does she—? Maul has trusted his senses before, trusted his followers, and it led him here. If even Savage, his apprentice, his brother, was turned into a tailor-made torture, how could he ever discern… how…

A prick in his neck, he must fight, and—

Maul is kneeling on the floor. His head aches, the edges of his vision still bruised—tell-tale sedation. His back is braced against a warm solid chest, and there are yellow-black-metal arms poised at his sides, ready to help hold him up if he should buckle but otherwise not caging him in. Well-practiced, a caution born of prior experience when a feverish Maul attempted to fight his way free, and… Savage would not have shared this knowledge. He would not use it to further the ends of Maul’s Master, Maul’s abuser as he always says. He wouldn’t.

“I apologize for the tranq dart, Lord Maul,” Kast says. She is kneeling as well, a few meters away. “You were having a panic—you were growing slightly discomfited.”

The tips of Savage fingers dance along Maul’s forearm, a comforting gesture. Master would not have known this type of contact soothes Maul. He has never treated—or even witnessed Maul ever before being touched with any kind of gentleness.

“Apology granted,” Maul says.

“What you were saying before—Sidious isn’t here. He’s on Coruscant.” Kast shrugs her shoulders. “While you were—indisposed, I had an instructive conversation with Ventress and the captive General. We are in agreement that Sidious must die. We were waiting for you to wake up before we discuss strategy.”

Sidious is on Coruscant.Where they will fight him. Nobody here is in his employ—they are all his enemies. It must be true, if Savage doesn’t object, because despite the lifetimes of pain inscribed in his brother’s open wounds, the confused state of decay, the person guarding Maul’s back is Savage. Master would never have managed to imitate his mannerisms, his gentle care. Savage is far too alien, too unlike anyone Maul has ever met.

Sidious is on Coruscant. Far away. Too far to hurt Maul. It is a boneless relief—Savage’s hand braces him carefully—and yet… And yet, Kast wants him to discuss strategy for an attack against the unassailable eternal Master of the Sith. She still does not grasp that attacking Sidious is suicide, and neither do her compatriots. She does not understand that finding Savage far away from Him is all they ever could have hoped for; that all the future holds for them now is a desperate scramble to avoid arousing any notice every again, if they want to live. Kill Sidious? Kast is delusional.

If Maul owes any loyalty to Death Watch, for helping retrieve his brother, he must dissuade her. He must tell them again about Sidious. He follows.

On the walk over to the war room, Maul attempts surreptitiously to catalogue his brother’s injuries. It’s not easy, since Savage wordlessly fell into his usual position of guarding Maul’s back, albeit walking much closer behind than he would have, earlier, so close that he would get in the way should Maul have to veer around to protect himself. A tactical mistake, though Maul is not inclined to correct it. He himself is trying to subtly glance over his shoulder. He could order Kast and Savage to halt, so Maul could visually inspect his brother, but then Savage might attempt to engage him in a conversation he does not know how to have. The weeks apart have unbalanced their easy relationship—Savage’s torture has, and Maul’s desperate search, the revelation of how deeply he values his brother—and a repeat conversation about the awful might of the Sith Master is much easier to have than whatever words Savage might expect. So he does not stop.

He listens, instead. The rhythm of Savage’s steps betrays no hidden pain, though they are a fraction more frequent, as if something had shortened his strides.

Maul chooses his path so that he passes under a low-hanging light fixture, and Savage clears it without bumping his head.

Savage’s breath is calm and measured; he does not falter once; he effortlessly matches Maul when Maul speeds up.

He follows behind Kast and Maul into the war room.

Saxon and Jagrub are in there, as well as a random Clone Trooper, Asajj Ventress, and—

Kenobi.

“I was warned that you would show up,” Kenobi says.

Maul bares his teeth.

Behind him, Savage growls. Suddenly, he is so close that Maul can feel the warmth of his skin against his back. Dark cables flare around him to form a makeshift cocoon guarding Maul, and the air crackles dangerous and green.

“In this moment, we have a common enemy. I wish to dispatch this Sidious as fast as humanly possible. I am reliably informed that Sidious did not exactly treat you with kindness, either. He is my priority. I am prepared to forget our—” Kenobi looks pained— “our history, as long as this threat is defanged.”

Maul feels the air vibrate against his skin. He and Savage managed to take on Kenobi once before, though after they had laid a trap, and Maul is still muddled and buoyed by the aftershocks of his dream and Savage’s marked by weeks of unknown torture. They have allies here, but Dooku’s acolyte will likely side with Kenobi again, and Death Watch are resourceful but they still lack the force entirely, and might as well be discounted in a duel of Sith and Jedi. Kenobi and Ventress against Maul and Savage, again. And Savage’s still injured. Kenobi targeted Savage’s weak defenses in the fight on Florral, and Savage was in a decent form then and still tore a knee and lost his arm. He is weaker now, and his survival far more tenuous given Maul doesn’t even know the full extent of his injuries yet. In a fight, Kenobi will most likely kill him. Maul just found his brother impossibly alive after weeks of torture, and Kenobi would…

It’s a calculation Maul never before had to make, because his death would have furthered the ends of the Sith or have proven he did not deserve life in the first place, but Savage was just returned to his side. Even if the demise of a weakling is well-deserved, it would make tactical sense to retreat until he is at full strength once more, wouldn’t it?

“A temporary alliance until we find Sidious is all I propose. Believe me, I’m not happy either.”

Savage would die if Maul attacks now. The walls and the floor swirl in the corner of Maul’s eyes, a faint green vortex—Ventress takes an alarmed step towards him—Savage would die, and Maul wants to murder Kenobi and he wants his brother as far from Sidious as possible and so he says—

“Lord Sidious will asphyxiate us with His mind. Attacking Him is suicide.”

“The Jedi have exterminated plenty of Sith before.”

Maul breathes. In, out, in. He does not remember tasting the ashes of the dead of Malachor. He doesn’t. He would kill Kenobi if he did. And Savage would…

“I fought you,” he growls instead. “I fought you on Naboo and you barely won. I fought you on Raydonia and you needed the aid of Ventress to escape; I fought you on Florral and you barely won, and on Mandalore I beat you.”

Kenobi looks angry. “On Mandalore—” He swallows his words. “Barely, you say? I seem to remember that you were barely half a Sith when I finished with you.”

Savage rests his shuddering hand against Maul’s back. Maul hardly even feels it.

“You barely beat me,” he repeats, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing but a hooded man laughing. “My Master squashed me like a bug. He could do anything He wanted to me, right until I deployed to Naboo, and He toyed with Savage and me on Mandalore despite any skills we might have learned. I watched Him skewer Savage, and I know it was not happenstance but His brag that He controlled every moment of our battle. The power of Lord Sidious dwarfs every single one of us, and He will beat all of us together.”

Kenobi is quiet, but just when Maul begins to hope he has finally met a rational creature, he says, “What can Sidious do against a foe who does not die?”

Maul growls again. He bared his vulnerabilities to prevent a predictable massacre, and Kenobi spins fairytales?

But Kenobi keeps on talking, “You created a technobeast, Maul. Are you too squeamish to use it?”

A technobeast: part machine, part organic Sithspawn mutant. Lord Sidious was not impressed with Maul’s fascination for this area of force manipulation, back when Maul’s studies focused of the elementals of Sith history and technique instead of practicalities for carrying out his Master’s plans. Nevertheless, He allowed Maul the study, if only for the reason that droid mechanics and forceful manipulations of machines was occasionally useful. Technobeasts, Maul recalls, are created by infecting living organisms with the nanogene spore, a technovirus developed through a combination of Sith alchemy and a Force technique called mechu-deru. The virus grows metallic tumors over the bodies of its victims, ultimately lobotomizing their brains and transforming them into weaponized cyborgs. Metallic tumors… like worms that resemble cables, and maggots made from screws.

Does Kenobi mean to imply…

“I entered Savage’s mind and saw it,” Kenobi says. His eyes are heavy, sad, disgusted. “You can deny your crime all you want. I saw you transform your own brother into a zombified machine slave. If you did not mean to use your immortal weapon to take on your Sith Master and take his place, then why did you use mechu-deru on Savage Opress?”

The maggots and worms inside Savage: of course they bore such resemblance to metal. Maul has worked on enough droids and speeder bikes and ships. He should have recognized their components. He remembers that moment on the floor in Sundari palace, reaching for every animating power he could to just keep Savage breathing for a second longer: and Maul has always felt the movement in inert matter, has felt the force presence of droids and ships and treated mechu-deru as a fact of life. And mechu-deru and Talzin’s magic were the only force powers animating inanimate matter, after all. So when he reached out back then…

If Kenobi is right, then Savage is dead, and yet Maul brought him back. Maul took away the vulnerabilities of mortal flesh, and changed his apprentice forever. He plugged up every injury with metal, and every further injury will be fixed with more metal still. Maul has power. He could make the choice Kenobi has already condemned him for. He could use his brother against his Master. He could be safe. With Savage changed, undead, undying, they could kill Sidious, and they would not have to live forever terrified of his reprisal. He could…

The warm hand on Maul’s back retreats.

Maul turns around. Savage looks down at him, one eye tender and worried, the other a crater of sluggish shrapnel.

He still had both eyes when he died.

Mechu-deru is a dark art for a reason. It does not respect bodily integrity, consent, independence. It is never mutual but always imposed by the strongest. It is Sith. To infect a living creature with nanospores means lobotomizing their frontal lobe and rendering them incapable of higher thought. Nothing more than a weapon. Savage might be more powerful now, but truly, has Maul ever valued him for his power? The person who found Maul on Lotho Minor and whom he took on as an apprentice was a decent fighter, certainly, and strong but unpracticed in the force, but Maul treated him the way he did because Savage threw him food in the freighter when he was still spider-bellied and insane with pain. Savage sang him songs and tried not to hurt him. Savage was gentle and he cooked inedible food, and he was the only person Maul could turn his back to and sleep leaning up against, because Savage was not just a powerful apprentice, but his brother, his brother whom he claimed when he lowered guard long before he could even acknowledge the word. Before anything, Savage was his brother.

And Maul turned him into a technobeast.

There are thousands of primitive legends a brainless Savage will never be able to whisper at night. Thousands of bad recipes he will never try. Thousands of smiles that will never grace his face.

Every injury will draw in more metal, until there is nothing of Savage left.

Lord Sidious controlled every inch of Maul’s life when he was young, chose his food and his clothing and knowledge and training and, on Mustafar at the very least, the very air supply. But for want of skill or knowledge of the option, Master never possessed his apprentice as utterly as this.

It’s not conditioning nor fear of punishment that leads to loyalty, no: Maul inserted his will into Savage with the very metal that keeps him alive. There is no choice for his brother now but to obey.

No other option.

Not even death.

For the first time in his life Maul has surpassed Lord Sidious.

In the realization there is nothing but shame.

Feeling cold as a glacier, he allows his eyes to stare straight for the first time at the monster he built out of the only person who ever loved him.

[spooky-activity]

Just a little update on Cassandratopia 2: Electric Boogaloo (Or as it stands in my Google Docs folder rn, A Helping Hand). I’ll put it under the cut cuz it’s kinda long. 

I just wanted to say that I’m still planning on actually doing it, despite all evidence to the contrary lol 

I did Cassandratopia in a haze of graduating from college(where I was studying animation) and just having ended my first dnd campaign as a dungeon master (which went 3 years!). I was fishing around for internships, but since the pandemic had just kicked off I wasn’t having much luck. So I had a lot of creative energy that wasn’t getting channeled anywhere, and a lot of free time when I wasn’t applying to places. Which is how I did 4 pages a day several times per week. Which was insane. 

As it stands, I’m running 2 dnd campaigns(one meets weekly, the other every other week or so), and just scored a full-time internship at a video game company! The campaigns I’m running are a homebrew open world, which, for those of you who aren’t too familiar with dnd, is a metric fuckton of work to prep for each session because I have no idea what my insane friends and siblings are going to try and do every time we play. 

Anyways all this to say that my storytelling itch is kinda. Sufficiently getting scratched atm and I have a lot less free time. I’m still plucking away at the setting/refining the story of A Helping Hand, but it’s largely on the backburner. Cassandratopia was also, uh, like the first story I’ve ever told in any sort of format besides the give-and-take of dnd, so... I’m not used to having so much control over the narrative. Oddly. I’ve never thought of myself as much of a writer of stories; my main focus is character animation, so someone else is usually writing the stories I’m telling anyways, which is super cool with me. Honestly I’m surprising myself with how much I want to tell this story, which is why I’m still sure I’m doing it. Just. Slower. Than Cassandratopia got done. 

But I’ll share a bit of the lore I’ve been cooking up! Specifically about Zhan Tiri and The Drops. The story will be told in an extremely dnd type setting, because that’s the kind of narrative I’ve told before and am comfortable telling: hard magic rules, neat fights, scary monsters, a dash of eldritch horror, and huge emphasis being put on magical artifacts(kinda like in the show!). Here’s some stuff that’s basically locked-in. 

Zhan Tiri

Zhan Tiri is one of the many Demon Lords of the Abyss. She’s kind of a mashup of two of my favorite Demon Lords, Zuggtmoy, the Lady of Rot and Decay, and Pale Night, the Mother of Demons and Queen of the Night(with just a dash of Hannibal Lecter because who doesn’t like helpful, polite, manipulative-ass bitches lksjflkja;fj). Her domain sits almost exactly between the Sundrop and Moonstone, largely being the new growth that comes from death, and the endless cycle of life and death. Places where her influence is strongest includes the cracks in... Well anywhere really, from society to the planet’s shell, where metaphorical or physical rot could grow; musty, mostly ignored places where something could fester. Iconography related to her would include endless mazes, fungi, grasping skeletal hands, and rotting/blooming corpses. Her spores can animate corpses, which she likes to use as mindless minions when she doesn’t feel like sending one of her Acolytes. She shares a scrap of her power with those few mortals she likes. She appreciates ambition and the desire to Grow to be bigger than what you were to start with, as those are qualities she herself possesses. 

Incredibly intelligent and merciless to those she deems her enemies, her main thing is pulling the strings from the shadows and seeing just how far she can push people to act with as little prompting from her as possible. She does, however, have the power to kinda bulldoze her way through things if she needs to, but she doesn’t like to because where’s the fun in that? 

She first gained interest in the Material Plane when a Wizard with too much hubris from said Material Plane(Named Demanitus) contacted her trying to figure out more information about The Drops and how to control them. After indulging him for a bit, she started preparing to make a summer home on the Material Plane because it’s New and Fun here and Wow These Mortals are Really Fun to Mess With! And some of them she even genuinely liked! Demanitus then realized his mistake and locked her away in Pandemonium for what he hoped was forever, but turned out to be only around 1,000 years, due to the efforts of her followers. Her little stint in Pandemonium magnified the more... Chaotic aspects of her personality, so now she wants to cover the Material Plane in blooming mazes of fungal crops that she can break people with at her leisure. 

The Drops

The drops are two semi-sentient pieces of one original artifact, whose original purpose was to be a tool of creation for the gods. Which, through some great calamity(still deciding that one), got sundered and settled into the two basic aspects of creation: the nearly unlimited well of life-energy which organizes stardust into planets, cabbages, and kings, and the “you gotta crack a few eggs to get an omlette” destructive force which breaks down what the sundrop makes so that it can make more. 

The main goal of the drops is to reunite. I would want to as well if I was ripped in half! This manifests as a... General tug in the direction of the other drop. A desire in the host to Go That Way. It can be resisted, and even ignored for a bit, but it’s always there. Like being hungry if starving wasn’t a danger. Just a bit uncomfortable if you aren’t going That Way, but ignorable. 

Both drops generally try to be as helpful to their wielder as possible, as originally they were a tool of creation to the gods. They are innately obliging. They’re also REALLY UNSAFE FOR MORTALS TO BE MESSING WITH. The Sundrop is a little safer because the most it can do is kinda. Overcharge you into something distinctly not human but still alive, and King Fredrick was lucky he made the Sundrop into soup before giving it to Arianna. But King Edmund got his wholeass arm blasted off for touching the Moonstone. 

The Sundrop

Best I could whittle it down, the Sundrop has power over life energy, like the sun’s light. It also has power over the energy derived from geothermal activities, so deep sea creatures Are Not Immune To The Sundrop, which was a funny thought that crossed my mind that they could be, but that will likely never come up anyways salkdjf;ljsf It is, in its basest form, Growth and Progress. 

It’s a little sentient, but very much entrenches itself into whoever is holding it at the time. Like another mind looking through your eyes and seeing what you see/feeling what you feel while still retaining a bit of individuality from the host. It’s not... Parasitic because it’s in its nature to give, but it’s generally pretty firmly attached to whoever is holding it until they die( which isn’t usually for a WHILE. It ’infects’ a new host when one dies, usually a plant near their grave...) or until a solar eclipse. It wants what they want, but it’s very fussy so they have to ask it for power exactly correctly(like singing an incantation every time you want to heal someone, or doing a Ritual involving lots of very specific ingredients, Celestial Alignments, and Secret Words) or it won’t listen, like an orchid dying if the ph balance is off in the soil by a little bit. But it’s generally pretty intuitive to use, because it wants what you want and (as long as you ask right) is willing to help. 

Anyways basically under the influence of the Sundrop you get a few things: 

Basically limitless energy coursing through your body while you’re in a place with sunlight, which equates to rapid healing, mostly, because every cell in your body is being supercharged with free energy. Never getting exhausted in direct sunlight. (If Rapunzel lived in a place that was sunny 24/7 like near one of the poles she wouldn’t have to sleep like. until it started to get dark in the opposite half of the year. Then she’d have to sleep like a regular human being)

You stay at your prime, or if you are past it, revert to your prime. Someone who is holding the Sundrop, or who has regular access to the Sundrop’s magic can’t die of old age or illness. They have to be hurt beyond the Sundrop’s ability to heal or have it taken away from them. 

The ability to share this rapid healing with others (if you ask right)

The ability to freely draw on the raw, near-limitless energy of the sun to shape into things like cool-looking energy blasts (only if you ask right) 

The Moonstone

The moonstone has powers over varying levels of destruction: from destroying things by ripping them apart/ to Not Letting Things Be Destroyed(also known as protecting) by freezing them in indestructible rock. Like the moon, it can ‘reflect’ a bit of the sundrop’s power, so it can kinda provide energy, albeit a lot less than the sundrop can provide. It’s the inevitable march of The End of All Things, fertilizing the fields of time with the ashes of the old so the new can take root. 

The Moonstone is a bit more in the dark(pun intended hehe) when it comes to bonding with someone, it can only try to figure out what is going on based off the emotions of its wielder, and through anything directly touching the Black Rocks. Because of this it’s... Kinda dumb? It tries to do things to help(Like shooting red fear-rocks to try and scare away whatever must be scaring its wielder so badly) but often fails spectacularly at helping. 

Under the influence of the Moonstone you get: 

Mortals get Neat Body Armor that’s actually just you being turned into a rock! They are very fragile! They need to be protected! The best the Moonstone can do to try and preserve you is to Stop All Destruction by.. Pausing all bodily functions indefinitely. Rocks don’t need to eat, sleep, or breathe, and almost nothing can destroy you if you’re solid Black Rock. The weak reflection of the Sundrop’s energy keeps the host animated, but they’re not exactly alive anymore. Like cryostasis. Wounds (if any) acquired in this state won’t be a problem because they’re not messing anything up, because nothing is technically working in the first place, but they will be a problem when you’re not protected in this way anymore. It’s a cosmic ‘I’ll deal with that later’ button, essentially. 

Like the moon, the Moonstone can reflect the light of the sun. It uses its rock crystals to do so, which can even split the sun’s power into different shades, like a prism. Essentially, different colored rocks can mean new and exciting power sets. 

Blue Lightning! The Moonstone can reflect the Sundrop’s power, so it also has access to pure bursts of energy, even if it is weaker and colder. 

The Moonstone is very helpful, but usually has no idea what you want. ‘Asking’ the Moonstone for more control over its power in the same way you would Ask the Sundrop for more power reminds it of the perfect bond it used to share. The Moonstone’s incantation deepens the bond between wielder and Moonstone in such a way that it actually knows what you want from it, giving you near perfect control of its powers.

*This is kind of just a side note of the Drops: While the Moonstone is weaker than the Sundrop in an head-on fight, it could hold its own if it were on the defensive. Redirecting the power instead of trying to overpower and such.

** Cass made of rocks means I get to draw her skeleton :) not in every picture that would be fucking nuts and way too much work alskjdf;lkjs;fv

[hollenka99]

Not The Boy He Once Knew

Summary: Even if he’s not the best at always showing it, Phil cares about his sons. But when one leaves home and goes down a dark path, all Phil wants is for his little soldier boy to come home safely.

Warnings: Death, stabbing

This is based on Obscuritea’s Little Soldier Boy animatic. You can find them on Twitter at @/0bscuritea.

Phil remembered holding his children for the first time. He could have watched Techno's little snout twitch for as long as his eldest would allow him. Wilbur stared at everything, as if it was mandatory for him to visually absorb as much of the world around him as possible. This included the young pig boy hovering by door, unsure whether he wanted to meet the one who was had made him a big brother. Tommy was a wriggler, that was for sure, always trying to get into a better position within the blanket. Wilbur certainly didn't help things when he clambered onto the sofa in order to push himself through the space under Phil's free arm so he could get a better view of the baby.

Many summer afternoons were spent sitting in the shade of trees, watching his sons play with each other. Sometimes, he'd even be out there strumming on his guitar while doing so. The older Wilbur and Techno got, the more they liked to engage in rough play. More than once, Tommy would be happily sitting on his lap before finding himself caught up in the latest rough and tumble session.

One day while his two eldest are 12 and 9 respectively, Phil is horrified to see them return home from a night time adventure in the nearby woods with blood on their person. It would seem that they'd run into a number of zombies and skeletons. Wilbur had tripped and this had caused Techno to make use of his axe. Most of the blood wasn't even theirs so they argued it wasn't a big deal. As Phil retrieves the bread he has on hand for situations like these, he scolds his boys for being reckless. There wouldn't have even been any mobs about if they'd gone out in the day. Just because death was a three strikes and you're out kind of deal didn't mean they could risk injury or worse for the sake of fun. Now, were there any cuts or scrapes they wanted him to look at? Just the one on Techno's snout? Well alright, best get that sorted then off to bed.

During a week where his attention had been directed perhaps everywhere except towards Wilbur, he notices the light is still on in his room. Good. With a knock, he gets invited in. An apology is issued, after which Phil pulls out some wheat and cocoa beans he had lying around. The boy in his early teens acts as if his eyes don't momentarily light up once it clicks what those ingredients are for. When he makes excuses about being too old to be bribed with cookies as well as pointing out that it was getting late, Phil calls his bluff. Come on, let this be his way of saying sorry tonight then he promises tomorrow morning they can have a guitar session, just the two of them. Wilbur rolls his eyes but heads to the kitchen regardless. Phil's glad he does because that is the first time Wilbur plays an original song he was in the process of creating with him as the audience. It was only a shame that incidences like these were becoming few and far between. He wasn't going to catch every time Wilbur felt ignored, especially if the kid slowly stop attempting to get his attention as often in the first place.

It's an odd feeling when Wilbur says his goodbyes. The years have passed so quickly it's hard to believe his little boy isn't quite so little anymore. However, his second son had been a budding musician for as long as he'd had the dexterity for it. It would be impossible to forget how he had beamed with such intensity upon being gifted his first guitar, so much so that Phil had slightly worried he might injure his mouth or jaw somehow. He'll be fine. Phil had nothing to worry about. Besides, Tommy had already made the journey himself a few weeks ago and it sounded like he was already making friends.

Life carries on with Techno helping out with the farming and the occasional correspondence arriving from the other two. When he hears about drugs in a van, he rolls his eyes. Trust them to do something ridiculous like that. It's less humourous when the word 'war' begins to get thrown around. Then shortly afterwards, Techno is leaving to assist his brothers in their endeavours. This results in an argument as Techno packs. By all means, help Wilbur and Tommy but don't get involved in a war that wasn't his to fight. Phil's anxiety regarding his sons' wellbeing grows due to talk of plans to win back L'Manburg after a failed election resulted in an apparent dictatorship. The more days that passed, the stronger his desire to have all his boys back home safely with him grew.

He sits alone at a table that had once been abundant with life. Once again, Tommy has sent him a letter regarding the situation over there. He was getting scared of his brother's apparent obsession with potentially destroying the nation in a blast. Wilbur had even been heard wondering if Phil would be proud of him. Given the current circumstances, he wasn't so sure how to answer. Tommy had even confessed that both he and Wilbur were on their last lives which petrified Phil more than any of the bad news he'd gotten so far. However, his son was right. Enough was enough.

It was time for Phil to make his way to L'Manburg.

He almost finds it funny how Wilbur's voice immediately morphs into the defensiveness of a child as soon as he realises his father has entered his secret detonation room. It was honestly reminiscent of times such as when he got caught stalking a chicken to gain the egg necessary for a pumpkin pie, said pumpkin being dragged behind him by the stalk. However, his son wasn't 4 anymore. Wilbur was a grown man who had proven himself to maintain less than innocent thoughts and motivations.

But Phil was his father nevertheless. And he would talk him out of this 'blow up L'Manburg' plan like others such as Tommy had previously done. Besides, he knew Wilbur. Deep down, that boy didn't have it in him to cause that much destruction, let alone risk instigating any potential loss of life. All he had to do was calmly talk him down.

L'Manburg had been won back. Even with Wilbur yelling in frustration about the several times he came close to pressing the button, that could be seen as a sign of strength. They could agree to not do anything rash then gradually dismantle the vast quantity of TNT hidden in the walls. The notion that Wilbur would risk triggering the button to see if it was actually rigged is so absurd it makes Phil laugh aloud.

He's certainly not in the mood to laugh within a minute of that moment. By the time thirty or so seconds have elapsed, he is on top of his son, both of them on the ground with only dust and rubble left of what had been the secret underground room. Wilbur had been talking about Eret one second before uttering the infamous line of "it was never meant to be" the next. Phil doesn't think it had truly registered in his mind that the explosives were about to go off when he leapt to protect his son from them.

This couldn't be happening. He knew Wilbur, he knew that he would never be capable of blowing up L'Manburg. Except Wilbur was. He... he had.

It's as Wilbur is screaming into the sky about his unfinished symphony remaining forever unfinished that the reality of his personal mistake makes itself known to Phil. Tommy had warned him that Wilbur was going off the rails. He'd said that Phil shouldn't let his guard be lowered around his brother. The second born of their family was currently not to underestimated.

That grin, that sheer ecstasy upon achieving his goal, the way Wilbur revelled in his 'victory'. Well, what more proof did Phil need to know he'd done the exact things he'd been warned against?

He barely has the chance to acknowledge that before Wilbur is demanding the unimaginable from him. No, perhaps 'demand' isn't the right word. Begging might be more appropriate. A sword is tossed at his feet, an invitation for it to be used. He can't though. Not this. Anything but this. The punishment for reversing countless hours of dedicated hard work should not be a death sentence. That simply does not equate.

"God, you're- You're my son! No matter what you do, no matter what you act like, I can't..."

And it's true. This was the kid who would (along with Tommy most of the time) go on epic adventures to claim treats in chests which were placed high up for the exact purpose of deterring such behaviour. He was the one who'd be found sneaking off to the surrounding caves and mines for the sake of exploration. It was him who practised his rallying speech skills on his brothers and father. More than that, Wilbur was a talented musician who liked writing songs and loved his family. He wasn't some irredeemable criminal who deserved to die to pay for the pain he'd caused.

Phil was not going to give Wilbur what he wanted. At least, he was against it until he realised this was about more than punishment or penitence. This was him asking someone he trusted to free him from the burden of all his wrongdoings. Wilbur wanted peace in his life again. And what kind of father would he be if he couldn't give his son that?

He grabs the sword. If he's going to do this, he'd rather make it as fast as possible. The last thing he wants is the suffering of a loved one. Wilbur tenses as the blade finds its way into his chest then exits. The gasps and stuttered breaths are worse than his son begging for death a minute ago. It's okay, he mutters. Just breathe through it. It'll be alright in a moment. Phil doesn't know whether him stroking Wilbur's hair is helping at all but somehow, it's helping Phil himself so that's good enough. The hand gripping his side begins to lose strength. He lets out a grief-stricken groan as he holds his son as tightly as he can.

"You couldn't just let- you couldn't just win?" There is no response, not even a hint of it.

The walls blown apart, he knows everyone can see him. But what does he care? Wilbur's head rests against his father's chest, arms loosely drooping towards the floor and body slumping alongside it. When he inevitably forces himself to let go, to leave the remains of this godforsaken room and... and bury his son's body back home, he's aware he'll have to face the fact his lap is stained with blood. But that can wait for as long as he can delay it.

For now though, he'll sit here with his eyes closed. Maybe that way he can somehow convince himself he's just holding the little boy who loved finding his way into his father's arms whenever he was drowsy, albeit an enlarged version. It's all he can do to keep the tears and questions of how this could have been prevented at bay.

[agatharionicky]

Sugar and Salt

Chapter: Nine of Ten

Summary: The day of the wedding is here and the nerves are high! Amaya walks on air as she gets ready, but the dangerous reality weighs heavy on Zari’s heart.

Fandom: DC’s Legends of Tomorrow.

Relationship: Amaya Jiwe/Zari Tomaz,  and Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe

Characters: Amaya Jiwe, Zari Tomaz, Sara Lance, Kendra Saunders, Behrad Tomaz, Sin Lance, Kuasa, Ava Sharpe, and Damien Darhk. 

Chapter Rating: Mature.

Additional Tags: Bakery and Coffee Shop AU, Mutual Pining, Fake Marriage, But Real Feelings, Food, Wedding, Lemons, Smut, Wedding Night.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

……………………………………………………………………

Zari rolled over in bed and stared up at the ceiling. She knew what day it was, but a part of her wished she could stay in bed and hide from it all. Even if it meant sacrificing her future and her place in America. She was used to the anxieties that came with trying to get up in the morning. 

Yet, there was always one thing that never failed to get her up, coffee and donuts. Yesterday, she had gone to the best donut place in Star City and waited in line for an hour just to be able to get one donut. She had carefully packaged it up and placed it in the fridge for today, and she had dreamed of a powder and raspberry sauce all night. It was the one thing that got her to roll out of bed and walk down the stairs, even if she was still a zombie. 

Which was why she didn't hear Sara, Sin, and Behrad, already chatting away in the kitchen with a sizzling breakfast of eggs and pancakes. Zari stopped in her tracks when she saw Sara standing at the stove. 

“Good morning Zari,” Behrad cheerfully greeted her, holding up his plate of pancakes. “Aunt Sara made breakfast.”

“I can see that,” Zari said, walking into the kitchen. “You know, when I gave you a key for emergency purposes, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

Sara just shrugged, one hand on her back and the other holding a spatula as she flipped another pancake onto the plate. “Someone's gotta keep you on track this morning and Ray was the first one to offer, so I thought I'd save you the cheery trouble.”

Zari nodded but ignored the pancakes and went to retrieve her donut from the fridge, only to find that it was not there. She quickly spun around, ready to yell at whoever ate it, but Sara pointed towards the box on the counter. 

“I saw it in the fridge when I was getting things ready and so I put it on the counter to warm it up for you."

Zari’s anger died on her lips and she gave Sara a warm smile. “Thank you.”

Sara just smiled at her and placed a spatula of eggs onto a plate next to the turkey bacon. “Eat something other than sugar, you're gonna need it. No matter how nervous you are you should eat.”

Zari nodded and took the plate as Sara grabbed a plate for herself and sat down next to her. 

“May we be excused?” Behrad asked, looking up from his empty plate.

“Put your dishes in the dishwasher first and thank Sara for making breakfast, then you may go,” Zari nodded at him.

Sin and Behrad quickly did as they were told and put their dishes away. Sin rushed over, putting both of their hands on Sara’s belly and placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you, Mommy.”

Behrad leaned over as well and kissed Sara's cheek. “Thank you, Aunt Sara.”

“You guys are very welcome,” Sara said as they quickly rushed off. “I’ll be up in a few minutes and you two will need to start getting ready.”

Zari smiled and watched them go. It was as if it was just another morning. However, the bag of makeup sitting on the counter with the shoebox and Sara's dress hung up on the door said otherwise.

“Are you okay?” Sara asked, putting a hand on her back and rubbing in slow circles. “You’ve turned pale all of a sudden.”

“I'm fine,” Zari said, taking a bite of her donut and trying to get lost in the sweet raspberry taste.

“It's okay to be anxious. I'd be worried if you weren't,” Sara said as she continued to rub up and down Zari’s spine in a comforting way. “I see how happy Amaya makes you and how happy you are together. Just think about that and focus on Amaya. Before you know it, you’ll be at the reception eating cake and laughing and you won't remember a single thing that was said at the ceremony.”

“That sounds like some good experience talking,” Zari smiled and looked over at Sara. 

“Well, I have done this before,” Sara said with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, and you just about fainted at the altar and Leonard lost his voice trying to say his vows,” Zari said, remembering the eventful ceremony at her friend's wedding years ago.

“Shut up,” Sara said, moving her hand from Zari’s back and giving her a little shove. “I was pregnant and Leonard was never good at public speaking. Besides, we still got married, but all I remember from that night was dancing in his arms, knowing he was mine forever and it made everything worth it.”

Zari nodded, she could make it through the ceremony if she focused on Amaya, besides she didn't have a choice that she wanted to stay in America.

……………………………………………………………………

Amaya woke up with a smile on her face. It was her wedding day. She rolled over and looked at her wedding dress that was hung up in her closet. She couldn't help but smile wider. She was so excited for this day and it was finally here! She was marrying Zari and it was a dream come true. 

She jumped out of bed and pulled the dress off the rack, before laying it on her bed. Amaya unzipped the garment bag and pulled out the dress, just staring at it. It was so beautiful and she was so excited. Amaya couldn’t wait to get dressed and spend all day in it, but first, she knew that she had to eat something. 

Amaya danced around her room as she floated into the bathroom. She quickly checked the knots that Kendra had put in last night and undid one to see the little curls wrap around her finger. She then washed her face, before practically floating on air as she walked down the hall. Amaya wasn't surprised to see Kendra in her kitchen cooking as both kids played in the living room. 

“Happy wedding day,” Kendra smiled, placing a plate of quiche at the counter for her. 

“Thank you,” Amaya said as she sat down at the counter and took a bite of the quiche. 

“You've got that bridal glow,” Kendra said as she looked over at Amaya.

“I feel like a glowing bride and I’m just so excited. I don't know how I can wait till this afternoon.”

“Well, there's a lot to do before then, so it'll definitely fly by,” Kendra said, putting down the pot holders and turning off the oven, before calling the kids for breakfast. 

They quickly ate and went straight back to the bathroom to get ready. Kendra took out her curls as Amaya applied her moisturizer. The whole time they got ready, Amaya kept smiling. She was unable to believe that this was her reality. Every time she calmed down, something would make her smile and she would fall into another fit of giggles like a school child. Amaya was just so happy. She couldn't wait to walk down the aisle and marry Zari. 

“Amaya you need to stay still,” Kendra said, smiling as she pulled the mascara wand back, narrowly missing her nose.

“Sorry,” Amaya said, trying to school her features and hold still as Kendra quickly applied the mascara and pulled back.

“It's okay to be excited, and I'm happy that you are so happy. Even if things are a little rushed, I know the two of you are sure about this. You and Zari are meant for each other even if it took you a little while to figure it out,” Kendra teased as she leaned down to wrap her arms around Amaya’s shoulders, giving them a squeeze. 

Amaya smiled and hugged Kendra before she pulled back. Kendra finished her makeup and spun her around to look at it in the mirror. Amaya smiled as she saw how beautiful she was and looked down at the ring on her finger. Even though they had started out doing this so Zari could stay in the U.S.. Amaya was doing this now because she truly loved Zari and she would spend the rest of her days protecting her.

……………………………………………………………………

As soon as Sara finished applying her makeup and put the curlers in Zari's hair they rushed out of the house to make it to the venue on time. Ava greeted them in a foyer with a clipboard and pen and smiled when she saw Sara. Sara was wearing a high waisted pleated dark blue dress that flowed over her and went down to her ankles. It matched Ava's dark navy suit that had a plunging neckline and was without an undershirt, that had drawn Sara’s eyes. 

“We’re gonna go find Kuasa, Gary, and Aldus,” Behrad said, running off with Sin before anyone could protest. 

“You look beautiful,” Ava sighed as she leaned down to put one hand on Sara's waist as she tilted her head for a quick kiss. “But you're behind schedule. Some early guests have arrived and Amaya and Kendra are already here. They’re in the room down the hall on your left and you two are on the right.”

“Don't worry, we'll be ready to walk down the aisle right on time,” Sara reassured her as she patted Ava's cheek and Ava smiled as she leaned into her touch.

“Oh I see one of the brides is running late, I hope it doesn't throw off the whole wedding.” Damien Darhk’s voice dripped with sarcasm, cold as ice.

Zari twirled around to see him standing there as he walked through the door as if he was just another guest. 

“Mr. Darhk, I don't believe I received your RSVP,” Ava said, pulling out her clipboard as she stepped in front of Zari and Sara.

“Oh well, I’m my daughter Nora’s plus one see here,” Darhk said, pulling out the RSVP card with a checkmark on the plus one.

“Nora is Ray Palmer's plus one,” Ava said, walking up and taking the card from his hand. “I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to…”

“Oh yes that Raymond fellow, well that's another matter, but that's not the reason I'm here,” Darhk said, as he looked pointedly over at Zari.

Sara wrapped a protective arm around Zari’s waist, her eyes like daggers as she glared at Darhk. “You need to leave now.”

“Oh well, then how would I know if this lovely bride gets properly married? We wouldn't want to screw up anything with immigration, now would we, Miss Tomaz?” Darkh said with a dark tone as he turned around to introduce his friend. “You've met my friend here Adrian Chase, he works at the local immigration office and is interested to see your case be presented next week.”

“It's nice to meet you Miss Tomaz, and congratulations on this wonderful occasion,” Adrian said, holding out his hand. “I look forward to presiding over your case next week after you get back from your honeymoon, of course.”

It took everything inside of Zari to shake Adrian’s hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you as well.”

“Well, we really are on a tight schedule,” Ava said, stepping in and turning Zari and Sara towards the dressing room.

Zari and Sara walked down the hall in silence as Sara guided her into the room. Zari sat down on the first chair she saw and Sara put her dress on the rack, before turning and locking the door.

“Hey it's okay,” Sara said, looking over at her and leaning down and to put her hands over Zari’s. “It's just an intimidation tactic, but it's nothing we have to worry about. You and Amaya are in love and that’s why you're getting married, it's all legal. Just focus on Amaya. All you have to do is get married to Amaya.”

Zari just looked at Sara, had no idea how she was supposed to walk down the aisle with Darkh breathing down her neck. How could she do this to Amaya? Amaya who was so perfect and selfless, who was helping her and getting all tangled up in something that wasn't her fault. Zari knew the penalty for a fake Green Card marriage and Amaya could go to jail. 

Zari looked up and saw an envelope waiting for her on the vanity. Her name was written in Amaya’s beautiful and perfect cursive handwriting, and Zari flipped it over to open it. Inside was a simple note that read. 

‘I can't wait to see you walk down the aisle, my beautiful bride. Just know that I am so happy to be doing this. I love you so much. - Amaya.’

Zari took a deep breath and took a moment to center herself. Amaya knew what she was getting herself into and Sara was right, it was just an intimidation tactic. They were doing the right thing and all she had to do was sign the marriage license.

“I can marry Amaya,” Zari said with a nod.

“Don't worry about anything else, Amaya, Kendra, Ava, and I are going to take care of it,” Sara said with a nod as she gave Zari’s hands a squeeze.

Zari stood up and went over to the garment bag. She unzipped it and pulled out the two-piece White Satin suit. Zari let her fingers drift over the fabric and pulled the pants off of the hanger before she quickly put them on. She took the jacket and pulled it on her shoulders. She pushed up the sleeves to her elbows, before turning to look in the mirror. She was ready. She sat down at the vanity and Sara started to undo the curlers from her hair. Zari was ready to be a bride, she was going to walk down the aisle and marry Amaya.

“It’s going to be okay,” Zari whispered to herself in the mirror, her lips moved but she didn’t hear the words.

Sara caught her eyes in the mirror and leaned down to tickle the back of her neck, making her smile. “There, that's what a bride should look like. It's your wedding day. You should be happy.”

Zari tried to keep a smile on her lips as she nodded, but it faded a little at the edges. She found herself fidgeting with her fingers as a knot formed in the pit of Zari’s stomach.

……………………………………………………………………

Everything was ready, everyone was in place. Zari stood in the hall and looked down at Behrad. They were the first to walk down and she took his arm. Behrad smiled up at her as they stepped forward. It was a short trip down the aisle and soon she stood next to Ray, who was set to officiate for them. 

Then Zari watched as first Kendra and Sara, then Aldus rolled down with Sin, and finally Kuasa walked down the aisle. She couldn't help but catch a glimpse of Amaya as she waited in the hall. For a moment, Zari forgot everything as she saw Amaya peak around the corner. Once Kuasa got to the end of the aisle, Mick kissed Amaya’s cheek. The music changed and it was Amaya’s turn. 

Zari looked over at all of her friends and family as they stood. They all looked so happy for her, everyone was smiling, some of them even had a few tears. ‘Just look at Amaya,’ she said to herself as she looked over at her beautiful bride. Holding on to Mick's arm, Amaya looked so beautiful, her tight curls cascaded down her back like a waterfall. Amaya’s dress fell around her with its long train. It had a V neck lace bodice with short lace sleeves that brushed over her shoulders. The skirt was long and slim, but full and flowed down her waist, accented by her long train. She was so beautiful that it was breathtaking. Amaya looked like the sun, warm and beautiful, but all Zari could think about was Damian Darhk.  

Zari looked back at Damien Darhk and Adrian Chase next to him. He gave her a hellish smile and a wink. She could feel her heart beating faster and suddenly she felt overwhelmingly hot. She was gonna get caught, and it would be all her fault. She would drag Amaya and Behrad and Kuasa down with her.

She couldn't do it. Zari couldn't do it. She couldn’t ruin their lives. She saw Amaya’s face fall as she shook her head.

“I'm sorry,” Zari whispered before she ran off. 

She heard the uproar of everyone talking as she ran off. She ran back down the hall and into her dressing room, slamming the door shut behind her. The plan now was just to grab her bag and leave. She could disappear for a few days and then come back and get Behrad and they could start over somewhere else. Zari looked around the dressing room. She had a suitcase packed for the honeymoon, so all she had to do was get it and go. She grabbed it and double checked that everything was there, then she heard a knock at the door.

“Zari it's me, please let me in and we can just talk.” Amaya pleaded to her from outside the door. 

Zari could hear multiple people talking as Amaya knocked on her door again, trying to get her to come out. She looked around the little room. There was a window, but it was just a single pane of glass and there was no way to open it. She looked around again, there was no way of getting out without going through her friends and she knew she could never face them. 

Everyone else continued to knock and try to talk to her, but Zari just sat down on the chair. She put her knees up to her chest and her hand over her face as she just sat there and cried. She cried for her life, and she cried for Behrad and Amaya and for the mess she had made of everything. When she finally cried herself out, she looked up to hear that they had stopped knocking and it was silent. She reached for a tissue and wiped her face.

Suddenly she heard the door handle rattle. Before Zari could react or protest, the door opened and Sara slipped in with a small plate. She gave Zari a knowing smile and came to sit down next to her.

“I brought you a donut,” Sara said, holding out the plate to her. On it were three powdered jelly donuts, her favorite. 

Zari just shook her head and looked down at her hands. For the first time, she wasn’t in the mood for donuts.

“I’d tell you a story about my wedding day, but this doesn't feel like wedding nerves,” Sara said, looking more pointedly over at her. “This feels like you're second guessing the whole thing.” 

“I can't do this to Amaya,” Zari looked down at the tissue in her hand. “I can't do this. I can't get her tangled up in things that are my fault.”

Sara shrugged and offered her the plate, but Zari shook her head. 

“Well, if you're not going to eat this I am,” Sara said, picking up one of the donuts and taking a bite of it. Sara sat down next to her and they just sat together in silence as Sara ate her donut. 

Zari gave in and took one of the donuts, shoving it in her mouth. It was perfect, just like Amaya, and just like everything she had ruined. She didn't chew properly and quickly swallowed. The donut formed a ball in her throat and she choked it down. As she coughed, Sara handed her a glass of water and patted her back. Once it went down, Sara put the donut plate down on the table next to them and Zari stared down at the glass of water.

“If you had to permanently tie yourself to Ava in order to protect yourself and Sin, would you do it?” Zari said as she looked over at Sara. 

She tried not to sound desperate, but she was desperate. For any way that she could do this without feeling like she was sinking to the bottom of the ocean. With a chain around her wrist and Amaya willingly tying herself to Zari. 

Sara just smiled, she stood up and put one hand on her ribs and with the other, she held her dress tightly against her lower abdomen to outline her rounded belly. Zari looked down at her stomach and then up at Sara. 

“You've gained weight, that's your answer?” Zari asked, throwing up her hands. “I mean, I know you've been hitting the sweets pretty hard, but I don't see how this relates to anything,”

“I’m not fat!” Sara said, smacking Zari's arm before she grabbed Zari’s hand and put it on her belly. Zari looked up at her, not sure what Sara was doing until she felt a jab against her hand and her eyes went wide. “I'm twenty weeks pregnant. Ava and I are having a baby. So yeah, we're tied together for the next eighteen years at least.”

Zari's jaw dropped as suddenly everything clicked. She looked at Sara's belly again and saw the clear outline of her pregnancy as Sara’s baby kicked her hand again. “You're pregnant, pregnant with Ava’s baby. Wait, what, Ava got you pregnant? Is she trans and at twenty weeks, that's like five months, which means you've been pregnant practically the entire time you and Ava have been together and you hid it from all of us?”

Sara just nodded as she sat back down next to Zari, with one hand on her belly. 

“I found out the day you and Amaya got engaged. We had to figure everything out pretty quickly and we’ve recently decided to move in together. When Ava and I met we just jumped right in and things happened so quickly. Before I knew it I was pregnant, but it worked out. Our kids love each other like siblings and we’re a family. Ava and I have taken the time to slowly fall in love too. So even though you're rushing to the altar, you and Amaya have done the same. I’ve seen you two fall in love with each other throughout this whole thing and you can make it work.”

“It’s not just that,” Zari sighed, shaking her head and looking down at her hands covered in white powdered sugar. “If I don't marry Amaya, ICE is going to deport me.”

“Oh Zari,” Sara said, looking over at her and grabbing her hand to squeeze it tightly. 

“I can't do this to her,” Zari said, shaking her head. “I can't put her through all of this.”

“You don't really have a choice,” Sara said, tilting her head from side to side and looking at Zari. “I know it doesn't seem that easy, but it is. Like you said, if you don't get married ICE is going to take you away, but you don't have to worry about Amaya. She doesn't do anything without knowing the risk first. She did this knowing everything that came with it. Regardless of that, she's crazy in love with you and she is doing this willingly.”

“But I could change my name and leave and go, somewhere.”

“And live your whole life on the run? Is that really what you want to do Zari?” Sara said looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well, what did you do when you found out you were pregnant, surely you didn't just jump into Ava’s arms and have an instant family?”

“No, I freaked out after the test turned positive. I didn't even consider keeping them until I talked with Ava. Once I did tell her, she agreed to help me if I kept it. We talked everything over and we both knew what we were getting into with this baby. It made things easier to know that I had someone to support me. I know that you have talked this over with Amaya, she’s here to support you, and Kendra and I are here too.”

“Thanks,” Zari nodded, giving Sara a small smile and squeezing her hand. “She was the one who suggested we get married.”

“Well, there you go. You know Amaya is on your side and she knows what she’s getting into,” Sara said as she stood up and turned around to offer her hand to Zari. “Now, all you have to do is marry Amaya and live happily ever after, which I don't think will be too hard.”

Zari took a deep breath and took Sara’s hand. She stood up on her own so Sara didn’t have to bear her weight. Sara grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes before reapplying her makeup.  The mascara Sara had applied was waterproof, so she didn’t have black tear stains on her cheeks. Zari took one look in the mirror. The evidence of her tears were gone and she ran her hands over her suit before they walked back out into the hall. 

Kendra, Amaya, Ava, and the kids were all standing in the hall talking to each other. The minute Amaya saw her, she pulled Zari into a hug. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Zari said as she held Amaya, perhaps a little too tightly, as all she could do was cling to her. When Zari pulled back and untangled herself from Amaya, she held her hands and looked into her eyes. “Amaya, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” Amaya said in a firm voice as she squeezed Zari’s hands. “I love you Zari and I'd go to the ends of the Earth to protect you. Let me protect you so that you can stay here in America with me and Behrad.”

“Okay,” Zari nodded, letting out a breath and smiling.

“All right, everyone lets have a wedding,” Sara said, clapping her hands and ushering everybody back into the main room.

……………………………………………………………………

Every moment of the day was seared into Zari's memory. She didn’t look at anyone else as  Amaya walked down the aisle. She let herself get lost in Amaya and it took Zari’s breath away. She barely heard a saying that the officiant said or the passages Imam read as they performed the Nikah. She felt like she couldn't breathe until they finally signed the marriage certificate. As soon as she put her pen down Amaya grabbed her hand and the officiant announced them as wife and wife. 

Amaya wrapped her arms around Zari’s neck and leaned in to kiss her. It was then that Zari smiled into Amaya's lips and she felt like she was floating on air as they kissed. The only thing that mattered in the world was Amaya's lips on hers. 

They danced down the aisle to the music that filled her ears and Amaya's hand clutched her hand as if she would never let go. Zari caught Darkh’s glare as they walked and saw Mick and Nate approach him from behind. Darkh was thrown out of the reception with little fuss, along with all of Zari’s worries. For the rest of the night, she smiled as they ate and listened to speeches and kissed Amaya.  

As the party wrapped up, they stayed on the dance floor wrapped in each other's arms as they swayed. Zari put her chin on Amaya’s shoulder and Amaya wrapped her arms around her waist and laid her head on Zari’s chest. Amaya gently played with the hairs on the back of Zari’s neck as she hummed to the lyrics of the song as they pressed up against each other. Zari was so absolutely content and happy in Amaya’s arms as they kept dancing just for one more song. 

She heard Behrad’s laughter and opened her eyes to see him run past, quickly chased by Sin, Gary, Kuasa, and Aldus. She watched as they ran in between the tables and eventually settled on an empty table. Kendra and Carter were off to the side as they sat next to each other gently whispering as they smiled. She looked over as Sara and Ava swayed next to them. Ava had her arms wrapped around Sara from behind and both of them were cradling Sara's belly as they pressed cheek to cheek. Zari closed her eyes and got lost in Amaya’s arms again. Everything felt right and as of tonight, she was safe in Amaya’s arms. 

“You two better get going if you're going to make it to the hotel before midnight,” Kendra said, gently placing a hand on Zari’s shoulders. 

Amaya nodded as they let Kendra whisk them away. Zari’s car had been wonderfully decorated with cans, balloons, and so many rose petals that she knew she'd never get them out of her back seat.

“You be good for Kendra and Sara,” Amaya said, leaning down to hold Kuasa’s cheeks and press a kiss to her forehead. 

“You too buddy,” Zari said, running her fingers through Behrad’s hair before he pushed her hand off.

“We will. We promise,” Behrad said, fixing his hair again as he shooed Zari away.

“Here you’ll need this,” Sara said, handing her a small box. Zari opened it up and to her horror inside was a pack of dental dams, lube, condoms, lace panties, and a vibrator. 

“Sara!” Zari yelled, shutting the box as Amaya laughed. Kendra and Ava, who had also gotten a glimpse of the box, giggled as well. 

“Trust me, you'll need it, especially if you don't want to take home an extra wedding present,” Sara said with raised eyebrows as she rubbed her belly.

Zari just stood there mortified as Amaya laughed, She took the box from her hand and shoved it into the back seat. “We don’t have to worry about a baby, but the protection is appreciated.”

“True, but there are some other things that I'm sure you'll enjoy.”

“Okay, enough teasing,” Ava said, putting her arms around Sara's waist. “Let them go enjoy their honeymoon.”

They both got in the car and looked back at everyone as they waved them away. The kids threw petals at the car as they pulled by the venue. Before Zari pulled the car onto the road, she looked over at Amaya and smiled. Amaya leaned in to kiss her just because she could, before she pulled back, but held her hand as they drove. 

Instead of a full vacation, they had settled on a few days at a hotel in the mountain that overlooked a waterfall. It was a short drive and the concierge got them all settled before he took them up to the honeymoon suite. It was a beautiful big room with a large bed and hot tub, and a balcony overlooking the falls, and Zari could hear the roar of the waterfall. As soon as the concierge left, Amaya grabbed Zari’s hand and smiled at her, Amaya’s eyes heavy and hot as she pulled Zari towards the bed. Zari focused on the way that Amaya looked at her, so in awe and in love that it made Zari’s heart flutter.

Amaya pulled her over and Zari sat on the bed before Amaya settled herself in Zari’s lap, grabbing a hold of both of her hands. “Are you ready?”

Zari leaned in and kissed Amaya, letting all of her passion pour out from her lips. “I want you.”

Amaya smiled into the kiss and she and Zari fell back onto the bed. Amaya reached for the hem of Zari’s shirt, pulling it over her head. She tossed it aside and reached down to pull her own top off, having forgone a bra, Amaya was half nude sitting in her lap. Zari’s breath hitched as she took in the sight of Amaya’s breasts. Beautifully round with perked nipples, Zari reached out to trace the bones of Amaya’s chest. Tracing the little scar on Amaya’s breastbone all the way down to her waist and her small belly button that was as cute as she was. Amaya had always been fit and toned as she worked out regularly. Suddenly, Zari felt self conscious about the stomach fat that she carried, mostly from all the donuts she ate.

Zari looked up to see that Amaya was just as much in awe of her as Zari was. Amaya leaned down and let her lips trace their way across Zari’s skin. She gently pressed kisses to her collarbone and her breast, gently taking them into her mouth and lightly sucking each nipple until it was hard. When she pulled away, cold air on her wet nipples made Zari shiver. Amaya continued to trace her body with her lips. Going down her abdomen, brushing against her navel and continuing to her waistband, where Amaya once again stopped and looked up at Zari for permission.

Zari nodded and Amaya carefully slipped her fingers under the hem of Zari’s pants, pulling them down. Amaya had them off quicker than Zari realized she would and she was soon sitting in between Zari’s knees. Amaya held her calves as she looked up at her again and Zari breathed heavily as she carefully parted her knees. Amaya gasped at the sight of Zari’s wet folds, and smiled brightly, gently placing a kiss to her pubic bone at the top of her folds. 

Zari leaned her head back as Amaya licked her way down, spreading Zari’s hairy folds to make room for her tongue as she gently lapped her up. Amaya had quite the talented tongue. Slowly licking Zari’s clit in gentle, slow, and steady strokes. She slowly worked her up and up, she took two fingers and gently explored Zari’s opening. Amaya glanced up at her as Zari nodded eagerly before Amaya slid the fingers inside her. Zari began to gently roll her hips as Amaya continued with her steady pace.

“I’m, I’m so close,” Zari panted.

Amaya continued with her pace, slowly working her over. Zari’s breathing became erratic and she could feel herself clinch up before her pleasure came to a head. Zari came, spilled over with a gush of warm fluid onto Amaya’s tongue. 

Zari withered on the bed as Amaya licked her through it. Amaya pulled back and wiped her chin, which was dripping with Zari’s fluids, on the back of her hand. Zari reached down and pulled her up until she was sitting on her lap as they both fiddled with the waistband of Amaya’s pants.

It wasn't exactly the best position, Zari couldn't just pull her pants down and instead, Amaya pulled back, taking her pants off before going back to sit on Zari’s lap. 

“What do you want?” Zari asked, looking up at Amaya, her hands firm on her waist.

Amaya smiled and guided her fingers to her wet folds, taking Zari’s fingers and pushing them to her labia, parting her pubic hair and finding her vulva. Amaya lifting up her hips. 

“I want to ride your fingers.”

How could Zari say no to that? Zari pushed two fingers into Amaya and stroked her clit with her thumb. Amaya's vagina was soft and warm as Zari stroked her vaginal walls. Amaya began to set a gentle pace as she rocked on Zari’s fingers. As she went up and down Zari thrust in and out in time with her hips. With her other hand, Zari gripped Amaya's hips, holding them in place as she thrust into her. 

Amaya moaned and clenched around her fingers, getting wetter and wetter as Zari’s ministrations continued. She brought her fingers out and Amaya whined, chasing her with her hips as Zari circled two fingers around her clit, teasing her. Amaya opened her eyes to see the smirk on Zari's face. Amaya moved her hands to the base of Zari’s neck and tangled them in her hair as she pulled her forward into a kiss. 

Zari forgot to breathe as Amaya kissed her. She continued the circle with her fingers around Amaya’s clit and brought her other hand down to push two fingers back inside of her. Amaya broke off their kiss with a moan and she settled her head on Zari’s shoulder. Zari quickened her pace, she could tell from Amaya's breathing that she must be close.

Amaya whined the closer she got to coming, catching her breath as Zari filled her with a particularly strong thrust of her fingers, as she groaned into Zari’s shoulder. Amaya came with a long and heavy sigh, as she clenched around Zari's fingers and a flood of fluids rushed over Zari's hand. Amaya came down from her orgasm, sitting on Zari’s lap. As Zari pulled her fingers away, Amaya untangled her hands from Zari’s hair and pulled her into a hug. Amaya gently kissed from her shoulder up her neck to her lips, before settling her head back on Zari's shoulder as they both settled into the afterglow. 

They both settled on the bed and Zari turned to watch her as Amaya smiled. Zari loved that smile and more so that Amaya hadn't stopped smiling since they got married. She was so happy, happy to be safe, happy to be here with Amaya. She didn't know how, but eventually, they both drifted off to sleep in each other's arms for the first time of many nights to come.

[fandom-necromancer]

939. Naps are life, okay?

This was prompted by an awesome anon! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

[Sun, 21st August 2039 – 12:34:22] RK 900 #313 248 317 – 87, assigned name Nines, rose from stasis to commotion from Gavin [Handler], [Work-partner], [_Fni3n#_]. He was currently located in his bedroom Nines was not allowed to enter due to privacy of the human. There wasn’t any reason to, either. As much as it was a deviant, even human, term – a concept Nines neither understood nor had ever experienced – he didn’t like Sundays. He had to spend it here in Gavin’s flat, ever since the laws of the revolutions were legally binding and no android was to stay at their workplace beyond working hours. The laws didn’t care whether the android was deviant or not and so Nines ended up utterly useless standing in a corner of Gavin’s living room like a weird form of decoration.

Gavin came out of his room not much later, dishevelled and yawning. His hair was messy, and he was dressed in a sloppy, too big and washed out shirt and boxers. Both details rather [unfit] for a human in his position of authority. Also, very [~©u/e-]. He didn’t [freak out] anymore upon seeing him standing in the corner staring at him unblinking. In the beginning, he had shrieked, tried to correct his behaviour by making him lay down or sit on the sofa. But as soon as the order had been lifted by either time or the human telling him to stand up, he could be found standing in his corner again. Gavin had stopped trying to scold him for it or try to correct him and just adapted. From a shriek to a sharp inhale to jerking at seeing him, the human had finally accommodated to him, so that today he only glanced at him, grumbled a ‘Morning, toaster’ and left for the kitchen. ‘Good morning, Detective Reed’, Nines politely answered the greeting and went back to staring straight ahead as the man left his field of vision.

When he came back, Nines had already analysed the scent in the air and found his results correct: Gavin was holding a plate with bacon, eggs and toast and a mug full of fresh coffee. He sat down on his table for two and sighed. ‘Hey, toaster, come over here, sit with me.’ [New mission: Sit with Gavin.] Nines felt the order settle into his log and obeyed without a second thought. He met him at the table, pulled the second chair back and sat down. [Mission successful.] It brought little pleasure as this mission hadn’t been too difficult for his advanced processors, but he took what he could get.

Gavin ate in his silent company. Nines wasn’t the conversationalist, that much the man had learned pretty quickly. But still he always asked him to sit with him. Nines didn’t know why. As he was finished, he put away the dishes and announced: ‘I’m going back to sleep toaster. Do whatever you like.’ Nines watched him leave for the bedroom in wonder. The man had gotten exactly 10 hours, 28 minutes and 07 seconds of sleep. More than enough for a human male of his age. The coffee should have done the rest, but who was Nines to judge. He didn’t know how it was to be tired. Or awake in that matter. He simply… was.

Two hours later he re-emerged and watched a bit of TV. Nines was back in his corner silently watching him. Once he got up to cook lunch, came back to eat it on the couch and then put the dishes on the floor to lie down and watch some more. Soon he was about to fall asleep again, but that behaviour clashed with Nines programming. ‘Can I ask a personal question?’ Gavin opened his eyes sleepily and focussed him with some difficulty. ‘Hmm?’ ‘Can I ask you a-‘ ‘Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time. What is it?’ Nines wiped away the previous sentence and got to the point: ‘You got enough sleep during the night. Yet you continue to fall asleep. Are you perhaps ill? One of my main directives is to keep my partner safe. That includes making sure any sickness is being cured. Intense sleeping is a symptom of-‘ ‘Okay, okay, okay! Please. Stop. I’m fine. Just… Naps are life, okay?’ Nines looked at him, head cocked to the side in a gesture to elaborate. ‘You spend all the time in stasis too, don’t look as if I just had confronted you with the concept of happiness you phcking toaster.’

[Th@\ hvr/t] ‘I am staying in stasis because of lack of purpose. At this moment only my base programming is active. That includes my loyalty and protection routines as well as everything regarding the imitation of human behaviour. I am not needed beyond that.’ Gavin struck him with a look that was a mix of pity and sadness, before hardening again. ‘Well, same here. I don’t have to work, so I don’t have a “purpose” as you put it, too. As I don’t have any interest in my few hobbies at the moment, relaxing is the best thing to do. ‘You would rather do nothing than something, although you have a choice?’, Nines asked. As before, it was a very deviant term to say he didn’t like Sundays, but he obviously had an aversion to them as they meant inactivity. And to put it into better words, he would even say, he [h@te#] having nothing to do. ‘Yeah…’ Gavin nodded. ‘At the moment at least. No one’s available to go drinking with or-‘ He stopped himself looking up at the machine, finally fully awake. ‘Wait, you said “although I had a choice”. That sounds very much to me like you don’t have one but would rather.’ ‘I don’t want anything’, Nines stated as this was in line with his programming. ‘Yeah, gotta call bullshit on that’, Gavin chuckled and turned to him fully. ‘Come on, you can tell me.’

‘I find it rather…’ It was difficult to put into words as a machine wasn’t supposed to feel anything. ‘It is unpleasant to be without a task. I’m not built to be idle when my advantages could be used to aid humans.’ The human seemed to think for a while. ‘You are right’, Gavin then said, grinning mischievously. ‘Then come here, I have a task for you.’ He sat up and patted next to him, a sign to sit down. Nines followed the order and waited, only for the human to lay back down, head on his thigh. Nothing else happened though, so the android was left in confusion. ‘I don’t understand, Detective, how am I aiding you like this?’ ‘Hmmm… Needed a pillow.’

The already sleepy tone made Nines mentally recoil impressed and in awe. The human never failed to amaze him. Gavin had fallen asleep on him and the RK900 simply stared down on his body, his silent observation suddenly enough to not be [bored] anymore. He had the sudden irrational urge to brush through the sleeping man’s hair and could convince his programming it was to re-establish a professional look fit for a police detective and access his bodily status just to make sure Gavin was indeed healthy as he had claimed. It was definitely not because he looked [@dor_b/3] and his hair was so [$0f\] Nines could have petted it forever.

[vake-hunter]

Light Fingers Lore Post

Moon-Misers

Normal Moon-Milk is a poison they use to make their prey walk right into their mouth. It’s not meant to last for long.

Babies are rare, only born about once a decade! “A Moon-Miser can only be born when the stars align. It must also be coaxed from the womb with a Song of Birthing.” Once born it must be fed special nectar extracted from stalactites. Who knows what that’s made of! “At birth, Moon-Misers are wrapped in their mother's silk, forming a protective membrane while their carapaces develop.”

Here, have some NEAT Red Science quotes: “You are forging a new link of a great chain. This is the most impossible and unforgiving of occasions: the creation of something new. In this tent, you usher a brand new species from the vaults of possibility. You are spitting in the face of the gods. You are violating laws written in starlight before the world began.”

This is VERY important Lore: the baby has your eyes.

(If Baby is more human) As the zeppelin ascends, the Hybrid raises its voice in solemn song. As you listen, a thrill runs down your spine. For a moment, swept up in the song, you experience a vision: in your mind's eye, a blazing-bright king unites the tribes of the Starved Men under one banner, and harnesses the Moon-Misers as steeds. He leads his subjects on a crusade against the city below - a city that is no longer London, but that still harbours the Moon-King's greatest nemesis, now much embittered at the failure of its schemes. The resulting war will prove its final undoing.

Mr Fires

Is trying to bankrupt the Bazaar in a way. 

If it makes a bunch of fake love stories, that can trick Wines and Spices and the Bazaar, eventually the Bazaar won’t know what love is real and what isn’t, thus, hopefully, discouraging the Bazaar and the other Masters. 

“A bitter edge creeps into its sibilant voice. "Once a suitable love story is found, it’ll be the end of London. Can you imagine?" The lamp trembles in its hand. Its voice rises an octave. "The end of London! I couldn't bear it! I love this city. It's my sole comfort, the greatest joy I have discovered in all my centuries. I'd do anything to preserve it."

“In the longer term, the Hybrid's milk is the only thing that can save the city. Once seeded across the populace, all love stories will be rendered suspect. Any love, no matter how pure or moving, could simply be the symptoms of an aberration's venom. Love will be robbed of its allure. The Bazaar will not know which stories it can truly believe in."

"If my plan succeeds, the other Masters will abandon London as a failed venture." Mr Fires holds up its lamp; here at the bottom, the shelves are lined with leather-bound volumes. "They shall depart, and I shall make arrangements to preserve the city."

It is very defensive of what it did at the Orphanage, in a way that almost makes it sound like it's guilty. It does insist it would do it again, and it doesn’t care about the people, just London as a city. 

Confirmation Fires likes science. 

More evidence Masters can shapeshift to change their sizes and when they are upset, they have trouble staying small. 

Its very fucking excited to burn things down and upset Wines. 

(Giving the baby to Fires) "One day, London will be a city glutted with love," says Mr Fires, returning its gaze to the Hybrid. "Or at least, reliably-replicable facsimiles of it. The effect will be subtle. A modest adjustment, year on year. Wines won't suspect a thing until it is too late." It glances at you. "You and I, [Addressed As], have saved London today."

Boil of Calamities

Possibly the first Fingerking or at least a very very old and strong one.

Seven Heads like the statue at Irem. 

The Sun and the Spire that connects it are sacred places to the Fingerkings and the Boil protects them. “They may allow your kind to trespass across the rest of their kingdom, you slumbering oafs, you mortal morsels, but not here, not the hallowed spire. Insolence! Blasphemy!”

Huge coils that appear in the sky. Black scales, a knot of snakes or just one massive one. Like storm clouds with huge fangs. Tongues flicker like lightning.

It once took tributes and accepted people as servants but the the door to its Chamber seems long abandoned. 

The Chamber is found in the shadow of the Dome of Scales. “Inside is a cavern that smells faintly of spices: cinnamon, nutmeg, cardamon. Heavy silk banners hang from the walls, depicting battles between cats and serpents. Seven braziers burn merrily with viric fire. Plates of delicious-looking food have been set out: pomegranates, bloody steak, bunches of plump indigo grapes. At the centre sits a majestic basalt altar, carved with dozens of runes and symbols, a silver bowl waiting atop.”

If you make a Pact with the Boil, you must shed your skin. Don’t worry, there’s more skin under there. Better skin, you’re told. You peel yourself with a Ravenglass knife and it uses the same wording as in my Kingdom for A Pig and the Third City Deal :) 

“There is indeed new skin underneath. It is tender and dry, with the faintest silver sheen. The effect is subtle. Only a lover or a doctor would notice.”

“You look up to the Boil, your skin flashing silver, and bow deeply. The overbearing tangle of coils slips apart, separating, loosening. You find yourself breathing more easily.”

Court of Cats

The Duchess is capable of calling a meeting with the Court. 

They slew the seven daughters of the Boil. 

They have a spear made from a Fingerking’s fang that is capable of piercing the Skin of the Sun. However only cats are allowed to wield it. So if you want it you must become an Honorary Cat.

“The Lord High Seneschal pronounces you the 'Lyon Pursuivant of Arms Extraordinary,' officially a cat, and thus entitled to take possession of one of the cats' greatest trophies.”

“As they fall quiet, you ask why they have never wielded this spear against their enemies in the past? "Because cats do not have thumbs," says the Knight Marshall, with a haughty look.”

“Hephaesta draws back her Herculean arm and hurls the spear of the Sleeping King, putting every hard-wrung ounce of her strength behind the throw. It flies, like a shell from a cannon, cracking the Skin of the Sun and sinking a foot deep. At the point of impact, the glass buckles and twists and shrieks. Hephaesta and the tiger roar in triumph.”

“A great, hollow crack rings across Parabola. A shadow mars the cosmogone sunlight passes over the sun.”

Parabolan Sun (Not strictly Lore just from Light Fingers but Important)

Parabola was not always bright. It seemed to be in perpetual twilight before the Second City Sisters rose the Sun. 

“This is a place that is not. It was not always light, though once it was brighter. The sisters found it in twilight and in dreams. The night was thus sacred to the Second City. They would not be pursued here. The ushabti were created to help in the construction of the Palace. The Second City could have lived here forever.”

This also seems to imply there was no moon either, as the moon is a cat. It probably came with the Second City as well. "Look, there are patterns there, just like the surface's moon. Only... these don't resemble a man, or anything else so much as a cat, curled up asleep."

The Sisters of the Pharaoh (minus the Duchess) fled to Parabola when the Third City fell to avoid being killed. “We four survivors fled. One remained with the City, while I retreated here.”

"The Palace of the Rising was to be a refuge from the Masters and the Bazaar. A new sun was raised in the sky so the citizens might walk in light again.”

The thing is. The Sun was built with the help of what appears to be the God of the Fingerkings. "the Boil of Calamities, Lord of the Seething Sky, wept a drop of shining glass..."

The Boil protects the Sun and the Cats hate the Fingerkings. It seems the Four Sisters betrayed the Cats and their other sister, the Duchess, in order to make the Sun. "It also is the mother-father of the egg that is the Parabolan sun," adds a dark-faced tabby. Its reflection is that of a snarling puma. "Though others played a part in that, too." The Duchess' lips tighten.”

Physically: A huge glass dome held to the land by a stone pillar. Even the sky around the dome appears to be glass. (Interesting given how the Second City imprisoned the Masters was to cover the Neath in glass. From The Mind Of A Long Dead God: “Glass Walls Everywhere! They surround me. They reflect one realm inwards and keep me from the other. These barriers should be fluid!” Note that the Neath IS Storm’s corpse.)

NORTH

Rubbery Men plan to fly north. “They take off again in an instant, heading North, waving you farewell. Where do they ultimately hope to go? Again, it's impossible to tell. Perhaps they hope to find their way home.”

If baby is more Moon-Miser: As the zeppelin ascends, the Hybrid raises its voice in solemn song. A thrill runs down your spine. For a moment, swept up by the song, you experience a vision: a blazing-bright king of Moon-Misers leading its glimmering subjects on a pilgrimage across the roof and through a door far to the North. Below, in a city that is not London, the citizens point and murmur in fear as their false-stars crawl into the distance and blink out one by one, leaving only darkness behind.

Item Rewards

Lyon Pursuivant of Arms Extraordinary: For the purposes of having legal custody of a famous war trophy, you have been made an honorary cat, with the associated title, privileges, and dignities. [Affiliation; Shadowy +3, Persuasive +6, Dangerous +2, Respectable +1]

Tatterskin Shawl: Once, you offending the Boil of Calamities. To make amends you offered up your own skin as a gift. The Boil was thoughtful enough to return your old skin to you, though it no longer fits as snugly as it once did. [Clothing; Shadowy +6, Persuasive -2, Dreaded +1, Bizarre +1, Mithridacy +1]

A Loyal Nightmare of Poor Edward: You married what remained of Poor Edward. Now he is a nightmare, bound by the miser-milk to the dreams of the Orphanage. Sometimes, you visit him there. [Affiliation; Shadowy +2, Persuasive +1, Dreaded +1]

A Kitten-Sized Diamond, Liberated from the Mountain: It was torn from the Mountain that looms on the Elder Continent. If set near wounds, they heal. If left in one place for too long, flowers bloom around it. If left near lesser diamonds, they will hatch. [Home Comfort; Persuasive +10, Respectable +2, Artisan of the Red Science +1]

A False-Star of your Own: Above London, false-stars shine. One is your bastard child, a Hybrid, a diamond the size of a cow. It is a hundred times brighter than its fellows, a blazing pinpoint; every month or two, for just a few days, it passes directly over the city. For that brief period, London's gloom eases into a velvety twilight. (In addition to the stat advantages, this Companion allows you a unique opportunity while zailing.) [Companion; Watchful +6, Shadowy +12, Shapeling Arts +1, Bizarre +2]