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pluvpluvpluv · 6 months ago

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Study Break

18+ || MDNI || Content Warnings: SMUT, characters aged up, established relationship, language, praise kink, thigh riding, lil bit of breeding kink, semi public sex I think that covers it all

Word Count: 1480 exactly

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

A/N: Happy Thirsty Thursday :) This was written in one sitting and not edited at all. I read through it once before going “yeah post it”

~~~

MC was ready for summer. Summer meant NEWTs were done and she could take a month or so off to celebrate and relax before diving headfirst into her next adventure. She had spent the last two summers under an apprenticeship with Fatima Lawang, making the trip from Feldcroft to Keenbridge every day to study and learn business from someone she truly looked up to. She would be opening a small apothecary in the hamlet she now called home. It was a wonderful location, since she knew Bernard really stuck to selling beast byproducts and plants. She wouldn’t be encroaching on his market, and she could also source ingredients from him. It was going to be, thankfully, a mutually beneficial existence.

She had moved to Feldcroft at the end of their fifth year. Sebastian had nowhere else to live over the summer months, she really had nowhere to live over that time, and neither wanted to be alone. So, when that first year had come to an end, she just followed him home. He had started courting her about halfway through that summer. She had accepted and they had practically lived together like a married couple ever since.

Before she could get to the summer and enjoy her newfound freedom with the love of her life, she had to pass the NEWTs. In order to get her apothecary license, she needed to score high in Potions and Herbology at the very least, but that wasn’t going to be enough for her. The reputation of saving the wizarding world at fifteen years old meant she was expected to do exceedingly well on all of her NEWTs, and she was determined to do so.

She had taken up residence in one of the more secluded corners of the library. It always ensured that MC wouldn’t have to share the table and she could have all of her books open and spread out. Only a select few people knew of where she hid out to study, which limited the interruptions. Except in the case of her boyfriend.

She didn’t know how long she had really been studying when Sebastian finally sat beside her. She didn’t even look up from rereading a paragraph she had already read ten times before. She still retained nothing.

“MC. Love, you missed lunch. I brought you some food.”

“Thanks Bash. I’ll eat it in a minute. I just need to understand what this page is saying.”

He set the plate down and moved the book.

“Considering it’s well past lunch and I didn’t even see you at breakfast, I think you can’t understand the page because you’re hungry. Eat and take a break.”

MC glared at him, debating whether or not it would be worth the argument since they were both the most stubborn person the other had met. That train of thought was interrupted by a rather loud growl as she was betrayed by her own stomach. She ate the food that he brought her without further complaint.

While she ate, Sebastian sat beside her and scanned over the tomes she had laid out on the table. She was paying more attention to him instead. The way that his eyebrows furrowed when he was focused on a paragraph in one of the books and the way his lips moved silently with the words. She focused on his hands as he turned the page and the way that the muscles in his exposed forearms flexed even with that small movement. She could feel herself growing hotter by the second, and it led to the realization that she and Sebastian hadn’t been intimate in nearly three weeks. It could’ve been a record, honestly. Even before he was courting her, after they took each other’s virginities that first summer in Feldcroft, they hardly went more than a couple days without going after each other. The joys of two students living with no chaperone.

“I can feel you staring holes in the side of my head, MC. Have you finished eating? Do you want me to read to you to see if that helps you understand the material better?”

The way he cared for her had also always been one of her favorite things. She had never been good at keeping herself in check, but Sebastian always did his best to make sure she didn’t overextend herself.

“I—uh it’s mostly gone. But I was thinking about something else.”

“Were you? Care to share with the class, darling?”

“I could use your help. Just in a different way.”

He looked at her curiously for a moment before it seemed he registered the look on her face and his expression grew more heated.

“Have you been thinking too much? Do you want to turn that brilliant brain off for a minute?”

His tone was condescending, and while it would normally agitate her when he spoke to her that way, this time it felt different. She nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving his own while a smirk grew on his face.

“Do you remember over the winter holiday, you told me about how one of the girls had talked about grinding on a pillow when she didn’t want to do things herself and I made you do it for me? We don’t have a pillow here, but I bet I could have you grinding on something else and feeling as good as you did that night. Come sit on my thigh, darling. We’ll see if you can ride me like you rode that pillow. Maybe you’ll make just as big a mess on me.”

As she settled in on his lap, she was grateful she had opted for a skirt instead of one of the few outfits she had with pants. The back of the skirt that draped over her boyfriend’s knee would hopefully help hide what they were doing if anyone were to stumble back and find them.

She gave an experimental roll of her hips, and she felt Sebastian’s thigh flex beneath her. MC let out a shaky exhale as she did it again. The thin fabric of her knickers and the coarse fabric of Sebastian’s quidditch pants provided the most delicious friction to her clit. Sebastian’s large hands settled on her hips beneath her skirt, the feel of his fingertips on her bare skin lighting her nerves on fire.

“Make sure you stay quiet. Don’t need anyone hearing how I’m helping you study,” his voice purred, the effect going straight to her core.

As she grew more confident, her pace picked up. Sebastian helped, tensing his thigh and slightly pushing her hips down when she rolled them to make sure that the bundle of nerves she was focused on didn’t go a second without feeling something.

“That’s it, darling. Use me. Grind that needy little cunt on my thigh.”

MC gasped softly, biting her lip as the familiar tension in her lower stomach began to build. She was able to keep her volume down, but she couldn’t keep herself from whining and whimpering completely.

“Bash. Oh gods. I-I’m~”

“Keep going, darling. I can feel how bad you need it. That pretty pussy is drooling through my trousers. You’re making such a mess for me, my good girl. Go on. Cum on my thigh. You can do it, honey.”

With his encouragement and permission, she felt herself giving into the pleasure as her orgasm hit. Her hips stuttered, but Sebastian kept her in rhythm. She registered his low moan too, her chest heaving as she started to come down from her high.

MC’s hand moved to where she assumed she’d find Sebastian’s bulge, hard and aching for the attention she wanted to give it. Instead, her hand landed on a warm, wet patch on the front of his trousers.

“Sebastian Sallow,” she spoke his name low and soft, her frazzled brain slowly putting the pieces together as she looked up at him. “You came in your pants. Untouched. Because of me?”

The boy’s freckled cheeks flooded with color as he blushed. Her normally suave boyfriend seemed embarrassed by this turn of events.

“I may have. You didn’t see yourself. Or hear yourself for that matter. I didn’t realize it was going to happen until it just…happened.”

“That is one of the hottest things you’ve ever done. If we can sneak down to the library floo flame without getting caught, we can make it to the ROR. And I can give you something else to cum in.”

He let out a dark chuckle, looking at her with blown pupils.

“You think this is a game, MC? Hmm? Merlin, I’m gonna get you so fucking pregnant.”

Her eyes widened, and she couldn’t stop the giggle that fell from her lips. She was still giddy as she pulled him down the stairs and towards the floo flame on the back wall.

Thank Merlin for study breaks.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x mc

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most-datable-datable-bracket · 7 months ago

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ROUND 5 MATCH 4

Derek propaganda:

“Extreme hot take but Derek is the best OL1 love interest. He has the best and sweetest confession in the game. You play video games together. He seems reserved until you actually start dating and find out that he's actually just a gentleman who didn't want to be overly forward with someone he's not in a relationship with. He's a family man. You get to blatantly abuse your 'dating' privileges in front of his brothers. He's just so insanely sweet and caring and makes me wanna cry whenever I play his DLC.”

“- Impossible to dislike

- No, like, literally impossible. OL1 will allow you to be indifferent to it's two other LIs, Cove and Baxter but you actually can't pick that option for Derek. Game decided that You Will Be (at least) Friends With Derek

- This boy is so good!!!! He's a sweetheart and has your back in the best way and he's constantly doing his best to make sure the people around him (especially you) are happy

- This is also a complex flaw of his because he feels like he needs to be the best that he can be and to be worth something

- This both manifests in how he treats others (he's exceedingly well-mannered and does everything for others because he secretly hopes that someday someone will do the same for him) and his career prospects (he takes on excessive practice to get good at football/soccer so that he can potentially get a scholarship and become famous all so he can potenially feel like he's worth something. This is actually a major conflict in his Step 4)

- His DLC also has some of the best moments in the game

- He also has a family and they're also really good and you get to see a lot of them

- His dad is hilarious, his mom is gorgeous and their relationship is very cute

- Meanwhile, Derek's brothers are great. I wanna gush about them because I love them but also play Derek's DLC yourself!!! See how good they are for yourself!!!!

- I will say that these three have a really good relationship dynamic and the development it takes in the 10 years between when you first meet Jorge and Nico as little kids to Step 4 where they're adults (and a teenager, Nico is 16 in Step 4) is genuinely very well written

- If you're into the steamy stuff, Derek also has the best make-out session out of all of the boys

- He's also just. Very funny. This boy will invite you to a waterpark and then ask you if its a date so he knows whether or not it's ok to check you out in your swimsuit

- Or, if you aren't dating by that point (but you do want to to date him), the narration will note how he's trying so so hard not to check you out, he's just trying so so so hard

- Puppy dog face. Look at it. Tell me you can look at that face and not want to smooch him

- His confession is also the best, did I mention it's the best? Because it's absolutely the best one in the entire game

- He has a whole thing about having to confess to you on a ferris wheel and he's so committed to it that he actually avoided ferris wheels for a long time before this confession because he promised himself he'd do it the next time he went on one

- And then he went on one...and he literally doesn't confess when he does it because he lost track of time and he had to get off

- so he asks you to go on the ferris wheel with him again so he can actually confess this time

Just. Just vote for him!!!!”

“He's sweet, polite, and out-going and is always willing to put you first (sometimes too willing).”

“polite responsible jock u r NOT immune to this”

Asra propaganda:

“He GIVES AWAY HALF HIS HEART TO REVIVE YOU okay but like. He's the MCs roommate and they were together for a few years before the MC caught a plague and died and he obsesses over a way to bring them back before succeeding by making a deal with a god to trade half his heart for MC and betraying the emperor. And then when MC comes back but without any of their memories, he takes care of them and teaches them how to live all over again and he never asks for anything in return. On all the routes where you don't choose him he's really supportive and helps you out despite your history and overall he's just really nice and supportive of the MC and is their rock no matter what route you go down. Also he has a pet snake named Faust and I love her she's so <33

Idk I just appreciate him so much”

"He gave you half his HEART!! He would literally go to hell and back for you!! He wants to take you on adventures all around the world—doesn’t matter where, as long as he’s by your side!! AND he’s nonbinary!!!"

#Derek Suarez #Our Life #our life: beginnings & always #OLBA #Asra Alnazar #The Arcana #The Arcana Game #Round 5 #MDDC 2

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kewpikayo · 21 days ago

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Hi guys!! Happy Halloween to you all!! I am so excited to have been a part of this event! I have literally had a blast writing for this and getting to make friends with everyone involved. Just to hold witness to their skill, drive and dedication to their chosen craft is breathtaking and I count myself honored to know such moving, beautiful people. I am thankful, from the bottom of my heart, for you all and I can't wait to binge read every single one of your fics and feast upon every art piece made! I dedicate this first chapter to the lovely @dewdropdinosaur, the amazing @xalygatorx, and the magnificent @chefskjssart. I also want to mention all of the lovely people I have met due to this event and everyone from the Helluva Watchparty server! Thank you so very much @fraugwinska and @macabr3-barbi3 for coming up with and hosting this event!! Also a HUGE shout out to @fraugwinska for creating my banner for my story and for creating the gorgeous poster for the event!!! You are amazing~! With that being said, I do hope you all enjoy the story! You're in for a ride for a couple of chapters haha. Have fun and stay tuned~! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Your at Chapter 1: Team Player: WC: 4,077

Chapter 2: Left Hanging

Chapter 3: Burning Alive

Summery: Two strangers, good with their hands, one with machines and the other with knives, are desperate to escape the Entity's grasp. You need Alastor more than he thinks he needs you. When you propose a deal, however, it is an opportunity the radio host can't seem to pass up. Maybe with a promising partnership, the two of you might just make it out of the trial alive. Only time will tell if teaming up will have been a useful endeavor... Or not at all...

"Partners...?" Human Alastor x reader

Warnings & Tags: Reader is a survivor, no use of Y/N, Reader has a nickname, Alastor is a little shit, Asexual Alastor, Violence, Blood and Violence, Injury. minor character death.

Improvisation was a necessary skill and was considered, by the general public, a practiced talent that so few possessed; let alone could master. For a radio host, it was a skill that was often expected and anticipated. Having the ability to breeze through topics of discussion and flight of the audience’s fancy with simplicity and ease was envied.

To be expected, it was an ability that Alastor was exceedingly proficient in. However, he was never one to appreciate improvising with the absence of his favorite tinkering tools…

With great irritation and a brief, sharp snap of bone, Alastor’s second target that evening had become his most recent victim; the body lifeless within seconds of his bold hands clutching around the poor brute’s throat. As dust returns to dust, so too did the corpse of his target fall limp; greeting the mud below with a dense, subdued thud.

Never before had he been so disappointed in acquiring a kill in all of his existence.

It was honestly such a bore, and terribly anticlimactic in nature, that it had the demon yawning. Barely any exertion was needed on his part as he dropped down on one knee and pilfered around the belongings of the newly deceased. With a sigh he noted the absence of blood his kill had presented him with an ample amount of dismay. The pitiful fight his victim had given him was easily comparable to the emptiness of the broken vessel’s pockets: sad, sparse and leaving much to be desired. Such a waste.

What a forgettable experience…

Finding no object of his desires within the austere expanse of the other male’s personal inventory; Alastor resumed his previous posture and continued his merry way through the muck dredging up underneath his hunter’s boots.

At least this strange place, the darkest marsh he had ever had the privilege to traverse, had allowed him the luxury of supplying him with comfortable, familiar footwear. The kind Alastor wore in life, that is. The custom red and black oxfords he usually sported would do him no good in these wet conditions.

Interested in procuring a blade for himself, Alastor carried on with his measly hunt. His cream colored shirt sleeves were rolled up pristinely to his elbows to fight the humidity in the air. His tan skin was the only part of his body covered in nakedness.

The radio host proudly, but cautiously stalked amongst the cat tails, fluff from the plants clinging to his jeans. Complaints and curses alike were softly hissed beneath the confines of his practiced grin as he wiped sweat from his brow. He peeled the plant based affections from his clothing; tremendously irritated that his search so far had not been fruitful.

As Alastor sauntered forward, the occasional chirping of crickets and birdsong died away; producing an extreme sense of urgency into his bloodstream. The feeling clawed its way up his spine, delicate shivers dancing on his dark skin; but for the life of him he could not understand why.

However, he received his answer for the foreign feeling upon hearing a chorus of feminine terror. The continued abrasive treatment of his low vocal range and vocabulary immediately ceased at the sound. The echoes on the wind brought the sweet melody to him; music that was slowly drowned out by curses and shouts of the resistant sort.

Making his way towards the source of the cadence he enjoyed, Alastor was met with quite the sight. A cloaked fellow with a peculiar mask had a scrawny looking female hung from his shoulder; fighting every second she was in the other individual's grasp.

The voice belonging to you, a captive little lady, bloomed into yet another tantalizing scream as you were lifted up and placed onto a hook like contraption. Metal violently tore into flesh, ripping sinews and muscles apart to conform to the shape of your body as you were left to dangle helplessly. Crimson torrentially dripped from your fresh wound amidst panicked cries.

The fresh blood produced by your harrowing experience awoke the tell-tale signs of Alastor’s hunger, his growling stomach sharpening his senses to the utmost degree.

Of course, now was not the time to be thinking of breakfast. Curse his human guise and its continuous need for sustenance…

Alas, although very much entertaining, the show given to him was not what had insnared his focus. Surprisingly, the reflection of the blade held within Alastor’s target’s grasp had him pleasantly distracted. His mind ran in circles, plotting to procure the tool the other was using for himself.

Noticing your screams had silenced themselves to nothing but faded, pained whimpers; you had finally managed to acknowledge his presence amongst the cattails and behind miscellaneous boxes and crates.

He put a finger to his upturned lips in silence as his eyes bore holes into your skull with just his stare alone; willing you to cease your current noisiness. He was pleased when you returned his gesture with a subtle, inconspicuous nod and looked down, feigning defeat. Good. You and your sweet, but damnable, chirping would not spoil his fun. With certainty, he would not allow his hunt to be ruined.

With meticulous effort, Alastor’s stealth was successful as his hands made purchase around his victim’s throat once his prize was within reach. In a graceful, dramatic flourish to show off for his lovely audience, the individual’s neck was snapped in twain before much of a fight could be had. The fool was ignorant of his demise as the cloaked, masked killer slumped to the earth, lifeless and growing cold. The poor bastard didn’t know what hit him.

After his show was finished and a third kill was acquired that evening, Alastor kneeled down to inspect the object of his covetous obsession.

The blade he had desired ever since waking up on that deserted, modern steamboat was finally within his careful grasp; dripping fresh scarlet into his palm as he inspected it closer. No doubt the liquid belonged to you, the lovely lady of the hour he ignored, who still dangled precariously from the iron hook above his head.

Alastor continued his efforts in silence, standing to his usual impeccable posture as he cleaned the pilfered knife on his jeans. He brushed the blade against his trousers until it gleamed brightly under the nearest lanterns hanging from the power lines overhead. It was still terribly dark to be considered mid-morning; but at least the faint mist from the swamp gathering around his ankles was able to provide ample cover.

Seeking to return to the shadows, Alastor secured the blade in its sheath along his belt before taking a few steps away. His attempts were met with quite a bit of resistance. An incredulous sigh left you only to be followed by grumbles of frustration.

“Um…Hello? Still very, very stuck here…I, um…I could use a little help…”

Right. You were still present.

Alastor paused to turn his head and peer at you over his shoulder. Despite his permanent grin, the look he granted you was one of absolute disinterest. He calmly observed you, making no attempt to retrieve you from your painful perch.

The two of you continued your tacit stare down until you shook your head and looked away. With an irritated huff, you spoke through gritted teeth as you immediately rescinded your request for assistance

“You know what? Fuck you…I’ll just do it myself…”

Alastor turns to face you fully as he folded his arms, intrigued by the colorful vernacular you decided to spat his way. Rude as you were, it was rather interesting to watch you fumble around on that hook. It was very much akin to a caught fish longing for the relief the river could provide.

A surplus of other vibrant curses and varied complaints tumbled from your lips as you reached up to grasp the hook. You paused to catch your breath; your teeth gritted in preparation for the agony to follow.

With zero amount of finesse and a great deal of clamor in your voice, you proceeded with your attempts in dislodging the hook from your shoulder.

However interesting and delicious the bloody spectacle was, it was painful to watch. It was terribly irritating to see how many times you struggled. Several minutes passed by before you managed to successfully set yourself free with a deafening yelp and an unharmonious fumble. Blood painted the wet earth deep maroon in your burdensome descent.

“So… Do you actually ever…Y’know… Help anybody? Or do you just…’Tend to ignore everyone who addresses you?”

Breathless and struggling to take in air, you were hunched over on your knees. You hadn’t moved from where you had fallen as you looked up at him with exhaustion and a furrow of your brow. Your free hand clutched to the gaping, bleeding wound in your shoulder.

What a sight. Still, your defiant tone was something he didn’t appreciate.

The radio host adjusted his red suspenders that had fallen from his shoulders as he looked over to you. His grin was a sneer as his subtle dark curls obscured one of his amber eyes. Would he even attempt to humor you with a response or rebuttal?

…Perhaps this once.

“…Only if it’s worth my time.”

Alastor watched as you instantly became mute, obviously processing the offense his words supplied you. Your nose scrunched up in frustration as you chewed the inside of your cheek. You reached for your forgotten, dingy baseball cap on the ground and donned it with a huff. There was a pause before any more words greeted him.

“Well, my life, as well as what I have to say, is certainly worth more than a few measly minutes of your time… I have a plan that you might be the type to appreciate. That is if you can manage to pull your head out of your ass long enough to actually listen…! ”

Alastor’s eye twitched. Who did you think you were to address him with such hostility? Where did you get the audacity? Hadn’t he saved you enough from nearly being killed regardless? The thought only made Alastor’s blood boil. He gripped the blade in his grasp tighter. Such an ungrateful little soul…

“…I think I shall be the judge of that.”

The magnitude of his sneer was heightened as the radio host regarded you. An incredulous chuckle escaped the confines of his strained smile.

“Besides, why would I ever wish to associate with a rude little hussy such as yourself, hm? You’ve already proved to be quite the nuisance, especially with your failed attempts at escaping harm's way. Anything you are willing to offer me I might as well do myself. At least then I’ll be guaranteed a sufficient chance of succeeding… ”

Surprisingly, his statement was met with a defeated sigh, your head hanging to the side in an attempt at composure. With your spiteful countenance before, he didn’t think you would give in so easily. Perhaps your words were a means of deception, proving yourself braver than you truly were. What remained in front of him was the lingering, fighting spirit of a terrified, broken girl.

Interesting.

“Shit…look. I’m not…I’m not good with apologies…and I’m sorry I cursed at you…So I guess… un-fuck you or whatever…? Also, I guess you do have a right to be an asshole…You don’t know me or owe me nothin’…”

When he didn’t give you the satisfaction of seeing his expression change, you sighed yet again.

“…And I realize that a lot of tha time my mouth moves before my brain... But I promise…You're gonna want to hear my offer…”

With desperation drenching your features, you tilted your head in a last attempt to get into Alastor’s good graces as you gestured towards his knife.

“...Just with seein’ ya hold that blade, I assume y’know your way around a weapon like that…And ya look like you're good with your hands. Well, I’m pretty good with mine too, so… We can, y’know… Work together to make it outta here..? Maybe…?”

So far, your attempts at persuasion were failing epically, but he would continue to listen to whatever useless drivel that fell from your maw. He always did love a good show, and the expression you were making both intrigued him and bettered his mood.

“...That is, uh…That is what ya want, right? To go home?”

A quick, dry laugh escaped Alastor’s strained smile as he admired the way your face fell at the sound.

The only home he ever truly desired would be in the arms of a soul far out of his reach. His mother would not be found anywhere near his usual place of inhabitance. It was a moot point to ponder. There was no undoing what had been done…What he wanted he would not be able to obtain, nor was it something you could provide.

Alastor was right to ignore you before. Your words were meaningless and a waste of his time.

With no other response from him, an exasperated sigh left you.

“Look, I’m gonna level with you…The only other way outta here is by takin’ a permanent dirt nap and I, well.. I don’t plan on dyin’ today and I assume you feel the same…Sooo teamwork’s our best bet…”

Alastor tilted his head in curiosity. However trifling you were, he thought it perdinant to at least hear you out. He was being overly gracious, and if yet another phrase that displeased him came from your mouth you were as good as dead. Despite his smile’s presentation of interest, there was a deadly edge at the end of his next utterance.

“…What do you propose?”

“Well…I’m good with wires. My old man was a mechanic, so I got a lotta practice growin’ up…I digress, but it’s kinda hard to fix generators if I keep gettin’ attacked or hooked…”

Grunting, you willed yourself to a standing position, dusting off excess dirt from your mud soaked jeans.

“...So what I’d need from you is the assurance you’ll keep everyone away from me so I can fix at least five of those gen’s. We ain’t gettin’ nowhere without them workin’ properly…”

Once again clutching your injured shoulder, you winced as you made your way over to where the demon stood. Your anguish was audible, enough to make Alastor’s mouth water despite his current dissatisfaction with your presence. He took a step back from you. You had gotten too close for his liking.

“I think we could be useful to one another..And after tonight you can rest assured you won’t have to deal with me no more…But until then, if you can just, y’know…Do what you did before with Ghostface and pick off the others, then we may actually have a shot at makin’ it outta this shit hole alive…”

You hold out your hand; a brighter, hopeful expression present under the blood and grime attuned to your visage.

“So? We got a deal, or whatever? Scratch my back and I scratch yours?”

Your gesture was met with amber eyes being narrowed as Alastor looked down at your bloody offered hand. He was quite within his rights to deny your request and be on his merry way. If he was of a better mind, Alastor might have already left you in the dust.

Still, he pondered more on your words as thoughts of freedom flooded his mind’s eye. You stated the impossibility of liberty without fixing five of the machines that were no doubt spread across the premises, so repairs were necessary. He was used to such when it came to his line of work, making his radios function like new or maintaining the upkeep of his other preferred equipment.

Still, by the appearance of your denim jacket and ripped jeans, he surmised he had found himself in the middle of the modern era; which could only insinuate that modern technology had a hand in creating the essential items of escape. Alastor stifled a growl. Of course machinations resemblant of his arch nemesis would have a play in his supposed capture. The thought was infuriating and made his skin crawl with hatred and disgust.

Alastor had absolutely no interest in operating or learning to associate with such devices. Loathe as he was to say it, he would have to permit your continued presence. At least until freedom was achieved.

Vexing as you were, perhaps you would prove yourself useful as the night went on. Perhaps your assistance would prove an ample enough apology for the offense your prior verbiage caused.

“Usually, I’m not one to appreciate company in my efforts. I prefer working solo, but…”

The radio host’s eyes narrowed as he bit his tongue. The shameful lowering of his pride to admit you were needed sent an unpleasant taste to the back of his pallet. The feeling made him immediately want to throw up.

“...You do have a point. Fine…I shall aid you if only for the sake of escape…”

The moments between his words and your own fueled more interesting unspoken prospects. Though sensical and practical, it was rather curious that you requested him to kill the others. It was a task he had no qualms with, but having another acknowledge his prowess with his chosen craft elevated his ego. Begrudgingly enough, your plan was brilliant and would surely succeed if he was the one behind the task.

He hoped his little slaughter spree, now that his weapon of choice was acquired, would go smoothly and supply an efficient means of entertainment that evening…

“So… Whatdya say? Ya wanna make this official, then?...Partners?”

You gesticulated your offered hand in earnest, eager to ascertain some sort of plan for escape. Alastor quirked a brow. You must be desperate for protection if you felt the need to acquire an agreement of such without asking for the name of the fellow you were doing business with. Perhaps you just weren’t the type for much small talk, however necessary the information. Still, it was a hilarious oversight on your part. He would fix it. Promptly.

“My, you certainly are an eager beaver…But you aren’t going to ask for the name of the gentleman you are conducting negotiations with? Quite the questionable set of business practices you have there, doll…”

You rolled your eyes as you struggled to bring your other hand to prop up the elbow of the arm remaining outstretched, your shoulder exhibiting its horrendously mangled and deformed shape in your efforts. It was as if you had been to the nearest butcher and had requested to be placed on the chopping block.

“What's your name, then?”

“Why, I’m so glad you asked! The name’s Alastor. It is a real pleasure to be meeting you.”

“Yeah. Nice to meet you too, I guess…Now can we shake on it? My arm’s gettin’ tired.”

Alastor chuckled. You were certainly such a feisty little lady. Quite the character, indeed.

At least you weren’t boring.

“I suppose you have a deal then. Partner’s it is…I can’t wait to become a team player, my dear…”

Leaning down to meet your short stature, Alastor kept his impeccable posture as he bent at the waist. Lifting his hand, he teasingly flicked your baseball cap down over your eyes with a chuckle before offering you a dark gloved hand.

You moved your hand up to lift your cap, revealing the grumpy furrow of your brows as you accepted the other’s extended palm. He could hear the audible annoyance in your voice, the sound reverting to a low grumble. It was very much resemblant of the incessantly adorable noises alleycats would make. While alive, his mother insisted on feeding the disgruntled beasts, assuring more of their presence outside of their townhouse.

The two of you participated in a single, firm shake before wordlessly parting. When you glanced down to search for something within the confines of your pocket, he takes the chance to wipe whatever remained of your blood off of his glove and onto his button up, painting the cream fabric a bright crimson.

“I suppose, however, if we plan to continue with business, might I also have the pleasure of your name? It would be beneficial to know who I am referring to should you feel the need to scream that you require further assistance…”

Unfolding a piece of rolled up parchment, you spared him but a glance as your hands made light work of their task. In your hands rested a ripped, dusty map. It looked as if it had weathered far worse conditions, but had somehow still remained intact.

“…Scout. It’s not my name, but it's what my folks call me the majority of the time. Feel free to call me that too, I guess…”

Alastor made a mental note of the interesting nickname and pondered how it was acquired while he watched you peer back down at the damaged paper in your hands. Your bloody index finger pointed at a location.

“It says here that we’re in “Blackwater Swamp”. Huh…The name’s just as bleak as the location…figures. Anyways, uhh… There's supposed to be a big boat, The Pale Rose…? Down that way…? That's where I, and most likely you, woke up…”

Glancing back up at your partner, you pointed in the opposite direction from where the two of you were facing as you jostled the map in your hands to smooth out the curling parchment. The sound your actions caused had you glancing up and over your shoulder in apprehension.

Silly thing. There was no need for you to worry for your protection as long as he was in your vicinity. You had made a bargain, after all, and Alastor always completed his end of a deal one way or another. You were safe.

For now.

Finally feeling more relieved there was no active threat nearby, you glanced back down at the map.

“And, if I'm readin’ this right, this map also shows where all the generators are and also the exit…Yeah, right here. Have a look.”

Pointing at the intended spot, you double tapped the page before looking up at your colleague in crime and turning the map around so that he could have a gander.

“Interesting. Who knew you had such a useful commodity in your possession. Where did you find such a thing?”

“It was just in a random box I opened when I woke up. There’s tons of that kinda shit around here. Just gotta look…”

Turning the page back to face you, you observed the guide in your hands more intently than before; speaking with assurance of the plan forming in your mind.

“Once we’re both done with our respective jobs, we’ll meet back up at the exit and get the hell outta here. Sound good?”

The demon stood back up to his usual height as he gifted you a genuinely amused expression. With the promise of his assistance, you were certainly set in your ideals that you would make it through the night.

Alastor’s wicked grin grew in delicious splendor. How unfortunate it would be if that wasn’t the case…

“It seems we have a plan in place…”

“Yeah. Looks like it.”

Wrapping up the map and shoving it into your back pants pocket, you looked over your non injuried shoulder to address him with an urgentness in your tone, the sound intreating him to listen intently.

“Well, we best get started. Stay safe out there…Don’t do anything stupid and try not to die…Alright?”

A chuckle rumbled in the radio host’s throat at the concern igniting your expression. You were worried? For him? How absurd and endearing a spectacle.

So the radio host was right. Your crude and classless persona was indeed the facade of a frightened girl. You should’ve been more concerned with yourself considering your current situation. Already you were sufficiently injured and still profusely bleeding beautiful shades of scarlet.

Alastor was certain you wouldn’t last the night. Not without his assistance.

“Oh, I can assure you that won’t be a problem; but you do the same…”

Pleased with his reply, you silently nodded as you did your best to cautiously duck and hobble behind the surplus of plywood from the deserted paddle steamer nearby. Your free hand graced the splintery surface of a broken pallet for support as you stepped over a plethora of weeds.

Just the pitiful sight of you retreating had the curvature of Alastor’s lips upturned. Things had indeed proved to be rather intriguing…

#hookedonhazbin2024 #hazbin hotel #hazbin halloween #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #Dead by daylight crossover #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Hope you guys have fun #See you in Chapter 2~!

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pluviowriting · 6 months ago

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Study Break

18+ || MDNI || Content Warnings: SMUT, characters aged up, established relationship, language, praise kink, thigh riding, lil bit of breeding kink, semi public sex I think that covers it all

Word Count: 1480 exactly

Repost from original blog @/pluvpluvpluv

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

A/N: Happy Thirsty Thursday :) This was written in one sitting and not edited at all. I read through it once before going “yeah post it”

Part Two Here

“MC. Love, you missed lunch. I brought you some food.”

“Thanks Bash. I’ll eat it in a minute. I just need to understand what this page is saying.”

He set the plate down and moved the book.

“Considering it’s well past lunch and I didn’t even see you at breakfast, I think you can’t understand the page because you’re hungry. Eat and take a break.”

“I can feel you staring holes in the side of my head, MC. Have you finished eating? Do you want me to read to you to see if that helps you understand the material better?”

“I—uh it’s mostly gone. But I was thinking about something else.”

“Were you? Care to share with the class, darling?”

“I could use your help. Just in a different way.”

He looked at her curiously for a moment before it seemed he registered the look on her face and his expression grew more heated.

“Have you been thinking too much? Do you want to turn that brilliant brain off for a minute?”

“Make sure you stay quiet. Don’t need anyone hearing how I’m helping you study,” his voice purred, the effect going straight to her core.

“That’s it, darling. Use me. Grind that needy little cunt on my thigh.”

“Bash. Oh gods. I-I’m~”

“Sebastian Sallow,” she spoke his name low and soft, her frazzled brain slowly putting the pieces together as she looked up at him. “You came in your pants. Untouched. Because of me?”

The boy’s freckled cheeks flooded with color as he blushed. Her normally suave boyfriend seemed embarrassed by this turn of events.

“I may have. You didn’t see yourself. Or hear yourself for that matter. I didn’t realize it was going to happen until it just…happened.”

He let out a dark chuckle, looking at her with blown pupils.

“You think this is a game, MC? Hmm? Merlin, I’m gonna get you so fucking pregnant.”

Her eyes widened, and she couldn’t stop the giggle that fell from her lips. She was still giddy as she pulled him down the stairs and towards the floo flame on the back wall.

Thank Merlin for study breaks.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #Sebastian sallow smut #Sebastian sallow x mc #Sebastian x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #Sebastian sallow fic

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lilflowerpot · 7 months ago

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Heyyy I hope your doing well and I hope your resting and not wasting all your free time answering these! Don't forget to drink alot of water and sleep at least 6 hours night. I just wanted to know your thoughts on how Lotor would react to being at the garrison. Meeting his last bullies, classmates, least favourite teachers and so on. How would he respond to both them and Keith. Would he show him off more or something like that? Again rest plenty and only answer when you feel like it.

@stinkyexhaust: So if Lotor were to find out about how much of a prick James was to Keith, how do you think he would react? I mean I don't hate James in fact I think he honestly could have had way more screentime to showcase more of his personality and backstory, especially in regards to Keith.

Honey if I only got six hours a night I would be the living dead, but this is very sweet of you nonetheless ♡

I've been asked something of a similar vein once before, as well as the Garrison's reaction to Keith's relationship with Lotor, and I'll repeat now what I said then: it's an important thread of the keitor dynamic (to me at least) that Keith & Lotor strengthen one another by allowing for personal growth beyond simply fighting on their partner’s behalf. So while Lotor mightn't be fond of certain figures from Keith's past—particularly given the little he learnt in chapter 24 about Iverson's handling of the Kerberos fallout—he knows and respects that Keith is more than capable of fighting his own battles, and wouldn't want to interfere with that (something something, galra sense of honour, you get it).

...All that being said, would our favourite prince be practically chomping at the bit to let it be known that he is the man who gets to stand beside Keith Kogane, Blade of Marmora, Paladin of Voltron, and Love of his Life? Yes. yes he would.

With regard to James specifically, it is my personal reading of his relationship with Keith that it was a very poorly handled mutual crush, and yet it was this very antagonism between them that pinged the galra part of Keith's brain in all the right ways. The altercation canon showed us in s7ep01 (which, despite LB being canon-divergent post s4, does in fact remain canon within my narrative bc I actually thought every insight we were given into James & Keith's past was impeccable) wherein James insulted Keith's parents, was a classic case of projection on his part; James strikes me as a privileged kid whose family expected nothing less than perfection—for him to be the best of the best at everything at all times—so I think that effortlessly-exceptional Keith getting the group into trouble simply because he was bored led to an exceedingly cruel comment,,, but I don't believe James actually knew Keith was an orphan when he said what he said.

Naturally, Keith (and we as the viewers with full knowledge of his backstory) assumes James intended to end that taunt with "before they died / abandoned you" but I'm not convinced. James could have just as easily been about to say "before they shipped you off to the military / halfway across the state / out of sight and mind" which I think is exactly what happened to him, leaving him understandably hurt, bitter, and desperate to prove himself. So yes, James—as a volatile teenager with abandonment issues, and oh look, who does that remind you of—fucked up, and payed the price of Keith's fist in his face; ultimately though, I think of Keith as having long since moved past it, and if he doesn't hold a grudge against Griffin, then why would Lotor? Particularly when, by galra standards, that specific instance was been resolved through rite of combat, and the rest of their relationship was, to an Imperial eye, just normal teenage brawling ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#let 👏🏻 lotor 👏🏻 show 👏🏻 off 👏🏻 his 👏🏻 man 👏🏻#Ao3 Little Blade #sa screams back #galaxy garrison crew #prince lotor #keith kogane #keitor

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your3fundamentaltruths · 7 months ago

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2 Years of turn around, bright eyes!

Thank you SO much to everyone who has read, commented on, and otherwise engaged with turn around, bright eyes! It has been quite the ride to plot out and write and I've loved hearing your thoughts and theories and been made to blush by your exceedingly kind words. Thank you for sticking with me!

Since I did not get a new chapter ready in time for the actual anniversary date on April 15th, I'm dropping a flashback from an upcoming chapter.

Without further ado . . .

He is eight when baby Colin’s arrival on a blustery January morning makes him an eldest – rather than merely elder – brother.

The last night it would only be they two Bridgerton boys, Benedict sneaks into his room and stays through the night. They sleep top and tail, fitfully, until tiredness overtakes even their unease at hearing their mother’s cries of pain as she struggles to bring their new sibling into the world.

Early the next morning, as the light of dawn begins to peek through his curtains, Anthony awakens to find their father hovering over his bed, a bundle of blankets in his arms that cannot be anything other than the new baby.

“Good morning, Anthony,” says Papa in a scratchy voice as Benedict slowly stirs to wakefulness.

“Morning,” he mumbles. “May I see?”

“Once Benedict budges up, I’ll sit.”

He kicks his younger brother in the shin, which wakes him up properly.

Benedict scowls at him, but he mirrors his stance, sitting up to make room for Papa and –

“This is your brother,” Papa says softly once he’s settled down between them, the baby cradled gently in his arms. “Colin.”

Two children whose names start with A for the elder and B for the younger might be a coincidence; choosing a name beginning with C for the third officially makes it a pattern. Nose crinkling, he tilts his head in question.

Papa grins. “Your mama insisted.”

“Mm,” he murmurs noncommittally. He would never dream of criticizing Mama, but it’s really rather silly. Oh well. He looks more closely at his new brother.

He isn’t sure what he expected, precisely, but the baby looks . . . like a baby, with chubby pink cheeks and a little fuzz of indeterminate color on his head.

Papa laughs when he makes that observation aloud. “He’ll grow into himself eventually and we’ll get to know him and his personality properly. Give it some time.”

“His eyes are like mine,” Benedict says smugly when their new brother blinks open his eyes for a few moments.

He frowns; Benedict isn’t quite right (the baby’s eyes are a much darker shade of blue) but they are blue, so he is – and it seems will continue to be – the odd one out with his dark, dark eyes. “No, they’re not –”

“Either way, they might well change,” Father interrupts, well-practiced at defusing their disputes. “Babies’ eyes often do.”

(Colin’s will not. They stay the same dark blue he entered the world with, the same dark blue with which Eloise, Francesca, and eventually Hyacinth will all be born – their mother’s dark blue.

Only when Gregory comes along will one of his younger siblings finally share his eye color.)

Papa clears his throat. “You are both big brothers now. That is a very serious thing. You will need to teach him everything you know and guide him so that he grows to be a good, kind boy as I try to teach you to be.”

He and Benedict exchange solemn looks, their fingers ghosting over the edge of the blanket and not quite touching their baby brother’s tiny fingers; they can sense at least some of the import of Papa’s statement based on his tone, before turning to Papa and nodding seriously.

“We will,” he says fiercely – if quietly, so as not to startle baby Colin, who startles him by wrapping his little fist around his index finger.

And stealing his heart.

For as long as he can remember, Benedict has been his best friend and his partner in crime, but he knows in that moment that Colin will be something entirely different.

(He does not know then that it will be Colin with whom he makes nearly all his worst mistakes as a brother.)

#bridgerton #bridgerton fic #colin bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #edmund bridgerton #turn around bright eyes #my fic

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sorinethemastermind · 2 months ago

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Shared Memories

In which Corvus helps Soren reconcile his memories of his father, and they make a horrifying discovery. #Sorvus

Corvus hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He’d been convinced that, if he did, he would awaken to an empty spot on the ground beside him. At best, Soren would be out in the camp helping Opeli or one of the other guards. At worst, he’d have set out in an attempt to single handedly slay the dragon that had destroyed Katolis. Corvus thought that the latter was improbable, but knowing Soren, not out of the question. His boyfriend could be rather stupid at times.

His boyfriend.

Corvus didn’t know that a single word could make you both smile and grimace at the same time. Apparently it could also make you incredibly, exceedingly, enormously, worried.

The spot next to him on the ground was, in fact, empty. But he would never know whether Soren was about to set out on a stupidly dangerous and self-assigned quest or was simply going to get a drink of water, for he had yet to exit the tent.

“Oh, uh, Corvus. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Soren said, his smile wide and guilty.

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Corvus replied, sitting up as much as he could under the low canvas roof. “But luckily you did.”

“Is my absence already so unbearable?” he asked, but Corvus wasn’t about to let him get out of trouble that easily.

“No. You’re just very bad at sneaking. Especially in full armor.” At least, that was what he assumed had awoken him. Given that Soren’s every movement sounded like someone clanging pots and pans together. “Are you going to tell me where you’re going?”

Soren looked back out of the tent, the flap still held open in one hand. There was a long pause, and Corvus was beginning to wonder if he really had planned to go after the dragon - what else would he have known Corvus would disapprove of so much? - when Soren turned back to him, expression unreadable, voice low and serious.

“I need to show you something.”

Corvus didn’t ask, he simply followed his friend into the dark night. It wasn’t often that he got to see past Soren’s wide smiles and charming - infuriating? - humor. So when he did, he listened.

Soren led him away from the camp, sticking to the shadows until they were well out of sight. Neither of them said anything as they trekked through the quiet darkness; the only sound the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. Until Corvus saw it through the trees and let out a small, involuntary gasp.

He and King Ezran had gone right to where they knew the encampment was, and this was the closest he had been to the wreckage. The roofs of most of the buildings had collapsed, charred beams sticking out at odd angles like the broken limbs of some mighty titan. Stones and bricks scattered the ground, thrown out into the middle of the road by the sheer impact of the dragon’s attacks. But far more devastating than any destroyed building were the remnants of the lives they had once held.

Corvus saw a stuffed toy, scorched and blackened, dropped onto the cobbles in the chaos. His tracker's instincts kicked in and he could practically see the child; running with one hand clutched in their parent’s grip, the other hanging on for dear life to their doll. A stumble on a loose stone, a split second’s shock, and the hand holding the toy released. No thought was given to it as they continued their mad dash away from the flames but, later, the child would sit in the small tent given to their family and wish they had something, anything to remember their home by. Their childhood. All of it stripped away so suddenly.

It took Soren’s hand on his shoulder for Corvus to realize he had stopped in the middle of the street, staring at the little doll lying there on the cobbles. Soren bent down and picked it up, brushing off some of the soot and ash that had collected on it.

“It’s a little beat up,” he said. “but we can fix it. Give it back to the kid. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see a familiar face.”

Neither of them said it, but Corvus was sure that both of them thought it. That perhaps there was no child to return this toy to. That maybe they were still here, buried in this rubble, forgotten along with their doll. Corvus blinked quickly, shoving the thought from his mind.

“You wanted to show me something?”

“Yeah.” Soren tucked the toy away and began to walk, not towards the castle as Corvus had expected, but down the street and away from it.

He didn’t ask. Soren would tell him when he was ready.

Instead he fell into step beside him, their strides quickly falling into rhythm as they made their way down the road and through the city. The damage wasn’t as bad down here, though few places remained unscathed. Corvus tried to keep his eyes on the road, but it wasn’t much better than staring at the scarred and abandoned buildings that lined it. So, instead, he found his gaze wandering to Soren.

The steady set of his shoulders. The many days of stubble along his jaw that was beginning to resemble a beard. The slight saunter to the way he walked, even now. The way those steps came to an abrupt halt as they arrived at-

Corvus gasped aloud, gaze traveling up the great skeleton that lay before them. The dragon. It had to be. But…

“How?” he asked, voice barely more than an awed breath.

“Don’t know.” Soren said, voice suddenly raspy. “He was like this when I found him.”

Corvus took a few steps forward, gazing up at the great bones of the creature that had taken so much from them. It was no wonder they had evacuated the castle. How were you even supposed to take down a titan of this size? And yet, somehow, they had. Or, somebody had.

“That isn’t what I wanted to show you, though.” Soren said, still standing a few steps behind him, not having moved. Corvus turned back to face him, confused.

“Then what..” he trailed off, following Soren’s gaze.

A small mound of fresh earth. A pile of stones. A sword, struck into the ground. Soren’s sword.

Corvus knew immediately what it was. Who it had to be.

“Soren-”

“I- I know he probably shouldn’t be here.” Soren was already saying, cutting him off. “But I couldn’t leave him there. I- I couldn’t leave him. Not again.”

It only took a few steps to cross the distance between them, and then Corvus’ arms were around him. He didn’t say anything, just let Soren bury his head in his shoulder until his shoulders stopped shaking and his breathing had slowed. Then he guided the pair of them to a nearby stone bench and sat him down, his hand never leaving Soren’s. And he listened.

Listened as Soren talked about… about things Corvus couldn’t even begin to imagine. About how hard it was to breathe. And about how much you took it for granted before you couldn’t anymore. About how his father would sit up with him long into the night. About how he was… how he was a good Dad. Back then. How Soren had wanted to be just like him. Looked up to him. Wanted to make him proud.

“I owed it to him, didn’t I? He- he saved my life.” Soren said, voice thick with barely contained emotion. “I owe him my life.”

“You don’t owe him anything.” Corvus said, squeezing his hand. Letting Soren lean heavily against his shoulder. “Your life is yours.”

“But it isn’t, really.” Soren whispered into his shoulder. “He gave it to me.”

There were a million things Corvus wanted to say and a million things he still didn’t understand. That he probably never would. He couldn't imagine living a life that you thought really belonged to someone else. But he did know one thing.

“That’s right. He gave it to you. It’s yours. He did everything he could so that you could have it. So that you could live it to the fullest. So… do that.”

Soren looked up at him, that familiar determined look in his eyes. The one that Corvus loved so much. He straightened up and the two of them stared across the valley at the grave of… of a father. Of a king. Of a man.

“I think the worst part is that… that on some level I still want him to be proud of me.” Soren said quietly.

“He would be. He is.”

As they watched, a butterfly, its wings so thin as to be nearly translucent, its bright colors like a beacon in the dark, fluttered over to land on the pommel of the sword. It stood utterly still for a moment, like a painting, before it opened its wings again and flitted into the dark.

Soren released a long, slow breath. “Don’t tell anyone he’s here. Please?”

“I won’t.”

Soren leaned against his shoulder again and wrapped an arm around his waist. Corvus tucked an arm around Soren’s shoulder, resting his cheek atop his head, and they sat like that until the night sky began to pinken and the clouds turned a beautiful blush color.

As the sun began it’s slow climb across the sky, it’s light caught on something just at the corner of Corvus’ vision and he turned to glance at it.

“Soren, what is that?” he asked, straightening up to try and get a better look.

Soren looked up at him, expression bleary as he was pulled out of a half slumber. He followed his gaze, and Corvus saw his eyes go wide, his weariness forgotten in an instant as he shot to his feet.

“What-” he tried to ask, but Soren was already running. Corvus followed him past the body of the fallen dragon and up the steps of the dais. Scattered on the ground was an empty bowl, a knife, a burnt out candle, and…

“No.” Soren was on his knees, lifting up the round object. It was a dull gray orb, perfectly smooth, its surface faintly mottled. “No, no, no.”

“Soren, what is that?”

“She wouldn’t have. She couldn’t have-” Soren looked up at him, eyes wild. “It was with Callum, wasn’t it? I should have gone back to check. But I thought-”

“Soren!” Corvus grabbed him by the shoulders. “What is it?”

“He’s out. He’s out, Corvus. Aaravos is free.”

#is that two Sorvus fics in a week?#why yes #yes it is #sorvus #sorvus fic #sorvus forever #soren tdp #corvus tdp #the dragon prince #tdp fic #tdp fanfic #viren tdp #emotional hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort sorvus #aftermath fic #ficlet #corvus fic #soren fic

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direwolfrules · 1 year ago

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Here, have some random Satine Rambles

I like to take a lot of the fandom misconceptions about Satine and the New Mandalorians and headcanon them as in-universe Death Watch propaganda.

Like the idea that Satine banned Mando'a. This is a weird one to me. So, Mando'a script is all over the place in Sundari. It's on the police speeders, it's on signs, it's on the wall of the Cadet Squad's dorm room, all of which is official government property and would have been some of the first places to have Mando'a removed if the ban was an actual thing. Also, Satine speaks Mando'a and Concordian (the dialect from Concordia and in Legends Concord Dawn). We as the audience don't see her speak Mando'a often because when she appears she's usually either:

1) Talking to someone whose primary language is Basic.

2) In a setting where slipping into Mando'a to talk to one person would be seen as undiplomatic at best.

Also, we as the audience don't primarily speak Mando'a, a fictional language with massive gaps in the canon vocabulary, and why would the Clone Wars crew put effort into translating a bunch of conversations into Mando'a for a kids show. They barely had an animation budget, you really think they had the money and time to translate politics into kid/teen-friendly language and then translate that into Mando'a?

Also, Pre Vizsla doesn't speak Mando'a in the show. I don't think he even says a single Mando'a word, which is less than what Satine says.

Or, the idea that Satine banned beskar armor. Here's the thing about armor, based a bit on real-life history. Armor is expensive. Especially well-forged armor. Especially well-forged armor made of a rare, extremely valuable metal with important cultural significance. And if centuries of strip mining depleted the supply of that already very rare metal, and damaged the ecosystem enough that mining it was banned? Well, now the price is at a point where anyone who isn't a noble or exceedingly wealthy can't afford new beskar. Even then, most noble families passed on their beskar through the generations, partly because of legacy and religion and also partly because obtaining new beskar was already ruinously expensive unless you took it from an enemy in war, which would have been ruinously expensive in other ways.

The fact that we barely see anyone wear beskar in Sundari isn't indicative of a ban on beskar armor, it means armor isn't a practical or attainable expense for the average citizen of Sundari. Sundari was a city at peace, before Sidious' plots and Vizsla's attacks. There was no need for anyone but the Mandalorian Guard to wear armor. Does a midlevel office worker need to wear armor to go about his job? Does a retail employee need the weight of beskar plate in addition to whatever stock they have to shelve? Unless you were a member of the warrior caste, which was primarily made up of nobles who either already had or could afford new beskar, you didn't need to be constantly armored.

And since we're talking about armor, the next logical misconception to discuss is the "weapons ban" that keeps getting brought up in every single "Satine Bad" fanfiction ever. When we first meet Satine, there is no weapons ban. Carrying weapons in a city at peace like Sundari is probably frowned on the same way carrying weapons on Coruscant's upper levels is frowned upon (if you're not Padme "Constantly-dodging-assassination-attempts" Amidala that is). It's a case of why would the average citizen need to carry a weapon, not them not being allowed to.

The first and only mention of a weapons ban in the show is when Ahsoka is welcomed to Sundari in "The Academy". Everyone's least favorite corrupt worm-man Almec says that after the trouble surrounding Master Kenobi's last visit, offworlders can't bring weapons into Sundari. It's literally just a ban for offworlders, which is reasonable when you figure out most of the terrorist group threatening to destroy your hard-fought peace and overthrow your government is based off-world.

And like, we see Mandalorians carry weapons. Satine has her deactivator, which we know from the actions of Rush Clovis and Lolo Purs can be a lethal weapon if used against organics. We see the Mandalorian Guards carry stun batons and shields, and some, like Captain Patrok Ru-Saxon, carried blasters to use as a last resort option. The Protectors, who at this point were Satine's bodyguards, had blunt-tipped spears that, judging by how they could be used to block blaster bolts during the warehouse raid in "Corruption", were probably made of beskar. Also in that same warehouse raid we see the Guard use flamethrowers.

Another common misconception is that Satine is opposed to any kind of violence, even in self-defense. This is not true.

As stated above, Satine carries a deactivator, a weapon primarily used to disable droids, but by its very nature of being a weapon designed to output high-level energy blasts can be lethal to organics. When she's using her deactivator she tells Obi-Wan, "Just because I'm a pacifist doesn't mean I won't defend myself".

And this is true. If Satine was so opposed to violence that she wouldn't fight back if threatened, she either would have died on the Coronet or been taken captive by the Separatists. She would have been killed back during the first confrontation with Vizsla, or during the arc on Coruscant. She would not have taken part in the warehouse raid. Satine was not opposed to violence in self-defense, she was opposed to violence as the first option and lethal violence as anything but a last resort.

One of the only times Satine doesn't fight back is when Pre Vizsla and his Death Watch soldiers invade the palace during the coup. If she had fought back, she would have given Vizsla exactly what he wanted: evidence of her betraying her ideals just when her people needed them the most, and an excuse to kill everyone on her side of the throne room. Satine made a choice to let herself be captured in order to spare as many lives as she could. And the minute she has a chance to escape, she takes it.

Then there's the common fandom idea that Satine is destroying Mandalorian culture, which is just ridiculous. Culture is more than just martial abilities and rigid clan hierarchies. It's food, art, clothing, language, etc. Satine telling her people they're not allowed to kill and bomb each other indiscriminately and empowering a central government over the hereditary clan-based caste system is not destroying Mandalorian culture, it's trying to save Mandalorian culture. After all, who'll be left to practice their traditions, to speak their language and sing their songs, if they wipe themselves off the face of the galaxy?

Mandalore had been jumping from one massive civil war to the next for generations, not to mention the wars against outside powers like the Republic. These are massive depopulating events. Each successive war does more and more damage to the planets in the Mandalorian sector. Mandalore went from a lush jungle to a desert. Concordia was nearly entirely deforested. A third of Concord Dawn is rubble drifting through space.

Satine made decisions that, until the machinations of the Sith, brought a level of prosperity and growth to Mandalore that it hadn't seen in living memory. The forests of Concordia were growing again. Trade was beginning to flow. Her people were happy and not constantly fearing war if one of the Houses took offense to something another one did.

Satine encouraged and promoted the aspects of Mandalorian culture outside of the martial domain. She was a patron of Mandalorian artists, and favored geometric designs and art styles, something that most Mandalorians also enjoyed. Her personal yacht was designed to display Mandalorian goods to representatives of other sectors/governments/galactic powers in order to promote trade and encourage a demand for Mandalorian goods. Her iconic dress with the massive headdress is meant to look like a mythosaur, with her earrings serving as the tusks.

She had that classic Mandalorian love for children. The only times we've ever seen her come close to compromising her principles was when children were threatened. When Mandalorian children were being poisoned by black market tea, she threatened the school's superintendent with violence. She was so enraged by the senseless deaths of many of the poisoned children she ordered the warehouse the black market goons had set up in burned down. When Almec went to torture Korkie and his friends she almost gave in to his demands, despite not cracking when she herself was under torture.

And New Mandalore in general was not a society built on cultural genocide like so many people in this fandom like to claim. In New Mandalorian Society a traditional kar'ta was present on many buildings, clothing (there are like five on the Academy's uniforms), and even hairstyles. Sundari's architecture was filled with geometric buildings that only really differed from the Clan Wren stronghold in height and number of turrets.

The real major difference between New Mandalorian culture and the old ways is those not of the noble, warrior caste had much less political power under the old system. New Mandalorian society is committed to peace, because many New Mandalorians are everyday individuals who now get a say in a diplomatic government instead of watching their system get crushed under leaders who only need to know how to fight well. Farmers don't have to worry about their local lord and his dumbass kid pissing off the neighboring lord, leading to a war that burns their fields and orphans their children. Business owners and employees don't have to worry about losing their shops/factories/office spaces in constant bombings.

Speaking of New Mandalorian society, another common misconception I see is people claiming Satine/New Mandalore was racist because it's all white blondes and brunettes. So like, that was a bad design decision by the Clone Wars crew, who wanted to make Mandalore look like space Scandinavia, and it's compounded by the reuse of models and assets. Korkie's class at the Academy has three groups of identical triplets. The crowds of Mandalorian citizens have so many repeated models, hairstyles, and the like, that there are more identical individuals there than on Kamino. The explanation there isn't "Satine is racist", it's "Cartoon Network gave them zero animation budget". Mandalore only got more diverse after Filoni got called out for it and had the budget and opportunity to fix it, which happened after Satine's rule ended.

Also, I see a lot of people taking the word of Death Watch members, children of Death Watch members, and Death Watch-aligned groups as gospel when it comes to Satine. Like, holy unreliable narrator Batman! If the person criticizing Satine is a member of the terrorist group dedicated to her death, a child of one of those terrorists who has probably been indoctrinated in Satine hate from day one, or a member of one of the splinter factions of that terrorist group, they're probably just a little bit biased, ya know? Satine's people genuinely loved her, Pre Vizsla had to stage elaborate schemes with Sith backing to sway the people's support away from her.

Oh, and people like to say that Satine was a bad leader/bad politician because she "left Mandalore weak" and "wouldn't join the Clone Wars". Which is just— did we watch the same show?

Joining the Clone Wars would have been Bad with a capital B. Palpatine wanted a Grand Army of the Republic presence on all the major worlds to facilitate his takeover when the time for Order 66 came. Mandalore was a priority target, remember when he doctored that footage of Satine's Deputy Minister to get the Senate to vote on sending troops?

Mandalore was along the Hydian Way, a major hyperspace route that was the site of frequent conflict. Mandalore's place on the Hydian Way, if they had joined either the Republic or the Separatists, would have made it and its vassal worlds battlefields. It would have devastated the hesitantly recovering Mandalorian people and the even more hesitantly recovering ecosystems of the planets.

Mandalore's position along the Hydian Way also meant that for some trade goods it depended on the CIS and for others it depended on the Republic, so committing to one side or the other would have made the already dangerous black market situation during the war even worse. What Satine did by declaring Neutrality and forming the Council of Neutral Systems was protect the interests of her people and form a voting block to prevent those interests from being trampled over.

Even with all its problems, Mandalore under Satine was strong, just going through issues many other worlds underwent during the war. Death Watch was a relatively new problem, as Pre Vizsla and his followers only got up the guts to act when their Sugar Daddy Dooku gave them Separatist backing. The food shortages were directly tied to the war disrupting the major trade route Mandalore depended on. Corruption amongst members of the government was a plot point in half the episodes of the show.

Mandalore only fell because Satine fell. Satine kept the war away from Mandalore as much as she could. Sideous couldn't get troops onto Mandalore while Satine was alive. With the exception of the very vocal Death Watch minority, the people were united behind her. It was only by running false flag operations with Maul's Shadow Collective that Death Watch was able to generate enough support to stage a coup. A coup that involved killing any government officials and trained warriors who refused to forswear their loyalty to the Duchess, thus robbing Mandalore of a considerable number of possible defenders and the people who knew how things ran and where the paperwork was filed.

If it wasn't for Vizsla's coup, and Maul's second secret coup, there would have been no need for Republic troops at the Seige of Mandalore, because there would have been no Seige of Mandalore. But there was, and Mandalore fell to the Empire. Which led to more internal Mandalorian on Mandalorian violence, which killed even more warriors. Which paved the way for the Night of a Thousand Tears.

#satine kryze #pro satine kryze #duchess satine #siege of mandalore #duchess of mandalore #mandalore #korkie kryze #in defense of satine

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bethanydelleman · 1 year ago

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Northanger Abbey Readthrough, Ch 1

Welcome to the Northanger Abbey Readthrough, October 2023! I will be posting one chapter per day, which will take us right to Halloween. This readthrough does contain spoilers, because I can't help myself.

We begin with the advertisement from the author, who is clearly annoyed that her first novel was purchased and then not published.

That any bookseller should think it worth-while to purchase what he did not think it worth-while to publish seems extraordinary.

While Jane Austen notes that books have changed, by which I assume she means the popularity of some of the novels referenced, I am pleased to inform you that Anthony Trollope mentioned Mrs. Radcliff and The Mysteries of Udolpho in his 1987 novel, Barchester Towers! Even the veil! So clearly the novels she was satirizing had not yet gone out of style.

On to the story! Catherine Morland is so very normal. The most normal girl ever. She also isn't an orphan, both her parents are living which the narrator points out is very hard for a heroine (lol). She doesn't really like lessons and she likes running around and rolling down hills.

She never could learn or understand anything before she was taught; and sometimes not even then, for she was often inattentive, and occasionally stupid.

Catherine's indifference to flowers will come up later, but this line is also funny in a forbidden fruit way:

Indeed she had no taste for a garden; and if she gathered flowers at all, it was chiefly for the pleasure of mischief—at least so it was conjectured from her always preferring those which she was forbidden to take.

This is a great description of an older sibling (I like to think this describes me as an older sister):

very kind to the little ones, with few interruptions of tyranny

And her family is so good and normal too! Her mom seems to have some good parenting practices:

She learnt a year, and could not bear it; and Mrs. Morland, who did not insist on her daughters being accomplished in spite of incapacity or distaste, allowed her to leave off.

The Morland family seems like a strong contrast to the Bennets, both of them employing no governess. We learn that the Morlands are actively invested in their children's education (unlike the Bennets):

Writing and accounts she was taught by her father; French by her mother: her proficiency in either was not remarkable, and she shirked her lessons in both whenever she could.

And even though the older girls are left to "shift for themselves", Mrs. Morland, who is both poorer and has double the children, can be more easily excused for some neglect. She sounds like a slave to the children's education, unlike Mrs. Bennet!

Catherine, a tomboy, begins to become interested in more feminine pursuits, but she does not transform into a great beauty or an accomplished young lady. Her achievements are similar to those of the ordinary person:

So far her improvement was sufficient—and in many other points she came on exceedingly well; for though she could not write sonnets, she brought herself to read them; and though there seemed no chance of her throwing a whole party into raptures by a prelude on the pianoforte, of her own composition, she could listen to other people’s performance with very little fatigue.

Catherine is just the most relatable heroine ever! She's adequate. She's reasonably intelligent, passingly pretty, a true Every Woman. And really, the whole novel is full of so many small human moments that hit just as hard as the more dramatic ones from other novels (Lucy telling Elinor Edward is engaged to her, Louisa falling from the Cobb, Lydia's elopement) because they are things that might happen to anyone. Really wanting to see your crush and instead having to hang out with someone you dislike; not knowing if someone is angry at you or not; and finding out your friend isn't a real friend... Northanger Abbey somehow explores the most ordinary things without making them boring.

Also, while Catherine may seem unintelligent, the girl must have read a lot of Shakespeare, the quotes in this chapter come from Twelfth Night, Measure for Measure, and Othello. I reluctantly read 5 Shakespearean plays in high school, so Catherine is at about par with my education (I like Shakespeare now! I learned to appreciate him in university when I saw a few of the plays in person).

Catherine is also such a happy, bubbly, character. I can really imagine her being "all happiness" when her parents consent to her trip to Bath. We are told Emma Woodhouse has a happy disposition, but we don't see her dancing in her chair all the way home after a fun evening. Catherine really has joy and she comes back quickly from disappointment. She's a really great character to go on a journey with.

I feel like it must be noted, Catherine has to get away from her family to have an adventure because she has good parents. Good parents are exactly what you want to have, but as the narrator points out, they hardly make a good heroine! So the narrator is forced to remove our nascent heroine from her loving home into the dubious care of the Allens (and really they aren't that bad) for her story to begin. This contrasts again with the Bennets, who manage to supply a good deal of the story's conflict all on their own!

#northanger abbey readthrough #chapter 1 #catherine morland #mrs. morland #the most relatable heroine #The most normal family

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daegutowns · 8 months ago

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bibbity boppity boo (lc)

tags: hogwarts au, gryffindor!chan, gn!reader, just a list of things, chan sucks at potions, you're actually a potions god though, your house is anonymous!

largely based on these descriptions that i made before and this request

chan comes from a line of aurors (on his dad’s side), which is very serious business for him. he must become an auror, just like he must eat that last slice of pumpkin pie during the holiday feasts

that’s actually why you two met.

snape had gotten on his ass about the state of his work. there was a lot of “the quality is lower than dung” and a lot more slander against gryffindor. it ended with him needing a potions tutor.

it was crucial at the time, since you had to have a minimum of five NEWTs in challenging subjects. the recommended included defense against the dark arts (which chan more than excelled in), transfiguration, charms, herbology, and of course… potions. not only that, you needed an ‘outstanding’ or ‘exceeds expectations’ in these subjects to qualify.

the way it was going, chan was sure he would be getting a ‘poor’ or ‘fair’ if he was lucky. snape literally was going to boil him alive like he was a bat spleen if he didn’t do well in his next essay.

and that’s how he met you, the supposed savior of potions failures. jk. you weren’t nicknamed that.

yet.

one of chan’s friends (seungkwan) had told him that there was someone who did exceedingly well in potions -- just like how he does with defense against the dark arts.

so, right after he had injured himself in quidditch practice and benched himself once again (by chance, though it happened more often than he would’ve liked to admit), he approached you and asked for tutoring.

you were going to be a potions professor. he replied, “that’s hot.” the embarrassment was instant, but you’d reckon that it kind of sparked the crush both of you had on each other.

anyone replacing snape seemed sexy and hot and amazing to him, so you were like the golden angel shining as you got him through each essay.

it was actually more like love at first conversation, since chan was so enamored with you that he couldn’t help but want to pay more attention in potions. if not to improve his grades, at least to impress you.

eventually, you two spent a lot of time together in the library between his potions essays, your DADA theory homework, and all of chan’s other classes that you had gotten really close to each other.

you liked that he remembered a lot of small things about you, like when you had mentioned it was your friend’s birthday two weeks back and he asked how the celebrations were like at the next tutoring session.

over time, those tutoring sessions led to outside hangouts, then invitations to watch quidditch games together. he met your friends, you met his friends. you were actually spending more time together than with anyone else.

his friends liked to tease and say that chan was just pretending to be bad at potions to get you to hang out with him more.

you laughed along, but you had experienced his potions knowledge firsthand.

speaking of those damned essays… they had such a remarkable improvement that even snape had done a double take when he realized who had written the essay he had just read and demanded that chan recite the knowledge to him in person or else receive a detention for cheating. needless to say, chan got away with only one detention (for forgetting the uses of mistletoe berry). he claimed it was the power of love.

chan had confessed to you in a super cheesy way, as advised by his friend jeonghan (who claimed to have no involvement in the matter). he showed up to you on an afternoon that you had been with your friends holding a bouquet of flowers (that you had no idea where he got because hogwarts did not grow roses that were safe for humans) and a song to serenade you and confess his love.

well, he never got to the song because you had (thankfully) stopped him before that and agreed to go on a date with him to hogsmeade.

the rest was history, really.

#daegutowns #💌 daegutowns requests #svt x reader #svt x y/n #svt x you #svt hogwarts au #chan x reader #dino x reader

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most-datable-datable-bracket · 8 months ago

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