#but clearly a lot of people enjoy both so more power to those who do :>

[anneapocalypse]

I cannot help feeling like the tendency to see Inquisition!Leliana in stark contrast to Origins!Leliana has led to some people forgetting what... Leliana is actually like in Origins.

In fairness, as in all Dragon Age games some very revealing character moments happen in party banter which makes it easy to miss. But the gentle-hearted mystic who desires only to draw others unto the love of the Maker has never been all that Leliana is, and it's always been in direct conflict with the side of her that is not only adept at intrigue and yes, violence, but enjoys those things. This is the central conflict of her whole character, and it's not a trivial conflict, because there is not one simple answer to who Leliana truly is. She is both of these things. She is deeply religious and finds comfort in her faith, and thinks it should bring comfort to others as well. She's also prone to gossip and pettiness and all the qualities that helped her thrive as a bard.

There's this one particularly revealing piece of banter with Alistair if the Warden is in a romance with Morrigan:

Alistair: So have you heard? Morrigan and him are... you know. Leliana: Have you nothing better to do than to spread idle gossip? And besides, he can probably hear us both. You're not being very discreet. Alistair: No, look, he's not even paying attention. Leliana: Hmmm. maybe. You don't... think that he's serious about it, do you? The woman is a vile fiend. Alistair: Well, look here, now who's an idle gossip? Me-ow! Leliana: You're the one who started this, I might remind you. And I'm... well, I'm ending it!

I once had the especially entertaining experience of getting this banter, and minutes later hearing Leliana turn to Morrigan to give her the "It's so nice that you're together, isn't love wonderful?" line. But whether or not you have the pleasure of hearing them back to back, I think this dialogue make it pretty clear that while Leliana would like not to think of herself as a gossip, it takes very little prompting from Alistair to get her to slip back into that mean girl persona. And Alistair (who is more perceptive than he often gets credit for), calls her on it immediately, clearly embarrassing Leliana--who realizes that her mask has slipped.

I don't think it follows from this that Leliana necessarily hates Morrigan unilaterally. There's something much more complex going on between them, in my opinion, because they are such distinct opposites in upbringing and personality. Both Leliana's faith and her life of courtly intrigue are nonsense to Morrigan, who neither believes in the Maker nor has much patience for intricate social graces (at least, not yet). Meanwhile, I think Morrigan's outward self-possession and the sense of power she exudes is a source of both fascination and frustration for Leliana, who thinks she understands power, both social and divine--but finds in Morrigan a kind she cannot fully comprehend. (I also think you can definitely feel some sexual tension into their banter, especially the much-beloved banter about the velvet dress.) Ultimately, both of them are very concerned with power, but approach that concept very differently. And Leliana responds to this clash of ideals in a particular way because her own self-image is so conflicted.

As all great Dragon Age foils do, Leliana and Morrigan needle one another, push each other's buttons, challenge one another's sense of self, and in doing so reveal one another in their complexity and sometimes in their ugliness. It is perhaps easy to write this off as the tired trope of women being unable to get along with one another, or conversely to claim that they get along just fine and fandom has fabricated the tensions between them; I think to do either of those things diminishes a genuinely complex and sticky relationship that serves to reveal a lot about both characters.

[mask131]

So... Wicked is coming back in style. And as such I need to make a little informative post.

Because since as early as my arrival onto the Internet, in the distant years of the late 2000s, a lot of people have been treating Wicked as some sort of "official" part of the Oz series. As part of the Oz canon or as THE "original" work everything else derives from (literaly, some people, probably kids, but did believe the MGM movie was made BASED on Wicked...) And as an Oz fan, that bothers me.

[Damn, ever since I watched Coco Peru's videos her voice echoes in my brain each time I say this line.]

So here's a few FACTS for you facts lovers.

The Wicked movie that is coming out right now (I was sold this as a series, turns out it is a movie duology?) is a cinematic adaptation of the stage musical Wicked created by Schwartz and Holzman, the Broadway classic and success of the 2000s (it was created in 2003).

Now, the Wicked musical everybody knows is itself an adaptation - and this fact is not as notorios, somehow? The Wicked musical is the adaptation of a novel released in 1995 by Gregory Maguire, called Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. A very loose and condensed adaptation to say the least - as the Wicked musical is basically a lighter and simplified take on a much darker, brooding and mature tale. Basically fans of the novel have accused the musical of being some sort of honeyed, sugary-sweet, highschool-romance-fanfic-AU, while those who enjoyed the musical and went to see the novel are often shocked at discovering their favorite musical is based on what is basically a "dark and edgy - let's shock them all" take on the Oz lore. (Some do like both however, apparently? But I rarely met them.)

A side-fact which will be relevant later, is that this novel was but the first of a full series of novel Oz wrote about a dark-and-adult fantasy reimagining of the land of Oz - there's Son of a Witch, A Lion Among Men, Out of Oz, and more.

However the real fact I want to point out is that Maguire's novel, from which the musical itself derives, is a "grimmification" (to take back TV Tropes terminology) of the 1939 MGM movie The Wizard of Oz. The movie everybody knows when it comes to Oz, but that everybody forgets is itself the adaptation of a book - the same way people forget the Wicked musical is adapted from a novel. The MGM movie is adapted from L. Frank Baum's famous 1900 classic for children The Wonderful Wizard of Oz - and a quite loose adaptation that reimagines a lot of elements and details.

Now, a lot of people present Maguire's novel as being based/inspired/a revisionist take on Baum's novel... And that's false. Maguire's Wicked novel is clearly dominated by and mainly influenced by the MGM movie, with only a few book elements and details sprinkled on top. Mind you, the sequels Maguire wrote do take more elements, characters and plot points from the various Oz books of Baum... But they stay mostly Maguire's personal fantasy world. Yes, Oz "books" in plural - because that's a fact people tend to not know either... L. Frank Baum didn't just write one book about the Land of Oz. He wrote FOURTEEN of them, an entire series, because it was his most popular sales, and his audience like his editor pressured him to produce more (in fact he got sick of Oz and tried to write other books, but since they failed he was forced to continue Oz novels to survive). Everybody forgot about the Oz series due to the massive success of the starter novel - but it has a lot of very famous sequels, such as The Marvelous Land of Oz or Ozma of Oz (the later was loosely adapted by Disney as the famous 80s nostalgic-cursed movie Return to Oz).

So... To return to my original point. The current Wicked movies are not directly linked in any way to Baum's novel. The Wicked musical was already as "canon" and as "linked" to the MGM movie as 2013's Oz The Great and Powerful by Disney was. As for Maguire's novel, due to its dark, mature, brooding and more complex worldbuilding nature, I can only compare it to the recent attempt at making a "Game of Thrones Oz" through the television series Emerald City.

The Wicked movies coming out are separated from Baum's novel at the fourth degree. Because they are the movie adaptation of a musical adaptation of a novel reinventing a movie adaptation of the original children book.

And I could go even FURTHER if you dare me to and claim the Wicked movies are at the 5TH DEGREE! Because a little-known-fact is that the MGM movie was not a direct adaptation of Baum's novel... But rather took a lot of cues and influence from the massively famous stage-extravaganza of 1902 The Wizard of Oz... A musical adaptation of Baum's novel, created and written by Baum himself, and that was actually more popular than the novel in the pre-World War II America. It was from this enormous Broadway success (my my, how the snake bites its tail - the 1902 Wizard of Oz was the musical Wicked of its time) that, for example, the movie took the idea of the Good Witch of the North killing the sleeping-poppies with snow.

[zombie-bait]

Full Moon

Ok so I don’t normally post about Helluva Boss but the newest episode touched on an interesting concept I haven’t necessarily seen represented in media. Back when I was on Twitter (derogatory) a few years ago there was this now deleted viral thread where someone discussed how their struggles with mental health affected their relationship with their partner and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. 

This is such a good, short example of how anxiety and depression can play tricks on you. It becomes so easy to envision yourself as a nuisance, a constant burden to those closest to you because they cannot possibly genuinely enjoy your company, right? But in doing so you create this arbitrarily cruel version of the people you love, people who would otherwise never behave like this outside of your own mind.

It's mean. Because your mind wants to be mean to you under these circumstances. It wants to put everyone else's emotions and desires above yours, both in worthiness and validity. And that starts bleeding into your understanding of other people, especially those you care about.

Now. Helluva Boss.

"Can I get a fucking MINUTE to think after everything you put me through you pompous rich ASSHOLE? Treat me like one of your little butler imps, you can’t just dismiss me like that! I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this every time, like you can just play with our feelings because we’re smaller and not as important. Well I’m not letting you, BITCH! Let’s go!" - Blitz

I find it really interesting how Helluva Boss decided to approach this conflict between Stolas and Blitz. Obviously, the difference in power matters. It's the underlying tension of their entire relationship and their lives. Stolas is burdened by the mountain of expectations thrust upon him from a very young age while Blitz is constantly reminded that he can NEVER be part of that world, that he is "smaller and not as important" not just in Hell's hierarchy but in his own life and family. Stolas very literally has power over Blitz (through the grimoire, the arrangement, his position in society) and Blitz uses their relationship as an excuse to reverse those roles. But that power dynamic, in one form or another, never truly goes away. And for Blitz, it's a lot easier to paint Stolas as this manipulative symbol of power and himself as nothing more than Stolas' plaything. It's easier to be angry than to be vulnerable and accept that someone might care about him.

"Dismiss" is the keyword in that quote. All that Blitz has been able to process is that Stolas has decided to end the relationship that they have. He feels ls like a choice has been taken away from him so he lashes out because he's not ready to emotionally tackle what the rest of Stolas' offer might entail. If Stolas hates him, just wants to play with him, then he is justified in his anger, his self-destruction, his isolation. If the world is mean, you're "allowed" to be mean back.

But

In that moment he forgets that Stolas is someone he actually cares about. Someone he's known for way too long and clearly wants to keep in his life, no matter how reluctant he can be to admit it. Someone who is not innately cruel or manipulative but sad and desperate for connections in a lot of the same ways that Blitz is. And Blitz immediately sees that he's miscalculated something.

Somewhere along the way the fictional version of Stolas that he's allowed himself to be mad at and the real one that he's not ready to admit he cares about have merged into something real that he has actual power over. Stolas can get hurt and Blitz can be the one who does it. He has once again allowed his greatest fears (which Stolas so frequently symbolizes) to co-opt his loved ones, to give him an "out" even though he didn't actually want one in the first place.

I'm definitely not the first person to say this but I think this is an example of the miscommunication trope done right. Their individual struggles are what cause them to be unable to connect during this conversation or to even have a proper conversation in the first place. There is no convenient misunderstanding or third party fabricating this rift. Both of them have preconceived ideas of what the other one is thinking but those ideas are flawed and rooted in self-hatred. They also both shutdown in their unique ways when the conversation starts heading in the direction they'd feared it would.

Blitz and Stolas work because they're both fucked up in similar ways, because they want similar things. That's the same reason why they're uniquely designed to hurt one another. A fear of rejection and a yearning for happiness. To borrow a quote that has been used by literally everyone from Spiderman to Evangelical preachers, "hurt people hurt people."

anyway, I really liked this episode.

(twitter thread screenshots sourced from this reddit post)

[onesidedradiostatic]

aromantic alastor headcanons for aro-week (with some ace in there as well, because I think for alastor those things are so entwined, it's hard to separate them):

tried going out with girls a couple of times when he was alive, to make his mother happy, but always found a way to extricate himself from the attachment. this ties into his learning how to have complete control over any situation he's in

I wonder as well about whether or not he "passed" as white, or whether his community knew that he was creole, and how that affected his dating opportunities, and his paranoia, his need to be in control, basically his constant hyper-vigilance

got a lot of fanmail for his radio host work, women (and men, but more furtively) loooved his voice. this was acceptable, because (apart from some of the weirder ones) he could use this as a metric for how accepted he was in society, as well as how well he was passing -- both in terms of race and orientation, but also youknow, as someone who is definitely not clockable as a serial killer

although of course we know he also enjoyed company. he'd go out drinking and dancing a lot. was mimzy a bit in love with him? I just like the idea that people kept being incredibly taken with his charm and his politeness and his poise, because he does have all those traits. whether he notices...? (no). I mention this point not so much as headcanon, I just like that alastor as aroace and repulsed on both of those points, was never a shut-in about it. he's always been very lively (ha) and outgoing, and clearly likes being in the company of others... but maybe that last point has gotten to be a little difficult during his time in hell, due to having to be so careful about showing any kind of emotional "weakness." speaking of...

post-death became a more extreme version of himself -- that is, a man on a mission to be in control and create emotional distance between himself and others through the power of voice, rather than having to faff about pretending emotional connections where there were none. very suited for hell because of his precarious political lived reality whilst alive, and because hell is built on who has power and who doesn't. these are rituals he understands better than the strange romantic ones during life

the smile as mask and unhealthy coping mechanism -- wonder if when he was alive people swooned over his having a lovely smile (as well as its being useful to placate and to disorient people who had more violent intentions, and in both cases potentially to lure in victims). so the smile likewise became the most extreme version of itself. the smile in essence as the signifier of someone who doesn't fit into any boxes and needs to hide that fact, both by being mixed race and aroace, but then the smile itself becomes something that effectively owns him, because he literally cannot let it drop, ever (honestly if alastor ever stops smiling, it'll be the biggest gasp moment on this show)

all that being said, surprising connections do occur: rosie, I think, sees through him from the beginning, and she's so disarming (ha, disarming... cannibal joke) that she never feels like a threat + they're both cannibals, so there's a relaxed kinship there and maybe she reminds him of the parts of home he (secretly) misses a bit

I wonder how rosie figured out that alastor wasn't into dating. I think at first she might have thought he was gay, but then quite quickly seen that that's not it, he doesn't even like men much, and she feels like she's been around the block enough to piece together peoples' natures from one of a million other people she's known, so way before she knows the terminology, she knows, and crucially, she never judges or tries to force the point

I wonder how vox and alastor met -- whether vox was able to gain power on his own and this attracted alastor's attention, or if alastor saw something of himself (that turned out to be surface level) in vox, that is, they both wear smiles as masks, they're both presenters, their mediums may be different, but their aims feel similar. perhaps alastor was comfortable enough in hell at this point -- probably in a way he never was whilst alive -- that he was feeling magnanimous towards what must have felt a bit like an upstart. and most importantly, the constraints of alloromantic ideas are a comfortable 20 years in the past by now, alastor can barely remember that this was ever anything that was expected of him, or that others' could possibly feel about him

cue vox falling head over heels, the way people so often did while he was alive, and he... does not notice at all (barely a headcanon). I kind of feel like I don't have much to say on these two, because this blog is already a treasure trove of vox and alastor hcs!

I think rosie is the only one who knows alastor is aroace, although... maybe husk? not in so many words, but he knows alastor isn't interested in those things. nifty Does Not Notice Nor Care (in a good way). charlie i will forever think will at some point do a deep-dive on modern queer lingo and get everyone flags (this is practically word of god canon considering that older piece of art you shared). vox definitely doesn't know. val....... sort of kinda knows but in an evil way. vaggie does not care, but she'd be chill about it. mimzy... I don't think knows, mainly because she never cared to think about his behaviours, as someone who's quite self-centered on what alastor is to her. jeez, who am i missing... angel, does not know, head empty

speaking of angel, I think if he ever found out, especially with where he's at in his journey rn, would be very unhappy in some way about having stepped over his boundaries so often so casually at the beginning. dunno how he'd act about it, but i like the idea of vigilantly (and crudely, and bluntly) supportive angel if they ever manage to get alastor out on the town. more on the ace side of things but i can see him going: "do not try to fuck this guy! this guy is unfuckable!"

(i like hypersexual and deeply romantic angel + sex and romance repulsed alastor as unlikely friendship in my head. opposites finding common ground type stuff is always good)

at the end of the day, alastor living and dying in an amatonormative world and having to orient himself within that by building walls that persist/worsen after his death because of the culture of hell being predicated on who controls whom, veeeeery slowly discovering that he can be vulnerable on his own terms without people demanding things from him that he cannot give (smthinsmthin the hotel gang as the opposite of vox in that sense -- not only that sense, but also that)

also something about imagining his mother hoping he'd find a nice girl and settle down (in the way parents often do, because that's the metric of happiness right.....) and how he never could give her what she wanted, and maybe feels some very locked away guilt about that, which he thinks he'll never be able to deal with because his mother is in heaven, but perhaps in this story she'll get to see what he's built with the people at the hotel and that's really all she wanted for him in the end

OH MY GOD ANON THIS IS ALL SO GOOD?? THANK YOU SO MUCH HAHAHA. happy aro week everyone!! (x2)

[sapphosclosefriend]

- Money, Power, Glory pt 3 -

Pairing: CEO! Silverfox! Natasha Romanoff x Escort! Fem! Reader

Genre: suggestive, maybe even a little fluffy

Summary: the way you both feel for each other seems to change a little and, after once again staying over at her place, she makes a way too appealing proposition. Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: top! Natasha x bottom! R, Natasha has a penis, big age gap (N =56, R=24), making out, suggestive themes, extremely brief oral (R receiving).

A/N: this story contains mature themes so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Chapter 4 is already in the works and it will be a bit deeper. Let's not talk about how the Christmas special is going because it's currently not going…anyway. Again, thanks to @supercorpdanbeau and @rt--link ♡ As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

Isn't it crazy how fast time passes? Well, it certainly was to you. You just couldn’t believe it had already been six whole months since your first encounter with Natasha and saying that your life went upside down thanks to her was an understatement.

On one hand it felt as if it hadn't been a day since the first time you'd stepped into her elegant home, but maybe that was only because of just how much time you'd been spending with her. Hours soon turned into evenings, which turned into nights, days and even whole weekends. She definitely seemed to like the thought of having you always ready for her to enjoy and, having the financial means to do so, asking you to spend prolonged periods of time with her, sometimes not even engaging in sexual acts for some parts of your encounters, slowly started becoming the norm. Of course she would've gladly booked you even just to watch you sip on a drink and read a book in a bikini by the pool at her beach house while she was stuck on a stupid work call, but she knew that even if her intentions were ever to be pure, they would've immediately taken a turn once she'd be in your presence. You wouldn't have been opposed to the idea either, after all Natasha's presence was slowly becoming something you simply didn't like being without and spending more and more time with her, even without doing anything at all, only kept sounding more appealing as time went on.

You soon realized that you'd just added a regular to your customers list, despite the older woman never clearly stating so. In fact, she seemed to be quite adamant in declaring that your meetings were strictly a means for her to destress only once she needed to. Maybe she was truthful and her life, which consisted pretty much only of her job, was, after all, more stressful than you thought. But something in you was telling you that it wasn't completely true. If that something was just a hopeful part of you talking, you didn't know.

What you did know pretty soon, though, was that she wasn't going to be any regular client, you just knew something different was going to happen with her, you could feel it in you, how different playfully flirting with her was, how real your nervous and timid stance was, how real your orgasms were, how real your eagerness at answering her calls was, how you found yourself thinking less and less about the money that came with her. She was as intoxicating as the most expensive top shelf liquor there was, of which she probably owned at least one bottle, and you didn't think you could've ever been more addicted to her. Of course, no matter what, her bottomless fortune was still incredibly appealing to you. How could it not be? After all, beautiful things require a lot of assets and you've always liked beautiful things, clothes, shoes, jewelry, trips, Natasha. Thankfully, your job and your clients' "generosity" had done wonders over the years at satisfying your cravings, not just through their payments, but with little gifts and rewards here and there. You weren't a sugar baby, not at all, but those kinds of people were power addicts and what better way to assert your dominance than to show off your American Express to a pretty girl and then fuck her brains out, or at least try.

It had happened again and you had spent yet another night over at Natasha's house and the more time that passed, the more you convinced yourself that she really didn't need you to placate her anger anymore. You knew by then what she was like when she needed to unload some stress and what you had been seeing recently just wasn't it. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, she was still perfectly able to leave you limp on the bed even without being rough at all, but it was interesting how she apparently didn't want to admit that maybe she just liked to have fun together simply because.

The ache you felt through your whole body as soon as you woke up in her unfortunately empty bed was clear proof of just how easy it was for the older woman to completely wreck you without even trying. You would've gladly spent the entire day under the warm, soft covers that smelled like her until she came back home late at night, but your rationality slowly pushed your body out of the small piece of heaven you had no interest in leaving. Getting out of her illegally comfortable bed and readying yourself after such a night ended up being way harder than you expected, but you were finally able to join her in the kitchen surprisingly early, even though you were still only wearing a button down shirt, making you not truly ready but still giving you some more time to spend together before she had to go to work and you had to go back home. Your usual bad morning mood was immediately lifted as you were greeted by the back of her tall, built frame wearing perfectly tailored pants and a shirt tucked in that hugged her arms in the most delicious way possible, giving you a perfect view of her upper body clad only by a thin layer of expensive cotton thanks to the suit jacket left over the back of a chair. Maybe you could've gotten used to such beautiful sights blessing your eyes first thing in the morning.

She inexplicably looked effortlessly hot even as she simply blowed a silver strand of hair out of her face, wiped her hands on a dishcloth, that she then laid over her shoulder, and rolled up her sleeves, showing off the watch that was probably worth at least two years of your apartment rent and her slender, veiny hands. She simply looked otherworldly and you couldn't hold yourself from silently pressing your front against her back and untucking her shirt to let your hands rest on her bare stomach, hearing her lowly chuckle at your usual morning clinginess. You stayed silent for a little while, simply soaking in her presence, when you suddenly realized what you'd just walked in on.

"You know how to turn on a stove?"

You would've expected an unimpressed look if she was facing you, but her fake laugh was basically the equivalent to that.

"Ha ha. You know, I haven't always had private chefs."

You knew, of course you did, you were just messing with her and she secretly loved it.

"Did you send them away?"

"No, they're still here, in case I mess this up."

"Is the Natasha Romanoff capable of messing up something like scrambled eggs?"

She didn’t answer your question, no quick remark, no teasing, which told you that yes, she was absolutely capable of messing them up. You didn't press her, though, you were technically still on duty, even though you had a tendency of forgetting it while you were with her, and the first thing you always wanted to do was make sure to avoid at all costs any possible chance of a negative outcome. It may have sounded stupid, but those people were paying you a whole lot of money to have a good time and if something so meaningless such as talking about not being able to cook scrambled eggs could've led them to be in a bad mood then it simply wasn't a topic worthy enough, not even for friendly banter.

"Well, you definitely didn't mess it up last night…my legs are so sore and I need to be at the gym in an hour!"

Your whining as you held onto her tighter amused her, as flashes from the night before, with your arms around her and your nails on her back, made her immediately turn off the stove to turn around and finally kiss you for the first time that day, savoring your content hum at the feeling of her plump lips languidly moving against your own. You had a strange effect on her, like no other woman before, and she could barely wrap her head around it. Any time she touched you in any way, any time she talked to you, any time she was in your presence, her heart seemed to do a leap in her chest, giving her a sense of euphoria she usually felt only after a successful day at work. You were younger than her, so much younger, 32 years younger to be exact, but you strangely felt like the only woman she'd ever been with who could really be at her level. She knew she had to have you for as long as she could and you didn't seem to be too much against the idea, as you started to make more and more time out of your schedule to be with her whenever she wanted, a privilege none of your other clients ever had. Of course your agent was very happy with the new change, but she, like everybody else, only thought of it as a way for you to make even more money, Natasha was the wealthiest of your clients after all. Deep down you knew, though, that it wasn't the only reason why you kept spending more and more time with her. You genuinely liked her and the endless hours you devoted to her were making you the happiest you'd been in a while.

"I'm going to Cuba for work for the weekend, there's a free seat on my plane."

You found yourself whining and chasing after her lips as she broke the kiss to speak, but soon grew intrigued by her proposition, knowing how little work her weekend work trips actually had, usually only one or two phone calls while you sucked her off while still in bed.

"You're asking for a bit too much on such a short notice now, Ms Romanoff."

You were teasing her, making her beg for you to go, even though you knew you would have agreed way before she had to resort to begging, but that didn't mean that there wasn't some truth in your words. Given the amount of time you were spending with Natasha you often had to occupy your weekends with your other clients, who now had to book their meetings with much more notice to guarantee themselves a spot with you. You'd even lost Wanda Maximoff, one of your first ever customers, because you "even dared suggest" to move your weekly meetups from Friday to Saturday, but, as much as it pained you after everything you'd done for her for literal years, you knew that Natasha's money would've still been way more than what you needed to survive.

"I'm offering you a weekend of relaxing, squandering and fucking in Cuba, doesn't sound too bad to me."

It did not sound bad at all, it sounded like the best time you could've ever had and it pained you knowing that you had to give it up to instead spend your weekend pretending to laugh and acting like you'd never cum harder in your life with some "limp dick", as Natasha liked to call your other customers.

"Well, I have clients eagerly waiting for me on those days."

Even as you spoke those words surely, there was still a little voice in the back of your head that kept chanting over and over for you to fuck it, leave everything behind and hop on her yacht to go wherever the hell the woman you l-liked wanted you to go. It didn't happen every single time, you eventually giving in, but way more than you'd like to admit and once again you could hear that voice getting closer and closer, making it impossibly hard for you to resist her temptation, even more so at the sight of her beautiful eyes slightly darkened by hidden jealousy.

"If you blow me on my way to work I'll give you more money than all of those limp dicks together will over the fucking weekend…and of course I'll pay you for Saturday and Sunday."

Why did she have to say something like that? Why did she have to speak to you in that way, with her lips almost touching yours and her hands possessively grabbing your waist and pressing you flush against her front, unknowingly making you feel her bulge so damn well. Of course your slight shiver didn't go unnoticed by her and seeing her pupils dilate as she eyed your lips and the top of your chest only made your breathing all the more shaky as your mind finally settled on the only important person to you. You were going with her, fuck everybody, no amount of money would've been worth more than her right now.

"Now I'd be dumb if I turned down such a tempting proposal."

Of course she didn't need to know just how eager you really were and how you would've screamed YES from the tallest building in the city, not only would it have inflated her ego even more but, more importantly, she would've known just how bad you really had it for her.

"Hmm and you're not dumb, right? No, you're the smartest whore in New York City."

If only she knew how hard you would've slapped anyone else for calling you that, but coming from her only made the name sound like the best compliment you could've ever received.

Her tense expression seemed to have relaxed in the slightest at the confirmation that she was your choice, that maybe at least a part of you genuinely liked her enough that you were willing to cancel on your other customers at the last minute only for her. And just like that, she was hit by it all again, that deep need to have you, carnally and platonically. She once again felt almost overcome by it and could no longer keep herself from taking you again, you were like her own drug and you couldn't keep her from kissing you with so much passion and need that you felt like you would've never been able to stay away from her. God, how blissful it felt, how much did she get off of the power she had over you. She could've easily spent the rest of her life savoring all and every little part of you. You consumed her too much and she always felt like she needed more and more of you.

The thin layer of cotton of your shirt suddenly felt like the thickest brick wall there was and, after taking way too much time undoing your top button only, she firmly grabbed each side of your shirt and ripped it open, making every single button pup and roll over the floor. Your shocked, but secretly pleased, expression went completely unnoticed by her as she ogled at your chest, looking even more delicious to her thanks to the deep red lingerie you wore over it.

"And the hottest"

"Natasha!"

She didn't even lift her gaze to speak or acknowledge you, simply looking at your assets once more before bending over to kiss and suck the skin not covered by expensive lace, taking your breath away and making you completely forget about your famous "no marks" rule you barely cared about anymore with her.

"I'll buy you a new one"

She barely stopped her assault on the tender skin to mumble what tried to be words of reassurance before she started to push you backwards until you were pressed against the kitchen island. You barely noticed her hands sneaking down your body and only realized what she wanted to do when she was already lifting you up to make you sit on the marble counter, pushing you to lie down on the cold surface and hurriedly kissing down your front while taking off your underwear.

"Hell, I'll buy you fucking Max Mara"

Her raspy voice slightly muffled by the skin of your inner thigh as she propped your legs over her shoulders made your center tighten around nothing for just a second, before she dove into your pussy like she needed it to survive.

How the hell could you ever have thought about not choosing her?

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Part 4

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Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox @dmenby3100 @marvels--slut @dvrkhcld @elenimoris @mrsrushman @mrsromanoff @thalia-is-not-ok @alianovnasposts @clintsupremacy @taliiiaasteria @meowymari @lissaaaa145 @natashaswife4125 @olsenmyolsen @angrywhisperslove @aemilia19 @setsuna1415 @letsboandy

[burningcheese-merchant]

When Burning Spice was introduced a lot of people made comparison with Capsaicin, and even thought they were related. You have any thoughts on that?

I do, and you're all probably going to be very disappointed lol

Not only do I NOT vibe with the idea that they're related, I'm actually really annoyed that it's as popular as it is lol. It doesn't even make sense. Burning Spice was in prison for thousands of years; when, where and how did he have a kid? At what point in time did this occur? Capsaicin is a young man. A regular mortal, outside of his "Spice Overlord" thing. I ask you all again: when? Where? How? WHY? Has anyone ever actually thought this through?

"ThEy LoOk SiMiLaR" okay, and? So fucking what? Neither of them own the concept of "long hair" or "muscles" or "sharp teeth". Pitaya has those too, and he has an arguably more substantial connection to Capsaicin because they're actually from the same fucking area. Happenstance. Lots of characters in this game have similar attributes, that doesn't necessarily mean anything

"ThEy'Re BoTh SpIcY" Refer to point A. Do you all think all the nut-based cookies are related, too? That's the logic you might as well be operating on. Correlation is not causation

"Blah blah both jail" you know how many characters in this whack-ass phone game count as felons, bro? How many of them SHOULD count as felons lol? The Cookie Run universe might as well be one giant Alcatraz with all the shit these little affronts to God get up to every day, I ain't making them all each other's relatives because of it

They're the wrong ages for them to be family. Burning Spice was serving a life sentence since long before Capsaicin was even thought of, he literally got out after the guy was already a grown ass man. They're not even from the same fucking CONTINENT! Capsaicin has probably never even HEARD of Beast-Yeast! Even that little comic the CRK Twitter account posted makes fun of all this shit!!! The Wild Spices mistake Cap for Spice from behind, and then get confused when he turns around because THEY VERY CLEARLY DO NOT KNOW WHO HE IS AND HAVE NEVER SEEN HIM BEFORE! Wouldn't an army know if their general had a son, even if it was only mentioned in passing? Wouldn't THIS army have a vested interest in having their general's son around if he existed, and stop at nothing to bring him home should he vanish, to gain favor with Spice and because of how powerful Capsaicin is and how useful he could be to them?

I wouldn't be so bent out of shape about all this if it wasn't LITERALLY FUCKING EVERYWHERE!!! I cannot enjoy any content of Burning Spice OR Capsaicin without having to endure a fucking barrage of "hurr durr father and son" posts!!! I just want to ogle my hot, sexy, deliciously evil spice man BY HIM-FUCKING-SELF in peace, I never asked to have to hear the exact fucking same "hi son I came back with the milk" joke over and over and over again

I know I sound like a massive dick right now and I'm truly sorry. You are more than welcome to think of these two as related in some way if you wish. I am not your mother, nor your leader, nor your god, I'm just some cringe loser on the internet. Enjoy this game and its characters in whatever way you choose. I even actually like a good bit of the father/son art, a lot of it is cute and funny. I'm able and willing to say that with complete sincerity.

I just wish I didn't have to feel like it's being forced on me. That is one of the biggest issues I have with this fandom: how oppressive it often feels. You MUST ship this particular pairing, you MUST headcanon these characters as family, you MUST take this one-off joke that was clearly just a goddamn joke and preach it 24/7/365 like it's the gospel truth that Devsis themselves wrote on stone tablets and delivered from the top of Mount Sinai. And then when someone doesn't want to do that, everyone else descends upon them like a plague of fucking locusts. I actually saw a Dad Spice + Son Cap post on here with the person who made it saying something like "ok since everyone agrees that these two are family [...]" and I just got so fucking irritated. No, actually, not everyone agrees. Not everyone agrees on a lot of the fanon that's shoved down the entire community's throats on a regular basis. PLEASE stop acting like they do. I still remember when people would get flat-out harassed for not acting like Herb is Sea Fairy's son (old ass drama lol).

Say what you will about me, I'm just one person and you can block me or whatever dumb tags I use for my dumb shit. There is NOWHERE I can go to avoid this. Twitter? Plagued. Tumblr? Plagued. Even fucking reddit is on this nonsense (only in my personal opinion). But that's what I get for acknowledging Reddit in any capacity lol

I shall once again sincerely apologize for my harsh tone here, I am not attacking you personally or anyone who headcanons these two as relatives. I am just generally, profoundly frustrated and I need to get it out. I appreciate you taking the time to ask me an honest question, I hope you can forgive me for my painfully honest answer

[coreene]

Companions and Astarion on the 7k spawn

Since I am getting close to making this choice in my longfic I decided to compile what Astarion and companions say to the three choices we get on what to do with the 7k spawn once Astarion refuses the ritual and kills Cazador.

They're too dangerous - they need to die.

If I understand the flags correctly, this option also breaks the Paladin of Devotion's oath, it seems.

 Pale Petras: And when they're dead? Will you kill us too? Astarion: We're not like those wretches, brother. We've spent lifetimes controlling our hunger - they're all but feral. I don't relish it any more than you do, but putting them to rest may be the kindest thing we can do.

👆 This is Astarion's reaction if Petras is alive. 👇 This is when he is not.

Astarion: I don't like it, but you're right. Putting them to rest may be the kindest thing we can do.

What I find interesting here is how he flat out says "I don't like it." I didn't get that in game, got the first one but, seeing this gave me a pause.

Now to companion reactions to this choice:

Lae'zel: Snuffed out in an instant, but to whose satisfaction? They will never feed and never be hunted. And never have a chance to hew their own paths. Shadowheart (Shar path) : Wise choice. Now the streets will be safer and you'll be stronger. Shadowheart: All those lives, just snuffed out... I hope it was worth it. Wyll: Hells. They deserved better. They deserved a chance. Gale: All gone, just like that... I hope it was worth it. Karlach: It's done. Just like that. Gods, help us. Halsin: All those lives snuffed out, just to grasp some power. That was craven - unnatural Jaheira: A cold kind of mercy. But mercy still, I think, Astarion. Minsc: To end so many with only rhyming and words... the sword would have been messy, yes. But cleaner too, thinks Boo. Nightwarden Minthara: No different than burning out an infestation of vermin. It was well done.

Here, Halsin's is clearly an oversight because Astarion didn't just killed them to grasp more power.

Wyll's also feels out of place. He's a monster hunter - why is he mad that seven thousand spawn is not released to the Sword Coast?

Minthara has a unique point of view on the subject as well as Shar path Shadowheart - would killing the 7k spawn really make Astarion stronger?

Out of all the companions Jaheira is the only person who offers comfort in her words.

Let's release them. They deserve the same chance you got.

This choice breaks the oath of Paladin of Ancients.

Astarion: You're right. The poor wretches in the cells are innocent. They shouldn't have to suffer just because I lured them here.

And now to the companion reactions:

Lae'zel: A herd of vampire spawn, unleashed on the Sword Coast. What could go wrong? Shadowheart (Shar path): I can't say I'd have done the same, but your choice in the end. Shadowheart: You did the right thing. Some sacrifices just aren't worth it. Wyll: They're victims, Astarion - just like you. They deserve freedom, too. Gale: You chose well. They may not be the safest types to unleash, but their deaths would have weighed heavy on you. Karlach: Seven thousand Astarions, unleashed on the Sword Coast. It'll be a well-dressed flood of mayhem, at least. Halsin: Good - they deserve a chance at life. Nature will handle their fates from here. Jaheira: And what of the living they'll feast on, should they not prove as admirable as Astarion? They deserve a chance, too. Minsc: Boo thinks you are being hasty, friend. He enjoys the hunt as much as any hamster, but... that is a lot of Astarions. Nightwarden Minthara: If you release those ravenous starvelings, the city's poorer quarters will be their feasthall.

I really like a few of the reactions here. Gale makes such a good point. Their deaths would weigh heavily on Astarion but he forgets - what about the people these spawn will kill?

In both reactions, I feel like writers have completely forgotten Wyll was a monster hunter. It's really disappointing and lacks nuance.

Jaheira being, once again, the only person who mentions the consequences of this and Minthara makes a very good point. That is exactly what the spawn will do.

However, I do like Halsin's point in balance as well. Make no mistake, they will wreak havoc the first few weeks that they are released but I think about a 1/3 of the spawn is not gonna make it a month after being released and slowly their numbers will get balanced out.

Why not just leave them? They're not our responsibility.

And leaving them be breaks the oath of Paladin of Vengeance. I really like how one of these always break one of the oaths for paladins. It is interesting that leaving them be breaks the vengeance oath, which I interpret as Astarion leaving taking his revenge unfinished.

Dalyra is upset about this choice the most. And Astarion responds to her.

Astarion: I am done picking up after Cazador. I wash my hands of all of this. This place, this ritual, these people. You can stay if you want, but I have a life and I intend to live it. Come on. Let's go.

This does read as a selfish response to me but I also think, Astarion has a right to say "I'm done." He feels guilty about bringing the people to Cazador but what choice did he have? Can we really blame him for this? His siblings try to fight against Cazador and not bring Astarion back but they cannot, they have to fight. They have no control over their choices, their bodies. It is Cazador's mess and not Astarion's responsibility.

Companions do not react to this choice.

There are no good choices here, honestly. Astarion being have to be the one to clean up Cazador's mess is a cruel irony.

However, and I know all the companions and writers clearly held some kind of romantic view about letting the spawn go but this is seven thousand uncontrolled vampire that will get released into the world, all at once. They will die, of course but before then, they will kill people who had nothing to do with any of this.

Companions are very worried about killing these spawn but none of them, other than Jaheira, thinks about the people they will kill. Like she says, the people the spawn are going to kill deserve a chance to live as well.

It is also not just people they will kill, they will kill animals and disturb ecosystems everywhere they go and strip them barren like a swarm of locusts. Long term consequences of letting the spawn go is grim, even though it looks like a good choice at first glance but it is not.

Killing them all would also weigh heavy on both Astarion and Tav's conscience. It is not something you do and then walk away then never think about it again.

All in all, leaving them in the cells for the Gur to take care of or releasing them in waves seems like the better choices and a good compromise but constraints of the narrative doesn't give us this choice - it is undeniably more satisfying to see everything find a conclusion in that moment.

Tl:dr - There is no good or morally correct choice here. There is only a choice and its consequences.

[genericpuff]

I’m gonna have to disagree with you that Kaos is any better than LO. It’s all the same bull crap.

Kaos just seems like live-action LO, both having a boring storyline with bad or fetishized characterizations of the Greek Gods and figures, and both looking artistically beautiful and some cool concepts, but badly executed. The only difference is that Kaos has more LGBTQIA+ themes than LO, has a tiny bit more Greek references, and gets much darker. That’s pretty much it.

As a Greek who studies our myths and stories extensively, I’m tired of the west trying to take and rearrange our stories and retell them ‘with a modern, western lense’. It’s exhausting and infuriating.

It’s time the west gets over its fascination with us and move on.

Fair opinion! Honestly, the initial post I made about it was after only watching the first couple episodes. Now that I've finished it, I can definitely see actual glaring issues with it, both in their characterizations as well as in how they kind of lose the intrigue after a few episodes of the setting and elements of them being gods. Which are all issues that LO have as well.

Though I will say, LO has those issues far more than Kaos does, but what really separates LO from Kaos, in my opinion - the creators of Kaos aren't pretending that Kaos is more than it is. To me, Kaos isn't in any way a singular Greek myth retelling, more so a fun "Greek epic" style story featuring the gods in a modern setting, the way LO could have been if Rachel hadn't tried to make it into something bigger than it was (and if she didn't put herself on a pedestal as a "self proclaimed folklorist"). I can watch Kaos and appreciate it as a fun Greek myth inspired piece of media because that's pretty much all it's trying to be. Meanwhile LO gives us middle-school-level writing with very little real Greek myth influence (aside from what it benefits Rachel to do so) that even goes so far as to outright disrespect the myths that they were based on... all the while people praise it as the greatest Greek myth retelling ever.

I think Kaos is miles better than LO because it at least tells a more coherent story than LO ever could have, with a lot more attention paid to the stylization of a Greek epic (compared to LO which tried and failed to implement those same things, such as the Fates, self-fulfilling prophecies, and witty narration as to retell a story that's already happened).

Granted, that story still takes a lot of liberties with the source material (some that I enjoyed, others not so much), but in that regard, I refer to the above - Kaos isn't trying to be an actual retelling like LO did, so I view it the same way I do as something like Hercules or Hades, where the people who made it clearly love Greek myth and wanted to do some Greek myth-inspired story with their own twists on the narratives, and it paid off in a story that, in spite of their flaws, still feels intentional and thought out.

LO, by comparison, is just a mess of ripped off half-baked ideas thrown at a wall and filled in with self-fulfilling power fantasy garbage written by someone who claims to have deeper knowledge of the myths but clearly doesn't. It's hard to enjoy LO in spite of its flaws because it's all flaws and they're so deeply-rooted in the context of Rachel's own biases and sexual preferences that you really can't separate it from that once you know if it.

I do have some criticisms of Kaos and some of its more creative choices - Hera cheating on Zeus with Poseidon (literally wtf lmao), Persephone still being the "I went down there willingly!" archetype (though at least she's not 19 in this, the casting for her and Hades was great), as well as the fact that things weren't wrapped up by the end of the first season which really bums me out because now it's up to the mercy of Netflix to give it that second season - but ultimately, from a story-writing perspective, Kaos absolutely did accomplish having an actual narrative with themes and goal-driven writing that LO failed in having. That comparison doesn't make Kaos a 100% perfect show without flaw, but I made the comparison initially anyways because much of what I enjoyed in Kaos was what I expected from LO (and ultimately didn't get).

That's just my own two cents though! And I need to make it clear - I am not a Greek person! I have no say or merit within the discussion regarding Greek myth and how it's been appropriated!! - so ultimately... my opinion of these things really aren't as valuable as someone who actually is Greek or studied heavily in it.

So that said, I can completely see the merit in your own arguments that a lot of these "modern retellings" tend to miss the point of the stories they're trying to retell (esp with the criticisms I outlined above) and are often chewed up through a Western lens. The lesser of two evils is still evil. But if we're purely talking Kaos vs. Lore Olympus here as modern entertainment that are both attempting similar things... I'd be way more likely to rewatch and recommend one over the other. Plus there are a lot of adaptions out there made by Westerners / non-Greeks that are incredible and are, at the very least, amazing stepping stones into the world of Greek myth for those who want to learn more about it. Out of the pool of ongoing modern Greek myth retellings/inspired works - Blood of Zeus, Hades/Hades 2, Kaos, Epic: The Musical, Hadestown, Hercules, Percy Jackson & The Olympians, and Lore Olympus - it's not hard to guess which one I'd be the least likely to recommend as gateways into Greek mythology. If those titles were organized in a list of best to worst, Kaos isn't at the top of that list, but it's sure as shit higher than LO 💀😆

[fipindustries]

bojack horse bad again

you know, i was thinking back to this show again, i watched three seasons of it and that was all that i could tomach and you know what? no.

i dont accept it

i dont care, it was a bad show, it was an objectively bad show and i dont accept that everyone else decided that it was good, i dont care, it was a bad show and im going to tell you why.

emotional terrorism

maybe im a simpleton but i am someone who cares quite a lot about catharsis in my stories. this show refused to grant that, adamantly and violently. im not saying i need a happy ending, i am more than capable of enjoying bittersweet or even tragic stories, but i need a sense of completeness, some satisfaction, some release, some sense that things matter or meant something. this show insisted on refusing to give that. all this show was interested in was get an emotional reaction out of you. it was the emotional equivalent of a jump scare. it was convinced that if it made you feel bad enough people would confuse that with beeing powerful and deep. you could get the same reaction by walking up to someone on the street and kicking them in the nuts. and it would take about as much subtlety or artistry.

2. writer led rather than animator led

you could tell this was one of those shows that were made on the writer's room, not by storyboarders or artists, by "comedians". by people with english degrees. so many scenes of characters just standing around and talking. so many "jokes" that were clearly meant to be funny as something you read on a piece of paper or on a tweet and chuckle as you read it but as animation it just gave limp, stagnant scenes. so much dialog that were references and quips and puns and fast witticisms of the type you come up in the shower when thinking of clever comebacks.

there were so many fucking scenes where everything would stop and a character would launch on some stupid profound monologue about life and philosophy and psychology and relationships. it was like the writers were trying on for size paragraphs of their future memoirs or self help books. so much dialog that was begging for an award for writing. so many "mic drop" moments that were designed to be quoted. i find that the best writing is not the one that you can just quote out of context as a cool pithy phrase. a lot of the best writing ive seen in my life is meaningless when devoid of context, is inextricable of the scene and indeed of the entire story surrounding it but in here i can almost see the seams where the writers look at the camera waiting to see if you are impressed

3. inconsistent tone

this show wanted to eat its cake and then still have it. there are stories that manage to deftly weave in and out of comedic moments into serious moments. everything everywhere all at once does an amazing job jumping from the stupidest, most childish jokes into the most profound commentary about human nature, sometimes doing both at the same time and it worked, one didint cheapen the other.

in here though, it wanted to both have a completly absurd world with the stupidest characters ever and then somehow make us care for it all as if the show hadnt shot itself in the foot. it wanted us to see caroline being in love with what is clearly three children in a trenchcoat and then take her seriously as an adult, to treat any forther relationship drama she has as if it werent completly farcical.

4. ugly animation

it continued the blight that is take over adult animation by doing that disgusting repugnant paper puppet rigged interpolated quasi flash animation that only gives you stiff poses and movements and incredibly boring shots of characters standing in 3/4 perspective in front of the camera. it dull and flat and clunky and ugly, and the character designs were ugly. the noses were ugly and the mouths were ugly and the hairs were ugly and the eyes were ugly. it was all ugly. the backgrounds were fucking ugly and the colors were ugly and it was an ugly show to look at. unbearably so. and even the obligatory "weird" stylized scenes put in to shake things off and try to pretend that it was visually interesting (for like one scene per season) were also fucking ugly.

5. it had not interesting point to make

all it could do was insist and belavor and extemporize about how this one guy sucks and also most people kind of suck but specifically this one guy really sucks and he is not going to get better, or maybe he will? eh maybe, but not really, because he sucks. and we are going to make you like him because we are the writers and we are going to make him relatable and charismatic and sympathetic but actually no he sucks, you fell for it! and what does it say about you that you almost kind of liked him eh????. season after season of him, and in case you almost found anything redeemable about him, we are going to make him even worse, painfully unsubtly so, we are going to make him look at the camera and say that he sucks, because that is the level of nuance we think you can handle, dear viewer. this is called "self aware writing" and its postmodern and meta, which means its clever.

i fucking hate this show and the more i think about it the angrier it makes me, and what makes me more angriest of all is that people like it. its popular. it won awards i think. its largely recognized as a good show and its not! it sucks and its bad and if you like it you are stupid.

[bibibbon]

Characters with wasted potential: takami kegio

Oh hawks and the debates I have seen circulating around his character. He could of been a well written and thoroughly interesting and complex character but we know where that went.

I have got my own problems with hawks in canon. This is gonna be more of a ramble than anything else so enjoy.

His interactions with characters. A lot of the interactions that hawks has with different characters could of been so complex and intriguing if done right sadly MHA fails at that. Hawks views Enji todoroki the number two hero as his saviour from his abusive father so obviously hawks is a huge Endeavour fan who puts him on a pedestal. So we expect him to face an internal conflict when he finds out that his own saviour is an abuser to his own family but NOPE WE GET NOTHING. Hawks is physically not allowed to change or think about this and stays as a static character. Hawks and lady nagant have a lot of parallels and I found it Hella confusing when I learnt that lady nagant WASN'T hawk's former mentor and if she was that would of added a lot more depth to them in the vigilante arc. Hawks and tokoyami, look I love their mentor and mentoee relationship and how hawks actively encourages tokoyami to do things also it's Hella implied that the two are close and end up doing silly things on internships which I think is really fun. However I think the bit in the vigilante arc when hawks isn't answering tokoyamis calls and tokoyami is worried about him was handled poorly. I also think tokoyamis reaction to hawks being a killer is handled poorly. Hawk's actions during the first war arc and him killing twice could of been complex to him if handled well but we are led to believe that he was in the right in killing twice when hawks had the power to easily knock out twice, transport him to a jail cell and destroy all the clones before anything bad happens considering that hawks is known for his fastness, strength and agility .

Wasted potential in introduced plot aspects about him. Hawks is introduced as the 3rd top hero and compared to those before him he is young. He has a very charismatic and two faced nature that he has sharpened and learnt to use with the training the HPSC gave him. Hawks is a spy assassin that is supposed to act as a charismatic hero celebrity. In a way after all mights retirement hawks and enji became the most popular faces in Japan. Hawks was bred for this position yet that isn't expanded on neither is it developed well on. Hawk's actions during MVA and the first war arc are complex as they're coming from both genuine truth and lie. Hawks feels trapped literally and metaphorically having to live a life that isn't his and entertain people, always being watched from a cage. That's the story he tells the league and some of it to tokoyami and this is the truth to him. Hawks also killed twice BECAUSE HE BELIEVED it was the only option he had when in fact IT WASNT THE ONLY OPTION and by hawks trying to escape the cage and differentiate himself from the HPSC he ends up following and obeying them all along.

Lack of agency. As a character hawks lacks agency to do things or act. There are things that hawks isn't allowed to do even though it fits his narrative clearly. Hawks isnt allowed to have any negative feelings towards enji todoroki and what he did, heck he isn't even allowed to INTROPSECT on such a thing. Hawks isn't allowed to fully be developed or have any source of introspection, it would of been great if we saw more of what hawks thought about what he did to twice and what toga is trying to do. Hawks also doesn't say much when it comes to the HPSC and how they treated him the closest thing we get to intropsection in that case is him telling lady nagant that he is an extremely optimistic guy.

These are my main problems with hawks, Iam aware that there may be more.

I actually enjoyed hawk's introduction in the manga which was chapter 185 during the changing of the hero popularity polls. Hawks was presented as this complex character who isn't what he seems from the beginning. The first few panels we see him and he is comedically exaggerating his actions aka zipping his mouth and not talking or being overall very expressive however, when he does start to talk he is shown to cleary express his views and has stated that he hates the general bs thay heroes sprout about them wanting to uphold the law more than enjoying the luxuries that hero work gives them. He then takes the mic and proceeds to 'spice things up' by calling out enji on how disliked he is by the civilians. He claims this is something he did to help enji when in fact it didn't help him at all. To me this first interaction already establishes him as a walking contradiction.

His relationship with tokoyami. Their relationship first started in a way for hawks to gain information about 1A and he definitely wasn't being sneaky about it considering that tokoyami could see right through him. Tokoyami at the time only wanted to learn from hawks and was heavily upset and confused as to why hawks taught him nothing and was only using him. However, as time passed by they actually started to form a proper mentor and student relationship which I really enjoyed. When hawks was asked why he chose tokoyami he said that they are from the same feather, basically insinuating that he felt like it was somewhat his duty since he and tokoyami are both bird mutants to a certain extent. As a mentor hawks taught his student to have fun and chill out as tokoyami is a very grounded person (literally and metaphorically). Hawks inspired tokoyami to fly and majority of tokoyamis moves are some stuff that he either learnt or was inspired from with hawks. There's also the fact that it's heavily implied that a lot of the time hawks and tokoyami did goof out a bit considering that tokoyami has 'scandalous pictures' of hawks. However, I wish we actually got more of this relationship especially after tokoyami finds out that hawks killed twice. In the manga when tokoyami finds out of such a thing he automatically protects hawks and thinks he is in the right. I disagree with that and I think it would of been better to have it so that tokoyami protects hawks from Dabi not because he is a hero who done no wrong but because he is his mentor who he deeply cares for. I would also have it so that tokoyami starts to question who hawks really is?, is he a good person?, did tokoyami do the right thing helping hawks? Etc etc. in the vigilante arc, it's stated that tokoyami tried to contact hawks multiple times to no avail however this isn't expanded on. I would have it so that hawks is avoiding tokoyami on purpose because he is ashamed and scared of what his student will think of him. At the end they have a conversation and talk it out with tokoyami understanding that what hawks did was wrong but he deeply cares for him whereas hawks understands just how valuable his relationship with tokoyami really is. In the end, I ended up liking what happend with hawks and tokoyami both protecting eachother in the final arc and growing stronger as a mentor and student. Hawks learns to protect the youth and break the cycle that he was trapped in while learning what a hero means to others from tokoyamis perspective.

Hawks and twice . Hawks managed to build a good relationship with twice as the dumb and overly optimistic MVA member. Twice had potential to be saved but hawks ended up killing him. I have reread this part of the manga and I have my mixed opinions on this however, there are two ways I would change this 1) have hawks kill toga instead and have twice and toga switch places as it makes way more sense or 2) have hawks try to quickly take down twice by knocking him out and trying to transport him somewhere get before he can achieve that Dabi comes in and intervenes finally making hawks too slow to do anything and having him end up killing twice. Option 2 is what happend in the manga with hawks being too slow (ironic considering that hawks is praised on speed) to truly save twice and ends up taking his life so twice doesn't escape and doom them all. The problem is that hawks starts on the offensive (something I like), hawks thinks that killing twice is the only way to avoid everything or at least massively injuring him would stop it. Sadly, hawks could of easily convinced twice to back down considering how easily swayed twice is and that he only did the things he did because he thought there was no way out or wanted to help his friends. Before their fight begins however, hawks talks about not being swayed by nice words and connections he built with twice which makes me think that he didn't want to kill him but due to his mindset and pov he ended up killing him because HE THOUGHT IT WAS THE ONLY OPTION HE HAD (It wasn't)

His involvement in the MVA. Hawks first starts as a double spy for the HPSC. Through the MVA arc we see him do questionable things in the name of other people safety however, we see his actions backfire badly. Hawks tries to quickly and swiftly gain the leagues trust yet he isn't fast enough, he tries to quickly inform the heroes and the HPSC of how dangerous and out of hand this situation yet he fails and many things are caused by him (the fastest hero alive) not being quick enough to do anything. He 'kills' beat jeanist in the name of gaining the trust of the MVA yet that does nothing to get him up the system and just makes it that best jeanists help is out of the table for the majority of the arc. Hawks joining the MVA was useful for the league as they were going to parade him around so people can join him yet I still wonder how the mainstream media didnt catch a whiff of what hawks was up to or how he simply abandoned hero society (even though he was a double spy). Hawks also talks to the league why he joined the MVA and uses his own story (somewhat of the truth of his life) how he feels like a bird trapped in a cage one that can't fly freely this can be interpreted in many ways. 1) he doesn't have the right to freely use his quirk to any extent he wants which is something that MVA stands for or 2) he feels trapped by his own life choices, him becoming a hero especially the number 2 and has a lot of eyes on him watching him like a circus animal with every move he makes so he puts on an act and never drops the mask.

Hawks and toga himiko . Toga himiko should of either been killed by hawks in place of twice which would of made him get more backlash by the public and make tokoyami question him even more considering that hawks somewhat mercilessly killed a 16 year old (the same age as tokoyami) in cold blood for justice so he could also do it to him. Or we should of gotten a hawks Vs toga battle in the final arc instead of a afo Vs hawks one. It would of made way more sense. Considering that hawks killed twice who is very dear to toga she should of had her eyes set on hawks death the minute she chose to join the lov and the final war. We should of gotten an intense and emotional battle between them were hawks has to come to terms that he didn't need to kill twice but he thought that it was the only option he had and he watches as toga uses twices quirk knowing that twices death was meaningless as toga is using his quirk in the way he feared it would be used. Hawks would be almost killed until ochako intervenes and has her battle with toga while hawks goes and fights alongside tokoyami.

Hawk's views on lady nagant. Lady nagant should of been hawk's mentor and he should of been her replacement. In canon hawks is only her replacement and I think it would of added more nuance and overall better writing if she was his mentor. I absolutely loved the parallels that those two shared and how they came out on different side of things however, I do think that we should of seen more of hawks getting the backhand treatment from the public considering that him killing twice was on live television. Honestly it surprised me that hawks killing twice isn't what the public was most upset with him about but they were upset with him having an abusive and villain father which honestly says a lot. I also think that they should of had more screentime to talk, hawks helped save lady nagant and she ended up asking him how he still has hope while he says that he is "optimistic". Iam not a huge fan of this moment and I think it could of been written better. Hawks and lady nagant are two sides of the same coin but dam did I hate hawks holding her burnt body and telling her that he was her replacement, it could of been handled better with hawks and her actually having somewhat of a fight and then some of the conversation happening after the explosion.

Hawks and the todoroki family . Oh boy I can feel that this is gonna be a long one. I found it interesting that hawks actually looked up and admired endeavour and I loved the parallels it gave both hawks and Dabi. However, I hated that hawks wasn't allowed to think or have any intropsection after hearing about what enji did or that he didn't go through a bit of a crisis over it. The fact that hawk's character has simply been reduced to enji Todorokis biggest supporter is my biggest problem with hawks. Dabi and hawks were very interesting to me (no I don't ship them) they're simply two sides of the same coin especially in the ways they act. Dabi is consistent on revenge whereas hawks is the opposite, Dabi hates enji whereas hawks admires enji and so on and so on. I do think that it would of been way more interesting if touya and kegio had actual history behind everything going on so I have always liked the HC that they met in the HPSC training scheme and became friends. It's plausible and makes Dabi saying hawk's real name way more meaningful than Dabi finding it out by threatening hawk's mother. I also think that both of them sharing a form of history yet not trusting eachother is hella interesting. Dabi was probably one of the only characters (aside from Izuku and tokoyami) that could see through some of hawks actions. Dabi knew what hawks will do yet never tried to intervene until it benefited him of course in true icon fashion that is. I also find hawk's relationship with the youngest todoroki interesting but I think it was done horribly. I would of liked to see more scenes with hawks and shoto talking about enji and touya or just scene of them that draw the similarities they have.

I would also have hawks be semi involved in the whole mutant racism plot because we need that to be fleshed out. Does hawks help donate to charities that help mutants? Is he against such people? Or doe hawks himself face such discrimination? To be honest I doubt it considering that his mutation is on the "prettier side" of the mutations and wouldn't face discrimination like shoji did

Hawks also had potential to interact with other characters like todoroki which would of highlighted his thoughts and development on the families matter. There is also Izuku midoriya who in a way is in somewhat of a similar circumstance to hawks and they could of had that whole is there another way to save villains like twice and shigaraki without killing them or is death the only way or just general conversation between the two considering that tokoyami was stated to praise izuku so much that hawks considered taking him as an intern. In one of the side comics you also had Izuku be somewhat suspicious of hawks and his abilities and it's also somewhat hinted in the main manga so it's interesting to have them have a conversation about that.

I personally think that hawks should of received concequences for his actions and one of them being hindered quirk use aka his wings don't grow back properly or everytime he uses them he can't use them to their fullest potential due to how injured he was by Dabis fire. Also, I hate how hawks being used by the commission is almost brought as a second thought, like when the HPSC fell we really didn't get much of hawk's personal reaction or thoughts or anything on the matter it seems like a quite empty point even though it had its potential to Futher develop hawks

In conclusion, hawks character introduction was pretty solid and I really liked some of the aspects that the series gave him like making him a walking contradiction to a certain extent but I do think that horikoshi development of hawks character was horrible and the fact that hawks lacks agency to do many things or reflect on things irritates me very much.

[thestargayzingetherian]

Shadow Weaver's "Redemption"

So I often see posts going around about Shadow Weaver's death scene and how she "deserved worse" or "doesn't even count as a redemption". In my opinion, like a lot of She-Ra stuff online, it ignores a lot of the nuance of the show's actual writing.

I don't really call her arc a redemption arc... but I do see this scene in particular as her finally, at long last realising how much harm she's caused to Catra and Adora. By keeping them apart... she's actually made Adora weaker, ironically, all those years of manipulation... and it's been for nothing. Adora isn't her perfect little pawn, she's weak and dying of green prime virus running through her and hurting at the thought of her best friend dying to Prime's little pet cthulu.

I see way too many people say that SW should have died sooner and to be honest, yes, if this was any other story, yeah they'd have probably killed her around season 3. If they genuinely did want her to have a redemption, they'd have made her arc in seasons 3 and 4 more genuine, have her work to really be an ally of the rebellion and not being the manipulative witch she'd always been. But that's not what Nate Stevenson wanted to do. By keeping SW around as long as the show did, they got do more with her and show how someone like her is in various environments, both in the Horde and on the side of the rebellion.

I genuinely think this WAS SW doing a "one good thing" like Catra did. And to be honest, it was the only good thing she could really do. There is no way that if she did survive this that she could truly make ammends for the harm and cycles of abuse she perpetuated, especially not at this point in the story.

Hordak was at least under the influence of his programming and war was the only thing he knew when he started the Horde. Sure, he's not entirely absolved of his actions in the war, but he's at least more of a victim and his compassion for Entrapta show's he's at least worthy of a second chance. Shadow Weaver was clearly a woman driven by power, a desperate need for control and that was her own choice, likely from being scared of being weak. (I believe she was telling the truth when she told Catra that Catra reminded her of herself, that she was once a weak and hurt young woman who hated being weak and wanted to be stronger and that began her lust for power.)

Also, what she says to Catra and Adora? "It's much too late for me, but your story is just beginning. I'm so proud of you. You're welcome."

She could have very easily just said sorry, much like Catra did when she rescued Glimmer.... but would ANY apology be really able to make up for what she did? No, probably not. Instead its just... "you're welcome" as if to say "you're finally rid of me, congrats". Because she knows that pain now and how it tore Catra and Adora apart. And the fact she does this with her mask off, without any hint of lies, as if to be finally honest for the first time in so long.

I know it's fun to dunk on SW and say she's the worst ever and yeah, I do enjoy that too... but I also know what her arc, if you can call it, that is about and why she is in the story. Like everything in She-Ra, she has a lot of nuance to her, even if you didn't realise it.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 46

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: 1% plot, aphrodisiac use, no holes barred, group sex/orgy, lite kink (bit of shibari, bit of breeding, degradation, praise, domination), sex workers

I'm pretty proud that I could write this much smut; sorry it took so long!

Doing Business

Kid was getting impatient. A minute ago he had half a dozen women fawning over him and now he had just one. Don't get him wrong, she was super hot. But why did the rest all run off to Y/N? It seemed the rest of the crew was dealing with the same problem, though none of them seemed to mind. One pretty lady in their lap at a time was enough to keep them occupied. If he was gonna pay good money, he wanted the full experience. He was soon distracted by barely contained tits in his face as the woman hand-fed him. Kid had told the madame that he wanted to be treated like the Pirate King, after all, he would be in due time. 

You were ushered into one of the back rooms by what felt like hundreds of hands and excited giggles. The woman you knew as Jade held your hands in hers seated across from each other on luxurious stools. She kissed both of your cheeks and had tear streaks down her own even though she was clearly happy. You were honestly surprised at yourself for remembering her name. Your paths crossed very briefly when you had attacked the ship her and some other women were being held captive on. There wasn't supposed to be any 'merchandise' on the ship, but they had failed to offload the cargo when they didn't get a fair offer from the skin trader. The only one that was inadvertently hurt was Jade. Her hip had been crushed by falling debris and you had to carry her off the ship. You had done your best to set it but there wasn't much you could do for her. At the next safe island, you had made sure they had a place to stay for a few nights and helped them as much as you could before setting off. 

"I knew you weren't gone! They kept saying you were dead but I didn't believe it for a second." Jade gestured at the rest of the girls who were knelt down or standing near you. "These are some of the other women you've set free, either the same night as me or from different places. They all seem to find me somehow." 

"I was gone for some time, just stranded on an island. The pirates I came here with rescued me." You left out the bit where you tried to kill each other. "I don't understand. Why are you all still doing... this? I thought you would all return home or find work that you actually enjoy." 

Jade laughed. "Yeah we get that a lot. It's different. We work for ourselves now. Some of us did this sort of thing before we were captured and some of us were taken so young we don't have any other marketable skills." Jade paused. "We can choose our own clients and we can turn anyone we want down. And what's not to like, especially when clients look like your pals out there. We're completely free to make our own decisions. Thanks to you."

"Any decent person would do the same thing. There's a lack of decent people in the world is all." 

"So if you're with them," she gestured in your crewmate's direction, "have you stopped the whole Sea Snake thing?"

"Course not." Seeing these women made you more resolute in your personal mission. 

Jade smiled. "Good." 

A thought occurred to you. You could help Jade more than you had those some odd years ago now that you had a Devil Fruit. "Hey. I have some new abilities. Would you like it if I fixed your hip? Correctly this time."

She happily accepted and made a few more requests on behalf of her girls when you explained your power. When you were done, Jade no longer limped, and her and her girls were free of the slave marks that marred their skin. You had also noticed that a few of the girls had matching tattoos.

"What with the snake tattoos?"

"Oh! You didn't make the connection?" According to Jade, they were in honor of you, just as the club itself was, hence the name and the entrance decor.

It was a bit embarrassing. You didn't feel like you were special enough to be praised in this manner. You did what was right.

Jade stretched her newly healed leg and walked around on it. "This is incredible. I haven't walked without pain in so long." You winced knowing that it was your fault. She must have noticed. "Please don't feel bad. A little wince is better than being traded like meat." A smug grin crept across Jade's face. "I haven't been able to be on top in ages." She turned to you. "Say, which one of your comrades wouldn't mind giving this hip a test drive?" 

"Probably any of them, but if you want to be on top, probably the masked blonde one or the gray-blue-haired one. Sorry, I forgot you knew their names, Killer or Heat."

She nodded. "Girls, treat Y/N to some relaxation." She pointed to a few other girls. "You come with me. You've kept our guests waiting long enough." 

You were whisked away yet again to another chamber, this time with a bath. The girls stripped you down and languidly lathered you up, taking their time, not allowing you to lift a finger. All you had to do was lay back and relax. Their touch was gentle, every now and then their fingers grazed are sensitive areas seemingly by accident, but it was all part of the experience. They put you in a silk robe and led you into a chamber with a large bed. The light was low, lit only by hundreds of candles. The scent was foreign to you, yet very pleasant. You already felt relaxed from the warm bath. Next, each girl was stationed at a different part of you, rubbing massage oil into your skin with skilled hands. An interesting shot was offered to you in a small glass, a special tincture to help you relax. You let your head fall back as they worked every muscle with increasing pressure. There was even someone at your head massaging your scalp. You felt someone put something soft over your closed eyes. What they neglected to let you in on was that this was the aphrodisiac room, where everything was carefully crafted to heighten and entice your senses, the candles, the massage oil, the food, even the material of the sheets. You hadn't begun to feel the effects yet, currently feeling like you were melting into the bed itself. 

Elsewhere, Wire was allowing himself to give up control, being patient as his body was contorted and bound by silk rope. Every knot made his dick twitch. The girls were more than happy to stroke him or give him a kitten lick as a tease. When they were satisfied that he was begging hard enough, they would allow him a release. However, currently, they were keen on touching each other in front of him, not allowing him any touch or taste. Blood rushed to his cock, making it stand at full attention. It was harder than he knew for the girls to resist touching such an impressive member. His usual self would want them in his position, he would want them to beg. He rarely allowed himself the opportunity to play the other role. Any movement of his hips or flex of his muscles made the ropes dig harder into his skin. 

"His cock is so desperate for us. Look at it weeping." One of the girls blew air across it, making Wire shiver. "You want us to touch it so badly don't you. What kind of pathetic man would grovel to two whores?" 

He clenched his teeth to stifle a whine. Wire's cock ached from the absence of touch. He watched as the girls took turns tasting each other, cumin on each others' tongues. One of the girls took her own slick and wiped it down his shaft in one stroke. He let the groan out this time. More pre-cum leaked from him. He was in a kneeling position on the bed with his thighs spread apart. Another of the girls backed her cunt up to him without touching him. He could feel the warmth though, and he hissed as the ropes dug into him again, instinctively trying to rut against her. The other girl dove her fingers into her partner, demonstrating her wetness by eliciting squelches from her pussy. She removed her fingers and held her open so Wire could get a good look at the glistening pink walls. 

"Please. Touch me. Use me to get off." Wire gave in. "I-I want to be..."

"What do you want?"

"I want to be your sex toy." 

It would have been embarrassing how quickly he came when he was finally sheathed within one of them, but he didn't care because it felt so good and because he was hard again soon after. 

In the next room, Heat was sticky. One after the other, girls took turns riding his face. Heat loved eating pussy, so it was no wonder what he wanted to do with his time. his face was coated in the various combined juices of his partners. He licked his lips and groaned. The sweet, metallic taste of pussy clung to his tongue. He had cum a few times without his cock even being touched, gooey white stripes were scattered on his belly. Using it as a lubricant, one of the girls ground her center against his abdomen. Another was riding his thigh. Heat was a giver. He got off on getting other people off. He loved watching the pleasure take over another's features while they used him. He loved feeling the wetness against his skin or his tongue.

Usually, he enjoyed being degraded. Today, however, he was being praised, and by the Madame herself, who had joined in late. He was being such a good boy for them, letting them use him however they pleased. They praised his tongue for how perfectly it lapped up their juices. They praised his lips and how they expertly worked their clits. His thighs were so muscular and fit to be ridden. His hands were rough and wonderfully calloused in a way that felt exquisite against their skin, brushing against their nipples and squeezing their breasts. They saved his cock for last, the Madame stood on the balls of her feet, guiding herself up and down his shaft, while another girl stifled his moans with her cunt. They rode him like a tandem bike until he couldn't last any longer. 

Killer was enjoying himself down the hall. He had wanted to try this with you and Kid sometime, but hadn't gotten around to it, though he was pretty sure you would both be into it. He was balls deep in one of the girls, while the other was balls deep in him, with a strap-on of course. He could have cum several times by now, though he stopped himself from getting too close.  He had the first girl's knees next to her ears, bending her in half. She hadn't stopped wailing since he started. These kinds of days were a dream, the ones where the girls thought they should be the ones paying for a service for how good they were getting fucked.  

Killer's hips stuttered as he got close again. The feeling of getting fucked himself was almost too much. He was feeling pleasure from both sides as the girl behind him, rammed into his sweet spot. He had to stop. He didn't want to finish yet. Killer was used to being the giver, today, he wanted to be selfish. He wanted to be the one cumming over and over again. He let go of his self-control, pumping straight through his orgasm, allowing himself to cum. He let out a guttural moan as he was fucked from behind until he saw stars, spilling his seed until it leaked from around where his cock was buried.

They allowed him no rest as he was pushed onto his back. The girl with the strap puled out during the rearrangement, and slowly pushed the silicone cock back into Killer, causing another small spurt of cum to leak from his tip. Her hand smeared it down his cock as she started pumping it back to life. He wanted to cum over and over again and that's exactly what he was going to get.

Kid, ever the problem child, grew more and more frustrated. He had several girls to accompany him, at the moment two were taking turns sucking his cock. It had been half-hard the entire time. He hadn't even drank that much, so what gives? He demanded more girls, with little improvement. He was being pampered with any number of techniques. Some nipple play here, some asshole teasing there, and still his cock refused to stand tall. It wasn't the girls. They were all quite stunning, each in her own unique way. He knew why it was like this, and couldn't admit it to himself. 

Only when he let his eyes close, and pretend that it was you who was touching him, did his erection grow. He had to pretend it was your tight cunt wrapped around his cock when one of the girls was riding him. He had to pretend it was you who was stroking him or touching him. He had to pretend it was you when he fucked them. And he had to pretend it was you to cum. But it wasn't satisfying. He had to have the real thing. 

Kid begrudgingly got up. He tugged his pants on but left everything else on the floor. He walked in the direction that your collar alerted him to, pausing briefly to listen in to the other rooms. Everyone else could enjoy themselves freely. Why couldn't he? It wasn't fair. This was something completely new to him. Never had he been like this. He nearly bowled over the Madame, who had slipped into the hallway. 

"Something wrong? Were my girls not satisfactory?"

"Nah. They were fine."

She studied his face. "But they weren't what you wanted, or rather, who you wanted, were they?" She had seen it enough times to know.

Kid frowned. 

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Kid frowned even more.

"Have you told her how you feel?"

"And say what?!" This was so stupid. Talking about this in a whorehouse with the head whore. "That I haven't been able to get her dumb face out of my head since I first saw her? That she's so fucking annoying she makes my stomach hurt? That she makes me insane when she does stupid shit that might kill her? Those aren't feelings!" Kid released a breath. It felt good to say something out loud. He hoped no one had heard it though.

"You're right. Those aren't feelings." She held up one finger. "It's one feeling."

"That's not-! I don't-!" Kid stepped past her. "Where's Y/N?" Kid turned and growled. "UNRELATED!" 

"Very end of the hallway." The Madame smiled a knowing smile. How lucky you were to have someone so passionate. She walked to the back room, where the girls hung out or recovered and freshened up. She walked through to another back room filled with tools and props. Someone had left out the ingredients for their infamous Snake Venom shot, a powerful aphrodisiac, except there was a lot less of the active ingredient left in the bottle than there should have been. Whoever mixed it must have not been paying attention and doubled the amount. It was perfectly safe to ingest, but it was no wonder you hadn't come out of the back room yet. It was going to take a while for the effects to wear off. 

Kid huffed and stomped down the hallway, stopping at the end. He pressed his ear against the door. There was a lot of whimpering and whining behind it, maybe even... crying? It was enough for Kid to step in. Whatever scene lay in front of him, he could never have conjured in his head. You were lying across dark sheets with a silk robe falling off your body, which was bare underneath. He could see that your skin was coated in sweat and your entire body was trembling. There was a blindfold over your eyes and the girls surrounding you were teasing you with feathers or ice cubes against your sensitive skin. There were soft, loose restraints holding your wrists and ankles to keep you from flailing too much. Your thighs rubbed against each other as much as the restraints allowed and your back arched off the bed with frustration. The girls didn't give into your pleads to be touched, hence the tear streaked cheeks that Kid could see from the doorway.

"Please. I want- I want-"

"What is it?" One of the girls giggled.

"G-gimme my boys." You panted. "They'll h-help m-me."

"What a coincidence. One of your boys just walked in."

Kid felt himself be pushed towards you, the door slamming behind him. He was pushed until his knees touched the edge of the bed, amber eyes devouring your erotic form. A girl took his hand and spread it on your thigh. The rough skin of his palm elicited a moan that went straight to his groin. A moan like that just from one small touch? His eyes drifted to the sheets below you and how soaked they were. What was going on with you that you had clearly been cumming for a while and still acted as if you hadn't been touched at all?

You couldn't see anything but there was a faint smell of weld smoke and oil. "Kid?" Judging from the feel of his hand, it was definitely Kid. He had the roughest palm since he only had the one to work with. You heard the jingle and felt the tug of your collar. "Kid!" Your wrists were held back from trying to grab him. "Oh fuck please, Kid. Please." You couldn't articulate anything past that. In the time that you had been in this room, something happened to you. The part of your brain that controlled lust was uninhibited, running rampant. The thing about sex with strangers is that it didn't matter how they perceived you because you would never see them again. When you were with one of your crewmates, part of you was preoccupied with keeping up your prideful, tough girl front. But now, you couldn't give any less of a shit how Kid saw you. You felt like you would combust if you didn't cum soon. Whatever they had given you made it impossible to be satisfied. Even when they made you cum over and over again without ever touching any of your erogenous zones, it wasn't enough. You needed to get fucked and you needed it now. 

A chuckle rumbled in his throat. You were so cute begging without any pride holding you back. It was raw lust controlling you. "Don't ya worry, doll. Yer captain will take care of ya." 

You whined at his promising words, toes curling in anticipation. A breath was shakily sucked through your teeth as you felt his hand slide up your thigh to the silk tie that was still around your middle and untie it. His hand was splayed over your stomach and dragged up to your throat, pausing to squeeze before continuing to cup your cheek. You turned your head, chasing his thumb with your mouth. He let you suck on his thumb before switching it with his index and middle fingers. You swiped your tongue against them and your cheeks were hollow as you sucked your saliva off them. Kid pressed them further past your lips until you gagged. 

Kid took your saliva and used it to pump himself, not that he really needed to since he had been rock hard the second he stepped in the room. He got on top of you and seemed to change his mind about what he was going to do, turning around so that his cock loomed over your face. He positioned it against your lips and you opened wide. Kid's girth was hard to take. He moved slowly at first so you could get used to the feeling, at the same time bending down to lick a stripe down your cunt, tasting all the times you'd cum without him. There was a vibration around his cock as you moaned.

You didn't even care that Kid tasted like another woman's pussy, or that he was fucking your face, one of your least favorite things to do, especially with him because his cock was suffocatingly big. All you cared about was getting to your climax. More tears fell from your eyes and saliva leaked from the corners of your mouth as Kid moved faster. You were hardly aware of yourself gagging on him because a few strokes of his tongue were sending you to the moon. You felt the brush of teeth against your clit and that was your undoing. His cock muffled your cry of release. The restraints tugged against your skin as your body attempted to contort. Your muscles were beginning to get sore with the amount of times they had clenched during your orgasms. Without warning, salty, thick cum poured down your throat.

"Oh fuck!" Kid came much faster than he thought. He got off on how only a few of his touches turned you into a writhing mess. He took his cock from your mouth and watched you cough, choking on his seed. "What's wrong, doll? Couldn't take it?" He turned around to wipe the cum from the edges of your mouth and stuff those fingers back between your lips so you could clean them off.

"Need more." Your back arched off the bed again. You hadn't stopped moving, trying to gain more friction between your legs. "Captain, fuck my pussy please," you begged. "Touch me."

Kid was definitely going to ask for a to go sample of whatever they gave you. He trailed his fingers from your mouth to the apex of your slit, where he rubbed in slow, lazy circles. He could already feel you trembling against his touch. "What if I want yer ass?"

You shivered and groaned. "Take whatever you want. Just m-make me cum some more." It was confusing to want to stop cumming because it was beginning to exhaust you, yet still crave the release. You couldn't see because of the blindfold, but you could tell Kid was grinning by the inflection of his voice.

The girls who were in the room had mostly dissipated, though a few were still left in case anyone needed anything, or wanted them to jump back in. Kid asked one of them for lube. He spread a decent amount on his fingers.

You could hear some adjusting of position and feel the weight shift on the bed. There was a wet squelch of lube being squirted from the bottle. Then a cool sensation of the liquid touching your asshole. You bit your lip as Kid slipped his index finger in easily. He pushed in and out a few times before adding his middle finger. With that came a mild burning with the stretch. The third finger was when you started to squirm. It danced the line between pleasure and pain. There was another cold sensation as Kid pressed his metal thumb to your bud. A low vibration was added with the fourth finger to ease the painful stretch. 

By this time, Kid was fully hard again. He removed his hand from your ass and transferred the lubricant to his cock, adding more as well. He admired the small gape before pushing his cock in. Even with four fingers, there was still some stretching to be done. 

The feeling of being entered made your pussy clench around nothing. You were full and yet empty at the same time. You felt Kid release the restraints on your ankles and you greedily wrapped your legs around him, pushing against his ass to make him move.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you against his own until he bottomed out. Fuck, he loved seeing your hole stuffed, and he loved being stuffed in it. He loved seeing how open and pink and wet your greedy pussy was, just begging for another cock. For now, his finger would have to do. 

You groaned when you felt him press his metal finger against your entrance. He couldn't go past the joint for safety reasons, but the cold sensation and something to grip against was good enough. He moved his finger and his hips at the same time, building that release yet again in the pit of your belly. You were getting closer with every movement, even if it wasn't a full thrust. Kid removed his finger and focused on pounding into you, sensing that you want more. 

"F-fuck. K-keep go-nghhh." You threw your head back and came hard on his cock. 

Kid couldn't resist letting himself cum again. Your ass was so tight around him, and like a vice when you came. The way you were slowly coming undone turned him on. You didn't want to stop and neither did he until you were fucked silly and stupid. Even now, right after you had cum, you were already grinding on his softening cock, still in your ass. 

"Girlie, stop squirmin' or I'm gonna get Wire to tie ya up."

"Oh fuck yes. Please."

Kid was very much used to you resisting everything he said and was taken aback.

"Tell him to gimme that monster cock, too."  

Kid untied the rest of your restraints and flipped you over his lap, giving your ass a hard spank. "Mine ain't good enough?" 

Thoughts were difficult to form when every word and every touch went straight to the nerves connected to your cunt. "I n-need more."  

Kid spread your cheeks to watch his cum leak from your stretched hole. "Little slut wants all her holes filled." Kid saw your pussy clench. 

You nodded. Getting fucked by all of them at once would fix you, probably. 

Kid beckoned one of the girls to fetch Wire and another to get rope. He would get the others when the time came, but he figured Wire might have some fun with you first. The tall man walked through the door a few minutes later, looking bewildered, glancing between you and Kid. Then a dark grin appeared on his face. There was noticeable rope burn in symmetric lines across his body that Kid didn't comment on. 

"Look what we have here." He liked what he saw. You looked like a bitch in heat, melted across Kid's lap and literally begging to get fucked. 

"She won't keep her ass still." He nodded to the various ropes that were piled on the bed. "Ya know I'm not patient enough for that shit." 

Wire was all too eager to grab you from Kid's lap and throw you on the bed, facedown. He had wanted to bind and gag you since you came on board, mostly for practical reasons. He grabbed both of your hands and placed them behind your back, starting from there, he tied your forearms together horizontally. He wanted to create a harness around you so they could manhandle you however they liked by grabbing it. 

You felt your arms become more and more immobilized as Wire tied you up. The large man had his knee on your back, firmly keeping you in place. The pressure pressed your pelvis into the sheets and if you wiggled your hips you could achieve som friction. You moaned as Wire pressed you down harder. Wire slapped your ass, making you stop. When the sting wore off, you couldn't help but do it again, earning another smack. The cycle repeated enough that by the time Wire had finished, your ass was full of bright red handprints. 

Wire flipped you over again so you were face up. "You're being a brat." 

Still blindfolded, you could tell where Wire was based on the way the bed shifted. You stretched your foot out to find Wire's cock, rubbing the underside with the sole of your foot, lightly pressing it to his abdomen. "Give it to me," you whined. You pulled your ankles up to the back of your thighs and let your knees fall open. 

"Needy little brat. You're dripping for me. Tell me how badly you want it." Wire loomed over you, bringing his fingers to your entrance, touching you so lightly you wouldn't be able to feel it normally.

"Wire, please. I h-have to have it. I h-have to c-cum on it." Your hips bucked against his fingertips.

"Will you be a good fuck toy and take everything I give you?"

You nodded vigorously. "I'll do whatever you w-want." 

"Don't cum until I say you can. Understand?" 

You nodded again, legs shaking with need as he pressed his fingers into you. He worked you open to make sure you could handle him. You didn't know if you could actually keep yourself from finishing in this state, so you hoped he would go easy on you. He withdrew his fingers, satisfied. The continuous orgasms helped you stay wet and ready. Wire pressed the tip of his cock into you. You held your breath, trying not to cum just from that. He couldn't sheath his entire cock into you due to its length, but you took more of him than he thought you could. 

Kid stroked himself at a lazy pace watching the scene before him. He twitched seeing your cunt at its limit and he swore he could see a slight bulge in your stomach whenever Wire went all the way in. Your increasingly needy voice brought his erection back to life in no time at all. 

"Fuck. You're gripping me so tight. Don't you dare cum yet." He felt your walls twitch around him. 

The threats coming from Wire were only making it harder for you to contain your orgasm. You could feel your thighs shaking, trying to hold it off. "I'm c-can't hold it." Wire fucked into you at a fast pace, bumping into your cervix with every thrust. 

"You can. Your slutty pussy is just being greedy." He could tell you really were on the edge with how sloppy his thrusts sounded when his hips slammed into yours. He could barely pull out you were clenched so hard around him. 

"P-please." You were gritting your teeth and tears fell from behind the fabric covering your eyes trying to hold out. 

"Take all my cum first and then you can."

There were no more words coming out so you nodded. All your thinking power went to your focus on not finishing. It was like he was dangling you over the edge but not letting you go over. 

"Fuck!" Wire released his cum inside, more spurting out with every stroke, much of it spilling out around his shaft as it disappeared in your hole. 

When you felt the twitch of his cock and the sticky sensation on your thighs, you finally let go. Screaming as your walls tried to milk more cum out of Wire. Without a second to spare, Wire lifted your torso from the bed so you were in a sitting position and you felt his hot, sticky member on your cheek. 

"Clean it off."

You were still blindfolded, and you couldn't use your hands, so you used your mouth to feel what you were doing. You licked all the juices from him until it was only you saliva coating it. And even there, you didn't stop. Finding the tip, you sucked on it, getting the last salty drops from his slit, and taking as much of him as you could in your mouth to make him hard again. You felt his hand in your hair. 

"Good girl. Keep doing that." Wire pressed your face into him until you were gagging. He grabbed you by the ropes and laid you down before getting on top of you again, this time his legs were on either side of your chest.

You could feel his heavy member sitting between your breasts. His hands were big enough to take one breast in each, which was saying something since your chest wasn't small. The tip of his cock pressed against your lips and you opened your mouth letting him in. You heard him spit and felt him squish your tits around his shaft. He was big enough that he could tittyfuck you and you could suck him off at the same time. 

This was the scene that Heat walked into. He was told he was needed here, but it looked like you had been well taken care of. Kid held a finger up to his lips, indicating to Heat not to reveal himself. He walked around to get a better view. Your knees were pressed together, though the mess on your thighs and how wet the sheets were betrayed the amount of times you or someone else had cum. 

"Clean my cum out of her." Wire didn't have to say it twice. 

You assumed it was Kid who parted your legs. You quivered at the feeling of hot breath against your thighs and then against your exposed pussy. Your mouth was too stuffed to say anything. All you could do was moan as lips moved against your overstimulated clit, then licked down your center. A tongue slowly lapped at your folds, teasing your entrance as it got closer. This didn't feel like Kid. This felt like someone making out with your pussy, not bullying it. So it could either be Heat or Killer, though you hadn't heard anyone come in. The tongue moved in and out of you, dipping deep to reach all of Wire's mess. The next pass of the tongue lingered on your clit, where lips stayed to suck at it. Wire's weight prevented your back from coming off the bed, though your hips could still move to grind. 

You felt one hand come off your breast before you felt a slap across the face. 

"Don't pay attention to him. Suck my cock."

You moved your head as much as you could to please Wire. You flicked your tongue along the edge of his glans, swirled it around the tip, pressed it into his slit. 

You felt another slap on the opposite side. 

"Too slow." 

It hurt, yet you wanted more of it. And you again, were so close to another release, clit aching in someone's mouth. You tried to go faster and couldn't do much more than you were already doing. You felt both of Wire's hands leave your breasts and his weight shift. Then suddenly his hands were gripping your hair, tilting your head up slightly. 

"If you can't listen to instruction, I'm gonna teach you how." Wire used his grip as leverage and pulled you along his shaft while he fucked your throat. 

The juxtaposition of the rough treatment on one end and gentle on the other was confusing to your horny brain. It hurt your throat when Wire forced his way deeper, and you tried your best not to gag. You very much enjoyed the way he was roughly tugging your hair though and it made you groan around his shaft. It was hard to breathe with Wire's cock taking up all the space in your throat. Black tugged at the edges of your vision as you teetered on the edge of both passing out and climaxing. With a gasp, you could breathe again and you felt warm spurts hit your face and chest. The rush of oxygen sent fire through your lungs and pushed you over the edge. Your thighs squeezed around the source of pleasure between your legs, which must have been Heat, judging by the hair texture. Killer's was softer. You shrieked with the intensity of the orgasm, irritating your now sore throat.

Wire grabbed Heat from between your thighs by his hair and shoved him into your chest. "Clean that up too, dog."

You felt Heat lick and suck at different parts of your chest, lingering around your nipples to play with them a little. He moved up to your neck, burying his face in its crook to bite, earning a whine from you. 

Wire's eyes narrowed. "Heat, are you fucking around or are you doing as I told you?" 

A whimper came from Heat above you and he went back to licking up the dots of cum on your face. 

"Heat," you whined. "Kiss me." Your legs wrapped around him, pinning him place. "Fuck me." 

"You want to get fucked by this mongrel?" You were startled by how close Wire was to your ear. "Fine. You want to be fucked by an animal then you can get fucked like one." Wire shoved Heat off you and flipped you on your stomach, pulling your ass up in the air. 

You felt Heat behind you. Your cunt was slick enough he slid right in, causing you both to moan. Heat grabbed your arms and used them like a handle to pull you backwards onto him. His ground his cock up into you, reaching for the spot he knew would make you cum. 

Wire's voice was in your ear again. "Tell him what you want."

"P-please make me cum, H-Heat."

"No, tell him what you really want." Wire prompted. "You're a bitch in heat aren't you? Tell me you want to get bred." 

"I-" It was hard to think of anything when Heat was purposefully trying to make you cum quickly. 

"Tell him or I'll make him stop." 

"B-breed me, Heat. Fuck!" Saying it out loud made your cunt clench. "Fucking breed me!"

Kid had walked back in with Killer at the right time because hearing that tear from your lips made them both hard.

It was too much. Heat finally got you to your climax without a moment to spare. Those words had an instant effect of him. You were faintly aware of his dick twitching inside you as you pressed your face int the sheets and cried out. You couldn't even hold yourself up anymore, sinking down with your legs splayed as soon as Heat pulled out. There was a hand on your back.

"Look at you, breadcrumb. I guess you're more of a glazed donut now. You did so well taking everyone." Killer cooed, leaning down to be closer to you. "Do you think you could go one more round? For me?"

You nodded. The effects of the shot were wearing off and exhaustion was setting in. 

"That's our girl." He kissed the top of your head and pulled you to sit upright, holding on so you didn't fall over. He admired how pink and puffy your pussy was after hours of orgasms. It was still so wet and glistening, partially with your own fluids and partially Heat's cum. 

You felt the weight shift on the mattress again, in front of you and behind you. You were pulled into a lap, an erection rubbing your lower stomach. Then you were lifted and placed on it, as hips thrusting into you slowly, before you were settled into a lap. You had to lean forward and rest against him. You leaned up slightly to kiss his neck, but were met with helmet after a few seconds kissing upward. You made a noise of disappointment. 

Kid's voice came from behind you. "Sorry, doll. There's company." 

You felt him kiss up your back and bite the back of your neck, sending a shiver up your spine. Killer's hand grabbed your asscheeks and spread them apart, using them to stroke himself a few times before stopping to steady you. Again, you felt the cool sensation of lube being applied to your asshole. You expected one of them to lay back, but they both stayed on their knees, sandwiching you between them. You bit down on Killer's shoulder and groaned as Kid pushed his way into you with his dick. Killer held your hips and helped you ride both of them at once. You were doubled over, leaned against Killer's shoulder and drooling on it in a matter of minutes. You were so weak and so close to climaxing again. 

"Y-you both f-feel so g-good. So b-big." 

"That's it, bunny. Cum for us."

"Let it out."

You clenched around both of them, moaning wantonly with your orgasm, feeling your slick coat Killer and run down your thighs. Panting, you fell backward onto Kid's shoulder. He trailed a metal finger up your center and made a weak spark against your nipple, making you gasp. He caught it with his own mouth, placed over yours. He wanted to taste the sweet noises coming from your mouth. Your tongues mingled and his grunts were exchanged for your moans. With kiss-swollen lips, you pulled away.

"Killer, p-please. I want t-to kiss you." 

He made a noise. 

You don't know when she got here, but you heard Jade's voice, "Girls, l-leave us." 

Why did it sound like...? 

Suddenly, you could see. Wire grabbed the blindfold from you and tied it around Jade's eyes instead. Jade who was in very much the same position as you, though with Heat and Wire. "O-oh." You supposed you didn't hear her over yourself even though they were right next to you. Your eyes were glued to where Wire's dick was fully buried in her ass. Impressive. 

"Do you like watching, too?" Killer teased. "She liked watching you so much she had to come try it." 

You looked back at him to see that he had removed his helmet, and promptly attacked his lips with your own. Slowly, you felt your arms becoming more free. Killer's hands had left your hips to untie you. When you were freed, you stretched your arms, leaning back again and lacing them around Kid's thick neck. The change in angle had Killer hard-pressed against your clit from the inside. Kid pushed his mouth against yours again, panting. With your own noises stifled by him, you could hear Jade's pleasure tumbling from her lips. Her noises went straight to your pussy. The urge struck to break from Kid and pull Jade to your mouth instead. She tasted sweet, and even sweeter were the high-pitched cries coming from her mouth.

"C-cumming," she wailed and leaned on Heat, twitching. 

"Oh fuck. I'm- g-onna..." Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt your walls flutter around Killer and your ass clench around Kid. Your cry almost sounded pained. You were starting to cramp and your throat was sore from all the panting, screaming, and Wire. You were aching and you wanted to be done, but your body was still ready for another.

Killer could tell you were about used up. "It's ok. You're doing great." He held you against his chest with a hand on your back.

"O-one more." You panted. "Gotta c-cum one more t-time." You pushed yourself up. "L-let me do it."

"Are ya sure, bunny? Ya look fucked out." 

As an answer, you moved yourself up and down, grinding your hips against both of them. They let you do the work, but they helped support you, Killer with his hands on your hips, and Kid with his hands slightly higher. If this wasn't an orgy in a brothel with other people present, it might have been romantic. You swapped between kissing Killer and Kid. Your eyes were half-lidded, and you were basically on autopilot with a singular goal in mind. 

"K-Kid can you do t-that thing?"

He had no idea what you were referring to and you didn't appear to be in a state where you could coherently answer. So he guessed. In the background, it sounded like the others were wrapping up too.

As you rode them, Kid pressed his metal finger against your clit, vibrating the metal. A stream of curses left your mouth as you approached your orgasm. You felt the molten hot core within your belly burn brighter with every drag of their cocks inside you. "W-want you t-to c-um first." Your legs were starting to feel like jelly. "Wan to f-f-feel it." Kid pressed his finger more firmly to your core and laughed darkly, making your legs shake. He had no intentions of finishing first. Killer pushed you onto his cock and thrusted into your sweet spot, having you burying your face into his chest to moan. Kid pulled you back so Killer could see your face. There was the slightest, tinging spark, like what Kid had done to your nipple earlier, causing the little bundle of nerves to be set off. You were pressed into Kid's chest with your back arching, eyes rolled back, mouth open without noise coming out because you couldn't release your breath. You heard a moan from Killer as your cunt milked him dry, seed spilling from between your thighs. A flood of warmth spread over your body as endorphins rushed through your blood. Kid's dick was buried in your ass and the way you tightened around him made it hard to move.

Kid made a few more pumps into your ass before falling over the edge himself, muttering into your ear, almost a whisper, "Ah fuck! I love ya." 

Next

Tag list: @bbnbhm @nocturnalrorobin

[brw]

Do you think Carol Danvers is an industry plant?

I'll be honest I kind of don't believe in industry plants as a whole, just because I think it's kind of silly, but I'm assuming you don't mean in the literal sense of "musician or artist with corporate backing but isn't upfront about it", but instead on her being pushed less because of demand and more because of corporate mandates.

And yeah, that's definitely true. Carol became Captain Marvel in 2012, and it's not a mistake that that year is also the origin of what many people call the fourth wave of feminism, which also gave rise to an increasingly aggressive "Anti-SJW" culture and incel culture online in reaction to this new feminist movement that focused more on body shaming and body positivity than previous waves. It definitely feels like Marvel was trying to capture some of that energy and momentum with Carol, while also probably feeling a little self conscious for the past decade of her showing her ass with Frank Cho and Greg Horn covers every month.

It does make sense; Carol's character was conceptualised as a means of capturing the feminist movement of the 70s, so she's always been very tied in with feminist movements and the culture surrounding those movements, which has always informed how she has been depicted and designed. In the 70s, a woman owning her sexuality while also being brazen and physical and fighting with her fists was thought of as more empowering, while in 2012 being more covered and in a position of power and leadership was instead the emphasis. Neither of these positions or lines of thought are wrong, they just speak to different era's priorities shaped by the culture around them.

But it is also that Marvel seemed to become increasingly aware that they lacked a strong female character in their main line up of solo title characters the way DC had Wonder Woman. And with the MCU completely erasing Janet, doing that to Wanda, and making Natasha very much so a b role in other characters' stories, I think there was a growing anxiety that they needed to fill this vacuum with someone, and Carol, who had enjoyed a lot of prominence in the 2000s as an Avengers mainstay, who didn't have the baggage that Janet had and hadn't been ruined by comics and films alike like Wanda was at that time in her history, who already had this legacy of feminism as a core part of her conceptualisation, was the natural choice.

But it has also always come across as kind of... odd. It's always going to stick in some people's mouths, because Carol was not the first woman to hold the Captain Marvel title. Probably other than Mar'Vell himself, she is the most conventional, least challenging person to hold that mantle. Monica Rambeau as the second person ever to hold the title, being a black woman and the first black person period to lead the Avengers, has had that history largely underplayed and ignored (and I don't necessarily think she should "take back" Captain Marvel or anything, but she was the first person to make that title a legacy and it's weird how that has been downplayed to suit Carol's narrative by Marvel). Genis-Vell was interesting as a clearly unstable, mentally ill man holding this power and this legacy, later becoming a villain because of his struggles with his mental health and powers and how they interacted. Phyla-Vell and Noh-Varr are both queer, lesbian and bisexual respectively. Like Carol is probably the least diverse person to hold the Captain Marvel mantle after Mar-Vell, so it was always a little odd how much Carol's marketing and depiction acted as if she was this great figurehead for women with superpowers, who is a massive inspiration by virtue of being Captain Marvel, a woman who leads the Avengers, when Monica did that in the 80s!

But anyway. I don't really think Carol is an "industry plant" in, well, any context, because by virtue of being published by Marvel Comics, every character is an industry plant. They are an inherently money-minded, capitalist entity. Every character is going to be thought of in part by how they sell. If publishing this character or this story will bring in money, or not. That's just big publishers as a whole. Carol's history and trajectory into Captain Marvel, while interesting and representative of a larger cultural movement, is definitely not the first instance of this, and really isn't anything new to big two comics and how they react to things.

[imgeekgirlfan]

The Curse of Cassandra [EP : XIV] - END

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings :  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+ Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary : ‘Pick a flower on Earth and you move the farthest star.’ This describes chaos theory and the workings of fate as well, which illustrates how your final change of destiny moves the fate of the entire galaxy.

Status: Completed (Finally! 😭)

A/N : I can’t believe I actually finished writing this fic! It’s my first long English fic, and I’m pretty proud of it. I know my writing still has a lot of flaws (since English isn’t my strong suit), but I’m so happy people enjoyed it.

I loveeeee yapping about my own writing, so I plan to share more about this fic in another post—things like plot points I didn’t include and alternative endings I considered. Hope that sounds interesting to you, LOL

Lastly, a huge thank you to everyone who stuck with this fic till the end. Your comments and encouragement really kept me going, and I couldn’t have done it without you <3

Ps.Please go back and read the Intro again before starting the final chapter, as it’s part of the ending. (I used a storytelling style where the story opens with the ending) Reading the Intro first will help you understand the story more clearly.

And don’t forget to play this song while reading >> Skugge

I listened to it while writing the ending, and it really sets the mood

➡  Intro // EP : 1 // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 7 // EP : 8 // EP : 9 // EP : 10 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 13

[Episodes 14] The Power of Two. (Completed)

When contemplating deeply, every entity in the universe is intricately connected in various ways.

On the quantum level, all particles are entangled and influence each other regardless of distance. Even the smallest, minor actions can trigger unforeseen consequences that ripple through the universe. This is far more complex than ordinary humans can immediately comprehend. 

And that’s exactly how fate works.

You know that the chain reaction has already begun the moment you decided to shoot Yord yourself. 

The stun blaster is designed to be non-lethal—at most, it would knock Yord unconscious and possibly immobile for several hours. But this is all you need to save his life from the fate you've foreseen on the path ahead.

You've always known—Yord and Qimir are polar opposites, destined to kill each other. Yord stands for the light, while Qimir embodies the darkness. They cannot coexist in the same world. Whenever they fight, one must die, or both shall perish. There are only those three possible outcomes.

So you chose a fourth path: to prevent them from confronting each other so that neither would have to die.

Only now do you realize how much selfishness lies beneath love. You should have ended the calamity destined to occur a hundred years from now, but instead, you chose to walk the opposite path, all because of one word: love.

The essence of Paul that flows within you still remembers the agony of the day Chani and Alia Atreides departed. Even though thousands of years have gone by, the torment remains too vivid to forget—like your heart being torn apart while still beating and your soul shattered beyond repair. You can't bear the risk of losing anyone to fate’s cruel hand again.

That's why you did it. You gambled on a path that has never appeared in any of your visions, not knowing what the consequences would be.

And you never expected that the consequences of your choice would ripple out so quickly.

You didn’t realize it...until you had to face the truth before your eyes half an hour later.

How could this be?

You stood frozen, as though the entire world had stopped spinning. Your gaze was fixed on Jackie's body, now lying motionless on the ground among the other corpses. The deep, searing wound from a lightsaber had cut through her flesh, blood pooling beneath her, staining the Jedi robes that were once yellow but were now soaked in a dark, gruesome hue.

The acrid stench of burnt flesh mingled with the metallic scent of blood, hanging thick in the air.

Jackie is still breathing, but her breaths grow weaker with every passing second. Her face contorts in excruciating pain, a pain that lasts only for a brief moment before her final breath escapes. Her eyes remain wide open—a sign that life has already slipped away.

At that moment, you hear a scream echoing in your ears, but the haze of shock leaves everything muffled.

You don't even know whose scream it is—Sol's or your own?

Never once did you think Jackie would die. In every vision you’d seen, she always survived, though gravely injured—losing an arm in the fight against Qimir. That was why you decided to come back instead of escaping alone. You knew that as long as Qimir lived, there was no escaping him—not for you. But Jackie still had a chance. If only you could get her and Yord aboard the ship in time before everything spiraled out of control, that would be enough.

But when you arrived, it was already too late. You saw it clearly with your own eyes: Qimir’s red lightsaber pierced through Jackie’s body three times, each strike aimed at a vital spot. There was no way she could survive such an attack.

You realized too late that the death of someone you loved was inevitable and unchangeable. If Yord and Qimir lived, it meant that Jackie would be the one to die. This was the consequence of your selfish attempt to alter fate. Jackie didn't die by Qimir's hand—it was your decision that sealed her fate.

You want to cry. The corners of your eyes burn with the sting of unshed tears, but none come. The grief is suppressed by the flood of information about the future that surges through your mind. You know you’ll mourn when the time comes, but not now. Not when death is crawling toward you.

“Run!”

A sharp voice jolts you from your thoughts. Finally, you hear it clearly—it’s Sol’s voice. He stands across the way, disheveled and wounded, with a minor gash at his side. His face shows shock, his voice shaking with fear. “Run! You shouldn’t be here!”

But his warning comes too late. You don’t even have a chance to respond, let alone follow his command. Suddenly, an invisible force wraps around you, tightening with each second, squeezing the breath from your lungs as if trying to crush you completely. You gasp, struggling for air, unable to move, like a drowning person on the verge of losing consciousness.

In that instant, memories from the depths of your mind flood back, dragging you into the nightmare you once foresaw. Each scene is like pieces of a puzzle coming together to form the terrible reality before you. 

Your eyes fix on a tall figure in a black cloak, his deformed metal helmet etched with a grotesque grin. He stands amidst the scattered corpses of fallen Jedi, radiating an aura of ruthless malevolence. His gaze, hidden beneath the helmet, stares intensely at you. Though you cannot see his face, you clearly sense the fury seething within him.

And in the blink of an eye, a tremendous force pulls you toward him with ease, leaving you powerless to resist.

You are completely at his mercy, your body suspended in mid-air as his large hand grips your throat. He could crush your windpipe or snap your neck in an instant; however, he holds back. You sense his intent through the shared consciousness that binds the two of you. This is how The Stranger plays with his prey. When he wears that helmet, he becomes a merciless hunter, driven only by the instinct to kill.

Sol doesn't hesitate. The moment he sees you in danger, he charges forward, his blue lightsaber flashing brilliantly as he swings it toward the Sith Lord. But the enemy moves with surprising speed. He yanks you closer, locking you in a chokehold with his arm, then tilts his body slightly, using his helmet as a shield to deflect the attack. When Sol’s lightsaber strikes the cortosis metal, it sparks and fizzles, rendering Sol’s weapon temporarily useless.

You draw a deep breath, your body tense as the Sith Lord's lightsaber hilt presses against your neck. He hasn’t activated it yet, but you know the moment he does, your face and brain will be reduced to charred flesh in an instant.

“Don’t even think about trying any tricks if you don’t want to lose your tongue,” comes the cold whisper in your ear. You understand the threat well: Qimir is the only one who knows your true capabilities. The Voice is a powerful secret weapon for the Bene Gesserit, and he won't give you the chance to wield it.

Even if you dared to try, it wouldn’t change anything. It would only hasten the end for both you and Sol. You’ve already seen the future that awaits if you choose that path. So, you stay silent for now, your mind racing to find another way—any way to turn the tables on Qimir.

“Let her go. She has nothing to do with this. Let it be between you and me!” Sol shouts, reigniting his lightsaber, but you can see that his hope hasn’t reignited.

Apart from Yord, who lies unconscious somewhere in the forest, Sol is now the only Jedi left breathing, while his comrades, including his padawan, are all dead. He should have been dead too, if you hadn’t intervened.

“But you brought her here, didn’t you?” the Sith taunts. “And I’m certain you wouldn’t have made it this far without this Bene Gesserit witch guiding you.”

As he finishes speaking, you feel his arm tighten around your neck, making it almost impossible to breathe. The suffocating pain forces you to struggle, your hands weakly hitting his arm to no avail. All you get in return is a mocking laugh.

“Bene Gesserit... the origin of both the Sith and the Jedi. Isn’t it fascinating that such remarkable beings still exist in the galaxy?” He reaches out, gripping your chin and studying your face closely before turning his attention back to Sol. "But what a pity that she chose the wrong side."

Sol shifts, readying himself to strike again, but the man in black is one step ahead. He lifts the hilt of his lightsaber to your temple without a word, yet his intent is clear—if Sol dares to take another step forward, you will die.

The Jedi grits his teeth, reluctantly deactivating his lightsaber. His eyes remain fixed on you as he addresses the Sith, "Tell me, what do you want?"

He’s stalling for time, you think. But how long can it last? You know you can’t rely on Sol alone. You need to find a way out too.

A harsh breath hisses out from beneath his helmet; it’s hard to tell whether it comes from exhaustion or amusement.

"At first, I thought I only wanted freedom: freedom from the Jedi's absurd rules, freedom to feel regret and anger, and freedom to follow my own desires," he answered flatly, as if what he desired were something ordinary, not the taking of lives. "But now I know what I truly want. I want to change; I want to liberate this universe from self-proclaimed guardians like you..."

His words stop abruptly. The silence that follows makes your heart tremble. You can feel his cold, burning rage—rage directed at the Jedi and rage directed at you.

"...And I would have achieved it sooner if I hadn’t been betrayed by someone.”

A scream rips from your throat, unprepared for the sudden, crushing weight of his boot as it slams hard into your shin. The sound of breaking bones is crystal clear. The pain is so intense that tears spring to your eyes, and your legs give way, no longer able to hold you up. But you don’t collapse completely, as Qimir still holds you upright, his grip on your arm unrelenting. His lightsaber is still pressed to your temple, while he turns to shake his head to warn Sol, who is ready to lunge forward again.

“Think about it, Sol. Why are you still trying to save her? She’s the reason you’re in this mess. Without her, you all might still be alive.”

The Sith Lord speaks with chilling indifference, completely unfazed by your whimpers as he presses his boot lightly against your broken leg, deliberately toying with your suffering. "But this one... she exposed me. So, now I have to kill every single last one of you."

You flinch, a cold shiver running down your spine. His voice—there’s something disturbingly strange about it, twisted and eerie, nothing like the Qimir you once knew.

Time is running out. Your heightened awareness warns you: he will kill Sol first, then possibly you.

You bite down hard on your lip, tasting blood. If there were any other way, you wouldn’t resort to this, but it’s the only option you know will work. And right now, there’s no other choice.

Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to speak, your voice as loud as you can manage.

"Please... don’t kill me. I’m pregnant!”

Silence falls instantly. Even the soft whisper of the wind seems unnaturally loud in the sudden stillness.

No one can see the expression behind his helmet, but you know without a doubt—he is shocked, utterly stunned by what he’s just heard.

And Sol notices it too—the brief moment when the Sith Lord’s guard drops, his grip on the lightsaber loosening without him realizing. It’s a tiny flaw, difficult to spot unless one is well-trained.

As if time stands still, Sol suddenly meets your glance, recognizing the purposeful look in your eyes. 

In that heartbeat, he knows exactly what to do.

Everything takes place within seconds: the Jedi ignites his lightsaber, lunging forward with all his strength and slashing into Qimir’s arm—the arm holding the lightsaber—sending both blood and the weapon crashing to the ground. The Sith Lord’s yell echoes through the forest.

Seizing the moment, you slip from Qimir’s grasp effortlessly. Sol pulls you toward safety, shoving you in another direction and shouting, “Get to the ship, quickly! I’ll catch up!”

He will never catch up to me, you think, glancing back at Sol one last time before turning away. Both of you know it—fate is already sealed. Sol will not leave this place tonight, and neither will you.

You force your battered body to keep moving, relying on the one leg that still functions, though each step is agonizing, nearly unbearable. Finally, you give up, sighing in resignation. With your current condition, reaching the ship is impossible. Fate has blocked every path—unchangeable and irreversible.

The only option left is to face the consequences of the choices you have made.

Weary, you sit down on a large stone not far from where you were. Jedi corpses still litter the area. A deep sorrow weighs on your chest as your gaze falls upon the faces of the fallen, remembering that just hours ago, they were all still alive.

Human life is so fragile, you think. No matter how many times you witness death, you can never grow used to it.

The sky visibly darkens as clouds turn a dull gray. The scent of moisture in the air gradually mutes the smell of blood. Rain will come soon, but you make no move to seek shelter. You place a hand on your slightly swollen belly, feeling the tiny life forming inside—the fruit of an instinctual mistake—now becoming another life reaching for the future amidst an approaching catastrophe.

At four months, it’s hard for most to see, but your Bene Gesserit training allows you to know everything about the growing flesh within you. Events unfold exactly as you’ve foreseen, and when this child is born, the future is certain—the beginning of the Skywalker and the path of a new Kwisatz Haderach.

You don’t want this child to be born, but it’s beyond your control now. The intricate weave of fate and bloodlines over the millennia has led everything to this point. Regardless of how much you try to avoid or change it, the Kwisatz Haderach will come into existence. It happened with Jessica thousands of years ago, and now it’s happening to you.

“The Bene Gesserit believe they can control everything, but the one thing they can never control is fate.”

Paul Atreides’ words resonate in your consciousness. You recall him saying this when you first discovered the truth about what will transpire in the next century through the realm of Alam al-Mithal.

“Every action in the present is a gamble for a precarious future. You cannot dictate the outcome to be what you want, and you’ll never know what will happen next until you’ve already made your choice,” Paul had said.

You tremble, feeling both isolated and terrified. It’s a profound fear—so deep that you don’t know how to express it. You know the path ahead has already changed. The universe has deviated from its course because of your actions, yet you have no idea whether things will get better or worse.

You close your eyes, forcing your mind into rapid meditation, trying to regain control over your thoughts. You push yourself into an awareness of the countless probabilities of the future, alongside everything that has occurred in the past. Those paths stretch out in every direction, twisting and overlapping in a bewildering tangle like gazing at the rippling surface of water that constantly morphs.

In that haze of uncertainty, you witness Paul Atreides wielding a crysknife, locked in a life-or-death duel with Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, as per the ancient tradition. He uses that knife to kill Feyd, claiming the title of Emperor on that very day.

This marks the first turning point of the universe.

Next, you find yourself pulling the trigger of a stun blaster, firing at Yord from behind to shield him from confronting Qimir, thus altering the fate that could have led him to his death today.

This is the second turning point.

The change doesn’t only affect Yord’s fate. The ripple effect expands, enveloping everything within the universe. Multiple branching paths start to converge, merging into a singular path.

Finally... you glimpse the true outcome of the path you've chosen, which will reveal itself in over a century.

This is the gamble you've already placed your bet on, for this purpose and for this moment.

"Qimir"

His name sounds strange when you utter it, as if it's not a name you're familiar with, and the man before you is not the man you know.

You understand why you feel this way: he is no longer your Qimir but The Stranger—the Sith Lord responsible for the slaughter of the Jedi.

He stands before you, unmasked, his dark eyes cold as ice, staring at you impassively. There’s no longer a need for him to hide. Every aspect of him, every dark secret, has been laid bare—just as everything about you has.

The man chuckles softly and moves even closer, cutting off any chance for you to escape. You swallow hard, trying to turn your face away from his intense gaze. But he doesn't let you. His fingers, wet with others' blood, dig into both of your cheeks, pressing hard enough to hurt, forcing you to look only at him.

"Surprised?" He leans in closer, his hot breath on your face, and whispers softly in your ear, "I told you, you can't run away from me."

His words are not merely a threat to you; they are the truth. 

Because you both are bound by fate—an unbreakable karmic bond. No matter how much you try to run away from him, you will always be drawn back together. The only way to truly be free of him is death.

"I know, but a little effort wouldn't hurt, right?"

You respond, your tone almost playful, a smile still lingering on your pale face. It's as if everything is normal and under control, displaying no fear despite being at a complete disadvantage.

Your demeanor causes Qimir to furrow his brow, sensing something suspicious beneath your seemingly ordinary smile.

He doesn't quite understand, not until you slip your hand under your clothes.

Your body instinctively moves; muscle memory from years of training kicks in. In a flash, the knife hidden in your clothes flips into your palm, its sharp tip poised just inches from Qimir’s face.

You still remember every technique Qimir taught you—especially how to fight with a knife. You know you have numerous opportunities to thrust the knife into his vital points—his throat, neck, heart, or lungs.

But instead, you turn the knife on yourself. Without hesitation, without a second thought, you plunge it toward your own heart.

Before the knife pierces your flesh, Qimir's hand shoots out, gripping your wrist just in time. His dark eyes widen in shock, almost seeming terrified. Then, quickly, his expression twists into anger.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" he snaps.

"I thought you wanted me dead," you reply calmly, indifferent to his anger.

Qimir falls silent, appearing speechless for a moment. "I don't want you dead," he finally says, though he doesn’t seem certain of his own words.

It's changed again,  you think, but this time, you feel an unusual sense of relief.

You're well aware that he could kill you at any moment. You’ve seen all the possibilities of how Qimir might end your life, and what just happened was one of those scenarios.

Even though you’re skilled at fighting, you know you could never match Qimir. Had you chosen to stab him moments ago, you would have failed, and he would have killed you without hesitation. You’d have met a miserable end right here, just like in the visions you’ve seen so many times before.

However, by choosing to turn the knife on yourself, you altered the course of events. Qimir was caught off guard, never expecting you would actually dare to do it.

You’ve made him angry, of course, but you’ve also ignited the fear he tries so hard to conceal. It reminds him of the time you drank the Water of Life and slipped into a near-death coma for weeks. During that time, Qimir had been frantic and panicked, not knowing how to save you and fearing that you might die.

Qimir may not realize it yet—or perhaps he’s unwilling to admit it. However, witnessing this moment again will eventually compel him to confront the truth: he doesn’t truly want you dead.

This is all part of your plan. Your reckless actions sow a seed of fear in Qimir’s heart, and from now on, the thought of killing you will never cross his mind again.

Since escaping from Qimir is impossible, you must ensure your safety while trapped by his side.

“But you broke my leg!” You pretend to remain defiant, pointing to your leg and matching his anger with your own. “And you held your lightsaber to my head. Now you’re telling me you don’t want me dead? How am I supposed to believe that?”

Qimir clenches his jaw, appearing as if he wants to grab and shake you until the frustration fades.

Instead of doing that, he lets go of you, stepping back slightly before letting out a long sigh, as if unsure how to deal with you.

“That’s because you betrayed me. The rest? I was just threatening that Jedi.” He speaks through gritted teeth, glancing at your leg before shrugging. “And I’m pretty sure a broken leg won’t kill anyone, will it?”

For a split second, you feel the urge to laugh at his sarcasm, even though there’s nothing remotely funny about this situation.

Both of you look worse for wear—blood-soaked and gravely injured. He’s just killed someone, almost killing you as well.

Who would’ve thought that the two of you would end up sitting across from each other, arguing back and forth like a foolish couple trying to figure out who’s right or wrong?

It feels strange how the tension between you both suddenly eases; for a brief moment, Qimir resembles the man you once knew.

You notice this subtle shift and realize this is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. You quickly organize your thoughts and steady your emotions. Because there’s something important you need to discuss with Qimir—and this is the perfect moment to do so. There won’t be another chance.

“Qimir, I’ll help you,” you say firmly this time. “I don’t care how many Jedi you kill, but I have one condition.”

Qimir narrows his eyes, his sharp gaze scrutinizing your face as if searching for deception. He doesn’t trust you, especially after you betrayed him once and fled with the Jedi.

Yet, you don’t need to prove anything to him because Qimir needs you. Your power is what he desires, and across the galaxy, you’re the only one who possesses this unique ability.

Your assumption is correct. He finally nods. "What’s your condition?"

"The one person you cannot kill is Yord Fandar."

“Why?”

"Because I’ve seen a vision. He’s the only one who can kill you. You must avoid him," you say, though this isn’t the whole truth. Qimir has an equal chance of killing Yord himself, but it’s better to let him believe otherwise, to keep him away from Yord in the future. "But don’t worry. He won’t be a Jedi anymore after this."

You’re certain of this, as it’s what you’ve seen in your vision—a part of the altered path extending ahead.

The tragedy today will leave a permanent mark on Yord’s soul. Losing all his companions while he alone survives will haunt him like an unforgiveable sin. The guilt will gnaw at him, wearing him down until he can no longer bear the burden of being a Jedi.

Eventually, Yord will choose to leave the Order, turning his back on the Jedi way forever.

In many ways, Yord’s fate mirrors Qimir’s past. But there is one crucial difference: Yord never succumbs to the dark side. He has too much light within him to be overtaken by darkness. He becomes neither Sith nor Jedi, but a Wayseeker,[1] traveling the galaxy in search of the true meaning of life and the Force.

Yord’s life will take another turn when he reaches the planet Naboo, where he is destined to rescue the daughter of a noble family held for ransom by space pirates. This event leads to their falling in love, and Yord will eventually marry her, settling down to build a family and live out his days in peace.

His bloodline will continue, becoming a crucial variable in the future—a girl named Padmé Amidala.

In the future, she will be the love of Anakin Skywalker’s life and the primary reason for his fall to the Dark Side as a Sith Lord, plunging the galaxy into darkness. Yet, at the same time, Padmé’s existence will spark a new hope.

Luke and Leia Skywalker, the twins of Anakin and Padmé, will grow up to stop their father's devastation and restore balance to the Force.

Among the many paths branching through the stream of time, this is the only path where the Kwisatz Haderach faces total defeat.

"Promise me." You insist, eyes locked onto Qimir's with unwavering determination, barely blinking. "Promise me you will believe and do everything as I say."

"You ask for my trust after betraying me, my love?" He retorts sharply.

"You must trust me; you have no other choice." Your voice is calm, cold, and confident, as if you hold all the cards. "And neither do I, my love." The last line deliberately echoes his words.

You watch Qimir carefully, using the Bene Gesserit’s observation techniques. You notice the slight twitch at the corner of his lips—amusement mixed with satisfaction.

“You should have thought like this before betraying me," he murmurs, raising his hand. You have to force yourself not to flinch as his bloodstained fingers touch your cheek. "I have my own conditions, too."

You freeze, suddenly aware of the shifting dynamics. The familiar pressure returns, creeping in slowly and making the atmosphere heavy and uncomfortable. You immediately realize how serious Qimir is about his conditions.

This is a delicate moment for your fate, and you know you cannot afford to make a mistake.

You lower your gaze slightly, your voice dry and uncertain as you ask, "What do you want?"

"You," Qimir says with a teasing smile, though his tone betrays a far darker intent. "You belong to me. That means your life—whether you live or die—depends entirely on me. And don’t ever think about running away from me again."

His fingers trail up to your neck, brushing slowly over your shoulder. Each touch is tender, leaving you frozen as tension seeps through every muscle in your body.

"And I need to ensure this never happens again, even if it means breaking your other leg. But you won't force me to do that, will you?"

He means it, you realize. This is his way of letting you know he’ll forgive you this time, but there won't be a second act of mercy.

As you blink, fragments of the future flash before your eyes, disjointed glimpses of what’s to come—a warning, urging you to brace yourself. 

You see countless more deaths on the horizon—deaths you'll help Qimir plan through your visions. You'll have to endure this torment, bitter and broken, haunted by the overwhelming guilt of what you’ve done for the rest of your life.

And you see yourself forever trapped, with Qimir watching your every move. You won't go anywhere without him or his permission. You will never be free again, like a bird with clipped wings.

This is the worst fate possible for you, yet you understand that this is the only path that holds a chance, the last hope to save the universe. You have no choice but to do whatever it takes to protect it, even if it means living as Qimir’s prisoner and forced to commit terrible atrocities for him, without question.

But it will be worth it. It has to be worth it. You reassure yourself silently as you nod slowly in response to Qimir.

He smiles faintly before leaning in to claim your lips in an intense kiss—a kiss that serves as both promise and a vow. His kiss is cold, reminiscent of a winter stripped of warmth, tinged with a metallic hint of blood. You don’t like it, but you don't push him away. You're too exhausted to resist, surrendering to fate and to Qimir.

There's nothing left for you to do but hope—hope that the path you've chosen is the right one.

Even though you will not live to witness the final outcome.

Footnotes:

[1] A Wayseeker is actually a position within the Jedi Order, referring to Jedi who want to carry out their duties independently of the Jedi Council's directives. However, in this fanfic, I don't consider Wayseekers to be Jedi like in canon; instead, I’m writing Wayseekers as independent Force users, completely separate from both Jedi and Sith.

[ravenloop]

Hi, I'm kinda new to Tumblr and I really want a Thor and Kratos reacting to a powerful yet apathetic reader who doesn't really care if they get hurt or die in the end, because whenever they get in a fight they somehow always end up winning.

You don't really have to do this request if you don't want to :)

Headcanons: Thor and Kratos w/ a powerful, apathetic S/O

AN: Made this a lot more angsty than I intended lol Hope you enjoy and that it was what you wanted <33

-----------------------------------------

Thor:

Thor is a rowdy person.

He's someone who always tells himself not to think. That it's a waste of time.

So when you fight and don't care about strategy or how things might turn out, he doesn't think much of it. He actually likes it, some people think too much in a fight and that's just boring in his eyes.

There is no reason for him to tell you to stop, not when you're both stepping over and crushing your enemies like they're nothing but dirt.

Sometimes though, you take it a little too far in a fight. Too far to where you could have been killed. And that's when he realises that you need to be more careful.

"You know, those things can still kill you," Thor says, as he brings down Mjolnir on an enemy one last time - ending them. You turn to him, with a bored look on your face, and shrug, "I'm still alive."

He turns to you, "I'm just saying you should be more careful. Just because you're powerful doesn't mean you're unkillable." It was a strange thing to tell your partner that they could be killed, but Thor was just making sure you kept safe. He didn't want your head too high in the clouds.

You licked your teeth, sighing, "So far I haven't been killed." "That's not my point-" He walked closer, "You shouldn't be so reckless." Your brow raised, "Thor - I don't think you should be telling me this. You're no different."

If there was one thing he despised, it was arguing with you - arguing with the one person he loved. "I know, but you take it too far sometimes and just expect everything to be fine. I just don't want you to be injured... Or dead."

It was the way you stared at him that caused him to worry more, your gaze was blank.

Turning around and glancing over your shoulder at Thor, you said, "Thank you for worrying, Thor. But I'll just stick to what I'm doing and plus... I always win." Then you walked off.

Thor wanted to say something, but what? It was like you lacked any emotion and care for yourself, and he hated it. He didn't want to lose you, but you clearly didn't care if you lost yourself. With a sigh, he hooked Mjolnir on his belt and followed you.

Kratos:

Kratos is someone who tries to be a better person. His past haunts his every step, and because of that, he tries to change. To forget.

But your lack of empathy and care, he hated to say it, but it reminded him of who he was.

You fought like nothing mattered. Like life itself was nothing but an object that could easily be remade or replaced - it wasn't.

He watched how you would tear through your enemies, like they were Nothing. Like they couldn't kill you. Like you were untouchable.

Even if you were untouchable, he didn't see that as a reason for you to act like it. Strategy in a fight was always better than rash behaviour.

"You fight recklessly." Kratos approached you as you flicked a piece of your enemies' remains off your clothing. "And?" You looked up at him, "I still came out the victor."

"What if you didn't?" His gravely voice became louder when he stopped in front of you. Deepening your frown, you replied, "I always come out alive. No one is a match for me." "Do not act like you are invulnerable," He continued talking even as you turned to pick up your weapon, "Fighting and abandoning all care and worry is not how a real, powerful person would fight."

Turning on your heel, you asked, "Are you saying I'm not powerful? That I'm not a real fighter?" "I'm saying that you should learn to care about yourself!" Roughly his hands landed on your shoulders, "I do not want to lose you."

That was the first time you heard Kratos' voice so low - so quiet and gentle. It was a surprise indeed.

You were silent as you stared into your lover's eyes. You shrugged his hands off, "I will care... when I'm dead."

No. No, he couldn't let you think like that. Like how he used to think.

"You are choosing a dangerous way." You chuckled, it was cold and not heartfelt in the slightest, "Yeah, well... It's my way." Turning around, you started walking, "And it's kept me alive so far."

[basedkikuenjoyer]

Motherlode

And here I find myself again, circling back to the same basic thoughts about this arc that really only stretched itself out to about double what I and most others predicted. You get my angle right? While the world's watching, while the fandom's watching someone not named Nico Robin give a little nuggie of Void Century lore...200 chapters after Bakura Town, 100 after Kiku's fall, in a chapter after one with a folk lore allusion title. Stussy breaks the seal. Speaking more or less the same trauma. It's even the same central idea of Wano; ensuring the Straw Hat's escape was Stella's final command. It all runs on that old school Japanese take on ideal feminity; "A woman's happiness is taking care of those she loves." Self-sacrifice to repay kindness towards you.

Bonney has so much to compare and contrast, you're a solid candidate for someone who could kinda fuse Kiku & Yamato, but Stussy? You're our Tamataebako buddy with the same eyes. A trans woman and a clone, can't say it isn't relatable and they both have a demonic facade without an ounce of action girl tomboy tropes. Stussy can nab that torch now just like Bonney could have. But you still exist in that space. Why are we doing you now, after the others? We still have cards unplayed from Wano. When their theme is subtlety one should expect waiting until the final phase.

This chapter gives me a lot that has me excited.

We have a whole theme this chapter of people responding again and doubling down on the idea these different faces we know are reacting differently to Vegapunk's speech. Things different fans are reacting to. Wano the Joyboy lore, Carrot the weaponry, but it's one of those simple tricks that fuel a big deception. None of it is really that much deeper than clarifying what we as readers sorta knew. Of course, for Wano...it isn't the full group but we see a group. It'd make perfect sense for Kiku to be smiling and holding a tray with the implication she brought the dango, she could appear any example of this cover serial...but this is how you have to look at things when strategic absence is an established motif. Oh, and I guess Shino just got to stay youthful. Rock on mature woman, enjoy it.

The world is merely learning more or less what we know. The real story is still playing out. Stussy, the escape, this time we aren't breaking away. It's almost like a good rap track where the first two verses are smooth and melodic leading into a rapid-fire third verse to really hammer the message. I think we'll stick with that as the message unfolds. But this arc has just enough gas it's the opening act not the final point in and of itself. What makes me feel confident this time? Glad you asked:

Nojiko caring more about the farm bolsters this and her alone would have me freaking the fuck out but...bruh. Miss Goldenweek? Goldie!? Marianne and her hilarious in hindsight apple hat? Peep the suitcase, they're leaving to find Cross Guild. But yeah! Miss Friggin Goldenweek and Nojiko have an interesting response to this worldwide message. I love it too. They don't really seem to care much. Nami's big sister and a mellow girl that was one of Luffy's most vexing opponents. She got a cover serial, this little lady was always an oddball waiting to surprise us. For now though this is dope. Don't let her demeanor fool you, she was clearly a top agent for a reason and the reasons really aren't that different than the archetype I see out of Kiku.

What specifically does it though is how she's paired with the reaction focusing on the common people killed as collateral damage. Now let's take it altogether. Because something else going on under the message brings us back to where this felt most powerful:

Uh-oh. The big cloud layer is under attack. The Elbaf ship is getting surrounded. What if they weren't enough? For all the talk about other stuff that could happen if the Giants are the penultimate surprise addition...is it just gonna be the Grand Fleet after all? They make so much sense big picture. Robonosuke is still hanging around at the edge of all this too. Because things are getting dire on Egghead underneath the lore dump.

All in all...I love this shit right now because it's exactly what I've been on about since Wano ended. Wall to wall this chapter. 1115 is a straight banger.