#but she failed in the end and her death got covered up. however she is still revered by god who remember/fought w her and devout believers

[deltagon20362]

visual for how delta was born lol i'll put this on the shelf i'll finish it in like a year i think it would be a good learning piece

[unofficialwriting]

She Calls me Freddie (Pt. 1)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, angst, topics of pain and injuries (mostly burns)

Summary: The twins managed to buy another ticket to the world cup for you but after the Death eater attack, your trip was cut short

Word Count: 5k

Author’s Note: This series was originally from years ago and i’m so so excited to finally write and put it out. it’s so special to me and I hope you enjoy it! Welcome to part one of many <3

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You were woken up that morning by Ginny shaking you. “Y/n.” She repeated your name a few times before she got a response. You groaned and rolled over onto your other side.

“We let you sleep as long as we could,” Hermione told you. You opened your eyes to see her sitting in front of Ginny’s mirror, doing her hair for the day. “But you won’t have any time to get ready if you don’t get up now.”

“And you will be left behind.” Ginny added with a laugh, taking her pillow and throwing it at you.

“Fine,” You said groggily, throwing the pillow back at her which unfortunately she caught. You sat up and stood quickly to avoid being tempted into lying back down again. If there was one thing you weren’t, it was a morning person. And that particular morning was the morning of the Quidditch world cup, which meant a long walk before the sun was even up.

Satisfied, Ginny returned to her mirror, standing behind Hermione to use the space above her. You walked over to your trunk, digging through it to find an outfit. Unlike the other two, you hadn’t had one planned the night before. You ended up pulling out a sweater and a pair of jeans.

“Are the boys up yet?” You asked as you got dressed, sleep still masking your voice even though you were starting to wake up. Ginny shook her head.

“We haven’t checked yet but I doubt it.” She replied, not bothering to pull her attention away from what she was doing. “I don’t think they’ll get up until they’re forced.” It didn’t take long for the three of you to be ready and leave your room. You split up to go wake the others, Ginny and Hermione heading to Ron’s room and you to the twins’.

You climbed a couple flights of stairs and strode down the hall to Fred and George’s room, giving a swift knock to the door. “Boys!” You called, waiting for a response. After a second knock and nothing, you sighed and opened the door. Both the twins were sound asleep, Fred covered with at least three blankets and George snoring.

“Fred, George, do you realize what time it is?” You asked and with a quick swish of your wand, the lamps in the room were lit. The sun was only just starting to rise, therefore it was still dark in the house.

George responded by covering his eyes, even though the lamps weren’t all that bright. “God, y/n.” he complained. Fred on the other hand was too buried in his blankets to notice.

You sighed and walked over to his bed, removing the first layer of blanket. “Fred, get up.” You told him, hearing only him mumble something inaudible as a response.

“Hm?” You responded. The boy grabbed onto your arms in an attempt to pull you down with him. He failed however, giving up since he was still half asleep. You were able to plant your feet and get out of his grasp. “Poor choice of timing to try and get me in your bed.” You huffed, pulling off the last blanket which got him up quickly. “If I have to be up right now, so do you.”

“Good morning to you too.” Fred yawned, resting his head in his hands.

Once they were both sitting up and looked like they weren’t about to fall back to sleep, you walked out their door, turning back around before closing it. “After breakfast, we’re leaving. And nobody is safe from being left behind.” You announced to them what Ginny had said with a hint of teasing in your voice, hoping it would be enough incentive to keep them awake.

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Downstairs you greeted Molly, who was still working on breakfast. Since you were the first one down, you helped her finish. “Oh thank you, dear!” She said, giving you a warm smile.

Ginny and Hermione were next to come down, followed by Arthur, Harry, and Ron. It was only after you were all seated that the twins came down too. George was first and looked like he was still asleep. “Glad you decided to join us after all.” You said as he sat down across from you.

“Don’t you start, y/n” he groaned, leaning his head back in his chair.

When Fred came down he was wide awake, his long legs taking him out of the stairs and into the kitchen. He ruffled your hair and sat down beside you, close enough that you could smell the faintest scent of gunpowder off of him.

“So last night we were working on these fireworks.” He started to explain, confirming the smell. “We’ll have to show you.”

“Ohhh, is that why you wouldn’t get up?” You inquired with a smile. He rolled his eyes playfully.

“Oh please, like Hermione and Ginny didn’t have a hard time waking you.” He returned. As you talked, you pointed briefly to his food, reminding him to start eating it before he got too distracted by talking. “Once you’re asleep— thanks— nothing can get you up without someone ending up injured.”

“No, that’s only when you wake me up.” You corrected. “And George.” The both of you glanced in his direction, only to see him sound asleep in his chair. Ron beside him slapped his arm, waking him up with a jolt. He sighed and sat back up, returning to his breakfast.

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You left most of your belongings at home, bringing only what you needed for the game that night. The world cup was one of, if not the most important quidditch event in the world. You watch it remotely every year, but this year the twins surprised you with a ticket.

To get there you all would travel by portkey, but it was a hike to get to it. Now on that hike, you found yourself following Arthur Weasley on a wide trail through the woods. He was in an extremely good mood. Everyone was today. Even those who weren’t a fan of quidditch were excited for the event today.

“We’ll be meeting Amos Diggory.” Arthur announced. “And his son, Cedric, which you boys have met.” He gestured to Fred and George. You had met him once a few years ago as well, but you were in a different house and you didn’t get the chance to interact much.

The group reached a large tree where the two waited. “Arthur!” Amos greeted him, he carried a large pack and hiking stick. “It’s about time, son!” Cedric walked up beside him, sporting a smile. He was rather handsome, with friendly eyes and brown curls atop his head. You noticed that he glanced at you first.

“Sorry Amos! Some of us had a bit of a sleepy start.” He replied, turning to look back at his son’s. On cue, Ron let out a yawn.

“You’ve met my boys,” Arthur started and then introduced the rest of you.” This is my daughter Ginny and here is Harry, Hermione and y/n. This is Amos Diggory, everyone. He works with me at the ministry.” The man lifted his head in a friendly way. Arthur then turned to Cedric.

“And this strapping young man must be Credric, am I right?” He asked, shaking the boys hand.

“Yes, sir.” Was his response, that smile glued to his face. After introductions were finished, the group proceeded again down the trail. But Cedric stayed back to greet you.

“Y/n.” Cedric spoke in a charming tone, giving a polite kiss to the back of your hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again.”

“You as well, Cedric.” You responded with a chuckle, wearing kind expression on your face. He mimicked it and walked back up to the front of the group. Hermione beside you nudged you with her elbow and gave you a smirk. Behind you, Fred and George exchanged a look, subtle enough to go unnoticed by you. But you hear one of them huff.

“I think he fancies you,” Ginny whispered in a playful voice, leaning in close to be unheard by the rest.

“Oh no, Gin. Y/n only has eyes for your brother.” Hermione added quickly, immediately receiving a glare from you. Laughter erupted from the two girls.

“Shush, both of you!” You told her, glancing back to see if anyone heard. The twins looked occupied with whatever they were talking about. “And I don’t like Fred any more than usual.” Which would normally be true. But there was a different dynamic between you recently. Nothing about your friendship had changed but you had certainly grown closer recently. But the topic wasn’t something you wanted to dive into at that moment, on your hike to the portkey.

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After around an hour more of walking, you came out into a huge field of yellowish-green grass. You had felt the uphill climb for a while now and that was confirmed upon seeing a cliff that dropped downward a little ways off. Beyond it lay the sea, its blue surface darker with the overcast weather that morning. As you worked your way closer, you could taste the air develop a hint of salt and feel the wind pick up.

“It’s just up here!” Arthur called, pointing up the hill where an old leather boot sat. It stood up among the grass as if it was planted there, which it likely had been. As your neared it you were instructed to spread out so that everyone had a spot around it.

“Why are we all gathered around that manky old boot?” Harry asked. You imagined he’d never seen a portkey before before, given that he was raised outside the wizarding community.

“That’s not just any manky old boot, mate.” Fred started, settling into a spot next to you.

“It’s a portkey.” George finished, readjusting the bag he carried over his shoulder. Harry followed to find a spot around the boot.

“Time to go!” Amos announced and began counting. “Three..” you shared a look with Fred, placing your hand on the boot with everyone else. You knew what a portkey was, but you’d never actually traveled by one before “Two..”

“Harry!” Arthur called. The boy didn’t have a hold on the boot. He quickly grabbed it before Amos finished counting.

“One!” As he spoke the portkey lifted off the ground, taking us with it. It began to spin, fast enough that you closed your eyes to avoid dizziness. The spinning lasted somewhere around thirty seconds and once it stopped, you were dropped onto the ground. You groaned at the impact, opening your eyes to see the portkey had gone but the rest of the group was down around you. Arthur, Amos, and Cedric, however, had landed gracefully and now walked past you. Arthur beckoned you to follow.

“Come on, this way!” He called. You sat up, rubbing the back of your head. It had a dull ache, but it faded quickly.

“Plan on sleeping here?” Fred asked, making his way to you and offering his hand.

“Oh shove off, Freddie.” you replied, taking it. He pulled you to your feet easily and walked with you to the rest of the group. You climbed up a slope and when you reached the top, the game grounds came into view.

“Bloody hell.” Ron got out, taken by the sight. There were rows and rows of tents in the outer edge, all with different festive decorations. As you moved inward there were tents selling everything from flags to fireworks, which there were no shortage of.

As you walked through the tents, a few were set off right next to you. They stretch up and burst into colorful sparks, raining back down and forming different shapes and figures.

“Those are brilliant!” George exclaimed, lifting his head to watch as we walked. Smiled and laughter filled the group as you made your way through the maze of festivities. That’s when you parted from the Diggorys.

“See you later, Cedric,” George called out to him as Arthur led the rest in the opposite direction, eventually bringing you to a small tent.

“Don’t worry, it’s much bigger on the inside.” You elbowed Harry playfully after seeing his puzzled expression. You ducked into the tent, which opened into a huge space with multiple different rooms off the main.

“Ok, Girls on the left and boys on the right!” Arthur called out. On your side, there were three beds where each of you dropped your bags. You took out a small paint bag out and brought it into the main room.

“I have face paints for us,” You started, pulling the colors out and setting them on the table. “But I imagine we’ll want some other stuff too. Like hats and flags.”

“We can go get some then,” Fred suggested, stepping down into the room. “They have all the tents just a few down from us.”

“Yeah, let’s go now before it gets too busy.” You responded, abandoning the table and standing to head for the tent’s exit. George came into the room, crossing his arms.

“Be back in time to paint my face, y/n!” George yelled as you left the tent, followed quickly by Fred. You two navigated the area, starting to make your way to the shops. There was a tent for everything you could think of.

“Fred, let’s get a firework!” You exclaimed, taking his arm and bringing him to a vendor. Little sparks fluttered around his tent in all different colors and shapes. “Which is a good one?”

Fred looked about the explosives, eventually landing on a large circular one, with a long stick out the bottom. “This one.” He handed the man a galleon, taking the firework in one hand and your hand in the other.

“Careful where you light that thing!” The vendor called as you were led through the crowd and into a small clearing.

“This looks like barely enough room.” You told him, helping him set the rocket into the ground.

“As long as it’s pointed up,” He started, positioning it correctly. He held a hand out for your wand, which you offered to him. “It won’t bother anyone down here.”

He flicked your wand to summon a spark, which started to move up the little wick toward the firework. As soon as it was lit, Fred stood and pulled you back with him. It went off with a whistle, reaching a little ways above the tents before bursting into a huge explosion. Sparks danced above you before raining back down and eventually fading into nothing. Fred cheered and gave you a high five.

“Now that’s a firework.” He said with both hands still on your shoulders, flashing you a smile. It warmed your chest and gave you an almost giddy feeling.

Fred slipping your wand back into your pocket for you and then you were off again. You went down the aisle of tents, stopping here and there to pick up things like flags, hats, and scarves. You even stopped briefly at a jewelry tent after it had caught your eye.

“Oh, I love this one.” You said pointing to a woven bracelet containing small stone beads.

“Really? You’ve never been much of a jewelry person.” He responded, which was correct. You didn’t really have anything against jewelry, you just never wore anything except for earrings and the occasional bracelet.

“Bracelets are an exception.” You explained. “Maybe I can come back and get it after the game.” You moved on from the stand, continuing down the aisle. You now approached the stadium.

“We probably have everything we need.” You started. “Do you—” You turned around to find that Fred had fallen behind and was now walking to catch up. Once he reached you, you asked again.

“Do you want to go back to the tent?” You asked. He nodded in response.

“Yeah, you still need to paint my face.” The boy reminded you, pointing to his cheek. You chuckled and led him back in the other direction.

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Once you were back at the tent, you broke out the paints. Ginny offered to help so you showed her the basics of it. She ended up doing Ron and Hermione as well as herself. You started with Harry

“Ok, which team?” You asked, prepping one of your brushes.

“I’ll go with Bulgaria.” He requested. “Just one flag though.” You painted the red and black onto his cheeks which he thanked you for. After that you did George, who wanted the same but with the Irish colors and a flag on both cheeks. Once he was done, Fred sat down in front of you with his legs crossed.

“Ok, I’m thinking a huge clover. Covering my entire face.” He gestured to his face, picking up the brush and handing it to you. You laughed, putting a hand onto the side of his face to hold him straight and painting with the other.

“I hope you’re not kidding when you say your entire face.” You said, focusing on what you were doing, which was difficult because the boy kept making faces at you. You had made his entire face white and the clover quite literally covered nearly every inch of it.

“I’m not.” Fred responded. He had given up on making faces and now just gazed at your eyes, which you would argue was even more distracting. Once you were finished, you handed him a small mirror.

“Exactly what I was imagining!” He said, taking your brush from you. “Now it’s your turn.”

“I can probably do it myself, Fred.” You replied, raising an eyebrow. If you knew Fred Weasley, you knew it was safer not to hand him face paint. He gave you a look.

“What? Worried I’ll put a giant clover on your face?” He asked sarcastically. You shook your head, absolutely horrible at saying no to him.

“Fine, just do a flag for me.” You instructed, handing him your paints, but you interrupted him before he could start. “But If you mess up my face, Fredrick Weasley, I’ll never let you touch it again.”

“I won’t! God, woman.” Fred laughed as he spoke. He put a hand under your chin, holding your jaw to keep your head still while he painted. To get back at him, you made direct eye contact with him, chuckling as he struggled to keep his eyes from drifting to yours.

After he finished one cheek he moved onto the next, but the brush strokes were definitely not making a flag. “Freddie?”

“Hm?”

“What are you putting on my face?”

“Just trust me, love.” He assured, glancing down to your eyes for a moment before continuing. You sighed and Fred tilted your chin gently to the side so he could see it better. Once he was done he leaned back to examine his work, taking a little too long before he said anything.

George across the room looked at Ron and started fake gagging, both of them laughing shamelessly. Fred rolled his eyes and handed you your little mirror. He had put the Irish flag on one side and three small clovers on the other. When you looked back up at him he had a smile, knowing you liked it.

“I’m impressed.” You said. “You’re gonna take my job if I’m not careful.”

“Told you, I’m a natural.” He replied, leaning back on the couch. You chuckled, setting the mirror back down on the table.

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Once the sun went down, you and the rest of the group made your way to the stadium. Your seats were at the top level so it required climbing several flights of stairs that sprouted up just beyond the entrance. About one flight up you were stopped by the Malfoys, the father and son pair. You hadn’t really spoken to either of them personally but they had always seemed like prats from the interactions you heard about.

“Blimey dad, how high up are we?” Ron asked, leaning over the railing to try and see down into the stadium.

“Well let’s put it this way.” Lucius started, leaning into his cane. “If it rains, you’ll be the first to know.” Most of us ignored them and continued walking but Harry and Hermione stopped when Draco chimed in.

“Father and I are in the minister’s box.” He added, giving Harry a smug look. “By personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself.”

“Don’t boast, Draco.” His father scolded, jabbing him with his cane. “There’s no need with these people.” Harry grabbed Hermione’s arm, turning her away from the Malfoys. Before he lifted his other hand from the rail, Lucius used the snake end of his can to trap it. Harry jumped at the sudden pain.

“Do enjoy yourself, won’t you? Lucius said. “While you can.” He released his hand and you reached down to put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, turning him away from them again. This time they continued going their own way and you were able to make it up to your seats.

This was the first time you could get a good look into the stadium. Below you were an ungodly number of levels, stretching down to the bottom where the field resided. On either side of the green, three posts grew upward, the hoops at the top almost as high up as you were.

Cheers and whoops came from every direction, filling your ears with the sound. “When does the game start?” You called out over the applause. Fred leaned down to answer but was interrupted by the formation of brooms speeding by above, seeming to just barely miss the top of your heads. White and green clouds trailed behind the players as the flew toward the center of the stadium, creating a firework display there.

Then the Bulgarian team entered, crashing directly through their show and throwing off the display. They flew in a triangle formation, sporting their red and black colors. At the front, the team’s seeker led the group, showing off as he passed through the audience.

“Who’s that?” Ginny asked.

“That sis, is the greatest seeker in the world!” George answered. His voice nearly drowned out by the crowd. Somehow the applause managed to grow lauded than it was before the seeker, Viktor Krum, had made his entrance.

The game lasted for a long time, only coming to an end when Krum caught the snitch. His catch handed the win over to the Irish, who ended up with around twenty more points in total.

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Back in the tent you all celebrated, giddy on the excitement of earlier in the day. You found yourself wrapped in the Irish flag that Fred had picked out, watching them goof around. A loud explosion went off outside, sounding like one of the larger fireworks you had seen.

“There’s no one like Krum.” Ron started, standing up on the table. “He’s like a bird the way he rides the wind.” Fred threw another flag at him, which he caught and balled up in front of him.

“He’s more than an athlete, he’s an artist.” Ron continued, clearly infatuated with the quidditch player.

“I think you’re in love, Ron.” You said, earning a look from him.

“Viktor, I love you!” George sang, taking his brother’s arm.

“Viktor, I do!” Fred added, taking his other one.

“When we’re apart my heart beats only for you!” Everyone finished, being cut off by another big firework going off, followed by shouting from a ways away.

“Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on.” Fred stated, smoothing his hair out of his face. Arthur, who had been gone for a few minutes, entered the tent again, grabbing his son’s shoulder.

“It’s not the Irish.” He said in a tone that made your smile drop. He crossed the tent to reach Ginny. “We’ve got to get out of here, now.”

The scene outside was completely different from what you thought you had heard. The fireworks really had been big explosions. Tents were on fire and people fled screaming.

“Get back to the portkey everyone, and stick together!” Arthur commanded, turning to the twins. “Ginny is your responsibility, do not lose her!” He handed her off, George taking her arm and keeping ahold of her.

The chaos had delayed your reaction time while you tried to process the sudden terror. It took another explosion and more screams to break you out of it. George began running with Ginny in tow and you watched them weave through the mess.

“Y/n!” Fred yelled, taking your hand and gripping it tightly. He dragged you through the tents, following quickly behind George. He hadn’t accounted for the height difference and that you would be slightly slower than him because he continued to lead you through until you started to trip.

“Fred,” you managed to get out, the smell of smoke and burning fabric climbing into your throat. He slowed down a little, probably just considering picking you up at that point. As you passed a larger tent, you suddenly tripped over a pile of debris and Fred quickly turned to grab you. Another explosion hit, sending the tent up in flames and you two to the side. Burns tore at your leg.

The flag, which you didn’t even realize you still carried, caught fire and pain seared through your shoulder as you tried to rip the slip of fabric off. Fred hauled you to your feet, yanking the flag away and tossing it to the side.

“Are you ok?” He yelled above the chaos, his eye darting to your arm and then your leg. You winced but nodded and continued moving. Finally both of you came out onto the hill again. It was dark, but you made it to the bottom where the portkey was.

You had to stop there, gritting your teeth from the untreated burns. Fred slipped an arm around your waist to help support you. After looking around, you saw that only George, Ginny, and Arthur had made it back. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were nowhere in sight.

“Where are the others?” You asked. Arthur looked around the incomplete group.

“Stay here!” He ordered, heading back up the hill. “Whatever you do, do not go back in there!” He disappeared back into the chaos.

“Are you ok?” Fred asked his siblings, who seemed shaken but unharmed.

“A couple scratches but nothing severe.” George replied. You patted Fred’s arm so he’d let you sink to the ground. He took your hand to help you get there, unintentionally letting out a wince. You let go to see a nasty burn where he had grabbed the flag.

“Fred, your hand.” You pointed out, but he shook his head and pulled it away.

“Don’t worry about me.” He replied quickly. Then Hermione and Ron came running down the slope. But Harry wasn’t with them. Hermione landed beside you, setting down her smaller bag which she had managed to save.

“Y/n, what happened?” She asked. the burns were painful but the adrenaline hadn’t worn off so they weren’t yet unbearable.

“Where’s Harry?” You asked her, ignoring her question. She looked around, finding that Harry wasn’t there. She then frantically dug through her bag, pulling out a roll of bandages and some sort of cream. They were muggle supplies, which you had some knowledge on since one of your parents was a muggle.

“Ginny!” Hermione called to the girl, who was looking much younger now. “Wrap her burns, like I showed you!” She turned back around and headed up the hill with Ron, despite George’s protests.

“I’ll show you, Gin.” You said, gritting your teeth. She came over, kneeling down beside you. “Rip the pant leg.” Ginny was able to tear it easily since it was mostly singed anyway. Fred and George grimaced at the burns it revealed.

“Put the cream on and then wrap it.” You instructed, trying to speak calmly through the quickly growing pain. You held your burned arm in your uninjured, the whole side of your body now stinging. She did as you said, the cream bringing some relief to your leg.

Under your instruction, she took of your jacket, decently wrapped your shoulder and arm, and then got your jacket back on to shield the injuries.

“Thank you, Ginny. That was perfect.” You assured her, the stinging was now muted but still very much so present. You heard her sigh in relief at your words.

With your burns covered for now, you took Fred’s hand and wrapped it carefully, apologizing with every sound he made. After a while the screams and explosions had died out, leaving the black, smoky remains of the festival grounds. It wasn’t until about an hour after Arthur had left that he retuned, Hermione, Ron, and Harry now following behind him.

“Is everyone ok?” He asked, making his way through the group. Fred and George helped you onto your feet.

“Y/n got the worst of it,” George explained, leaving you with Fred. “The rest of us are ok.”

“Ginny bandaged everything.” You said, heaving a sigh. “I’ll be alright.”

“Well done, Ginny.” Arthur praised, putting a hand on her shoulder. After a final headcount, you all grabbed ahold of the portkey and took it back home. The walk back was brutal, but both Fred and George helped you and once you were there you received better medical attention. By the next morning you were nearly back to normal.

“How are you feeling?” Fred asked as you walked into their bedroom, noting that you were no longer limping. You expected George to be sitting there too but he wasn’t in the room.

“Better now,” you told him, sitting down on his bed with your back against the wall. “Your mother fixed me right up. But I’ll probably have those scars for a while.”

He chuckled, coming to sit down beside you. Fred pulled you into a big hug, sighing. “Sorry you tripped, I was just trying to get you out of there.” He apologized, releasing you from his embrace. You sat back against the wall again, wanting him to hold you for longer.

“I know, Freddie. Don’t worry about it.” You assured, giving him a soft smile. He returned it. His green eyes gave you that same look they did while you were painting his face.

You sighed. School hadn’t even started yet and you could tell this wasn’t going to be a quiet year. But not even those burns could make you trade it for anything else.

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Click here for part 2!

[crowsofdarkness]

Arranged: Chapter Nineteen

*gif not mine. credit to owner*

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, 18+ smut(ch 12 & ch 17), angst, fluff, mentions of death and violence. I will update the warnings with each chapter.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Tags: @sakuracyberhex

The sound of gunfire echoed in my ears, loudly, and the gun clattered to the ground below. My eyes were wide with shock and despair at what had just happened. There was an intense pain shooting through my heart all the way down to my stomach as I looked at Bucky, who matched my own expression. 

“Doll?” His voice shook, tears filling his eyes. 

I blinked and tried to speak but failed. Words felt so foreign as I tried to say something, anything. 

Bucky’s gaze traveled low as he tried to understand what happened. Time seemed to have slowed down when, with shaky hands, I pressed them against my stomach. The warm liquid seeped through my fingers and when I pulled them away, I choked out a sob when I saw them covered in something dark red. 

Blood. 

The new hole in my stomach poured out blood as I locked eyes with Bucky, fear on my face. 

“Bucky?” My voice cracked. 

I collapsed in front of him and with quick hands, he had them wrapped around me in order to stop me from hitting the ground. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’ve got you,” he cooed while setting me down gently. 

He applied tight pressure to the bullet wound on my stomach and I hissed out in pain. 

“What happened?” 

I tried to talk but even that simple action caused a pain to shoot through the entirety of my stomach. As I looked up at Bucky, I noticed his eyes well up with tears and guilt filled me with what I was seconds away from doing. 

“I wasn’t-.” 

A painful cry erupted from my throat when Bucky pressed down harder on my stomach in hopes to stop me from losing more blood than I already had. 

“Just breathe, try not to talk.” Bucky said. 

My eyes squeezed shut and did what he ordered me to do; deep breath in, shaky breath out. I did this a few times hoping it would ease my rising fear of dying that filled me. 

Suddenly, Bucky was knocked away from me, John stradling him. He began laying his fists into Bucky’s face, who was unable to protect himself because he had been caught off guard. 

“Fuck!” I cursed as I tried to sit up in order to help Bucky. 

Anytime I tried to move, more blood would pool into my hands so in defeat, I leaned up against the wall and watched with broken gaze as John continued to lay fist after fist into Bucky’s face. 

That was until Bucky wrapped his legs around John’s waist, rolling him onto his back and now Bucky had the upper hand, slamming his vibranium fist into John’s face, stomach, neck, anywhere he could. 

I pulled my hand away and grimaced at how stained it was, the smell of copper filling my senses, and I silently prayed with closed eyes to whatever Gods would listen to not die. 

“She’s so in love with you that she couldn’t even shoot you. Even after all of the lies you told her.” 

Through lidded eyes, I noticed John was laying on the ground, broken, and Bucky was standing over him. The gun in his hand grabbed my attention right away. 

“So you fucking shoot her?” Bucky seethed. 

John spat out some blood. “The serum will heal her soon, you know that.” 

The serum.

Even with the rage I felt for being injected with it, I was somewhat thankful for it at this moment knowing that I wasn’t going to die. 

Right?

Bucky cocked the gun. “What gave you the right to inject her with it? She didn’t want it!” 

“I think we both know that you were going to do it to her anyway. I simply rushed the process,” John chuckled. 

My heart slammed in my chest at John’s words and as Bucky locked his gaze with my own, he rapidly shook his head. 

“That was never going to happen, Y/N.” 

I licked my dry lips and rested my head against the wall, the pain of being shot almost doubled, not letting up anytime soon. My entire body throbbed in tangent with my heart, I could hear the beat of it in my ears. 

“I don’t care anymore,” I breathed. 

Bucky moved his attention back to John and with a swift kick to his stomach, John choked on his own blood. The gun was pressed hard into the side of his skull, Bucky leaning on his knees. 

“Bucky,” I choked. 

He ignored me, almost as if he knew what I was going to say. 

With a deep breath, I put more pressure on my wound while getting to my knees, then my feet. I stumbled a little, becoming a bit lightheaded, but reached for Bucky. It felt as if the serum began to slowly work. 

“Bucky,” I repeated. “Give me the gun.” 

The gun shook in his hand as his bottom lip trembled with hatred the longer he started at John, not pulling the trigger. He shook his head, refusing my request. 

“He deserves to die, Y/N.” 

I nodded. “I know. But I want to be the one to pull the trigger.” 

Bucky took his eyes off of John and shook his head towards me. “No!” 

His face had been cut and bloody from his fight with John but I could see the way it broke at the mere image of me killing someone. 

Tears fell from my eyes and with one hand on my wound, I extended the other one towards him. “Please. I need to do this.” 

He wanted to fight with me on this but in the end he knew that I wouldn’t stop until I got what I wanted; and that was John dead. 

With a soft sigh, Bucky reluctantly placed the gun in my hand. 

“You won’t be able to do it, Y/N. It’s not who you are,” John said while kneeling in front of me. “You’re not a killer.” 

I chuckled dryly with a darkness I never felt before filled my veins. I chalked it up to the serum.  “I thought the same thing about you.” 

Bucky stood behind me, a silent metaphor of alway having my back, no matter what came my way. I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck as he asked one more time if I was sure about this. 

With the gun raised, pointed in the middle of John’s forehead, I gave Bucky his answer by pulling the trigger. John’s body fell to the ground in a heap and I let the gun fall on top of him. 

I thought that I would have felt relieved and happy that my parents' killer was finally found and justice was served. However, I felt disgusted and my body shivered with how dirty I felt. My skin crawled with the knowledge that I had taken someone’s life. This wasn’t legal, I had committed a crime but knowing the circumstances of what happened tonight, there was no way I would get in trouble for this. 

But with being married to Bucky, I knew that the body would be gone before anyone could even question what happened to John. 

Vibranium fingers brushed against mine, bringing me back from the darkness that took over, and I gave Bucky a sad look. 

“You don’t feel any better, do you?” He asked. 

I shook my head with tears in my eyes. “I feel worse.” 

“Let’s get you home,” Bucky suggested while trying to link our hands together. 

Even with everything that just happened, I didn’t forget about how he knew about the deal between our dads in more detail that he led on. He only saw me as a cash in, someone to have when he needed a warm body to lie next to. I refused to allow myself to be lied to anymore. I deserved to have someone that felt the same and wanted me because they loved me. 

I was in love with Bucky but he wasn’t in love with me. Because of that, I was ready to walk away from everything.

My free hand clutched the wall to steady myself when I felt the room beginning to spin. I could feel all the color drain from my body as my eyes rolled to the back of my head, darkness and death yanking me into its abyss. 

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 1/14/2024

"surely this will be the worst book i read as part of this gay and lesbian erotica project," i say with faint hope. while i was discussing it with my bestie via facetime mackintosh completely gave up killing mr cactus so i can only assume she was KO'd by this book too

patch notes: split up the reading section into "article" and "not an article" for easier navigation

listening

another one for the "SOMEBODY COME FUCK THIS (GAY)" playlist. just fun horny pop with some sick riffs. thank you spotify weekly recs.

-

reading (article)

sometimes i think i've found a completely new type of guy, and then i find out what flavor of engineering he's retired from (metallurgical) and it suddenly makes him a known and cataloged typed of guy and i know where to shelve him. very charming home website, very charming writeup about buying out failing pinball businesses, the difficulties of production, and just like the love of the game? as a loving maintainer of things myself, i am fascinated by other loving maintainers.

i also had some very loose thoughts about cycles of games in various categories of play in general but then looked up some stuff to make sure i knew what the fuck i was talking about and guess what! i don't.

"There's a cycle of pinball. It's like a seven-year cycle, ups and downs and so forth," Young said. "Peak might have been about 1992 if you look at the number of games produced. It was like 120,000 games." But, from there, Young said, it was a steady decline of roughly 10 percent per year. ... Young eventually bought out Gottlieb's backlog of parts and numerous pieces of manufacturing equipment, operating a revenue share with the company for a time before taking outright control of the inventory. That's how The Pinball Resource became the de facto source for all things Gottlieb, but it wouldn't end there. "We've picked up all these pieces as the pinball business has shrunk and fallen apart," Young said. "I sat down once with a yellow pad, and I started writing down the number of distributors that I bought their stock, right? And I filled the side of the page and turned the page over before I got done." ... "This is probably one of the world's largest collections of schematics," Young said. "Every Gottlieb schematic in the world is in that filing cabinet." Schematics from other manufacturers sit nearby, along with endless manuals covering games from many brands and eras. I told him that the 1986 Williams machine High Speed was my favorite. Ten seconds later, he had the original manual in hand.

-

reading (not an article)

and now for the erotica. this has four stars on goodreads and i have zero fucking clue why.

this is published in 2010 by Intaglio and is the author's eleventh novel. it is difficult to believe this is her eleventh novel and that she had beta readers (who she thanks) bc there is very little internal consistency. unpleasant paper texture also.

Professor Tess Rawlins spent the last twelve years teaching agriculture in California, away from Montana and her heart. When she’s called back to the sprawling Double R cattle ranch and her ailing father, Tess is thrown back into the world she had nearly forgotten since the death of her brother two years earlier. Unsettling memories boil to the surface for Tess, and her only pleasant distraction is the new cook Claire Redman and her son Jack. However, there is more facing Professor Rawlins than dealing with the memory of her brother or her attraction to Claire. Tess must figure a way to save the Rawlins’s five thousand acres of rich grassland. It has thrived for five generations, when her great-grandfather started the dynasty in the 1880s; now she may lose it all to an unscrupulous land developer. Set in the foothills of the Bitterroots, Tess and Claire find themselves in the fight of their lives—for love and the sea of grass.

the only fun bit of construction is the beginning, with a prologue starring Tess's beloved great-uncle at the university he teaches at, and then a time skip to his great-niece in the same room teaching at the same university worrying about a lot of the same things. other than that, not a well constructed book, from a technical standpoint. in the first eighteen pages: seventeen laughs, ten grins, seven smiles, four cheek kisses, and three regular kisses. and a partridge in a pear tree. this will continue throughout the book. sometimes people will laugh more than once in a sentence. sometimes three people will laugh as a dialogue tag back to back. it has a very Go Dog Go early reader feel at times. it is difficult to believe real alive humans would say some of this dialogue. erotic. EROTIC. extremely erotic!!!

not a lot of internal consistency either: they get very worried about how they lost more calves than they thought they would and then ten pages later they are like actually we lost almost none! there are abrupt seasonal changes from what is established to be early April with snow on the ground to a blazingly hot afternoon necessitating dunking your whole head in a water trough within a (again, established! In the text!) week. one chapter it’s September and the next chapter they’re talking about the Fourth of July rodeo next month. i had to reread a page three times to figure out how they teleported to the middle of the pasture from the middle of the kitchen and not in a “and they found themselves outside” way. someone goes from leaning on a counter to leaning on a fence post.

the murder mystery resolves by someone going to jail but we never actually find out what happened. like ever. there is a fade to black after a fight in the street bc Tess has a hunch and suddenly the guy is in jail. how did her brother die? and why? who knows! the romantic progression also makes wild stuttering leaps forward. there is a very halfhearted jealousy subplot with a man. there is a third act breakup for no plausible reason, and the love interest is essentially kidnapped off a train, dragged back to the ranch, and everyone claps. literally claps.

not very coherent or detail-oriented. some of the most lackluster sex scenes i have ever read. not really sure why this one is sandwiched between two fade to black scenes.

this made me appreciate last week's book way more bc while it was not for me, it was at least coherent and had interesting progressions of both characters and events.

-

watching

Night Train to Munich (1940, dir. Reed).

Carol Reed’s Night Train to Munich is a twisting, turning, cloak-and-dagger delight, combining comedy, romance, and thrills with the greatest of ease. Paced like an out-of-control locomotive, Night Train takes viewers on a journey from Prague to England to the Swiss Alps as Nazis pursue a Czech scientist and his daughter (Margaret Lockwood), who are being aided by a debonair British undercover agent, played by Rex Harrison. This captivating, long-overlooked adventure—which features Paul Henreid and a clever screenplay by Frank Launder and Sidney Gilliat, best known for writing Alfred Hitchcock’s The Lady Vanishes—is a deftly concocted spy game that could give the Master of Suspense a run for his money.

i don't think it's as briskly paced as the criterion collection (above) thinks it is, but it was a good, tense watch. darkly, dryly funny-- there's a copy of Gone With The Wind on a newsstand between copies of Mein Kampf.

THE most high-stakes fake dating ever devised. they are constantly swooning over each other and the instant they are alone they are hissing at each other about how if you could FIND it in your HEART to find me ANYWHERE IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF ATTRACTIVE, maybewecanwiggleoutofthispickle!!! i do not typically like fake dating but this fucked, thank u carol reed director of my heart

-

playing

i have been playing genshin impact since 1.0 and this week have discovered one chest in each of the two earliest areas. do i have eyes at all. do i know how to use them. the first case i had to pick every carrot in a patch, in the second case i had to kick some medium-strong enemies to the curb before accidentally knocking over an archery target. and apparently i have not done either of those things for four fucking years! it's kind of wild how much the game has moved away from hidden chests and puzzles like that.

one other annoyance: this game Does Not Want to let me climb on balloons. this is in the teapot, a place where you can stash furnishings and companions and make little scenes, but can i go to the cool balloon? no. fuck you.

-

making

my allergies have been acting up even after diligent cleaning and filter changing and vigorous cat brushing and letting the debri from all that die back down. have YOU ever taken all the little glass shades off all your ceiling fans and bathroom light fixtures and put them through the dishwasher? i don't think anyone had ever cleaned the fans in this apartment. ever.

[jaimexbrienne-fic-finder]

Do you have any good recs for fics inspired by films?

This is just off the top of my head, if anyone can think of any others please add them!

Right Off the Bat by hillaryschu

to be read in 90s Movie Trailer RomCom Voice

Meet Jaime. He used to be the most infamous player in Major League baseball but a career-ending injury brought him back into the family business. He hates it. What he doesn’t hate is coaching the best Little League team in Kings Landing.

Meet Brienne. After her father’s death, she left behind a successful career in women’s competitive fastpitch to start over. She’s trying to balance life and love in a new city, all while coaching a down-and-out Little League team.

In a world where everyone is looking to connect, Jaime and Brienne discover the best way to meet someone is to never meet at all. What they don’t realize, is that they already have.

This fanfic exchange season, follow along with Brienne and Jaime as they take to one another on Twitter and battle on the ballfield. Then find out what happens when those worlds collide.

(a You’ve Got Mail AU)

Vows by theworldunseen

Jaime Lannister profiles the most interesting and romantic weddings in the country for his super popular blog, The only problem? His own heart has been stomped on, and it might have ruined weddings for him forever. When he finds out about a woman who’s going to be in her twenty-seventh wedding party, he thinks writing about her might be his way back to loving weddings. But Brienne Tarth isn’t anything he ever expected.

Inspired by 27 Dresses

Battle is the Great Redeemer by Lady_in_Red

Jaime Lannister dies in a tunnel under the Red Keep, and wakes up days earlier at Winterfell. And then it happens again. And again. But he's not the first to live the same battle over and over again. Arya Stark, the slayer of the Night King, went through it first in the Battle of Winterfell.

Edge of Tomorrow AU

A Big Cop in a Small Town by SeeThemFlying

When Brienne Tarth, a tough London copper, is forced to move to a sleepy town in Somerset to be their new police sergeant, she is partnered with Jaime Lannister, who is not happy about the whole deal. However, things are not what they seem in Casterly, and Brienne and Jaime end up uncovering a conspiracy bigger than anything they were ever anticipating.

A bit of ridiculous, murderous fun to help us all forget about Series 8!

References to a certain 2007 buddy cop comedy abound.

Hot Fuzz AU

The Ice Cream Anthology by SeeThemFlying

A series of unconnected and semi-connected Jaime/Brienne fics based on various films starring Simon Pegg:

1) "A Big Cop in A Small Town" - Hot Fuzz (2007) - Complete 2) "Woman Up" - Man Up (2015) - Complete 3) "Run, Fat Knight, Run" - Run, Fatboy, Run (2007) - Complete 4) "Lannister and Tarth" - Burke and Hare (2010) - Complete 5) "A Good Knight Sleep" - The Good Night (2007) - Complete 6) "Zombie Horror Hordes" - Shaun of the Dead (2004) - Complete 7) "Many Flavours of Ice Cream" - A Series of One Shots drawn from the ICA universes - WIP

the time of my life by djelibeybi

When Brienne arrives in King's Landing for the first time, she expects two tedious months of uncomfortable gowns, embroidering with the queen, and her father's failed attempts at matchmaking. She does not expect the Kingslayer secretly teaching her to joust, under cover of darkness, so that she can compete as him in the king's nameday tourney. And she definitely does not expect to fall in love with him.

Dirty Dancing AU

With All Your Faults by sea_spirit

In 1943, small-town slugger Brienne Tarth is recruited to play for Tywin Lannister’s newest business venture: the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League. There, she meets Jaime, a maimed former Major League pitcher who’s been talked into managing one of his father’s teams. She can't stand her arrogant coach, and he is definitely not interested in his annoyingly principled star player. They don't like each other at all, really...until they do.

Loosely inspired by "A League of Their Own," with slightly less baseball and lots more love story.

[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

Love, Eternal // [Part IV]

Pairing | Phantom x Sister!Reader

Word count | 1.3k

⚠️ Warnings | Reader uses she/her pronouns, (y/n) is used once. There is a ritual scene. TW for murder ghouls, blood, injuries, assault, violence, and death.

Plot Summary: Today was Phantom's summoning day, a special occasion akin to a birthday. Eager to surprise him with a homemade cake, you realize you're missing ingredients and head into town. On the way back, you encounter trouble with some members of the Catholic church that changes the course of your life in the Ministry - and with Phantom - forever.

A/N: I TOLD YOU IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING! This is the last part! Thank you so much for reading this far, I hope it was an enjoyable read. Much love 🖤 xo Emery

[Prev]

Phantom returned a short while later, Swiss and Dew silently trailing him. The poor ghoul was absolutely overcome with grief. Once he found you in the driveway, he could immediately smell the putrid odour of the men who did this to you, their scents still fresh on your beaten body.

When he left the Ministry he had no thoughts but revenge. It was easy for him to pick up on their scent once he was outside, his abilities and senses heightened in his manic state. 

Swiss and Dew knew better than to interrupt a ghoul on a warpath, so they kept their distance, allowing Phantom to do what needed to be done. Sometimes his packmates had wondered how he ever survived in the pit, his trademark traits of being approachable and kind didn’t fly down there.

However, as his fangs elongated and his claws unglamoured, Phantom was quickly proving to all that he was a ghoul from hell after all; mindlessly pulling the first unfortunate soul apart with ease, Swiss and Dew watched proudly as the young ghoul forced the vile human to choke on his internal organs.

Phantom had begun his hunt.

Walking slowly back to the Abbey, Phantom began to come back to earth. His mind was riddled with thoughts of what he could have done differently; maybe he shouldn’t have skipped so many lessons with Aether to spend time with you, maybe he should’ve asked Omega more questions about what his Quintessence could do before he was sent away.

Lost in his thoughts, he began to weep. The thought of losing you and ultimately failing his older brothers, the thought of realizing you were his mate and never getting the chance to tell you. It was almost too much for Phantom to endure.

The blood smearing across his face as he wiped away his tears only made him cry harder. He was covered in as much blood as you were, the only difference being none of it was his. What’s done was done. He was a murderer now. No better than the vermin he just effortlessly dispatched. Phantom knew they would get a special greeting in hell, and that fact brought him a fleeting sense of relief.

He needed to see you one last time. He made his way back up to the main ritual room where he knew Copia would still be with you, but he never could’ve imagined what would be waiting for him once he got there. Rain and Mountain were already inside, the arrangements long forgotten. Dew and Swiss made their appearances known as they stepped behind the young ghoul who had been stopped in the doorway.

“I need to see her, Papa. Please. Just once.”

Copia silently signalled Dew and Swiss closer. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Excuse me?” The fury in Phantom’s eyes quickly returned.

Copia knew better than to get in the way of an angry ghoul, learning his lesson as a child growing up with Alpha, but he stood fast. “Phantom, there’s something you need to know–“

However, the young Quint was hearing none of it as he pushed past Copia and wiggled out of his brothers' grasp.

What he found as he entered further into the room was exactly what he expected: you. What he didn’t expect to see was you… alive? This must have been a dream. He shut his blood stained eyes once, and then twice. You were right in front of him, now sitting between Rain and Mountain in the same place he watched you die - where he felt you die.

What he felt now was something familiar, yet completely new.

Rain had already washed the blood off your face and found you one of the ghoulette’s spare outfits while Mountain had tied up your hair in a ghoulish fashion. Phantom’s brain couldn't compute what he was seeing as he moved cautiously toward where you sat on the ground, still too weak to stand.

Your skin had turned to a violet grey, similar to Phantom’s. Your nails had grown into beautiful claws, and fangs extended where your canines used to be. Your hair turned to a dark blue that almost matched Rain’s, with lighter patches of skin decorating your hairline and cheeks like scales. Phantom noticed your ears were sharp and pointed like Dew's, with the skin at the tip a dark red.

Phantom fell to his knees in front of you, speechless and in awe.

“How–” 

It was like he was looking at an angel gifted from hell. You were one of them now. His beautiful ghuleh, with pieces of all the brothers who helped save you.

When you looked up at Phantom from your place between the two ghouls (who were now your brothers too), Phantom couldn’t contain his tears any longer. Though these were not the tears of sadness and grief from before, these were tears of bewilderment and relief. He didn’t notice at first, but you had the same lighter patch over your eye as he did. Your left eye was a gorgeous shade of ice blue, contrasting the darker grey of the other one. It reminded him of Papa.

“Phantom?”

You were taken aback slightly at the sight of the friendliest ghoul you knew, kneeling in front of you covered in blood from head to toe. He chuckled slightly at the lisp you had when you called his name, not used to your fangs yet. You had extra long ones too, thanks to Swiss. If he was in any other situation, Phantom would've found it incredibly hot.

“If I had known, I would’ve washed up.” He said, looking down at his bloodied attire. His brothers moved aside so Phantom could wrap you in a hug that he never wanted to leave, eager to have your new scent permanently etched onto his soul. “I’m here. I’m never leaving you again.”

The two of you sat like that for a while, your newly heightened senses almost becoming overwhelmed with 5 ghouls and Copia all in the same room. However, if you focused on Phantom, everything felt calm and quiet. You felt safe, wondering if this is how he felt every time he was with you.

You didn’t really know what happened. One minute you were struggling to breathe outside after getting ambushed, the next you had died. Rain and Mountain gave you the Coles notes version of what happened when you awoke. None of which you remembered. You don’t remember much of your time in the pit either. There were ghouls everywhere and it was warm, but not unbearable like you had come to fear it would be. There was one thing you did remember from your time down below though…

“Hey,” you said, as you pushed Phantom off you to look him in the eye. Normally that would’ve been impossible, but you’d worry about that weirdness later. “The devil says Happy Birthday.”

Phantom smiles wider than you have ever seen and places his forehead on yours before desperately, but lovingly, crashing his lips on yours.

“Let’s see Jesus do THAT.” Dew blurts out, completely ruining the tender moment, but not a soul in this room could care as everyone lets out a laugh.

“My dear ghuleh,” Copia says softly, approaching as Phantom helps you to your feet. “You don’t have to choose right now, but in light of your new situation, if there is perhaps a new name you feel is better suited? I can make arrangements on your behalf.”

“Eris.” You spoke as you leaned into Phantom’s touch. “Like the goddess of chaos, cause that’s exactly how this all feels.”

Copia smiled warmly, “Then welcome back to the Ministry, Eris.”

Standing behind you, Phantom cradled you protectively in his arms, nuzzling his nose into your neck. “It’s perfect.”

Copia and your new family left you to get reacquainted. You returned the affection as you twisted to hug your lover once again, relishing in the sweetest scent you had ever experienced as you began to involuntarily rub your cheek over his chest. You were starting to realize what the ghouls meant about the scent thing, Phantom’s was intoxicating and you never wanted to leave. It was like he was made just for you.

“So… I guess no cake then, huh?” Phantom snickers as he leaves soft kisses behind your ear before continuing down your neck.

You quickly pulled away from his embrace. “That was supposed to be a surprise!”

His hands interlocked and rested along the base of your spine. His amused gaze lovingly met the look of disappointment on your face before you let out a frustrated ‘ugh!’ and headbutted his chest.

“Ow!” He yelped. “Sweetheart you’ve got horns now, and apparently Dew gave you some flippin’ pointy ones too.”

“Oops.”

You looked up at Phantom sympathetically, your tail suddenly making an appearance and wrapping around his leg.

“You got my tail though,” he winked.

“My darling ghoul, you have all of me. My heart, my life, and my love, eternally.”

[Prev]

[haitianempress]

Theory about the Garden of Eden Club

RANT INCOMING!!

So with this update we are finding out a lot about the club and I have several theories in mind surrounding it.

I feel like Mr. Kim is apart of making sure Idols get pressured into going to the club.

Examples:

He claims he's mad at everyone in the group and wants better for them, but he doesn't address the fact that the idols have personal issues. If he were really mad, he would fire the idols immediately, especially Lin, who has been given many chances! Something is up.

He literally hired Dong-hyun, the son of a famous person with no degree in psychology, to give therapy sessions to his idols lmao.

He also hired Castiel, whose father is a successful CEO. Do you think he doesn't know anyone at the club who could threaten the idols?

He probably makes more money from these poor idols whose mental health is declining so badly that they would do anything to succeed. He seems like the type to take advantage. He’s suspicious, sorry.

Every single artist under the company is popular due to outside forces coming into play to help boost the Idols popularity.

Examples:

Seo-yoon went to the club and got in contact with a benefactor who helped skyrocket the group's career. But with that came her failing health and eventual suicide.

After Seo-yoon's death, Mi-yeon suddenly surpasses the group in success and starts avoiding Luna. However, Mi-yeon was not feeling well in the days before her death, and she discovered the person who pushed Luna's sister into taking her life. She also commits suicide.

It's Castiel's father who is funding RK3, so he can get money back by helping cover up what happened to his son at the club. Without his support and money, they would have fallen off the charts and disbanded.

Dean literally admits that he's spying on everyone at the company for elite people. These people could include Mr. Kim or individuals associated with the Garden of Eden. He says he's a fox for a reason, and perhaps that helps him pay his bills and support X-EVO's success on the charts.

They are overworked so bad on purpose in order to make them vulnerable so they can get more Idols to go to the club and make deals.

Examples:

You heard it from Luna they HAD to be pushed to exhaustion when working hard for their debut cause it's a lot of money to prepare Idols for the beginning of their careers.

After they flopped post-debut, they needed to repay that money somehow. Seo-yoon, afraid of seeing her sister and group members hit rock bottom, sought out desperate measures.

After the idols in the club were used and then discarded, they were pushed to commit suicide so that the club wouldn't appear guilty and wouldn't have to pay them back.

Seong-hwa may have this sweet, hardworking leader vibe, but Luna has seen him exhausted and trying to hide the bags under his eyes multiple times. He is the only one in X-EVO who is like this, which is concerning. What could be causing this?

Additionally, he knew Seo-yoon was going to the club based on a picture he had of her leaving in his camera roll. Maybe he didn't speak up not just because he wanted to protect Luna, as he claims, but also because he's scared to say anything since someone is probably watching.

I think many of the idols, when they go to the club, end up selling their bodies, selling drugs, and becoming recruiters who lure other idols to the club.

Examples:

Castiel tried his hardest to save Seo-yoon from whatever was happening in the room she entered but was stopped by a man who literally tried to sexually assault him.

Idk if Dean or Castiel said this but one of them said something about watching your drinks so someone won't slip in something…

In notion, this implies that approaching strangers and drugging, groping, harassing, or even raping them is accepted there.

A lot of idols are roped in because they are caught in compromising situations where they could be exposed. The elites use this to their advantage and threaten to blackmail them if they don't go to the club.

Examples:

Poor Castiel was sexually assaulted by a man, and to prevent the story from getting out, his father paid the man and the club for their silence. But that protection didn’t extend to Seo-yoon. His father is making him work hard and physically abusing him because he can’t make much money off RK3.

Luna is heading down a dangerous path, getting involved in investigations with both her 'therapist' and the group's songwriter. They both know people who have been to the club.

They are using her to do things cause they know grief is tearing her apart and she wants answers. Not to mention Minhyuk caught her outside the club,

She shouldn’t trust anyone, even if they know people hurt by the club. Minhyuk’s full intentions aren’t clear! LUNA IS IN DANGER!!

Lin is on the verge of making the same mistakes as the other girls, but he’s acting irrationally and angrily. They are trying to keep him in line and imposing tighter restrictions on him, and his group’s poor performance is pushing him to desperate measures. Like Seo-yoon, he may seek outside help to save his group because he feels guilty.

Luna discovered that Mi-yeon might be gay or bisexual based on her crush on Castiel and her relationship with Seo-yoon, as seen from the photos and texts. But what if someone else knew this and threatened to blackmail her by releasing the photos if she didn’t comply with their demands?

That's all! What do you guys think?

[down-the-rabbit-hole-charlie]

Ravaged

Warning : Explicit. Suggestive. Minors keep out.

It wasn’t like you wanted to work late at the library on New Year’s Eve. Your coworker had asked you to cover for him, and you had had no choice but to spend your Sunday night in the library. But, good thing was ? Nobody was around to judge you when you put your headphones on and played your music while reading the book that—you had decided earlier on—would be the cure to your boredom. You were so deep into your reading that you failed to hear the telltale doorbell ringing to announce a new person entering the library.

However, the person’s shadow soon cast over you and you immediately looked up in surprise.

"Oh sorry. I didn’t hear you come i—" You stopped talking instantly when the stranger slowly turned towards you and you realised that the man was the infamously known killer…Michael Myers.

He had a bloody knife in his hand and you stared at each other for a few seconds before you got out of your momentary stupor.

You merely had a few seconds of contemplation as to your next move.

Alright.

He had not stabbed you to death yet. He seemed rather calm for now. And if you were to make any sudden or unwanted movement, it would surely be the end of you. So, you coughed before offering him a polite smile. "W-What can I do for you, sir ?"

He didn’t reply.

You stayed silent for a few seconds before walking around your desk to face him.

"Hum…Would you like a tour ?"

He tilted his head quizzically and you took it as a yes before walking ahead towards the different aisles—telling him about the different types of stories available.

"Here we got history. There we have non-fiction. Science fiction. Fairytales…"

As you were introducing him to the different book sections, you failed to notice him stopping in front of the fairytale aisle. He then seemed to look at the multiple books in display before he slowly raised his hand to grab one and leaf through it with a curious gleam in his eyes. Once you noticed it, you smiled as you stood next to him to look at what book caught his eye.

"Oh. Alice in Wonderland, huh ?" Your smile widened. "Nice choice. It’s actually my favourite."

He didn’t say anything, but he did let out a small grunt in response before suddenly thrusting the book against your chest. You frowned in incomprehension before Michael pointed towards a sign which read:

Voice lecture available.

Your eyes widened and you were a little taken aback as you understood what he wanted. The man surely didn’t know how to read, so he wanted someone to read to him. You were about to tell him this was usually for children, but decided against it. You gestured towards one of the soft cushions in the room and he reluctantly complied to your silent request. It was actually quite funny to see the great Michael Myers sit on a cushion, his body all hunched and his size comically gigantic in comparison with the one of his seat.

You sat in front of him and opened the book before you started reading to him.

"Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, `and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice `without pictures or conversation?'"

You looked up at him—wondering if he was still listening. And you found his eyes staring straight at you. He was listening attentively. You were even surprised by how still he was. He looked like a statue…but statues didn’t grunt. And he did grunt in order to make you understand that he wanted you to keep reading. You complied.

"So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her."

He was hung to every word you spoke—his eyes fixed on your lips as you spoke. There was also this childlike wonder in his eyes, but you didn’t forget the knife.

You kept reading.

"There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, `Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!' (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge."

As you kept on reading, you were more and more invested in the story and seemed to forget Michael’s presence altogether. You knew the story and it was fun to put some acting into the voice and gestures. You knew Michael Myers wouldn’t laugh. But, he still appreciated it somehow. He seemed so focused and the knife next to him seemed to have been forgotten as he started relaxing.

Suddenly, there was a ringing and you realised that it was time to close up.

You looked at him.

He didn’t seem in any hurry to move…

"I’m sorry but I have to go. I’ll come back shortly."

He nodded understandingly and you went to close the door. When you came back, your eyes widened as you saw the book he was holding. He was…looking at the book you had been reading before he came in. You quickly attempted to grab the book—out of shame.

Wrong move.

Michael thought you were trying to attack him and slapped you so hard that you went flying against a bookshelf. You winced in pain as the back of your head hurt and you weren’t sure if you ought to get up again. You weren’t given a choice.

Michael grabbed you by the throat and raised you up in the air—blood dripping down your forehead.

"No ! P-Please ! Stop !"

But Michael wasn’t stopping. He grunted again and tightened his grip on your throat.

"Please…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…to frighten you. I just didn’t want you to look at the book…It isn’t...the type I would recommend you."

The book wasn’t innocent and it had been a rather instinctive manoeuvre to get the book out of his hands. You had even forgotten he couldn’t read.

Finally, he calmed down and released you.

You fell to the ground and gasped for air as he forced your head up, shoving the book in your face. You immediately understood what he wanted and shook you head.

"Wait…This is not the public kind of material. You won’t like it."

He didn’t take no for an answer and soon enough, you were reading from the pages of the book you didn’t want anyone to know about.

"She moaned and gasped as her lover kissed her neck and his hand took hold of her delicate form…" You started before continuing—your head hanging low in shame. It was embarrassing and the more you read, the more Michael seemed to stare at you. It was unnerving. At the end, you were so mortified that you just slammed the book shut and dared to shout.

"Alright. No more. If you wanna kill me, just do it. But enough with the humiliation." You declared and closed the book in a hurry.

He grunted.

He didn’t seem pleased by your decision.

He grabbed you by the waist and slammed you against a wall. His knife was back in his hand and he pressed it against your throat. You thought the nightmare would finally be over…but Michael decided otherwise.

He almost ripped off your shirt and started squeezing and pinching your breast while you were trapped into place. He had a firm grip on your neck and it was almost painful as he started rutting against you like an animal.

He groaned and grabbed your hand to press it against his manhood. When you tried to remove it, he squeezed your throat a little tighter and his eyes focused on the wall behind you. He wasn’t even looking at you. It wasn’t about you. It was about fulfilling a need.

He made quick haste of getting rid of the rest of your clothes and didn’t bother removing his. He just unzipped himself and didn’t bother checking if you were ready.

When he entered you, he growled in annoyance as he had trouble fitting his size into you. It was like trying to fit a tree trunk into a pencil sharpener…You tried to tell him, but he didn’t listen. Michael was patient and if he had to spend all night making you take him inch by inch ? Then he would…

But then, you started screaming and his eyes widened as the sweet sound of pain. He dug his thumbs into the skin of your hips painfully. So soft and loud. He could already imagine how sore your throat would be if he was to use your windpipe as a cockwarmer…The same you had used to read him all those lovely words.

He let out a quiet moan at the thought before taking you off his cock to plunge into you again—but with purpose. He wanted to hear your voice. Your lovely soft voice turned to moans and pants…Yes. Quite like that…He started panting himself as sweat ran down his face. The mask was making it difficult for him to see you, but he didn’t need to.

"P-Please…" He thought you were going to ask him to stop again, but other words got past your lips. "…Don’t…Stop."

His eyes widened as he suddenly stopped to look down at you. It was the first time he was actually looking straight at you and what he saw made him delve into you like a mad man. The sight of your pleading eyes, red cheeks and pouting lower lip was enough to make him reach within him for the fire of hell himself and make you band over a table to reach deeper into you than you thought humanly possible.

You hung onto him for dear life as the monster man kept pounding into you and pressing his whole weight against you. Good thing you had meat on your body, because it was easier to grab and make his recurrent movements faster. He took handfuls of your thighs and let out guttural groans as he kept moving back and forth desperately. He was acting like a savage beast and his hands groped and grabbed every inch of you as he tried to find the best way to reach completion as fast as possible.

But at the same time, your voice made him want you to ride him for him to witness every possible noise you could ever make. He wanted to hear them…make you his lullaby.

He forced you to look at him as he took you and instead of kissing you—he pressed his thumb against your lips. He then almost pried your jaw open as he thrusted his thumb inside your mouth—making sure you kept moaning and whining for him. He also loved to feel the softness of your tongue underneath his thumb. Each sound sent a vibration and his thumb could feel every single one of them—creating a rhythm with the movement of his hip thrust. It was almost…beautiful. You were beautiful.

Suddenly, you came with a scream that could wake up angels and he grunted as he felt you. And how beautiful it was…He kept going and grabbed your cheeks to lift you up and you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck to hang on for dear life.

His knife fell to the floor as he started pounding into you. His face was covered and in your haze, you decided you wanted to see more.

You removed his mask.

His eyes widened at the realisation and he was quick to turn his head away. He wanted to pull away, but you forced him into place as you started moving against him. Michael—driven by pleasure and desire—roared and moved again. He bit your shoulder and made sure you couldn’t see his face when he came deep inside you and stayed there until he was truly and unequivocally done.

He then pulled away and his eyes momentarily met yours. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. You were both breathing heavily and once you could stand…you picked up your underwear and started walking away. But, the giant didn’t let you. He grabbed you by the back of the neck and pulled you back to him to kiss you fiercely.

You were shocked. But then, you felt his tongue meet yours and it was as if he was trying to devour every sound you could make. He wanted it all…and you would give him all.

Before you could even begin to comprehend what was going on, Michael had thrown you to the floor and knelt behind you.

You glanced back and your eyes widened at the way he was looking at you. Then you noticed his member being straight in your line of vision. Before you could as much as let out a peep, he had grabbed your thighs to impale you.

Your nails dug into the soft carpet underneath you as you let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Michael smiled.

…Sing. Sing for me, little Alice…

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Like You Were Never Gone (Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader) *PARENTAL *MINOR TRIGGER WARNING

Characters: Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Mention of death, implied suicide, mourning

ANGST/FLUFF

Request: Hello could you do tony x daughter genius reader wherein she loves solving crime kinda sherlock Holmes and she mostly solve it. The avengers are trying to recruit her but she refused because she love solving crime and it wear off the boredom. The avengers especially her father are worried at reader whenever the reader didn't eat nor sleep or even in the tower for couple of days and thinking something is wrong but sure the reader is solving hard cases. Anyway something happened while solving the crime, the reader (kinda like sherlock) was face to choose between her life or her loves and so she fake her death and the avwngers are devastated. No one knows she's alive till three or four years later. Hehehehhe

The mood of everyone since the morning started had been off, and no one was addressing it. Everyone went on with their days, doing their jobs, meetings, training, planning for future missions, but there was a tension in the air, and Tony was a lot quiter than usual. More passive, off in a daydream, but no one asked if he was alright. They didn’t have to. 

They knew he wasn’t alright. Why would he be? It was the third anniversary of the death of you, his daughter. It wasn’t a natural death- something anyone saw coming and could prepare for. It was sudden, coming out of nowhere, surprising everyone. And the worst part? It wasn’t even an accident. 

No one knew the exact details about what happened that day. You were acting strange- but that was just you everyday, being secretive, getting into trouble that Tony didn’t know the full extent of until days or weeks or months after it was all over, usually you putting yourself in insane amounts of danger to solve a criminal case, each time never failing to driving your poor father insane with worry. But in hindsight, the team couldn’t deny you were being even more secretive, more paranoid, more shut off then usual. The last time any of them saw you asleep in the tower before your death was 3 days prior, and none had seen you ate for at least a day before, being consumed in your work and thoughts, but they never got the chance to ask what was happening to offer help because you left the tower the night prior to your death, and the last time anyone heard from you, was when you called your dad to tell him you were sorry, and goodbye. 

Tony had spent the last 3 years trying to figure out what the case you were working on was. There was no doubt that your death was linked to it in some way. However, you hadn’t told him much, and no matter how many times he flipped your old room upside down or had FRIDAY scan your electronics for anything, or keep track of every single contact in your phone and friend on social media for any suspicious behaviour, there wasn’t many leads,  and those leads dried up in a year. You told no one what you were investigating, you covered your tracks thoroughly, and if you had taken any notes about your findings, you hid them so well not even a genius, and more importantly your father, could find out where you had put them. No traces. No leads. No idea on what led you to the decision to die that day, and so seemingly out of nowhere. The end result was nothing but questions, and your dad who was trying to act like nothing happened- somewhere between you’re still alive and just somewhere living such a normal quiet life- totally not your style- to the point where he had nothing to tell the others about and so didn’t speak about you, and acting like you never existed in the first place, but spending every night looking for anything to give him answers.

Despite the clear discomfort and tension amongst everyone in the room, everyone tried to act like it was a normal day. Everyone consciously tried to not look at Tony more often than they usually would, stayed on track with their conversations, and Tony kept his head down and was quieter than he usually was as Maria was briefing the group about some leads they got from their last mission. However, after Maria paused to switch slides, the quiet but identifiable buzzing of a vibrating phone was heard, and everyone stopped and looked amongst each other before Tony felt his pocket, and eyes went to him. “Sorry.” He apologised with a fake smile as he dug into his pocket, retrieving the phone and looked at who he was, then froze, the smile fading immediately. Everyone tensed as Tony stared at the screen of his phone. Bruce, who was sat closest to Tony, peaked over his shoulder, before his eyes widened and he looked at everyone in a panicked rush before turning back to Tony. 

“T-Tony-” Was all he was able to get out before Tony stood abruptly, leaving the room, and putting the phone to his ear. Everyone looked at Bruce in stunned silence, knowing he was was the only one in the room to give answers to what just happened. Bruce gulped, before he opened his mouth again. “It was Y/N. Y/N was calling him.”

“Who the hell is this and how did you get my daughter’s phone?” Tony stopped in the empty hallway, but his voice, while a growl, was still a whisper. He could feel his hands shaking, pumping with adrenaline. Despite the fact that you were long gone, Tony kept your phone. He paid the bill for it to remain active, kept it tucked in a drawer in your room between clothes where he couldn’t hear the vibration so he could call your number and hear your voicemail and for a moment believe you’d pick up, and just to hear your voice so he couldn’t forget. He couldn’t forget. At this point the words ‘Hi this is Y/N, if you’re hearing this, I’m busy. Don’t call again, I’ll call you maybe’ were the crispest words he could recall in your voice. He only got the phone out once a week to charge it back up. 

“Dad, it’s me. It’s Y/N.” The voice on the phone responded to him. You. It was you. Even the tone in your voice was the same- somewhere between tired and annoyed, but Tony long knew you usually didn’t actually feel the way your voice sounded. Despite this, Tony couldn’t help but doubt. This had to be a trap. Someone pretending to mess with him. “Sorry for… what I did. I really wish I could have done it differently, given you some piece of mind, but trust me, it was the only way.” You told him, and Tony couldn’t help the small scoff escaping him. This had to be a trick, unless he was somehow talking to your ghost? As if. 

“Prove it’s you.” He said simply, and he heard you chuckle. 

“I knew you’d say that. I’m coming into the tower now. FRIDAY is about to alert you. Let me in.” You told him and hung up. Tony dropped the phone to his side, and waited. Waited for FRIDAY to activate, to speak. After a second, nothing happened, and Tony sighed, closing his eyes. It was a trick. A sick trick of some sort-

“Mr Stark?” The voice of the AI made Tony’s eyes snap open. “I don’t know how to explain this, but your daughter is downstairs and wants access to the elevator to meet with you. Shall I activate security and lockdown?” She asked him. 

“No. Let her come up.” Tony answered, turning and starting to head back down the hallway, using the wall to stabilise himself. Ahead of him, the door to the meeting room opened, everyone stepping out and seeing him, Steve stepped forward, putting a hand on Tony’s arm. They were expecting an angry Tony, one who would snap at Cap, tell him to get his hands off of him, that some sick individual had called him as a joke, or that someone else had gotten your phone number and somehow called him on accident or something- not Tony, so pale they thought he was dying, seemingly in deep shock and not fully aware of his surroundings. 

“Tony what happened?” Steve asked, holding the man up.

“It was her. She… she’s in the elevator now, she’s going to be here any second-” He told them. 

“It’s probably a trap, everyone be ready.” Natasha spoke up, and everyone moved out of the hallway to the large open lounge area where the elevator’s opened to, and they waited. Tony forced Steve to take him as well, not sure who to believe. It sounded just like you. But you’re dead. Who else could be in the elevator? But you’ve been gone for three years. 

After a short period of time, the elevator was heard reaching the floor, and everyone tensed as the door opened. Everyone stared as you stepped out. Completely fine. Your eyes scanned each of the avengers, before they landed on your dad. Your head tilted, your shoulders slumping, and you sighed. “Hi dad.” 

Tony carefully pulled Steve off of him, walking slowly over to you until he stood over you, taking in all your features- making sure they were all correct. Little features only a parent would notice about their child, things that even a clone would fail to adopt. They were all there. Tony raised his arm and put it on your shoulder, and when his hand didn’t go straight through you like a hallucination or a hologram, he pulled you towards him into a hug. It was only when you wrapped your arms around him did he finally digest that you were actually here, and he lost his breath. “How? How are you here?” He asked as he clung to you. 

“Where the hell have you been, kid?” Clint asked. “We all thought you were dead. You faked your own death for three years- why are you back now?” He asked. You pulled away from your dad to look at everyone again, before looking at your dad, who also very clearly wanted answers. 

“It was related to your case, right?” Tony asked, and you nodded. “What happened?” 

“Something unexpected happened. Someone, somehow, had the upper hand on me, and they made a very clear and very real threat that I had to take seriously and act quickly to get control of the situation back.” 

“Y/N, stop being vague. You’ve been gone 3 years, I want answers, not another riddle to decipher.” Tony scorned at you, getting an annoyed look from you, before you responded. 

“I thought I was up against a singular person, but I quickly realised it was multiple people, and then I found out that was an entire organisation, and the head of it all made it clear that they had the man power to make the threat to kill you and anyone I care about.” You explained, looking directly at Tony, before you turned to the others. “And you all too. They sent evidence to me that they had people tracking your every move and at any point if I didn’t do as they said, they could kill you immediately. I had to do as they say.” 

“What did they want you to do?” Tony asked, this time his voice a lot calmer, though there was some veiled anger- not at you- in his voice. 

“To die.” You answered, shortly, and quickly everyone realised exactly what had happened. “So I did. I had to make it look as real as possible, and also make sure no one could trace what I had been doing so they wouldn’t go after you for knowing things and making everything I did be for nothing. So, I died, they thought they had nothing to worry about anymore, and they went on with their ventures, and I got to work on getting under their skin without them realising. As of 2 hours ago, that case is officially closed. News reports will be rolling in soon, but I don’t know when or even if I can ‘come back to life’. But… I had to let you know as soon as it was safe to do so, that I’m alive and okay. And I’m sorry.” You explained. 

“You were… undercover, this entire time? Did you do it alone?” Tony asked. You shook your head. 

“I had a small group of people who knew bits and pieces of what I was doing but no one knew the full image, so even if they were compromised, I’d still have an upper hand, luckily it never got to that point, but other than them, yes, I was alone 95% of the time.” You explained to him.

“Anyone we know?” Natasha asked, clearly hinting to Maria or Fury, but you shook your head. 

“None of the people I worked with have any ties back to any of you. Like I said, I covered all traces. None of the people I worked with even knew of me being a Stark.” You told her. 

“So you solved the case. What now?” Thor asked. Your eyes moved to look back at your dad.

“I need to continue to lay low for a while, might need a bit of the help of SHIELD to expose the information I have as to why the actions I did were the right course, and I can’t just come back- I’ve been dead three years, that’ll be breaking news and easy to tie back to the case if it’s found out too early. So I’m going to lay low, keep my head down… no cases for quite a while. Consider it a holiday.” 

“How about that vacation house I used to take you to all the time when you were little? In the middle of nowhere. Also means I can come say hi for a few weeks and we can catch up.” Tony offered, and you smiled and nodded. 

“That sounds good. When we get there I can tell you all about the look on that idiot’s face when he realised I wasn’t dead and I was about to make him the dead one.” 

“Alright maybe don’t admit to murder until we can get you cleared of charges.” Tony said, pushing you back to the elevator to take you home to gather what you needed, the dynamic of you oversharing or saying something inappropriate and him having to draw you back in or reprimand falling back into place so easily. Like you were never gone. 

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 

*Not my gif

TAGS:  @klanceiscannon14 @marvelhoeingismyhobby-blog​ @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort  @freyathehuntress​ @abbybills22-blog​ @mutantjediavenger​ @theoraekensnotsosecretlover​ @alicedanganh @sleutherclaw @sleepy-coffee-bean @stawwpp  @courtneychicken​  @graysonmalfoy​ @bellero​ @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan​ @esoltis280​ @lady-of-lies​ @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980​ @cdwmtjb8​ @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines​ @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[carafell]

7th comic infodump post because i dont wanna spam. Enjoy my random thoughts neatly separated with ='s, which neatly symbolize the equal absurdity of each one. Fair warning - I have my favourites.

===

The comic began with 3 different covers, each in a different tone, but all showing the same scene, a girl sitting before her dead parents. First cover is a burning mansion (red), second is a frozen lake (blue). The third one is weird - it looks like some factory and there are blueprints on the ground. Id say it looks Grayish.

I believe those 3 are supposed to represent the Mann brothers and their relationship with their family, mostly their father.

Redmond was probably physically abused by his father, hence the burning mansion

Blutarch was emotionally neglected, thus the blue lake

Gray never had a family at all and was left to fruitlessly make plans and scheme

===

Wait hasnt the Helen like ultimately failed in torturing Zepheniah halfway, because in the end the Mann family had a heir - first Gray, then Olivia?

Even while in her torture chamber he must have known that Gray followed exactly the path he wanted him to follow by killing Blutarch and Redmond and that the line has a heir with Olivia

===

I wish that the general premise of the story was more about Helens and Gray rivalry, instead of her just wanting to torture Zepheniah with Gray being just a distraction to her. She and Gray would make such a cool pair of enemies, and generally TF2 franchise could be SO MUCH if it took itself seriously for once

Like it could be an exemplary, juicy, 1960s retrofuturistic spy movie pastige touching the themes like greed, war, capitalism

===

As much as i enjoyed the whole comic i didnt really like that Gray just "told" Helen about australium immortality. It doesnt make sense, however i understand that he found her in a moment where it seemed likely that she wouldnt care.

But still, its incredibly stupid to just go meet some random person, ask them for all their immortality ingots and genuinely expect to receive them after a week.

===

That ^ makes Grays death a tad more ironic. I think he told her because he wanted to impress somebody with his knowledge, because he just has an ego and wanted to flex how smart he is, and he really did assume shes not gonna care.

Such carelessness was obviously a mistake as she probably packed it up and fled the second he left. Almost 150 years later when TFC heavy asked Gray what are the rocks he refused to answer knowing it could end badly, but again his ego got the better of him because he mentioned that hes almost 150 years old

===

If Helen was able to revive Zepheniah like 10+ years after his death with australium then its 100% possible that Gray was revived too. He did not turn into dust for more than 3 minutes after he died, while Helen disintegrated almost instantly, so its very much possible that he was revived!!!

(Also TFC heavy also has not disintegrared upon dying!)

(Cope of the year award is mine!)

===

I like what happened with Olivia, but its a bit obvious that in canon she probably doesnt think of the time she spent with Gray most fondly.

Still i think that by all standards Gray was a decent dad. Not perfect, he had some Zepheniah in him, but all in all he was good

===

The general tone of the comic is so nostalgic. Its as if valve was trying to tell us something. I sersiously wonder whats in store for TF2 in the future.

===

Honestly i really did like the comic, but the Zepheniah bit was so... macabre. Like damn that panel where hes a fucking god emperor corpse hooked up to a million cables is just straight up bodyborror. Its so twisted and grotesque. Brrr.

Also, i noticed that the cables he had hooked to him had traces of australium in them. They were really big, so perhaps keeping Zepheniah alive was eating like 90% of her supply

In the panel where Zepheniah and Helen disintegrate heavy is holding medic back, almost as if medic wanted to move and do something

===

Why tf did Maggie just leave Saxton lmao

===

Im sorry but if medic did not speak a SINGLE LINE in the comic then we cannot say that background characters like Olivia or Gray didnt get to be more important because the focus was elsewhere. So far the most focus was on fucking soldier lmao

Also im sorry but seriously - why has medic not said anything!! Sfhtgfddd

===

I wonder whars up with Engies dad

===

[starpains]

I'm curious about the AI Au 👀

gskfjdlsa

It's an AU that I started writing months ago, and was very excited about, but then suddenly I got very demotivated for various reasons. I still love the idea though, and I AM going to finish it one day.

The fic takes place in the GFFA, but Anakin is not a Jedi in it, or even human. In fact he's a very (very) realistic android. Obi-Wan is a jedi and gets stranded in space. It makes him find a planet in wild space nobody knew existed which is something out of Westworld (the HBO show), where realistic androids with feelings are made to be used however people like.

Since I've written around 5k of the fic already, I am able to share sth, which will be the very first bit of the fic:

---

So, this is how I die, Obi-Wan thought idly as he ate the last ration bar on his spaceship. He had one small canister of water left; if he really tried to conserve it, maybe he could last a week. Is there a point in prolonging this, though? He had been stranded in space for two weeks now, drifting in the black nothingness, completely alone save for R4, who was turned off, having run out of energy after failing to power up from the out-of-order ship. His comm devices weren’t working without power, and even before that, he had trouble getting any sort of signal in the middle of the nowhere he’d found himself in.

The possibility of anyone stumbling upon him in the wild space was so close to zero that he didn’t even dare to hope. Instead, he found himself meditating most of his time away, trying to accept the death that was likely to come sooner rather than later. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, covered head to toe in emergency thermal blankets, he looked like a golden cone with a tangle of unkempt ginger hair sticking out from the top. There was no one there to judge him. When they found his frozen corpse in two thousand years, he would be well past caring.

He kept having weird dreams, probably induced by the prolonged lack of sustenance, perpetual cold and overwhelming loneliness that he had no way of overcoming. He was a social creature, always had been, so it was no wonder that two weeks without anyone closer than lightyears away he was starting to lose his mind. The dreams were surreal, too abstract to make any sense of them.

Shadowy figures haunted him—black holes in the Force, alive yet dead at the same time. He could barely make sense of it. Every living thing had a presence in the Force, even plants, let alone sentient beings. But these figures, though humanoid in shape, had less presence in the Force than the grains of sand on Tatooine. Obi-Wan found them highly unsettling. How he wished he could go to the Archives and try to find some meaning in these visions. Were they just the deluded imaginings of a dying man, or was the Force trying to tell him something? For the first time in his life, he wished the Force would just leave him alone. He found no comfort in it anymore.

His one hope was that Ahsoka, his Padawan, wouldn’t be left to fend for herself. He wished that another Jedi Master would be assigned to her, allowing her to complete her apprenticeship and achieve the rank of Jedi Knight. His unfortunate demise should not stand in the way of her path to knighthood. She would make a magnificent Knight—he could only hope the Council would see that too.

He wondered if she was searching for him alongside the 212th Clone Battalion. It was possible, but they wouldn’t even have a starting point. His mission had been a top-secret foray into the Outer Rim, known only to Masters Windu and Yoda. That was before he’d made three separate hyperspace jumps, chasing his elusive target. In the end, his ship had been hit by some kind of weapon, leaving him powerless and stranded while his target escaped into the void, with no way for Obi-Wan to contact anyone.

The weight of his circumstances pressed down on him like a heavy shroud, sapping what little energy remained. Resigned to his fate, he drew the thermal blankets tighter around his body, seeking warmth that never quite arrived. The emptiness of the surrounding space felt almost alive, as if the stars themselves were watching, indifferent to his plight. He exhaled a long, weary sigh, his breath fogging in the cold, stale air. There was nothing more to be done, no strategies left to consider, only the endless stretch of silence. With one final glance at the inert form of R4, he closed his eyes, surrendering to the darkness that seemed eager to swallow him whole.

[classpecting-the-hoyoverse]

Adventurine: The Maid of Light

Maid: The active creation class

One who creates aspect or creates through aspect

One who creates aspect for themselves

Alternatively, one who fixes aspect

Light

Abstract: Knowledge, Awareness, Attention, Relevance, Fortune, Luck

Literal: Actual Light (Brightness), Vision, Eyes, the Sun, Stars

Light, the aspect of facts and fortune. If there's a chance of something happening, even at the smallest odds, the Light-bound will grasp onto that possibility. Take for example a gambler in a game of blackjack, the odds are against him and his chances of winning are slim. Yet, despite everything, the gambler walks away with more money than he came in with.

It's a facet that's less emphasized, not even the Extended Zodiac mentions the aspect's fortuitous traits. But within Homestuck's narrative, luck is shown to be one of the most important parts of being a Light-bound.

Let's discuss, starting with...

Aranea! A fellow Light-bound healer. As a Sylph of Light, not only can she heal others of physical aliments (e.i. Terezi's blindness), but she can also heal fate itself, creating fortune for an otherwise doomed timeline...

...or so she claims. Aranea became so absorbed with her hubris does she fail to be careful, being so reliant on her luck to steer her towards her goal that her megalomania ended in a rather, dark end. She falls into an abyss (literally is up for interpretation) and is absorbed in irrelevancy. [s]GAME OVER is the last time we see her play any significant role. Something that echoes a eerily familiar scene

Our next fellow Light-bound is our darling Rose Lalonde.

Though most perceive her character as the one who Knows it All, Rose Lalonde's role within the entirety of the narrative is to guide others towards a path with the most fortuitous outcomes, but rather than controlling them, she can guide others to take the action's necessary to put them on the best possible path for them to take. An advisor of sorts.

However, this doesn't necessarily mean victory. Her powers not only assist a single person, but they also assist the timeline as a whole. Whatever she needs to do to reach best possible fate for her friends, she will do it. Even if it means releasing a star and dying within its flares.

Which brings up an interesting parallel between her and Aventurine: both were willing to sacrifice themselves if it meant tearing down the walls that held a microcosm of their reality.

For Rose, the game was meant to be unwinnable. Thus she retaliates by breaking the game in any ways she could before concluding that blowing up the green sun is the best path of action .

For Aventurine, it's almost the same thing. But instead of desperately trying to burn down all of reality however, he wants to tear at the threads that make up the facade that is Penacony, and The Family along with it; to bring attention to the murders that they're covering up.

He wants to prove that death in this dreamscape is possible, and that Penacony is not all what it seems.

It's also worth noting that seeking evidence, even at the risk of putting himself in grave danger with powers higher than him, is also a characteristic of being a Light-bound.

These endeavors both result in their "deaths". In a sense, both have also ascended: Rose became a god and Aventurine has got a newfound reason to live.

Black Hole, Green Sun.

But I digress

Let's turn towards the last light-bound: Vriska Serket!

Both he and this Thief of Light have been known throughout their respective fandoms as gamblers. They even appear to wield dice as their weapons!

Aventurine and Vriska both have been show to be able to manipulate any outcomes to break in their favor. However, where luck comes to Aventurine naturally, Vriska has to take it.

Both also have been plagued streaks of luck that are a detriment to their lives. One of the first things the read learns about Vriska in her proper introduction is the fact that she has a habit that accumulates bad luck

For Aventurine though, well...

Aventurine's life is defined by his gratuitous fortune, ever since he's birth he's been blessed with it. Hailing from a desert land in which I can assume has little to shelter its inhabitants from the harsh heat, the moment Aventurine was born however, rain had come upon them. Perhaps the first time in a long time.

Being blessed by their deity, it's natural that one can assume that his good luck would lead him towards great things later in life. Perhaps he could've used it to bring his clan some fortune to improve their quality of life.

And he does! Somewhat. Only once: His sister's necklace was stolen by a couple of Katicans and through his luck, little Kakavasha was able to win a game and bring the necklace back

That should've be the beginning of a wide lucky streak for Aventurine, good thing after good thing happening throughout his life is what fate should have in store for him, right?

To him, to be lucky isn't always a good thing, especially if you have a lot of it.

Let's talk about his class, the Maid.

The story of a Maid begins with them having an overwhelming amount of their aspect, so much so that it seems to permeate every facet of their life. It engulfs them to the point that it snuffs out the Maid's true sens of self. In other words, they're a servant to their aspect.

Maid of Time Aradia Megido was so engulfed by death and destruction that by the time the reader is introduced to her, she's already dead. Even before that, voices of the dead speak into her mind and constantly tell her what to do.

Maid of Space Porrim and Maid of Life Jane have similar troubles with their aspect as they're forced to be in a predetermined position that they're placed in seemingly the moment they were born. For Porrim, it was to assist the troll's progenitor, the Mother Grub. For Jane, it was her position as Heiress to a baking company her grandmother created.

For Aventurine, it's his blessing that makes him extremely lucky, yet it pushes him into isolation.

When his clan was slaughtered, he was the sole survivor of their massacre. When he was thrown into a brawl with other slaves, he was the sole survivor of that fight.

When he killed his master, he manages to not only keep his life but also to rise far above the ranks from his status as a slave. A high-stakes gamble that he should've lost. Curious that he's stationed on a planet that used to be a prison.

When his luck is noticed, he becomes a servant to whoever is above him. As long as his luck benefits others, he can keep his life. He creates luck, not just for others, but for his own survival too. He’s quite literally made of it. He even gives you buffs during his boss fight if you manage to roll higher than him, and that still plays to his schemes. We’ll talk about that later however.

Aventurine is trapped in a cycle of survival. His luck is what keeps him alive but at what price? Aventurine doesn't see a reason to live nor does he actively seek to die, he just keeps gambling and gambling, winning and winning. A slave to his fortune.

So what can he do? Is he bound to forever run in cycles while his blessing tugs him around like a leash?

A Maid's role is to not only create, but to repair as well. To overcome their aspect and make it theirs to wield.

Let's start off on the surface: there's a murder mystery in Penacony and the Family is diverting attention away from it, to the extent that it never seemed like the victims died. Besides, there is no death in Penacony.

Aventurine seeks to rectify that. Bring light towards the truth of not only the murders, but Penacony as a whole.

But let’s look a little deeper, after all it’s not attention that he has a problem with, it’s his fortune. How does one find a way to overcome good luck? To overcome a blessing?

To set down the path where the best possible outcome is to fail.

The climax of the 2.1 Trailblaze quest has the Trailblazer and the Astral Express Crew face off against Aventurine under the guise of getting the Trailblazer to destroy all of Penacony, when in reality:

It’s bait. It’s all a farce to get himself killed. And with his luck, he was able to provoke Archeron to draw her blade and make him the third death in Penacony. The reason why he activates your ultimate if you roll a higher number than him in is boss fight? It can be said that he’s a fair man, but it could also mean that he’ll be brought closer to being defeated the higher you roll.

By being killed, it’ll be hard to deny that death does happen within the dreamscape and everyone is unable to look away and is now forced to come to terms with that fact.

Aventurine managed to break the cycle, he had lost because he made it so. Overcoming the curse that was his luck by making defeat the most fortuitous path he could take.

…So, what now? There’s not much to his story left now that he’s dead.

Well… not quite. Aventurine isn’t actually dead.

This is where things start to turn speculative, but bear with me here.

As alluded to before, Aventurine’s finale mirrors the ends of both Aranea and Rose. One falls into nothingness and obscurity while the other rises anew. Who’s to say that this is just Star Rail’s version of a legendary nap? Right after he conquers his good luck streak that adds in the unveiling of the truth of Penacony, a fitting parallel to completing SBURB’s land quest, Aventurine enacts the ultimate sacrifice and ascends.

Though ascension in Homestuck is a flashy and a celebrated matter, Aventurine’s is more of a realization.

His entire life was wrought with death, him just being lucky to have his be continuously delayed. Fate has toyed with him and thus sees that no matter what he does, he just keeps living. So within the nothingness, he asks the emanator of nothingness this question:

To which, she replies:

Both she and Aventurine know that there is more to life than just simply being alive. She has more to live for and so does Aventurine.

Acheron alludes to his reawakening, telling him that he has much more to do.

However, it is only when our Maid of Light is finally given some light himself does he make the resolve to stride forward:

Aventurine is a Maid of Light that has been through so many hardships that ironically were given through his deity’s blessing: his luck. Yet, it’s that same blessing that kept him toiling through his life until his finale, where he finally found the strength to use it for his own downfall. With his arc seemingly finished and currently in limbo, there are still many things that Kakvasha needs to do. He’s not done living.

And this time, he won’t be shackled by the light that bounded him for so long. No more weighted dice.

And if we ever see him again (he has to. At the time of writing this, he’s set to release in 3 days), maybe there will be something new about him.

Maybe one day we’ll get a Nihility Aventurine down the line too.

[classicanalyzer]

The Acolyte - The Acolyte (Episode 8) Thoughts

"I think the Jedi are a massive system of unchecked power, posing as a religion, a delusional cult that claims to control the uncontrollable...Not the Force. Your emotions. You project an image of goodness and restraint, but it's only a matter of time before one of you snaps. And when, not 'if', that happens, who will be strong enough to stop him?... The majority of my colleagues can't imagine a galaxy without the Jedi. And I can understand why. When you're looking up to heroes, you don't have to face what's right in front of you." Senator Rayencourt.

"You poor girl. You've been through so much. The Jedi have failed you. I am going to make this right. But I need your help...I need you to help me find someone...A pupil of mine before he turned to evil." Vernestra Rwoh.

We end the show where it began chronologically, Brendok.

I love how Rayencourt makes good points about the Jedi trying to claim that they can control their emotions and present themselves as pure good with no flaws. What he said also legit sounds exactly what will happen to Anakin in the future. He's even proven right about the former with Sol given Episode 7 and the latter with Vernestra lying in the end. Props to his actor, David Harewood, for doing an amazing job.

I love how Bazil is the bad vibes checker of this show. I'm so happy that he lived.

MOTHERFUCKING DARTH PLAGUEIS! I legit said what the actual fuck when he appeared. His appearance makes a lot of sense and given how the twins were created using the Force, ofc he would be interested in them. I also love how the music used in this scene was very similar if not a reprise to the choir used in "The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise." I also legit do not care about if people complain if his age isn't similar to Legends. Well, first of all, there is no set age in Canon. And second of all, I legit do not care.

I also love the ship chase sequence. The CGI looks really well done in there. You feel the ship's weight and the impact of the asteroids.

The show also continues the theme of visions not appearing as they are. The Acolyte killed the Jedi without a (physical) weapon, however, Osha was mistaken. The Acolyte happened to be her.

Also props to Amandla Stenberg for portraying the twins so well. I felt the intense heartbreak and betrayal as Osha realized that Mae was right and the intense hatred then regret after she murdered Sol. The Bleeding of Sol's Lightsaber was so chilling to see.

GOD SOL'S DEATH HITS ME REALLY HARD. I legit got Infinity War PTSD when he told Osha "It's okay" as she was killing him (He couldn't even tell her that he loves her which broke my heart). While we all know it was an understandable accident given what happened (even their mother didn't blame Sol for thinking her attempted protection of Mae was an attack), it didn't change the fact that he killed their mother. Vernestra summed up his character pretty well (despite framing him). Sol's biggest flaw was that he loved Osha so much that he now sees the misunderstanding of killing their mother as something he had to do and covering up Brendok because of the Vergence. I do like how she knew Sol was truly good and well-intentioned despite his flaws and mistakes as she gave him a Jedi funeral.

"He was a kind, brilliant, compassionate man. And he did a terrible thing... A mistake he lived with for so long it twisted his mind. He justified every step with the love he had for your sister." Vernestra Rwoh

THE CHOREOGRAPHY IS SO GOOD! I love the Lightsaber and martial arts fighting in this show. Qimir's change to single blade stance after failing to get past Sol's indomitable defense is so good. Osha's and Mae's fist fight was also amazing and tension filled.

The reveal that Qimi was Vernestra's apprentice was smth I also guessed after Episode 6 which explains why she's in this show. I wonder what she will do when she sees him again.

Despite me knowing how horrifying Sol's death was, I can't help but feel happy seeing the siblings reunite and at peace. It was even more sadder as Mae has to forget Osha to protect her sister. Even I got sad seeing Mae forget the pledge as more of her memories got erased.

Ironically, Mae and Osha switch roles by the end of the show, with Osha being Qimir's Acolyte and Mae being utterly confused about why she's arrested by the Jedi. In a sense my guess about Mae having a redemption arc did come true...but just like the vision, just not in the way I had expected.

I really love how this show critiqued and explored the Jedi without bashing them. We see that they're truly a force of good and have the best of intentions...however those intentions can blind them to what's right in front of them. The Jedi are still sentient beings just like anyone else. We see how their complacency and desire to keep their image good blinds them to the rise of dark forces which includes the emerging Sith Order as the Grand Plan of the Sith takes shape. I had so many chills as Osha and Qimir looked at the sunset with the Acolyte theme playing.

The music in the finale is so good, especially during the fight and emotional scenes. This score really nailed it amtophseric-wise. I love the more creepy reprise of the witch coven's chants from Episode 3 during the credits.

A great season finale and season of SW TV. I really hope Leslye gets her multi-season show because the Acolyte has the potential to be an amazing multi-season show. She truly gave it her all in this season. I also trust her to make that Old Republic show as well.

"Sorry to disturb you, Master. We need to talk." Vernestra Rwoh.

[cellarspider]

Since I’ve been thinking about it all morning: here. A partial introduction to my favorite villain.

In the days of yore, when I was a teenager and video game hype was almost exclusively magazine-based, I saw a kid reading a copy of Game Informer.

“Hey,” said I, “could I see that for a second?”

The kid, not knowing what they were about to unleash, handed me the magazine.

I had seen this on the cover:

I had no idea what this was, but I knew that I wanted whatever it was selling.

I found out that this was an advertisement for City of Villains, an expansion to the previously-released MMO City of Heroes. I’d never played WoW with its Alliance and Horde split, so the idea was new to me. WoW also failed to present me with anything like the vibes of the newly-introduced lead villain, Lord Recluse.

Yes, they liked this art so much they did it twice, and I’m glad they did. More below the fold on why he was so appealing for a young queer kid, for those who are intrigued.

I’ll keep this focused on a single topic for now: The intensely queer vibes that Recluse acquired over the course of the game’s plot. Keep in mind that this game came out in 2004, so the actual amount of openly queer content was very minimal. However, CoH/CoV developed a reputation as an extremely queer-friendly space, with a community Pride event becoming a semi-official yearly celebration, complete with the devs showing up as major NPCs, custom assets, and spawning in unique raids that tanked everybody’s framerate. Equivalents of this have carried over past the game's tragic shutdown in 2012, with community-run servers still staging their own Pride events.

If the art above doesn’t make it clear, Recluse had a much-beloathèd archnemesis, Statesman. If the art above doesn’t make it abundantly clear, this was always an extremely fraught relationship, with a complicated backstory that became more and more tragic the deeper you got into the game lore, eventually bordering on cosmic horror. But one thing was for certain, this was Hark A Vagrant levels of obsession over a nemesis.

The game at first seemed to backstep on that: oh, it turned out, Recluse had once been villainous life partners with a woman who went by the villain name Red Widow. She died decades ago in the collateral damage of one of Recluse’s nigh apocalyptic confrontations with Statesman, and her death left him with nothing but his obsession. So sad.

And then when Statesman died in the course of the game’s plot, Recluse spiraled into depression and nihilism that was only halted when someone managed to dig Red Widow’s soul out of storage and resurrected her.

It was always deniably presented, but the implication was very much that the two were functionally equivalent emotional anchors to his psyche, and losing both of them was something he couldn’t survive.

Also, there was that one time that the game’s Valentine’s Day event was advertised with a heart split down the middle, half Statesman’s iconography and half Recluse’s, topped with a banner that read “AMOR OMNIA VINCIT”, meaning “LOVE CONQUERS ALL”.

And that’s without getting into the first tie-in book. A prequel starting at the end of the 1920s, it was a delightfully and deliberately pulpy book, which… centered around a complicated man slowly dying of lingering health problems after his exposure to mustard gas in WWI, and his very good friend, estranged from his family for unknown reasons, who’d devoted the last ten years to caring for the protagonist, and helping him seek a cure. This has carried on year after year, even though the man’s illness has made him unresponsive to the emotional needs of others, something they both know is going to culminate one day in the two parting ways.

…And then they get superpowers, and their relationship does not get any healthier from there. But what it does gain is a surprising trans metaphor as our now-antagonist slowly metamorphoses into the spidery villain I know and love.

I completely missed this back in the day. I have no idea if it was intentional. But there’s a scene where this man looks in the mirror and sees the first signs of his oncoming physical transformation, and he likes what he sees. He has no idea where he’s going, but he’s excited for it.

…And he’s started killing people who refer to him by his former name, in the most literal case of “dead naming” I’ve ever seen.

Throughout the rest of the series, Recluse is unapologetically who he is, putting him in that category of queercoded villain that doubles as a power fantasy. He’s grown physically monstrous and loves it. He has respect from everyone around him, either legitimately for his capabilities or out of fear of what he can do to those who don’t give him his due. A new demigod who is only matched by the man he’s never stopped obsessing over. He wins just as often as he loses, and often salvages something from his defeats in ways that nobody expected.

He is terrible. And he is wonderful.

[havocdream]

Unheard and Unseen - Thirteen

Summary: Vintra and Hunter discuss recent events on their way to Coruscant, urgently trying to come up with a plan to cover up Vintra's illegal meeting with Arvin Haradan and to track down the possible culprit who leaked the intel about her flight off the planet.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Swearing | Mentions of assassinations | Mentions of explosions | Mentions of death of children | Self harm

Notes at the end of chapter

Chapter twelve -> Jawa-brained animal

Masterlist

Half-truths

Despite the constant travel Vintra had to make as part of her role as a Galactic Senator, she’d never had the privilege of boarding a military ship. She assumed it’d be different from a private or commercial vessel, but her imagination failed to fully grasp the reality of what one of these ships was until she stepped through the hatch of the Havoc Marauder. 

It looked larger inside than it did from the outside, with up to three distinct areas loaded with navicomputers, weapons, equipment, and ammunition. In the cockpit, the control panel spanned the entire front edge, featuring hundreds of commands and two screens in front of the pilot and co-pilot seats, displaying comprehensive data on the space surrounding the ship. Two additional passenger seats were positioned behind each pilot's chair. Along the side walls were energy feeders and data cabins, housing the ship's internal power processors. 

To the right of the entrance, a narrow corridor led to the safety seats for transporting additional passengers. These seats offered more protection than those in the cockpit, with extra harnesses and secure fittings against the ship's walls to ensure stability during transit. The adjacent room was more spacious, housing two large computers on each side that received real-time updates about the status of various fronts of the war, military intelligence messages, database updates, and alerts on major socio-political or military events—like the recent bounty hunter attack on the Senate Building and the Executive Office Building of the Republic on Coruscant, news that Vintra was still unaware of. 

At the rear of the ship were the soldiers' sleeping bunks, accompanied by a narrow locker. The final feature was an exclusive compartment for rear artillery, operated only by whoever was stationed there. 

However, despite being a well-equipped and secure vessel tailored for an elite military group, the same praise couldn’t be extended to the orderliness of the interior. Vintra accidentally kicked food wrappers, nearly tripped on an attachment from one of Crosshair's rifles tangled in her sleeve, and her shoe heel got stuck in what she swore was a half-eaten piece of fruit. 

But what provoked her fastest reaction was the smell—a mix of grease, smoke, sweat, and dirt that the ventilation system barely managed to purify. It was reminiscent of a pet food store in one of the sublevel districts of Coruscant's capital. 

"Doesn’t this smell bother you?" she asked the clone behind her, covering her nose and frowning in disgust, fully aware that Hunter’s senses were far more acute than an average person. He tried not to roll his eyes. 

"I’m used to it," he admitted with a slight, humorless shrug, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

Hunter, who had just finished boarding and closing the hatch, gestured for the senator to take her designated seat—one of the safety seats in the mid-cabin. Vintra walked through the narrow corridor with difficulty, trying hard not to trip over the many items scattered on the floor. 

"How... can you even walk in here?" she muttered under her breath, shaking her foot to free it from a cable that Tech or Hunter had likely forgotten to pick up. Behind her, the sergeant advanced without a care, stepping on whatever happened to be in his path. 

The ship's lights turned on, and the engine's warming vibrations made the floor and walls tremble slightly, signaling that takeoff was imminent. Vintra hurried to the nearest seat and sat down quickly, but as soon as she reached for the seatbelt, she found out there wasn’t one. 

"This is an attack shuttle, not a first-class space yacht," he remarked sarcastically, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, clearly amused by her struggles with the safety protocols. 

"You don’t say," she retorted with equal sarcasm, nodding toward the mess scattered throughout the hallway she had just crossed. Irritated by her inability to figure out how to lower the safety bars above the seats, Vintra shot Hunter an increasingly frustrated look, baffled at his refusal to assist her. "Well? Are you just going to stand there?" she pressed. He barely shifted the muscles beneath his eyes, his expression intrigued and suspicious ever since he had pulled her out of the room with Senator Haradan. 

"You’ve got a lot of questions to answer, senator," he suggested, but Vintra found no humor in his comment. She stood abruptly from her seat, determined to fix the problem herself. 

"So do you! Let’s start with the rancor in the room: how the fuck did you find me?" demanded the ederian as she strained with all her might to pull down the bar. It clattered noisily but refused to budge. The ship's thrusters began to hum louder as they heated up. "Rodova isn’t exactly a well-known planet; it’s barely on any maps these days," she added between light panting and futile attempts to adjust her dress while keeping her back turned to the sergeant. 

"It wasn’t easy, especially since you were presumed dead for quite a while," his dismissive tone clashed with the gravity of his words. For a moment, Vintra almost thought she had misheard him, as if the news of her death were a trivial mistake in the morning reports. 

But she remembered what the sergeant had mentioned earlier—information she’d brushed aside in her adrenaline-fueled concern over losing her deal with Arvin. Her network had intercepted an enemy message: someone had planned to capture or kill her. The explosion of a ship in Evadelar suggested the plan had been executed successfully. 

"After analyzing some debris we managed to recover, Tech identified it was from a commercial cargo ship, incapable of reaching half the speed of light. Wrecker studied the level of destruction and determined the explosion had occurred less than five hours prior… From Coruscant, it would’ve been impossible for that ship to reach Evadelar in under ten hours; it must’ve been in transit for at least twenty-two; and according to surveillance records, you were still on Coruscant fifteen hours earlier," Vintra gave up on the metal harness, unable to find any visible lock to release it or an automatic switch to activate it. "So, we mapped potential destinations within fifteen hours of your location and cross-referenced them with the control station maps, eliminating those paths… Only a few options remained. When I noticed one of them led to the Jalor Sector, I was certain that was where you’d gone. It’s the only sector resembling Evadelar. I figured the enemy intel might have been wrong about the exact location but not the conditions, as both are infamous smuggling routes." 

Just then, Vintra spotted a lever on the side of the seatback bearing a symbol resembling the safety bars. Without hesitation, she gave it a full turn, releasing the heavy gear above her, that would’ve slammed down onto her head, hadn’t Hunter caught it at the last second. 

“Every ship leaves a trail that’s almost imperceptible to the eye, but with the right equipment, we can track it. And it turned out, the only planet those traces led to was Rodova. We found your ship there and then I had no trouble tracking your steps,” he explained behind her. Vintra had instinctively covered her head with her hands when she saw the metal bar falling toward her. At some point, the sergeant had crossed from the threshold of the hallway to her side to prevent her from being knocked out by her own desperation—though all that trouble could’ve been avoided if the sergeant had helped her from the start. 

“Of all the squads in the galaxy, it had to be yours that got called,” she muttered, lowering her arms and quickly taking a seat. Hunter slowly lowered the safety bars, adjusting them to the ederian’s size. His hands brushed against her waist as he secured the sides of the seat. The textured detail of that part of her dress felt like a blend of cotton kisses and brocade dusted with fine specks of stones. The intricate weave in his skin created an unexpected sensation, as if he were accidentally bridging the gap of thousands of light-years between an insignificant soldier and one of the Republic’s greatest political figures. 

“Well, all of this could’ve been avoided if you hadn’t decided to break the law,” he reminded her, his lips curving into a threatening smirk as if the whole situation amused him. And it did, as it was one of the few ways he could assert his authority over her. “Which brings me to my questions.” 

After finishing the adjustments, he stood slightly above her, his hands resting on the two bars enclosing the senator’s face. There was no escape—not from the jolts of the ship at full speed, nor from the truth he demanded. 

Vintra pressed her back harder against the seat when she realized how close Hunter’s face was to hers. She instinctively tried to put more distance between them but found she couldn’t. She didn’t know where to place her hands; gripping the bar would mean touching his, so she rested them on the edges of the seat beside her legs, doing her best not to shrink into herself to hide her neck, as if she bore there her darkest secrets. 

“What are you up to?” he asked in a low, menacing tone that sparked an almost uncontrollable urge in Vintra to answer him immediately. The deep vibration in his voice felt like a natural command for her tongue to spill what she was most determined to keep hidden. “You’ve been dragging the stench of a secret since you recognized us, and it’s only grown heavier. Your vital signs now scream for help and regret, as if you’ve made a mistake.” 

Vintra furrowed her brows, terrified that Hunter could see so much through her. 

“It’s in your eyes, your desperation,” he continued, nodding toward the safety bars with his chin, “your constant swallowing, your obsession with glancing over your shoulder on the way here.” 

She couldn’t help but silently curse herself. 

"What’re you hiding from?" 

It would’ve been easier to say what she wasn't hiding from. 

“I know you’ve had… a complicated month on Coruscant,” the ship finally started to levitate, ready to leave the planet and enter hyperspace. Hunter didn’t seem to lose his balance with the slight shakes of the vehicle, nor was he worried about finding something to hold onto. Vintra gripped her hold tightly. “The accusations from your opposition are alarming, and your defense hasn’t looked very good—” 

“Seems like now you’re a real expert on the political context,” she commented with irony, almost offended that her recent defeats were now being judged even by him. Hunter hardened his gaze, but Vintra didn’t feel threatened or intimidated by it; it seemed more like the clone was concerned. 

“I wanted to make sure you were alive,” he admitted with complete honesty, in contrast to Vintra’s reluctant intention of doing the same. She softened her gaze at his confession, remembering how she had basically dismissed him when, in his words, his squad was called whenever the danger increased. “Is this an attempt to win back the Senate’s approval?” 

Vintra held her breath, her eyes meeting his. It was true that returning to Coruscant wasn’t something Vintra looked forward to at the moment. She had spent a month with a terrible case for her defense. 

Forty standard rotations ago, a terrible accident had occurred in one of the primary schools on Coruscant. A gas leak had caused a devastating explosion at the educational center, claiming the lives of several children and staff members. It was a case that shocked the capital planet for several days, with many media outlets and public figures using their voices and resources to support the grieving families and loved ones. 

However, a few days later, the Senator from the Nemeda System boldly addressed the Senate, blaming Vintra for the explosion’s deadly toll. “Had we had infrastructures made with thusten, the explosion would never have left the kitchen area and reached the classrooms and hallways.” That’s what Astar Farwan, one of the leaders of her opposition regarding the Druad bill, had said to spark a flame that quickly turned into a chaotic fire of blame, accusing fingers, and endless speeches justifying Druad’s occupation. 

Several media outlets supported Farwan’s proposition, with entire pieces criticizing Vintra for failing to look out for her own people by wanting to deny them access to a material that could’ve saved the lives of so many children, siblings, or friends. The public, which had supported her so strongly at the start, began juggling between their undeniable support for her peaceful proposal and their disgust toward her for preventing thusten walls from saving so many young lives. 

Despite securing a lot of votes over the last two months, she was starting to lose allies due to the growing public disfavor every time her face appeared in a new headline or cover, still firm in her arguments for the liberation of Druad and her disinterest in acquiring thusten. 

“I need something to convince the Senate that this bill’s possible,” she admitted, her voice barely audible over the noise of the ship almost ready to jump into hyperspace. “Something irrefutable, like the evidence that even the Separatist Parliament is willing to support it.” 

The Havoc Marauder finally propelled into hyperspace with such a jolt that it destabilized Vintra for a moment, forcing her reflexes to release her grip on the seat and reach for the bars in front of her. Her soft, slender hands covered the thick, gloved and strong ones of the sergeant, who turned his attention to her involuntary gesture, though no reaction appeared on his face. 

Vintra, with her cheeks flushed and her chest wrapped in shame, lowered her hands beneath his, her grip tightening on the metal that protected her. Hunter returned his gaze to her, and one corner of his lips lifted in a mocking smirk. 

“Hm,” muttered the clone, curious about the mixed signals emanating from her like a short circuit with different origins. “Your words are true, but you’ve left out the ones that matter most,” he accused, certain that Vintra must be involved in something risky or shady to dare evade the truth in front of him, knowing he’d recognize her intentions. 

Under Hunter’s outstretched arm, Vintra noticed another figure entering the room, with an apathetic expression and tense gestures. Hunter glanced at Wrecker but quickly returned his gaze to the senator and moved his presence away from hers. Neither seemed affected by the speed at which the ship was traveling, while Vintra felt that if she removed her hands from the bar, she’d fall. 

“What?” the clone leader asked, his gaze narrowing but never leaving sight of Vintra. 

“The Kinyen Senator was killed,” Wrecker informed both, although it was Vintra’s face that seemed to fall in horror at what she’d just heard, her eyes quickly moving to the large clone. “The rest of the kidnapped senators barely survived an explosion, and the Chancellor and company have already been freed and sec—” 

“What are you talking about, trooper?” she asked in fear, unsure if she really wanted to know. 

“Mavan Stent has requested to speak with the senator,” Wrecker ignored her, knowing Hunter would explain soon. The sergeant looked at him. 

“Tell him he’ll speak with her once we land,” Wrecker nodded to his orders, and Vintra looked at the sergeant with evident frustration and confusion. “Get the others, we need to discuss the plan.” 

The jolt of the bars from Vintra’s desperate attempt to remove them returned Hunter’s gaze to her, with little warning that Vintra might succeed. The ederian growled in frustration. 

“I want to talk to my Chief of Intelligence!” she complained, desperation painted in the violet of her eyes. But Hunter remained unmoved. 

“You won’t talk to anyone until we’re all on the same page,” the clone crossed his arms in front of her and analyzed her. “If there’s a traitor in the higher ranks of the Republic, manipulating the information about what happened today is key,” Vintra’s face started to paint with distress; the nonsensical news she’d just heard didn’t seem to have settled well. “There was a bounty hunter siege at the Senate Building,” Hunter finally explained upon sensing her fear. “I still don’t know the details of the operation, we were sent to find you when it happened,” footsteps were heard approaching them, and Hunter glanced at his brothers down the hall. 

Vintra hit her forehead against one of the bars in front of her, causing Hunter to return his gaze to her in alert, surprised by the violence with which Vintra had been acting since they had met again. She replayed the clones’ words in her mind and created a fictitious scenario about what had happened on Coruscant that day. Why had they sieged the Senate? Who had been kidnapped? Why hadn’t Mavan contacted her sooner? Who would have betrayed her? 

When the clones entered the room and Tech was about to speak, Hunter’s outstretched hand signaled him to wait. The sergeant’s furrowed brow towards Vintra reflected unease; his senses had picked up something different. 

The squad sergeant didn’t like what seemed more and more like regret within Senator Selana, as if her entire existence had suddenly become a mistake, and everyone agreed with that statement. Something had her cornered, sinking her into a pit of guilt… 

Was it the school incident? Did she believe her opposition was right? Did she feel guilty for the children’s deaths? 

“Are you alright?” 

The genuine and almost delicate interest came from his mouth, not wanting to impose more frustrations and moral burdens on her. A sad gasp escaped her. 

“I’m fine,” once again, she dared to lie to him when she knew he’d recognize it. Vintra took a deep breath and raised her gaze to the clones. “What’s the plan?” 

There were three figures waiting on the landing platform near Coruscant’s Federal District, none other than the Supreme Chancellor himself, along with his Vice Chair, Mas Amedda, both anxious to know how Senator Selana was and what news she was bringing back. Beside them, the Chief of Intelligence from Ederon, Mavan Stent, watched impatiently as Clone Force 99’s combat ship made its rough landing, eager to see his dear friend and finally hear the details of her important mission. 

Mavan made little effort to hide his nervousness. He bit down on the skin around his nails with such force that he couldn’t stop tearing off small pieces of it, making the Chancellor glance at him with a mix of distress and disgust. But Mavan paid no mind to the disapproving look from the Chancellor, for the powerful man didn’t understand the true position Mavan was in with his superior. 

He had failed to protect Vintra's critical negotiations because he had gone to an insignificant meeting with Admirals and Vice Admirals about a stupid, incorrect information leak. Because of his absence, chaos had ensued in both his intel network and the army’s, and the Republic’s top trackers had been sent to pull Vintra out of a meeting authorized by the Supreme Court—one that had likely been interrupted and ruined. 

Mavan was sure he had never felt as much fear in years as when the ship’s door opened, and from the darkness inside, Vintra Selana’s copper-colored robes gradually emerged, until the morning light revealed her stunning figure. Behind her, the clone sergeant hurried down with her. 

“Vintra! It’s such a relief to see you’re alright,” exclaimed the Chancellor, Sheev Palpatine, with a shy tone. He stood a couple of feet away from the ramp Vintra was descending, dressed in a luxurious set of ochre velvet fabrics that formed a thick, long robe with voluminous, curving sleeves and a high, sculpted collar that reached up to his cheekbones, almost like a protective cone. On anyone else, it would’ve looked ridiculous, but on the Supreme Chancellor, it gave him an imposing and threatening air. "I’m sorry for this terrible misunderstanding. Should I assume the negotiations didn’t go well?" asked the wise man with regret, as he walked toward her and offered his pale hand to help her down the last steps.  

Vintra took a deep breath of the fresh morning breeze blowing across the open platform, surrounded by the typical urban sounds of the capital, and took the Chancellor’s hand in good faith. A confident smile appeared on her face as her feet touched the ground. 

"Not at all, Chancellor, hasn’t the Supreme Court informed you yet?" Vintra responded to her leader’s concern, and a delicate pat on the hand holding hers tried to convey calm about the situation, although the Chancellor only expressed confusion. "Arvin Haradan had a health issue, he wasn’t going to be able to attend our meeting today... but he contacted the Separatist Court to let us know that he was willing to support the negotiations and present a Druad ceasefire bill in the Separatist Parliament." 

Mavan’s mouth threatened to fall open in astonishment at what he was hearing, but he held himself back, remembering his manners as the leader of one of the galaxy’s most powerful factions. He couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief upon hearing that everything had gone well, and that his absence hadn’t cost Vintra dearly; they still had a valuable card to play for defense in the Senate... 

But as he noticed how her nostrils flared every few seconds, and how her posture seemed to slightly lean forward, as if she were carrying a backpack full of stones on her back and pretending it was something she could bear, Mavan guessed that Vintra was lying. He knew her too well to not recognize those patterns instantly, but the most alarming thing wasn’t that she was lying, but that the lie was directed at the Supreme Chancellor himself. 

Something Vintra had never done in her political career. 

"... Isn’t that right, Mr. Stent?" The Chancellor’s voice, followed by the gaze of both Vintra and him fixed on him, snapped Mavan out of his bewilderment, unsure if he had managed to hide his reaction well enough to avoid suspicion. 

"Sorry, it’s just that I’m so relieved this valuable plan hasn’t fallen apart," the ederian with ash-colored hair and sapphire eyes feigned nonchalance. His young but mature face always helped him hide the expression lines that would form when his worry or distress were too intense. "I assume you’ll want to discuss your speech for the next plenary as soon as possible," he addressed Vintra, eager to have a private conversation with her. Vintra nodded slowly and gave the Chancellor a kind and apologetic expression. 

"Mavan’s right, I’m afraid I must rush to the Supreme Court to draft my proposals for the Separatist Parliament and my speech before the Senate regarding this incredible news," Vintra apologized for having to leave. "I know you’ll be expecting a report on the whole situation, Chancellor. I’ll meet with you tonight after Philo’s funeral, if that’s alright with you." 

Vintra's large purple orbs were known to have a mysterious power of persuasion, if she set her mind to it with full intent. They served her as if within them existed two giant planets equipped with their own magnetic field—hypnotic and dangerous if anyone got lost in them for longer than usual, it was a one-way trip to her control. 

Chancellor Palpatine didn’t usually give in to such clear manipulations, and he had all the authority to demand Vintra clarify everything at once, without giving her the time to surpass him in information advantage or keep him in the dark any longer about that crucial matter. The negotiations with the Separatists, the first to be formalized by the Supreme Court and a nearly winning card for Druad’s bill, were an event that he, as Chancellor, had to have complete knowledge of. 

However, the harsh gaze Palpatine perceived from the clone standing behind Vintra stopped him from giving the order. Unable to see his alert eyes due to the visor covering them, it was as if the Chancellor knew the clone was closely evaluating his response, like a rodent gradually being led to a perfect bait to finally be caught. 

He didn't understand the meaning behind that gesture, as it felt like Vintra was hiding something or scheming something. There was more behind the words she spoke. 

"Of course, Vintra," he said after a moment of reflection on that predicament, curious to know where that sudden distrust and intriguing attitude would lead. "I'll see you in my office after the ceremony." 

The confidence with which the Chancellor's hand touched her shoulder gave Vintra the impression that the Chancellor knew he had been tested. It wasn’t the gesture she had anticipated when the sergeant had suggested saying that. And she didn’t like having to unnecessarily disturb the most valuable political relationships she had, but if it was about hunting down an infiltrator, she had to trust the instincts of the man who had discovered that Luvid Stass was the orchestrator of her assassination attempts. 

"I'm afraid the Republic owes you an apology as well, sergeant," the Chancellor said to Hunter, his expression wrapped in a halo of imperceptible signals for the clone. "We wasted your squad's talents on a mission that involved no real danger, after all." 

Hunter had to acknowledge that the Chancellor’s cunning was worthy of praise. His intent to try to extract information from him made it clear that the Senate leader knew they were hiding something, and it involved danger. His apology was more of a warning. 

"Better safe than sorry," replied the clone with respect, as if wasting his time wasn't a big deal. Although his tone was double-edged, more of a bounce-back to the warning made by the Chancellor. 

Palpatine gave the clone a knowing smile, one that clearly warned him not to try anything clever with him. Vintra noticed the Chancellor’s deadly glare, a look known by all politicians as the signal to flee the scene, for it was the anticipation of a bloodbath. 

Between the two men, Vintra’s figure and face intervened. "At least we can rest assured that the sergeant and company are the ones capable of finding the impossible," she softened the scene, with her gentle face and soothing tone, like a maiden defending a knight before the king. 

The Chancellor fixed his fiery gaze on Vintra, which served as a lagoon to cool off and grant mercy. "Such a relief," the head of the Senate murmured with irony. 

When the Supreme Chancellor boarded his shuttle alongside the Vice Chair and offered a final farewell to those still on the landing platform, Vintra waited only a few seconds before turning to the clone with suicidal intentions. 

"Next time you want to be annihilated, make sure I'm not close enough to get stained with your blood," she scolded, her voice like the clash of iron, harsh and with sharp impact. Behind the visor, it was impossible for Vintra to know the clone's expression, who seemed to just observe her without any emotion. "You know where to find me." 

That was the last thing she said before approaching an impatient Mavan toward her personal transport. Hunter relaxed his shoulders and let out a sharp sigh. 

"Wait," the sergeant's voice stopped her, as he activated his visor's channel to communicate with one of his brothers. "Go with her," he ordered someone, immediately revealed to be Wrecker as he appeared at the hatch and, weapon in hand, positioned himself once again next to Vintra Selana. "There's still a hunt for you, and your guard hasn't returned," the clone reminded her while making it clear there would be no discussion as he crossed his arms. "If word gets out about your successful negotiations, rest assured someone will try to silence you." 

Vintra held her frozen gaze on him for a moment. Although part of the plan was to consider that one of the presents could leak this crucial and threatening information, it didn’t take away the fear of not catching the imposter in time. From the corner of her eye, Vintra glanced at Mavan, a cold pang piercing her chest, at the height of her heart. The mere possibility that Mavan could be the traitor hurt, and it even sent chills down her spine to imagine a scenario where her old and trusted friend would take a moment alone with her to twist her neck and end her life. 

Part of her had been unable to argue with the clone when he told her that Mavan and the Chancellor couldn’t be excluded from the same level of distrust as everyone else. Not because she believed they were guilty, but because she trusted Hunter’s instincts. 

It wouldn’t be the first time that someone unimaginable to Vintra turned out to be behind her assassination attempts. 

But Vintra also trusted her own instincts. It may have taken her time to believe that Luvid Stass wanted to kill her, but Mavan was as impossible as eternal life. There was no room for logic, and deep inside, she screamed with certainty that Mavan would never betray her, not even to save his own life. 

General Windu's gaze hesitated for several seconds, unsure whether to turn into confusion or astonishment after witnessing what the sergeant of the Clone Force 99 was communicating to him. 

“An infiltrator? Here on Coruscant?” he questioned incredulously from the seat across from the clone, who stood firm and at attention before the Jedi. The room they were in ascended to nearly the top floor of the Coruscant Central Command Building, just a few streets away from the Federal District. The walls of the place, in the hours of dusk, were bathed in warm artificial lights, bright enough to make out the large filing cabinet of classified reports in the darkness, and the touchscreen board that traced route calculations and real-time information of high-profile targets across the galaxy. All of this oversaw by the wise Jedi Master, who, in those days, was referred to as 'General.' 

“Or a traitor,” suggested Hunter, his expression serious and alarmed, but confident in what he was conveying. General Windu, whose authority was emphasized by his perfectly tailored brown robes and adorned with his unique lightsaber, sighed in frustration. Hunter wasn’t a soldier who made mistakes in such accusations, and, in truth, it wasn’t hard for him to believe what he was saying. 

What was difficult to accept was the clone's request to be reassigned as bodyguards for Senator Selana. 

"I’m afraid this is a case that one of our Jedi Knights should handle, sergeant," the general confessed after a moment of reflection. "The Order has... suspected this infiltrator for some time now, an entire division has been tracking him for months," he explained, and Hunter was beginning to tire of realizing that everyone he’d spoken to that day revealed a bit of truth but hide the bulk of it. "Needless to say, they haven't had success," he raised his hands slightly to show how empty they were. Hunter raised an eyebrow. 

If the Jedi Order had an entire division dedicated to monitoring the figures of power in the Republic to track down the traitor, and they still had nothing, it complicated things. First, because they weren’t sure if they were talking about the same person—there could be two impostors at play. Second, it might suggest that the data leak had come from their front of the war, not from the Separatist side. 

“In my experience, general,” Hunter began, his purpose in that room being to ensure his mission was to protect Senator Selana, “if you haven’t found the culprit, it’s because they know how you operate,” he placed his hand over his chest to emphasize his figure. “My squadron tends to work with uncommon, hard-to-predict methods, and we have the advantage of knowing that this person is close to the few involved in the negotiations Senator Selana was having with Senator Haradan,” General Windu’s frown seemed to indicate that he recognized the points the clone was making, almost convinced that reassigned them to Coruscant wouldn’t be such a bad idea. “Besides, we have the Senator’s trust to take care of her security.” 

His final argument, the best he had, pierced the Jedi’s core like a fine needle, leaking enough conviction to accept the sergeant’s request. Of course, they were a group of clones worthy of the most complicated challenges the war was presenting more and more. 

But this was different, because it wasn’t an impostor he believed even they could face. And he wasn’t willing to sacrifice his best clone unit for the inefficiency of the Jedi Order itself. 

“Why are you interested in this case?” the Jedi asked after a moment of uneasily observing the clone, on an exciting journey to try to decipher him. The question caught Hunter by surprise, leaving him speechless for a good while. 

He hadn’t thought about it, as his mission to find and secure Senator Selana had already concluded. The fact that there was more danger lurking didn’t mean it was his responsibility to protect her. And yet, he felt like it was. 

“I already had to turn my back on her once when she needed us most,” he confessed, almost without thinking about how to put his words. But as soon as he found the little sense of what his gut felt and his mind thought, there was no turning back with his tongue. “I think this is a case only my unit can handle, and her life’s still at risk… it’s not natural for me or for them to turn our backs on this kind of danger.” 

And as if some invisible force was laughing at him from a higher plane in some far-off space but still alongside him, Hunter felt the vibrations in his head and chest from revealing part of a truth but omitting most of it. 

I'm sorry I took a while to post it, I thought december was going to be chill but suddenly my job's important (booo) and I have to be responsible lol.

Thank you for reading!! I don't know if you felt this chapter short like I did, my excuse is that it serves as a bridge between the first scenario and the core of this current part. Once we press full speed we aren't slowing down! :)

See you soon! xx

[rosemaries-shroom]

Woo throwing my 2 cents into the Mouthwashing drama (note: fictives this does not include you guys)

There is a nuance that a lot of vocal fans aren't understanding about "liking" or flat out "hating" certain characters. The game covers very real topics that are engraved into our current society; end stage capitalism, the consequences of misogyny, the "good people" who are still manipulated into making the wrong choices.

Anya is a victim, even tho she still left Curly alone with Jimmy. Even tho her locking herself away ultimately led to Daisuke's death. She's traumatized and struggling with her abuser still having control over her. She probably believed by locking the door before k1ll1ng herself that she was protecting curly too. Not evil, not morally pure, human.

Swansea? He was in the middle of an alcoholic relapse over the crash/following bs, he knew what Jimmy did to Anya but did nothing, he lied and kept secrets about the utility room. He k1lled Daisuke as a mercy after failing to protect him. He wasn't evil, he wasn't good either. He's honestly my favorite from the game because he's so bitterly human.

Even Daisuke isn't completely good. He had a good heart for sure, but he still helped drug Swansea. His good heart got him into the worst trouble. The dude didn't deserve what happened

Curly haters, I get it. I wanted him to do *something*, even if it was just keeping Jimmy in his field of vision. It wouldn't have been the same game if he had tho, and a dimension of Curly's character would've been ruined. He's not evil, he was too neutral. He's the kind of person who can't see the smaller red flags. Who'd chalk up the verbal abuse Jimmy throws at him as "just Jimmy in a mood". He's not good but he's not some monster either

Jimmy though, Jimmy is probably the only character that should be hated in this game. He *is* evil, a very real evil that a lot of people on tumblr have encountered irl. He'd be one of the assholes complaining about "immigrants taking our jobs" and posting "your body, my choice" all over the internet. He'll throw a friend under the bus(or into an explosion) just to avoid facing his consequences. He's such an amazingly well written antagonist *because* of this. He makes such a terrifying impression *because* of this. There's nothing wrong with appreciating that, with liking what the game did with him.

HOWEVER! It *does* cross a line when you take a character like Jimmy, who canonically committed an unforgivable crime (and be clear, there is no justifying or ignoring s/a) and pretend to be them or even unironically ship them with their victim. It's insulting to the source material's intended message, and it's tactless to boot. Role-playing the embodiment of toxic masculinity and r4pe culture, perpetuating those same issues because you "love" the character.

Like Jimmy's character for the awful monster is, but please, treat this with the awareness the game wanted to show