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thestarlitmidnight · 12 days ago

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✨ Rewrite the Stars ✨

Summary: Being mated to Feyre doesn’t stop Rhysand to seek comfort from his former lover Y/N. One more night, that became their mantra.

Fandom: ACOTAr

Pairing: Rhysand X Y/N

Warnings: Mention of explicit content, be aware of that and consider being 15+ before reading this.

Word Count: 2 810

Previous Chapter

Master List

Chapter Two

"You are an insufferable idiot, Rhysand!" I raised my hand and threw a pillow at him, my voice fierce with anger.

"Angel, calm down, will you?" He raised his hands up, letting the pillow hit his tummy without any attempts to move aside.

"Take that angel and shove it up your arrogant ass!" I picked another pillow from his sofa in the River House, throwing it at him.

"I know about better activities involving those bodily parts," he dared to send me a seductive smile, sounding so damn sure of himself.

"I would rather throw myself off the nearest cliff with my wings tied before getting involved with you ever again!" I seethed and walked over to the sofa to a chair, where I picked another way too decorated pillow and threw it once again, aiming for his cock this time.

"Now, Y/n, let's not get ahead of ourselves," the seductive smirk fell from his face and was replaced with a more serious look.

"You said you had my back! So where were you?!" I picked up a vase that was holding some pastel pink flowers with a weirdly sweet smell and pointed with the vase at Rhysand, my eyes holding murder in them.

"I was tending to my duties, angel," he eyed the vase in my hand like it was his future executor. "Put that vase down, darling, those flowers were grown from seed by Elain, it would break her heart seeing them on the floor."

I bared my teeth at his damn aloofness and growled.

"I don't give a single fuck about what would break Elain's heart," with that, I grabbed the flowers out of that vase and threw them on the near table. "And frankly, you should not as well, not now, I am serious you piece of arrogant male, what the hell was more important than backing me up at the mission!"

He eyed me with caution in his eyes now, yet his eyebrows were raised with mocking amusement. This idiot always knew how to get under my skin.

"You speak of it as if I let you on the battlefield, Angel, it was mere two more hours spent in the presence of Helion," he tried to ease my irritation, but he was doing a terrible job at it.

"Exactly! One more hour with Helion might as well be two on the battlefield, and I would always choose the battle over that little friend of yours! If Azriel wouldn't come check on me, he would have me now in his bedsheets, making me scream his mane," I growled, throwing the vase with full force at him.

It never hit the target. His hand, swift as ever, quickly grabbed the vase a few inches away from his face. Those violet eyes were now glued on me, a predatory look set in them.

"Helion wouldn't dare lay a finger on you," he growled, the irritation in his voice clear now.

Caudlron forbid that another male will touch me. He can go around and fuck his precious little mate, and then situations like this come, and he can erupt with the stored wrath at the mere mention of such a thing.

"And why is that?" My voice was sweet, way too sweet, to the point it was laced with mighty venom. "I am no longer out of the market, as you made very clear when you introduced Feyre to them as your High Lady."

The moment he introduced her as his mate, the eyes of the other High Lords landed on me, the desire and challenge all over their eyes.

"Y/n, a very thin ice," he spoke with such a calm voice that a shiver ran down my spine. Icy fury and possessiveness were all over him. Clear and visible.

"Fuck you, Rhys, I had enough," I bared my teeth at him once again, my hand twitching to reach for my throwing dagger.

"Angel, you know just as I do that Helion or anyone else wouldn't dare to even come too close to you. Stop being dramatic and come here," he placed the damn vase back on the table and spoke with such confidence that I ached to slap that look out of his ridiculously handsome face.

"You were with her, weren't you? That's why you forget," I raised my hand, stopping him from coming too close to me.

If he were too close, I would lose my ground and give into those flirty eyes of his and let my feelings sway me back into the safety of his arms.

"She needed help with explaining the customs of Illyria, and time slipped from my mind. Y/n, angel, I am sorry," he placed his hand over mine, which was on his chest, keeping him at arm’s length.

His fingers brushed across my hand with a gentle caress, his voice a brush of midnight comfort, and those damn eyes, full of those cursed emotions, any of us should no longer feel.

"Can't you just send me on a few-year-long diplomatic mission on the Continent? It strengthens the relationship between Prythian and them?" I breathed out, feeling all the fight leaving my body, leaving just a pure heartache.

What else the fuck did I expect? Of course, he would prioritise his time with his mate over me. Lately, I had stopped being anyone's first choice.

"This is not fair. Not to Feyre, not to me, and not to you. We are just prolonging the suffering, don't you see? I am spending Rhys. I can't go on like this anymore. For a fucking three centuries, I was your only, and now, I was rendered into your fucking side piece! Do you understand how fucking unfair that is?!" I hit his chest, then again and again, angry, hurting, and desperate. "Just send me away and let me go. I am too weak to do it on my own accord, Rhys."

"No," he bit out, but there was raw pain all over his beautiful face. Like he was battling his own demons, his own needs, trying to do the best decision with the best possible outcome. Like he always did. "I am not sending you anywhere, Y/n, you belong here with me."

"Do you even listen to yourself?" I hit him once more, but he grabbed my arms and held them still. "You belong to your mate, you made that fucking decision, not me! She belongs here with you. It's no longer me! We were a pair, we were so damn in love, me being idiot waited for you faithfully for those damn fifty years Rhys! I was there! Always. Yet you fucking accepted that bond! You threw us behind like it never happened and then came to me and wrapped me in this lying, broken blanket of who we used to be! We keep fucking, but why loving you feels like I need to give up my soul?! It's so fucking dysfunctional! Pleasure paid for with guilt and pain!"

It just poured. It always did when he made me this angry.

He let me speak. Let me slap him with my cruel words without protecting himself. Rhys knew how much it was eating me alive. How it was destroying me. Because he had it the same. This was destroying both of us...

"I fucking love you, you Y/n, not her, my heart was, is and always will be yours, hoping to rewrite the stars for us. My soul is the culprit, forcefully tied to someone I did not wished to be tied to. You are the only one I can imagine living my life with. It was always you, angel. Please, do not leave me, you are the last precious thing that I have left," he grabbed my face into his hands, brushing my cheeks with his fingers, pushing the stubborn tears away.

"Then choose me, if you love me Rhys, choose me," I sobbed, throwing my arms around his neck, sounding way too desperate to my own liking.

"Amren-" Rhys opened his mouth, but a sound echoed from the hallway leading into the living room where we were.

"Wait here," he quickly pressed a tender kiss onto my forehead and went to check what the sound was.

How low we fell? Scared of a little sound... Like we were doing something wrong. And being honest, we maybe were, but Cauldron, it felt so right at some moments.

"Oh? I did not knew you had a cat?" I raised an eyebrow, watching the creature with forcefully hidden appal. "The ugliest cat I have ever seen, might I add."

It was true. This can was something uncalled for. Way too large eyes that threatened to fall out of its sockets, each looking at different side. Legs each different length and it was way too long tail. The fur was the real deal though. Patches of different colours, length and structure.

"We do not have a cat. I don't know how this... strange thing... ended here," Rhys sounded just as surprised and stunned as I was.

"Are you sure it is a cat? Can't it be something that came stray from up the mountains? Weak cup of the hoard?" I came closer, suddenly completely forgetting about the argument we had, in favour to entertain the curiosity of inspecting this strange creature.

We had millions of those arguments, this was the first time I ever seen anything like this.

"I have no clue what this is supposed to be," he raised his violet to look at me and gave me a cheeky smile. "But it still looks better than you in the morning after a night full of creaming my name."

I cannot help but burst into laughter at that stupidly hilarious comment.

"This cat looks indeed better than you when you have a bad hair day," I nodded, shaking my head at the absurdity and looked closer at the cat.

"Hello there, little one, are you hungry?" I cooed at it, daring to touch the creature between its ears and scratched it.

To my surprise, it purred, just like a proper cat.

"I have a very expensive fish at my home, this manner lacking donkey fancied himself to have it for a dinner when he would come today, but I will gladly serve his portion to you," I kept cooing at the cat, ignoring the hurt snort from Rhys at my very purposeful teasing at his expense.

"You want to take this... resemblance of a cat... with you back home?" Rhys said with disbelief, looking between the cat he still held and me.

"Yes? Fangie looked rough as well when she happened to come across me," I reported to him, snatching the cat out of his hands. "I will feed this poor creature, bath it and do my research to find out, if it is indeed a cat or something that came down from the mountain."

"Do not mention that bat living in your closet please," Rhys started to laugh, a mirthful, joyful sound as he now studied me with the poor thing in my arms. "It's enough I need to greet her every damn time, I open the closet to take fresh clothes out and pray she will not claw out my eyes."

"Fangie did that only one time and you pissed her and you know it! She is nice bat with proper manners, thank you very much, can't blame a lady for defending herself when she is accused of getting fat," I gave Rhys a pointed look and rocked the reincarnation of misplacement in my arms.

"I merely said, that you are feeding her too much to the point, she can't see her little legs over that fluffy belly," he folded his hands over his broad chest.

He looked like a sulking child instead of a High Lord. I simply rolled my eyes at him and walked closer to him.

"I will go feed it, you tend to your duties and come over, if you will be lucky, this one will leave you some fish for dinner," I leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his lips.

Rhys grabbed my face and deepened the kiss, stealing air from my lungs.

"Wear that lingerie, angel, for me?" He made a sad eyes at me, knowing damn well what works at me.

I forcefully pulled myself away from the comfort of his arms and winked at him, without confirming or denying anything.

He will see, his patience deserves to have some practice as well. Cauldron knows that he gets everything he wants way too easily.

————

I was in the shower, when a warm body pressed against my back and my wings and strong, familiar hands wrapped around my body.

"There is no time for this, seriously Rhys, are you still horny?" I giggled when I felt his hardened length at my thigh.

"I am always horny, when you are around, you are well aware of that fact, Y/n," he practically purred and started to shower my neck with torturous kisses, while his hands started to explore.

“The dinner is supposed to be in half an hour,” I reminded him, but let my head fall backwards, resting it against his shoulder.

“Plenty of time to hear you cry my name, angel,” he assured me and I did not doubted that statement even the slightest.

His leg came between mine and forced them further apart, while his fingers crossed the path over my chest, down my belly and landed right where I wished to have them.

A pleased moan fell from my lips as they started to brush between my folds, spreading the wetness around.

“Always so fucking ready for me, aren’t you?” He growled into my ear and then bite at it with quite a force, while two of his fingers entered me, forcing a load cry of his name filled with pleasure.

His other hand traveled from my breast, where it was contently busy till now, and he travelled with it to my neck, where he playfully squeezed and at the same time he added more pressure into his fingers pumping in and out of me.

Then that hand disappeared from my throat and went up. “Open that pretty mouth for me, darling.”

It fell out right away and he placed two of his fingers inside. I sucked on them instinctively, he always had a weak spot for a good sucking on various places of his body.

Those fingers then stoped on my tongue and I moaned out loud when he starts to mimic the same rhythm on my tongue that he was using on my clit.

The same time his fingers lazily moved on my clit, it did the same on my tongue.

“Fuck,” I whimpered over his fingers, overwhelmed by how erotic this prick could make it feel witch such a simple little things.

And when I thought it couldn’t get any better, he entered my body with his cock and started to pump into me without any mercy, while in contrast kept the slow, lazy, torturing tempo on my bud and tongue.

“My name, Y/n, I went to hear it,” he grunted, his voice full of dirty demands.

And I obeyed. His name started to fall from my lips like a prayer, even though mumbled by his fingers in my mouth.

My arms reached behind me, wrapping my arms around his neck, trying to gain some stability to don’t fall forward by the force he was taking me with.

My undoing was when his cursed mouth began to kiss at my wings, rendering me senseless when my mind clouded with overwhelming pleasure, forcing me over the edge.

When we walked out of the shower, now cleaned and satisfied, smiling like, I almost had a heart attack at the sight that came across us.

“Cauldron that’s truly one hell of an ugly cat,” Rhys made a grimace and then leaned towards me and started to place kisses all over my wings.

“Rhys! You offended it!” I stared to laugh, even though I tried to sound scolding.

The cat seized both of us and limped away from the bathroom with quite an attitude.

“I will buy it pretty bowl and keep it full, that ought to make up for stating the obvious,” he dismissed the matter completely and kept the gentle assault at my wings.

With Rhys, I could feel so blissfully happy, that it was impossible to don’t forget about all the looming problems and dramas surrounding our difficult situation.

I trusted in Rhys. When he say he will rewrite the stars for us, he will do it, even if it means to travel through the space and time to get the Mother into a chokehold and force her to untie what she ties together.

Chapter Three

Tag-List: @j-pendragonx @stonerpersona

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seattlesellie · 1 year ago

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knight!ellie x princess!reader drabble. ♡🗡️🕯️

an: since i’m thinking of writing a full fic of knight ellie x princess reader i wanted to know what you guys think ! let me know if i should turn this into something way longer. just a lil peak of the themes of a longer fic 💗

cw: mature themes, reader is a little lonely, tension.

the moon is so bright, so big, so white, luminous, it reflects in her emerald eyes and renders them almost mystical, bordering on the verge of the unreal. one couldn't help but wonder if she herself was not entirely real, a specter of dreams made flesh. do you recall those distant days of childhood? just eight years old, insisting that your imaginary friend — aurora, was right by your side? you clung to her like a lifeline. you'd shed tears as your mother, the reigning queen, denied the request for an extra place setting, an empty plate reserved for aurora alone. how you fell asleep bawling, tasting salt on your tongue, bitter and sickening, feeling as if you were drowning in your sleep, the specter of aurora growing gaunt and wretched, as though starved for existence.

how you woke up plagued by guilt, tormented by a high fever and a stubborn eye infection, crying and screaming for your imaginary best friend. and how from that day on, the castle fell empty. you wandered around, through those regal halls like a specter, floating like a brittle ghost, nodding politely when a maid curtsied in reverence, offering a feeble smile to the steward as he addressed you as his cherished princess.

you filled your duties, all your royal obligations, attended to your classes, spoke only when spoken to by your parents, ignored when another royal called you a “loony” when catching you in the midst of a conversation with several alabaster rabbits.

you formed a connection with the world around you, a bond that ran far deeper than what met the eye, and now one knew.

you rub on your eyelids with the back of your hand, and blink in dismay — oh, you’ve been mistaken, she is real, and her abdomen rises and falls with each breath, the clang of her armor a testament to her existence, to your sanity. her eyelids flutter, and her throat subtly moves as she swallows. a strand of her auburn hair sways in the wind too, but sweet aurora’s hair also danced in the breeze, so who knows.

sometimes it all is simply too blurry.

for now, you choose to believe.

the grass tickles your bare toes, you don’t laugh.

“hate being a princess” you mutter with a sigh, tilting your head to the side — her side, to see if perhaps she vanished like the rest of them, yet finding her there.

her role as a knight is dictated with silence in your presence, a mere executor of commands from your father with a duty to bow in submission, so she doesn’t respond. all she has to do is be your protector, keep you safe and guarded, make sure you won’t try and run once more.

she’s also not supposed to help you with your clandestine escapades from the castle, she’s not supposed to lay in the tall royal gardens ridiculously green grass with the princess, to allow the opulent and delicate fabric of her dress to gently brush against the barest portion of her knee. yet — she allows it.

she’s not supposed to help you pick flowers and greet you good morning, she was supposed to be unyielding as stone, almost ephemeral yet ever-present.

and now your ankle shifted to rest gently against hers, and she didn’t even nudge you.

“i despise it” you repeat. you try and voice your frustration but it comes off as too soft. ellie typically abhorred anything soft. she’d rather sleep on a hard mattress than a plush one, favored stomping over floating.

and yet you seem to be an exception.

you seem to be an exception for lots of things.

and ellie doesn’t respond. she blinks at the full moon and it blinks back at her.

“do you like being a knight?”

you think you may have heard a breathy chuckle. you’re unsure, you sigh.

“ellie?”

and she never told you her name. you figured it out by yourself.

then she begins, pink tongue folding and moistening her lower lip. “i like being your knight”, she blinks thrice, in a hurry — like she said something wrong, as though she feared she might have offended anyone else whose knight she was not. she takes a deep breath, for some reason it's shaky.

“i like, i- need, to protect the kingdom. it’s my duty. for the sake of your father, the people, you — you know that, my princess”

and usually you’d cringe when addressed with that title. you voiced it already — that title isn’t you, you don’t want it, it felt like a burdensome label imposed or cursed upon your birth, but for some reason, when she says it ; “my princess” it feels like her “my”, is the one that holds the power to cloud your mind. and that’s why you don’t argue that it isn’t your name, because she calls you as hers, and oh how bad you want to be hers.

you overheard the conversations among the other young royals, who spoke in hushed tones about "crushes." you eves dropped and furrowed your brows intently when they talked about the charming sable boy, a dark haired prince from a faraway land, an adviser. they described the feeling of having a crush as if they were “falling”, “giddy”, “thrilled”, “like riding a horse, really really fast”

and it never really happened to you, albeit you really did try. you just accepted it, you’d be crush-less forever, forced to marry a crush-less prince, forced to live a crush-less life.

then you met knight ellie.

it happened when she removed her bascinet, when she casually tossed her tousled auburn locks from side to side, when she smiled that sly smirk then immediately wiped it off and glued her gaze to the stone wall. it was in the way her eyes met yours, her all but graceful bow, and the sound of her armored knee meeting the ground, when she chuckled after winning the battle of who would be the princesses knight. how cocky she looked as her arm was raised in triumph, only to transform into humble grace when officially declared the winner.

but it wasn't a feeling akin to falling; it was more like crashing down. you also didn’t feel giddy, you felt nauseous and tight everywhere, you weren’t thrilled you were petrified, and you didn’t ride a horse really fast — it was more like being thrown off the horse and crashing onto the ground, nose-first.

so it didn’t feel like crushing, it felt like something else. and you really had to go to the washroom.

“you don’t�� owe anything to the kingdom, or to my father” you murmur.

she really doesn’t. it got her family starved, killed. “i do” she lies, swallowing thickly. “also, i really don’t need protection” then you lie, rolling your eyes with a huff.

she'd call you a brat if she wasn't your knight, and if she knew for certain that you wouldn't go running to your father after being offended.

“i should run away” you muse, idly toying with the hem of your dress. ellie sees the bare flesh of your thigh and she feels like maybe she shall run away as well. then her breath hitches down her throat, and she really hates it because this isn't the first time. perhaps she's sick, a throat infection. it's getting very hard to breathe.

t'must be the armor, the decides.

then she decided it's not.

it's simply the cold night air. definitely not your naked thigh, or your hunger to be free, or the way your dress flows with the wind, or the way your eyelashes flutter and your fingertips tap tap tap on your plushy lips.

“should i fetch the horse then, my princess? which one d'ya want, charlie... or buster, maybe. he's a strong one” ellie croons then swallows a chuckle.

she’s also not supposed to joke with you. or to stare at your thigh, or to let you place your head on her armored chest.

“yes” you reply like she’s serious.

then a cloud veils the once-bright moon, and your knight clears her throat.

“i should take you to your room, freedom warrior, s’getting late”

“you shall take me to the forest to pick some blackberries, knight”

ellie chuckles and argues back. “i shall not”

“disobeying a royal?” you say with a wink.

you might actually be the death of her.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you #knight!ellie #ellie williams fluff

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bluescarabguy · 2 years ago

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Been rewatching a whole YouTube playlist about DOOM, and it's got me thinking about Doomguy as a hero

Because despite being the executor of possibly the most brutal violence and carnage ever put on a TV screen...Doomguy's force is never directed at a fellow human being. People have described the Slayer's one and only goal, his purpose, as "to exterminate each and every demon in existence", but I think I'd view it more as "his purpose is to protect innocent lives, period".

Still probably the greatest piece of characterization in these games is the very beginning of DOOM 2016, the leadup to the title screen. Doomguy enters that elevator from the intro facility to the start of the game proper, and Hayden starts telling us about how "oh, they only had the best of intentions when they started mining Hell for energy. Sure, it's all gone bad now, but it was worth the risk, I assure you!". As Samuel tries to convince us that this was all for the greater good, he only had people's best interests at heart, Doomguy simply looks at the corpse of a security guard on the floor of the elevator (who definitely didn't sign up to the possibility of being disemboweled by hellspawn), looks up and is visibly shaking with fury as he presses his fists together, and then smashes the speaker Hayden's talking through, transitioning us to the game's title card.

Absolutely perfection. Tells you everything you need to know about Doomguy's motivations and resolve without a single word. Though if he had said anything, it'd probably just be quoting Ripley from Aliens: "Bad call? THESE PEOPLE ARE DEAD! Do you realize what you've done here?".

Everyone in these games is constantly trying to tell Doomguy that sacrifices have to be made for the greater good, and he utterly refuses to entertain that notion when human lives are concerned. Not to mention that, while the games play with the metatextual conceit that Doomguy doesn't give a shit about the lore or narrative or bigger picture, he's just there to slaughter evil (the same way most Doom players and indeed Doom co-creator John Carmack view story as merely window dressing for gameplay)...if you headcanon that Doomguy actually IS reading all the logs and lore that he's picking up as collectibles, you know he's aware that all of the higher-up decision makers at the UAC are straight-up demon worshippers attempting to bring about the apocalypse, and thus nothing they say can be trusted.

As far as Doomguy is concerned, there's no compromise when it comes to innocent lives. If one innocent person has to die in order to uphold the established system, the system is to be violent ripped down and smashed into the dirt, never to be rebuilt. That's how he feels about Hayden's UAC, that's how he feels about Khan Maykr's plans in Eternal. That's WHY his fight is eternal, because he'll fight anyone, even those he once fought alongside, if they choose to say, to end this post on a joke, "some of you may die, but that is a risk I'm willing to take".

#doom #doomguy #doomslayer #lore

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thegingerwrites · 9 months ago

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I'm calling this "the grass isn't always greener au" and I'll probably never write it but it was stuck in my head today:

The Clone Wars are over, Palpatine is dead and the galaxy is more at peace than it has been in a lifetime. Anakin is no longer a Jedi. He has been living with Padmé and their children for two years now and everything is fine. Everything is definitely, absolutely fine.

And yet Anakin can't help but feel like he made some kind of mistake in leaving the Order when Padmé told him she was pregnant. He can't regret her or their children. He can't regret the fact that he no longer has to deflect blaster bolts on a daily basis. He can't regret peace.

But he does miss Obi-Wan. The ragged threads of their bond are still present in his mind when he can bring himself to sense them. (And he does, often, like picking at a scab or the empty cavity of a missing tooth. He prods at the empty space, making sure never to go far enough as to make Obi-Wan aware of it. He hasn't seen Obi-Wan in months). He misses having a purpose, a bright shining goal, the feeling of fulfilling his destiny even if the pursuit of that destiny aged him in ways he is still coming to terms with.

He was never the Jedi he should have been but now he is no longer a Jedi at all. And maybe if he had held himself together for just a little longer, he could still be one today.

The Force gives him the chance to find out.

Anakin wakes up in the body of Darth Vader, two years after the fall of the Republic, broken and in pain, fully invested in the power of the dark side.

He flees the Executor as soon as he can. Taking stock of his mechanical limbs, full-body burns, and life support suit, Anakin has no idea where he is or what has happened to him. But this is him, some alternate version of him. When he takes off the helmet and stares into his reflection in transparisteel window of his escape pod, he sees himself. Despite the changes, the burns, the eyes, he recognizes himself.

He seeks out Obi-Wan through the tenuous, broken bond in both of their minds. This may not be his world and this might not be his master, but Anakin knows he could find Obi-Wan anywhere if he allows himself to reach out to that connection again.

Darth Vader appears on Obi-Wan's doorstep on Tatooine, begging for his help. It takes Obi-Wan time to understand what is happening but they sit and talk and everything that happened in the last days of the Republic is slowly revealed. Everything that Anakin did, everything that he became.

They talk for hours, Anakin reveling in Obi-Wan's companionship again, taken aback by how much his master loves him, even this version of him and all that he did, and Obi-Wan nearly brought to tears by the idea of having Anakin back again. What Obi-Wan wouldn't do to sit side by side with Anakin again, to have even the smallest speck of hope that Anakin might come back to him.

By the light of his hearthfire, Obi-Wan asks Anakin to take off his mask, so that he can see his face again. Anakin would do anything for his master but especially this older, sadder version who loves him so desperately and he obliges. Obi-Wan reaches a gentle hand out to stroke Anakin's pock-marked cheek. He presses a kiss to his pale and scarred forehead.

Then Anakin wakes up in bed with his wife, pulled completely from the alternate reality and back in his body again, his eyes wet with tears. Without hesitation, he reaches out to his bond with Obi-Wan and pulls.

Perhaps Anakin didn't make a mistake in choosing peace. But he certainly made one in leaving Obi-Wan behind. And if Obi-Wan's love could survive all of that, it can definitely handle a few years of strained silence and damaged trust.

Anakin races up the steps of the Jedi Temple in early morning sunlight and for the first time in two years, meets his old Master for tea.

#obikin fic #obikin au #obi wan x anakin #obi wan/anakin #aniobi #i almost titled this “the grass isn't always greener”#maybe i could write this if i convinced myself it didn't have to be 30k long #hmmm 🤔#i thought about putting in a read more but it's less than 700 words people can deal

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callmearcturus · 4 months ago

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(((full full full spoilers for SWDKTOWL)))

i don't know if I ever more thoroughly fucked with and decimated a character than KTOWL Dirk, the Umbra Executor

the biggest case of Eldest Daughter syndrome imaginable

a father who used his kids as basically black market credit cards to fund his ambitions

said father was not actually GOOD at those ambitions and got himself killed, leaving the kids with the debt

Dirk took on tremendous personal debt to buy his sister out of hers; she then vanished and he never knew if she even survived

he then made a well-intentioned deal to try to keep his younger brother out of the Murder Business and in doing so put that little brother on permanent house arrest in a hotel under pain of death

is the enforcement agent of the organization keeping his brother locked up and is compelled to defend their interests

meets a man who is explicitly the Enemy and that man is Actually Out Of His Mind on several appreciable levels, who is dangerous... and is the only person who looks at him and recognizes the unfathomable trauma he's been subjected to

and the whole Point, the entire Point, is that Dirk only survived as long as he did because there was a Code of Conduct that he had to follow, that if he betrayed it, he would be killed. when he has fucked up every single thing else in his life and has lost the game over and over and over his choices are self-termination from the weight of it all or to follow this Code and then the story drags him to a place where to get out, to finally do something right he has to CHOOSE to break the Executor's Code for 30 minutes and Dirk has spent his FUCKING LIFE learning that when he makes a choice, the worst possible outcome will be his reward

except this once. just this one time, the universe gives him a single break.

BUT THE FUN PART IS that all of this, this TREMENDOUS amount of bullshit has cracked his sanity to a point he can't be a Normal Person. his happy ending is a better keeper who actually cares about him. and that's good.

DIRK IS NOT EVEN MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN KTOWL BUT I STILL THINK OF HIM OFTEN

#swdktowl #anyway time to work on new fic

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dostoyevsky-official · 3 months ago

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Peace. It is time to bring back this word. Even more, it is time to expect and demand it. In the midst of what we thought was peace, we were wrong not to prepare and think of war. In the midst of a brutal war, it is time to envision peace. It used to be understood that this is how wars end. One side wins and another side loses, even surrenders. [...] A year ago, on October 7th, when Israel declared war in response to the Palestinian invasion, occupation, brutal massacre, and kidnapping, we made the cardinal of declaring war only against Hamas, when we should have declared war on the ideology of Palestinianism – of which Hamas is but the most recent and brutal executor. On October 7th we should have said, and we should still say, “This ends here: from Gaza to Columbia, this ideology, that for more than a century has vowed to prevent, and then undo, the existence of a sovereign state for the Jewish people in any part and of any size in the ancestral homeland, must die.” This kind of declaration would have also naturally led to a vision of peace. We need to declare that this war ends when that ideology of Palestinianism is replaced with a constructive one. It needs to be replaced by an ideology that seeks to live next to a Jewish state, rather than instead of it as understood from the chant refrain From The River to the Sea. The war will end when Palestinianism dies This is a vision we must reiterate daily. We need a leader who every day speaks to the world to say that “the day that Palestinians end their century-long war with Zionism, the day they develop a constructive vision rather than a destructive one, the day they want to live next to a Jewish state, rather than instead of it, the day they understand they are not multiple-generational refugees, and accept that there is no such thing as a 'right of return' into the sovereign territory of the state of Israel, is the day that they will find, as it always was, that we are willing to live in peace with them side by side in two separate states.” This is the vision we need to uphold with Lebanon. No more feeble calls to implement previous UN resolutions that no one bothered to enforce until Israel started enforcing Hezbollah’s disarmament by force. We need to demand that this war ends with full and complete peace between Lebanon and Israel, nothing less. We have no territorial dispute with Lebanon and until they choose peace, it shall be war – we will decide when and how to fight it – but no more one-sided ceasefires, empty UN resolutions, and worse than useless UN “peacekeeping forces.” Finally, we must go back to those neighboring countries with whom we officially have peace, and demand that they finally begin to look like peace, rather than glorified nonbelligerency agreements. While we have given Egypt the entirety of the Sinai Peninsula, we received much less than peace in return.

this is a former Labor MK and a representative of the israeli jewish left. this whole short article is a racist sham filled with half-truths, lies, equivocations, and distortions, beginning with the overarching framework that the self-determination of the palestinian people is an "ideology of palestinianism," whereas the poor israelis are oppressed from having their own state. it's riddled with typical israeli self-victimization, despite the fact they are the ones who have created several magnitudes of order greater numbers of corpses than their enemies.

this is what mainstream liberal-left zionism looks like. there are indeed a few organizations and individuals in israel that are committed to anti-zionism and genuine peace with palestinians, like hadash. but to say that society, which proudly proclaims itself to be the sole democratic one in the middle east, is non-belligerent and working for peace is a canard and a pack of lies, especially when one considers that labor itself has long been marginalized. if this is the marginal left view, what does mainstream israeli society think?

#posting this because i was forced to read it by someone following a deeply unpleasant conversation

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the-northern-continent · 24 days ago

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If I were an executor I’d be making a beeline for whatever magic the Lighthouse is using to auto-translate language. Do you know how much havoc you could wreak by controlling translations? No one would even be able to detect it because there are many different reasonable translations for the same words — you could just choose whichever one nudges people in the right direction.

Need people to fight? Pick words with more negative connotations, or translate idioms super literally so they sound threatening. Need people to be friendly? Translate everything they say into familiar cultural metaphors for the other person, so they build rapport more quickly. Give someone a working class dialect one day and an upper class dialect the next. Translate the same speech two different ways for two different people, so they disagree on whether they can trust the speaker.

Someone who is very fluent in many languages might notice something amiss, but they’d really have to be paying attention.

#dragon age #dragon age spoilers #dragon age the veilguard #datv spoilers #da4 spoilers #the executors #the lighthouse #dragon age meta #dragon age lore #so much fiction treats auto-translation as this neutral background thing to just smooth over language differences #which is why it would be so awesome to turn it into an actual plot point #you can cause so many shenanigans by messing with it on purpose #and the audience is primed to ignore it

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missamyrisa2 · 5 months ago

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Story Archive: Megan's New Student

I found something very interesting~! This is an RP I did a long time ago, which I've converted into a tease story by removing the other person's reactions. This was me playing my character Megan, the aloof inventor with a penchant for running sensory overload experiments on cuties, as she leads a class at the local university. I felt like this was too good to only have ever existed as a closed door conversation. I remember doing this session in particular was one of the reasons why I started writing teases and fiction over always being tied up in private sessions ~<3

You feel the weight of eyes on your body, and catch an amused analytic gaze from me. Suppressing a grin, I take a seat next to you and begin speaking as though the conversation had already started when I first spotted you. "Are you usually nervous when you are starting your first day in a new environment? Your body language suggests you are highly bashful. And that is both cute and perfect for the machinations of which I'm currently authoring."

"Oh yes, you are particularly bashful. I haven't even started working on you yet and you're already so red and adorable." I clap my hands together and grin widely at you, pausing for a moment to observe you quiver in your seat. "But, I'm so sorry. I've gotten ahead of myself. The dean has tapped me to help get undergrads such as yourself acclimated to the school. My name is Megan. I'm currently working towards my masters." I put my hand out to shake yours, and then add as I look into your eyes- "...and I'm going to tickle you. "

I give you a wry smile and nod. "Yes I know. That is precisely why I am going to be tickling you. I was given a wide selection of students to choose from. I perceived your ticklishness almost immediately. This, coupled with the bashfulness I've just observed clinched you as a primary candidate for this experiment. Our studies of the subject are somewhat limited, but my thesis involves a bevy of exploratory wings, such as the effects of ticklishness on cute boys in campus settings. Oh, but I'm getting ahead of myself once more. I apologize. We will commence immediately." I grin and pull back my hand.

My hand then slips down and you hear a mechanical beeping as I touch one of the petals on my flower-shaped belt buckle, which glows faintly purple. An instant later, you see a copy of my hand, with perfect matching purple fingernails, slide out from within my black duster sweater. The hand is attached to a long white tendril, and its fingers are wiggling slowly in your direction. As it floats toward you, several more hands with wiggling fingers appear from within my sweater.

"Why, thank you. Your compliment is most appreciated. Especially considering how much this is going to tickle. Now, try to relax.." I can't help but giggle as the hands spring to work as you try to curl up, with one landing on your side to gently begin grasping at your tender spot with a long set of nails. Another hand tries to wiggle the fingers under your arm. The last of the first wave of hands teases you by drawing a fingernail along your ear, affectionately reminding you of your predicament. I grin delightfully at you, watching as my machine goes to work. "...of course, that's merely a joke of the scientific community. You're likely to laugh and squirm and blush in the most adorable of manners as I tickle you."

"Oh, removing your footwear saves me the trouble. And it means you are of a high calber submissive personality type. In that case, I'm recommending that the tickling frequency be doubled. Which is funny because I'm the sole executor of this experiment, so...tickle, tickle, tickle!" I smile warmly, directing the hands to skitter their nails over your feet, scribbling in wavy patterns over your soles with purple fingernails. I let you hide your red face for a moment because it amuses me, and point the hands to tickle the back of your neck with loving caresses, and briskly draw two index fingers up and down your sides. While the hands keep busy, I make gestures on my tablet computer, taking and documenting various statistics about your body and reactions. "Hm. There's a high probability that you are simply ticklish in all locales. Your reactions indicate a hot spot in your midsection, which indirectly suggests t-zones above and below the tummy in varying degrees. I'm recommending a full exploration of all ticklish territory."

"Ah, quite the positive reaction. I would surmise tickling excites you, doesn't it? Now, let's see that tummy that you're making such a fuss about." I dial a sequence into the machine and two hands spring forward, snatching you by your wrists and gently lifting you out of the chair. The tickling hands follow, still tracing the curves of your feet and probing your toes with their nails. By this time, our little experiment has caused quite a ruckus in the classroom, and people are now gathered to watch.

"I neglected to mention. You are the demonstration for this class today." I say with a grin, standing and walking towards the center of the room, my mechanical minions carrying you along with me as they continue to tickle your feet and underarms. "So, about that tummy." I wink as a new hand emerges and daintily grasps the end of your shirt...

"Okay class. I'm Megan, and I'm the teaching assistant in this reflexology lab. Today, we're studying ticklishness. Specifically, his ticklishness." I gesture to you, and send the hands in as one lifts your shirt. A hand spiders over your extra tender tummy, its nails trailing all around and grasping at your skin. "As you can see, this subject is highly ticklish. What's more interesting is that he is highly embarrassed by not only the tickling, but your presence as I make him laugh into submission. Today we will push his ticklishness to the maximum threshold as well as his factor of embarrassment, as the two go hand-in-hand in a subject this cute."

"That level of laughter indicates he has much more tickly giggles to give us. And yes, he's quite adorable" I continue, speaking to the class. I then gesture to the hands to have them lift you and place you on a padded exam table. I adjust the spot lighting above to focus on you, and activate cameras that display zoomed in feeds of your feet, tummy, and face.

"Next, we'll introduce raspberries into the experiment environment." I press a different petal on my belt and a new tool emerges: a pair of luscious lips attached to a mechanical tendril. A hand keeps your shirt lifted while the others hold you down. "Also known as zerberts and belly blows, this technique is super effective in administering tickles to a cute tummy such as this." The purple lips press their pillowy surfaces together with a smack and descend towards your exposed midsection.

Some of the students get out their phones and you hear clicking as they take photos and videos of your predicament. "Yes, yes, good note taking class. Now...for the tickles!" The lips descend on your belly, forming a seal and buzzing loudly. "I've coated these lips with a special gloss to make them extra slippery and tickly." The soft lips kiss and buzz all along your tummy, and the purply tongue licks inside of your bellybutton, leaving purple lip prints all over your midsection.

"And now, we'll start the complimentary tickling. Ah, I forgot." I wiggle my fingers at your feet and the hands comply, trailing over your instep with long raking motions. "I need a volunteer." A buxom young woman with bright blonde hair in a high ponytail immediately steps up. "Do you know what this is?" I pull out a magic wand vibrator. The girl takes it enthusiastically. I wave to your helpless body and the hands lift your shirt completely off. "Let's see how stimulating his buttons affects his ticklishness and embarrassment" I point to your nipples and the girl eagerly turns the magic wand on with a big smile.

"aww!" The girl pinches your cheek lightly and kisses you on the nose as she brings the vibrating wand to your nipple, lightly caressing it in tight circles. "Goochie goooo baby..." She says, holding the tool tightly with two hands as she tickles your buttons.

"Now, we are administering tickles to two highly sensitive places. Given the test results so far, we can conclude these are also erogenous zones for our cute subject. As the tickling continues..." I gesture to the hands and have them grasp your hips, both holding your pants tightly against your body and lightly tickling your hipbones with their thumbs in slow rolling motions. "We should see a *growing* effect in this region" I wave my hand in a circle between your legs.

The class watches intently both at the table and on the monitors, which are showing your tummy being raspberried, your nipple being buzzed, and your hips being tickled.

I smile with satisfaction as a swelling becomes apparent between your legs. "There we go. Our adorable boy toy has become aroused. Now, let's help him along, shall we?" The girl with the magic wand continues to tease your nipple and rapidly flicks the other with her nail.

The lips continue to raspberry your belly, their purple surface brushing your lower abdomen and nibbling your belly. I direct the hands at your feet to drift upwards and begin squeezing your knees lightly. "With a slightly altered tickling routine, we can then introduce something...softer. I'll need another volunteer, someone with very nice lips." I glance around and zero in on a goth girl with crimson full lips. "Perfect. Come here please." I direct her to you. "Have you ever kissed someone who is being tickled? It's quite a challenge, but I can see you are up to it." The girl smirks and nods.

She tosses aside her long shiny black hair steadies your face by holding one jewelry-laden hand to your cheek and brushes her lips against yours. "A tickle makeout is just the thing to take him to the next phase!"

"Oh, this is precisely what I had expected. As you can see from this impressive tent, our subject is now quite aroused. But, this lovely volunteer is also receiving a residual effect, as our actions cause him to vibrate which in turn is transmitted through the kisses she's giving him." I have one of the hands stroke the girl's hair, as she continues to make out with your squirming lips. She moans softly through the kiss, pressing harder and sliding her tongue along yours.

The students are crowded tightly around the table, egging the girl with the vibrator on, who is now testing the wand on your sides as she continues to work your nipples with her fingers. The purple lips drift up to the free nipple and begin kissing, allowing the more bold students to sneak pokes and strokes of your belly.

For the moment, I stand with a hand on my hip, satisfied as I watch your reaction to all the tickling and analyzing you on a deeper level for the next stage of the experiment.

"Why yes, he does sound like a teen girl with those laughs. Let's work with that, shall we?" I direct the machine to lift you from the table and the hands begin to slowly remove your clothing for all to see. As the machine hands tug down your garments, the class can't help but reach up and tease your exposed skin, tickling gently.

You are naked for a moment, on full display before tickly fingers, before one of the hands begins sliding up a pair of purple panties onto your legs. The robo hands work the silky material over your swollen member, taking extra care to position it. As you are brought back to the table, you can see the goth girl is getting a new application of lip coating from another machine of mine.

Barely clothed and laid back down on the exam table, my hands retract for the moment. "There we go" I say with a big smile "isn't he so cute? Okay class, I'm going to let you take this round." The hands of the classroom begin reaching for your body - their hands immediately tickling up your underarms, sides, belly, and thighs, while the goth girl flashes a big grin to you with her newly glowing purple lips as she descends to start the kissing anew.

"Okay class. I believe we have demonstrated how machines and hands can be used to effectively tickle our subject. Additionally, tickling can be supplemented with additional fetishes. Today I've injected kissing and a sprinkle of crossdressing" I press a petal on my flower belt and the machine hands distribute feathers, vibrators, and makeup brushes amongst themselves.

"Lastly, we shall study the fine art of the ticklegasm." I turn towards you and grin, directing the class to step back. Your goth kisser reluctantly breaks contact before reading your nipples with her nails.

"Now, this may tickle a little bit." I raise you by your arms in full view of the class, my robohands wiggling their fingers and waving their tickle tools.

"Aww. Isn't our subject just the cutest? Let's have a big round of applause." I make the robo hands pinch your cheeks and caress your hair as the class applauds and take pictures of your helpless form, suspended in front of them. "I suppose we can give him a little break before the finale..." I muse, thumbing through your vitals and scans on my tablet. "So what shall we supplement his treatment with? Hmm? Some spanking?" I have a hand playfully and lightly tap your behind, then gently pinch it. "Forced feeding?" A hand inexplicably pulls a huge cake from nowhere and the class laughs. "Hmm...he's awfully blushy, isn't he?" I grin wide, and turn to my robotic hands holding makeup brushes.

"Let's doll up our little toy before the big show." I direct the girls over and we crowd around the tablet, picking out various clothing and accessories. After a little deliberation, we approach you and I dial in a new sequence. "...unless you'd rather just get right to the tickles?" I wink, as portals open in the floor bringing in clothing, and my robot hands with makeup brushes wave back and forth in anticipation of either tickling or applying their tools to you.

"You heard him, ladies!" I laugh and press a button to start. "One makeover coming up!"

The robotic hands set you down and start rubbing together in pairs, spreading a sweet smelling perfumed lotion. They approach you with their slippery digits, massaging the lotion onto your skin. They caress your legs, knead your knees, squeeze your sides gently, draw up your arms, and palm over your chest and back.

As the fruity fragrance fills the air and your skin softens, the hands position you to slide a purple sheath dress over your body. The material glides over your skin and settled into place. At the same time, the machine pulls black stockings up your legs, drawing a finger or two over the surface to make you wiggle and writhe compliantly.

As you are lifted and deposited into shiny black wedge shoes, the hands accessorize you by slipping a silver necklace with a heart shaped charm over your neck, snapping matching chunky black bracelets over your wrists, and cinching your waist with a thick black belt.

The class oohs and ahhs at your transformation, taking more snaps with their phones. I grin and gesture to the eager makeup brush hands, who descend quickly...

"Why, look at that ladies!" I giggle as the hands adjust your new clothes and accessories. "He doesn't even need any blush he's so red! Even the lotion tickles him!" I dial in a makeup sequence and the brushes spring to you. "But, it never hurts to put a little on." The hands apply a light layer of foundation to your face, massaging it in gently. Next the blusher brush hands dust your cheeks merrily. Two spinning mascara brushes slowly approach your eyes as the hands hold your face still, the dark liquid spreading over your eyelashes. A light bit of black eyeliner is applied, and the hands wrap up by rolling purple lipstick on your lips.

As you are put on display, the crowd closes in again. They admire and take photos of you. Their hands poke and caress you, sneaking in gentle tickles. One bold girl holds you by the belt and starts tickling your side. Through the crowd, you see your goth admirer puckering her lips, seemingly even more attracted to you.

I grin, as this was all part of my intended experiment. She looks to me, and says "May I?" I nod at her and smile at you.

"This, ladies" I gesture to you "is a lovely test subject". I look at my tablet and purse my lips, looking back at you a few times. "Okay. Now it's the trifecta. Dr. Megan prescribes a heavy makeout session, a nice dose of tickling..." In an instant, the hands snap into action, backing you against the wall with your arms in the air. Two hands with makeup brushes begin dusting your underarms as more hands creep up and down your legs, gently squeezing your knees and skittering their nails over your thighs.

Then the goth girl appears in front of you and drives her lips into yours once more, as she squeezes your sides with her hands, running her thumbs up and down briskly.

Eyeing your vitals between your legs I grin and wave over a curvy girl in an adorable pinafore who has been eager to join the action. "And for the naughty boy, plenty of spanking to follow. This will ensure maximum inspiration of arousal for the ticklegasm experiment."

The hands proceed to deposit you into the waiting lap of the buxom young lady, whose ample curves are accentuated by her dark pinafore dress with buttons over a striped top. She grins and runs her long-nailed hand over your back. Taking advantage of both her larger size and your submissive nature, she easily spins you around for all to see, and invites the girls to take a closer look at your cute new outfit and..."look at this tent! Poor baby, he just can't help himself!" "awwww" the girls echo, their hands reaching out to glide their finger tips all over you.

"are you an excited wiiidle boy?" "tiiiickle tiiiickle!" "such a naughty girly boy"

The woman whose lap you sit upon agrees with the naughty sentiments as I look on and take notes, my mechanical minions floating at the ready. You are flipped onto your back and feel a soft hand slide over your bottom through the dress and panties. With a deafening *smack* her hand comes down onto your soft posterior. She then lovingly gropes your tush, probing for sensitive spots with her nails before repeating the spank.

"This is quite exciting. Our adorable subject is completely submissive to anything we desire. Why, we could draw lewd characters on his face right now with honey and he'd take it! But I like to think I give something back to my subjects. He is quite aroused as you can see. We're going to force him to orgasm shortly, and this spanking will help as it drives his erect penis into the panties, dress, and our lovely volunteer's ample thighs. I'm going to bring tickling back into the mix because 1) he is soooo ticklish! 2) tickling very much tuns him on. While I start the sequence, I'll be taking a poll among you ladies as to whether we should make him orgasm while wearing his cute new outfit or make him naked as the day he was born"

As the girls watch and giggle, you hear my machine beep to life, as two hands close their nails around your sides just as your spanker rears back for another round...

"Do you like being tickled?" I ask, clipboard in hand as I direct the mechanical hands to briskly run their thumbnails up and down your sides alternately. The spanking woman brings her hand down for a playful smack, then gently massages your rear occasionally bringing up her nails to dig them into your sensitized cheeks as my machine merrily tickles you.

The ladies cast their votes on a tally board, and call over my attention while I study your giggles with a big smile. "ah, it looks like you are staying in that cute dress, my tickle doll. The ladies have spoken!"

With a grin, I dial a new sequence into my belt and a new set of mechanical hands appear at the ready. Equipped with magic wand vibrators, feathers, and a large bottle of massage oil, they are specialized in ticklegasms, and begin slowly descending to your helpless form!

With a flip you are brought about to rest on her lap face-up, seeing my mechanical minions descend. Oiling up eagerly between their fingers as the wands buzz around your waist and chest, my machine works quickly to start this process much to the amusement of the girl who holds you supportively. And just as the hands slide under the dress and over the panties to start making you feel good, the feathers start in teasing at your ears and feet and legs with those distracting tickles. Lastly with a little needy squeak, the goth girl reappears, pulls your upper body back and proceeds to make out with you upside down, catching your quivering lips with hers as her fingers skitter and wiggle over your neck. Not to be left out, the spanker girl reaches around to pinch your booty while enjoying how the dress shuffles and dances with all the activity happening below.

And as all of the session's teasing and taunting and tickling overloads you with this grand finale of a climax, I tap a new sequence into my machine so the hands can lift your shuddering form right at the moment of the ticklegasm. All around the class is able to enjoy your clenched toes and quivering legs as you are made to climax in front of them in your teasing little outfit. The feathers follow, tracing your ears and cheeks and toes to make you dance through all your gasping moans.

"Ah, class. It looks like I was too eager today. We have ten minutes remaining. Feel free to run out the clock." I grin as I have the machine toss you onto the exam table, the class eagerly rushing forward especially those who haven't gotten to play yet. I start taking my notes and make sure the camera catches the ending melee as my mechanical hands retract, ready to start a session with the cutie candidate in my next lecture.

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