#galaxy / re-write

[invinciblerodent]

we're missing Liam Kosta in this club viciously tonight friends

[redcherrykook]

──𐙚 think i need someone older (s & f)

olderBoyfriend!Jungkook x inexperienced!reader

────୨ৎ────

content: some plot first, loss of virginity, age gap of 9 years (he´s 30), thigh humping, little dry humping too, cowgirl, he talks her through it, dom!jungkook, "sweet girl, baby, love", "gguk" lowkey insecure reader, praise, making out, breast play, clit play, creampie, unprotected, hickies on him, big c!ck Jungkook, small karaoke session, he´s whipped and wants to take care of her, short mention of alcohol (bc of that fucking bar he has omg), allusions to reader being short, she's very feminine

note from cherry: i tried to do justice to the people who wanted this, i hope you´re satisfied mwah! sooo sorry if it´s not giving lmao writing this was lowkey exhausting, also sorry for typos as always

────୨ৎ────

Jeon Jungkook is exactly like his preferred alcoholic beverage; whiskey. strong, rich, smooth, smells like oak and a hint of vanilla caramel. Much like your introduction to the drink, you met this man in a bar.

A real man- none of those barely twenty-year olds that paraded around in their sagged sweatpants and with a bright tap of unlimited unopened snapchats lighting up the dark corners of the bar. Jungkook is pure masculinity, a chest so full with security, so grounded in his abilities that it was practically impossible to ignore how his large, brown galaxy eyes focused on your face, zeroing in on your cupid´s bow while you licked the stinging remains of your moscow mule away- he paid for it, of course.

Once the enticing conversation that felt almost comically easy faded, you expected him to try and take you to his house- mansion, as he revealed in a sidetracked sentence. Although you were looking forward to seeing the small metal pearls below and over his eyebrow move as they crinkle in pleasure, the tight ropes of virginity had not yet been released in your 21 years of living. Shackles that keep you tied down- as promised out of your own, admittedly senseless morality, not to be opened by a stranger. The key to your cuffs belonged to a lover.

It was unforeseeable, nevertheless natural for him to droop his heavily tattooed arm around your waist while escorting you out of the establishment. The sleeve of his white button down folded up along his forearm for you to see the beauty of his skin, wondering just how many more of those carefully crafted works of art he´s hiding beneath the business casual attire.

Once engulfed in the harsh, bitter wind that itaewon possesses, his arm only drew you in closer, so near in fact, you were able to notice a small scar on his cheek, one you hadn´t been able to notice in the curse of a dimly lit place. The more your eyes adjusted to him, so grew your anger at the lighting inside your place of first meeting- it had done an injustice to the man you had already been disgustingly attracted to, stole the wholehearted, inescapable allure of such a mature presence.

The gentleman looks down into your awaiting eyes, only to ask if he may have your number, upon your agreement, he proceeded to tell you that he would be walking you home, wanting you to arrive safely since it must be dangerous for a woman to walk the streets of a party district at 2 am in the morning.

That encounter was four months ago, and only a month after that initial conversation, he had completely taken over you. Swallowed you whole in just how well he treated you.

Insistent of using his black card to buy you anything you remotely showed liking in, dedicated to communication, random flowers that showed up at your office and a constant offer of a ride in his luxurious black mercedes-benz GT63s; no matter how long it took- even if it was a inconvenience, sometimes taking longer to get to you than it would have taken you to simply retort to public transport.

"I told you i´d make it for you, didn´t I baby? hm?" his velvet smooth voice rings, from how he´s standing, with his body pressed against your back, towering over you, you could feel the hardened muscles of his torso meeting you. His large, slim hands reach to either side of your waist, to the glass filled with ice that you´re holding in between your own, gently removing them to resume the task that you were occupied with. Your eyes glance to the bulging of his bicep, that loose, casual tshirt did nothing to hide just how big he had gotten due to his newfound hobby.

you whine- almost, biting down on your lower lip to prevent just that from happening, "thank you gguk" you say, turning to peck the very muscle that´s invading your line of sight. He hums, a low, satisfied sound from the back of his throat.

"c´mere baby" patting one of his muscular thighs, his eyes drift to your figure walking towards him, iced tea in hand, just like he had made it for you. Sweet, light, refreshing, much like your presence in his life. Almost like a sign from the stars that his hearts content was somewhere, bundled in the form of a shorter girl with eyes that could entrance any sailor- far less siren like, no, wide with love and purity. Just what he had yearned for in any women he had met before you-whether tangled in meaningless sheets or involved in a month long, semi serious relationship, Jungkook was yet to cross paths with the one woman that would make him turn so desperate, he would have begged for their happiness on his knees. It might be romantic, even a tad dramatic to admit that from the very first word that left your pink glossed lips, he knew better than anyone else that he was in deep, deep trouble. Upon seeing the curve of your waist, hearing that soft, lulling voice, that embarrassingly obvious fact only intensified after finding out just how delightful you truly were, it made him want to rip his hair out- do anything in the possibility of his grip to see even a glimpse of your smile, of that lighthearted, cheerful giggle you let out regularly. He was drawn in my your feminine nature, by the way you let yourself fall into his caring embrace.

He´s quickly directed back to reality as soon as your legs make it to either side of the thigh he had patted earlier, a familiar position for this equally familiar occasion. Muscle memory sets in for him, grabbing the large karaoke remote to hand to you while he turns the microphone on. "Can you sing something to me first?" the question sets his bunny smile off, nodding instantly "Sure love, chose a song for me" he says. Your mind floods with ideas, but you settle for a song you´ve heard him hum millions of times, mindlessly going about.

"Malibu nights?", jungkook questions excitedly while the instrumental sets in, he knew the answer, but his heart swelled with joy at the notice you took to this song. After all, he loved to sing. Another layer to him that has you melting, growing into the embodiment of love that is endlessly cherishing what little fractions were revealed to your eyes in each fleeting moment. His honey voice reaches beautiful highs and lows you can only compare to something angelically otherworldly in nature.

It made you want to know just how deep he could growl, how far his sounds can drop with the dirty nothings you would love to have whispered in your ear. You felt filthy for letting your mind wander to such extends when all he did was sing, lulling you into drunken harmony with him. Still, you consciously lean back into his body, letting him wrap his arms around your waist, encircling it with his vanilla oak scent.

During the past four months, you were doomed to have to shatter his hopes, reveal the truth that somehow felt shameful ; that you´re fully untouched. Nothing further than a bad makeout had yet graced your skin, it made you feel even smaller admitting something so vulnerable to a man that carries almost an entire decade of experience more. Much to your comfort, his hands found the curve of your cheeks immediately, telling you that there is nothing to be embarrassed about, he would hand you the full control, you set the pace.

Internally, Jungkook drooled at the idea that the woman of his dreams was to have her first, the most memorable, sexual encounter with him. Your body belonged to him, devoted to only remember the touch of his lips, the curve of his cock, how he would mold you to his shape without the intrusion of another man having tried the same. Not that he would have wanted you any less if that had not been the case, but for one time in your relationship, he was oh so selfish to want you all to himself, aroused that your first person induced orgasm was going to be his and his alone. The prophecy fulfilled when on one, alcohol induced night a week ago, two of his long, tattooed digits made their entrance into your tight hole, relentlessly filling you until your soft thighs shook, until after your third high, he licked his fingers clean and let you taste yourself on his tongue.

The tunes get lost in silence, he sets the microphone down, having felt the warmth of your mound beneath the tights while you tried to subtly gain friction, scooting back on him. His palms find your thighs, tightly flushed around his muscle. They´re shamelessly wandering up and down the thin material that prevents his hot, calloused fingers from feeling up your smooth skin.

"Wanna do that again, love?" jungkook mutters, his pillowed lips latch on to your exposed neck, right at the gentle curve that paints the beginning of your shoulder, soft, faint kisses that leave a trail of barely sounding sighs behind.

"Do what?" feigning innocence to avoid internal humiliation, you ask him, knowing he wouldn´t let it go, not until you told him to. The sound of his husky chuckle sounds right on the sweetspot of your neck, he sucks a little harder, encouraging you with the constant rub to your thighs. Instinctively, the heat inside your panties grows as do the intensity of your desperate moans, your hips push back on his thigh, seeking the solidity that grants you the portion of satisfaction your needy button longed for

"that" he simply says, having found an anchor in your hips now, your plaid skirt bunches around his hands, slowly- tortuously so when met with the deliberate little humps he helps you to complete on him. You practically whimper once his tongue glides across your skin, dragging from your shoulder, up your neck, intertwined with his open mouth, loud kisses that don´t seem to stop.

"that´s it... do you even know how cute you sound?" he smiles, and you feel it, you feel the smile rise to his lips with every additional kiss, every noise you grant the hungry male. "gguk, wanna see you" you whine- the high pitched noise has him twitching in his training joggers, semi errect but about to stand stiff, just as noticeably as that night seven days ago, having formed a huge tent inside his slacks, there was no hiding his attraction, no use to conceal his utter need for you.. nor his size, not that he would be capable to anyways.

To your request, he helps you turn around, now facing that dim glow on your slightly embarrassed features, taking note of how you nibble on your lip with every grind forward, "that feel good sweet girl?" he asks, ghosting his lips over yours faintly, just enough to see how much you need it, "mhm.. really good" you mumble back, chasing after his lips that he can't deny you of any longer, the kiss is gentle, but nourishes your heat further

"wanna feel even better?" the pit in your lower abdomen grows at the tone of his voice, something much stronger is seeping through his system, something that screams dominance, you nod- naturally wanting to get lost in it. Jungkook's hands stop assisting you, instead, they take to your shirt, "can i take this off of you baby?" he waits for that little hum of yours before swiftly tugging it away from your form

It's almost frightening how quickly your mind reverts back to wanting to run away and hide, your arms fly across your chest, everything you felt so good doing stops and he stops too,

"don't hide, you're perfect, you're so fucking sexy" his eyes trace your skin, hands wrapping around your wrists to pull your arms away, revealing your chest hugged into your bra, and jungkook almost forgets how to breathe properly,

he groans- groans that delicious deep noise that makes your head spin, even more so when you feel his appreciation for your body, hands pulling you closer by the waist so can bury his head into your cleavage. "so beautiful" he mutters, darting his tongue out to lick the slit between your tits, "wanna touch all over you, make you feel so good" he says, finding the clasp on your back to open it with one hand. a silent reminder of his experience, one you did not have in the slightest but somehow, it felt even better that way

"mh.. feels good gguk" you can't help but moan at the forgein sensation, his lips wrap around your hardend nipple, groaning sweetly while he sucks on it, carefully swiping his tongue over the little nub- your other breast is securely fitted into his palm, thumb playing with it just like he does with his mouth, mirroring every little flick

"feels so good doesn't it? you smell so good baby" his lips move to do the same to your other breast, switching sides with a trail of saliva sticking to his lips,

In that moment you feel so sensitive, so lost in his secure hold and at the same time, so small in his skillful dominance that you simply relish in the feeling, grinding your soaked core into his thigh over and over, long, hasty drags over his muscle while his lips work magic on your skin, squeezing a little tighter, sucking a little harder because every stuttered whimper fuels his urge to take care of you

"that's it baby.. keep going, you're so good" your hands find his dark chocolate locs, threading through it with the need to ground yourself. it feels as though every time your clit meets him, instead of getting you closer to sensational relief it adds to the ache, feeds into your desire to take and take more of him, be consumed by his strength

"want this off please" your excited fingers fiddle with the hem of his oversized shirt, earning a smug grin from your boyfriend as he detaches from you, discarding of his top

Although you have seen him shirtless before, it's impossible not to salivate at the sight, at his toned broad torso that curves into a unfairly small waist, large arms flexing when he reaches for your tits again, massaging them once more,

"like what you see pretty?" he says, teasingly cocking his head and biting at the metal ring on the corner of his lip, you blush- the slick drools out even more between your thighs, "so hot gguk, annoyingly hot" he chuckles, joining the sound with your airy giggle, but he sucks in a breath as soon as you shift in his lap, now fully straddling him, naked chest pressed to his with your head burried in his neck, "hmm.. what are you up to baby?" his hands find your back, soothing himself not to pounce on you because the strain in his pants is staggering his breath, your errect nipples are rubbing against his skin and it´s making him shiver, desperate, oh so desperate for you

but he knows all to well not to overwhealm your sweet, virgin body, to let you take all the time you need until he can feel every breath of your submission

"wanna feel you gguk, can i?" jungkook almost purrs at how innocently you ask, suppressing the need to grind his hips into your heat from below, "of course baby, anything you want. it's all yours"

he meant it, every vein cursing through his body belongs to you, working, pumping blood through him for the sole purpose of loving you, taking care of you. "all mine?" you hum, aroused by the confidence he emitts, your hands trace up his torso, creating a small distance between your bodies to feel up the hard lines on his abdomen with laboured breath of your own, lips finding every small patch of his neck that make him hum, make his sighs of pleasure slowly turn into groans "all yours my love" the answer wasn't necessary, not when you already started to leave traces of you on his skin, faint, red bruises on his neck that he's impatiently waiting to run around with

"you feel so fucking good, need to feel more of you, will you let me sweet girl?" his words are intoxicating, washing away any doubt or fear and replacing it with a intense craving of sexual desire "please gguk i'm so wet for you" the sound reaches his ears and shuts down his entire system, his hands carelessly rip down your skirt and stockings, leaving you in those tiny grey boyshorts that he looses his mind over "baby how did you hide all this from me?" his hands caress your thighs, your hips, up your waist and to the soft flesh of your stomach with hungry, insatiable eyes that long for a taste of your every inch

"all yours" you mimic him, sounding just like him with your sultry, shy voice, already wanting to remove his own bottoms which he catches on, ridding himself of the nuisance "yeah, all mine. this is all mine" he says, smiling softly

Your drenched underwear meets his errection as he pulls you back on his lap, hands sitting on your waist, you look so vulnerable- almost fragile in his grip, shyly moaning because the curve of his cock presses into your skin like it was molded for you, needy folds clinging to your underwear and your clit throbs- throbs begging for another taste of friction

"I don't know how to do any of this" he suddenly he hears you mumble, seeing how you're playing with your fingers that sit on his lower abdomen, your head is turned to them, a slight pout decorates your features

jungkook feels the need to sob- to take away whatever is making that pretty head of yours feel so threatened even though you're the best thing he has ever felt, the only person he ever wants to lay his hands on ever again

"that's okay baby, hey, look at me for a second will you?" you comply, craving his lead, his security to catch you, most of all that gentle, masculine dominance that floods your senses effortlessly

"you're doing so so well pretty, you don't have to worry okay? i'll take you through it, make you feel so good" he says, cupping your cheeks in his palms while sitting up a little to press kisses to your nose, your forhead, your lips and cheeks,

unable to contain your smile, you nod, gaining back the heartbeat in your willing feminity to let him take care of you, "thank you baby" you say with upmost honesty, pressing your lips to his in a kiss of adoration

"mhm.. come on, let's get this off of you love" his whipers lingers on you, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear before pulling it off your lifted legs, he moans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick attached to the cloth and glistening over your feminity

"so beautiful, do you even realize how lucky i am? how thankful i am that this sweet, sweet girl is all mine to love?" he says softly, so softly that your eyes gloss a little bit, feeling so utterly vulnerable in front of him, so sexy in the most feminine way possible. blush creeps up your cheeks, his hands find your inner thigh, dancing around the sensitive skin "you're too sweet gguk"

he returns your smiles, lifting your hand to kiss it before intertwining it with his own, lacing his fingers into you because being apart from your body feels like torture in this moment. but you're eyes are busied elsewhere, locked on the large outline that stands rock solid insides of his calvins, a small, wet patch that indicates his arousal decorating the very top

"go ahead baby, take it off" not needing to be told twice, you help yourself to his boxers, tugging them down in one, slow motion that leaves him biting his bottom lip, he pushes them down to his ankles, kicking them off

both of you sit like this for a moment that feels like eternity, raw, bare and without a chance to hide in front of the other's desperate gaze, comfort, pure love that's inseparable with a pulsing you can no longer ignore, not when he´s so big, so broad and decorated with a vein alongside his curved shaft

he grabs at the flesh of your ass, pulling you to sit your gushing cunt over his stiff length, cursing at feeling how soft you are, how much arousal truly spills from your body

"you're so.. big gguk.. m'scared" your whine makes him coo, stroking your head while a possessive grip that stays on your hip, his left hand tethering to your hair in the meantime, "don't be, you were made for me sweet girl, made for it" your head falls to his shoulder, arching your torso into his body with a small hump to his leaking cock, "that's right baby, feel it, feel how hard i am for you" spurred on by his encouragement, you tighten your hands on his bicep, rolling your hips over his, his entire shaft is coated in your essence, angry pink tip meeting your swollen clit repeatedly, so much so you feel your thighs shake, feel an impending orgasm waiting to flow over your body,

Ripping yourself of that sensation, not yet- you tell yourself

"want it gguk, want it so bad" jungkook hums, kissing your neck messily, cock throbbing beneath you, "want what pretty? talk to me" he says, his own desire to claim you all to himself becomes unbareable with each passing second that you stay put

You shift forward again, whining, "please gguk" he groans, twitching at how desperate you sound, entranced with how needy you've become for him, he didn't even have to make you beg for it, you just did

effortlessly perfect for him, "come on, tell me my love" but he has to hear more, he needs to hear the dirty confession falling from your pure lips

"want your cock jungkook, please" there it is- that submissive, whiny plead for him, it makes him feel alive, throwing his head back on the black leather couch momentarily "good girl, fuck baby you're so cute" he praises, taking the base of his cock into his hand but something stalls him, "do you want me to eat you out first? make it nice and slippery?" his teeth graze your ear, kissing over the shell of it, "no gguk i want it, want it now"- another nibble, "anything for you"

Your hips lift, hovering your tight, clenching hole over his thick manhood, hands sweaty and grasping at his firm shoulders, he spots your anxiety, wishing nothing more but to ease it

"sit down on it baby, it's gonna sting okay? but you're so good, I know you can take it" more, more reassuring words that you drink in, just as you sink down on it, wincing as your brows meet in frustration

"hurts.." you mutter, fingers digging into his tanned skin- you can't bring yourself to move down further, clenching your muscle tightly around only his fat tip that feels like it's splitting your drooling pussy open. his hands find your back again, "ssh baby.. i know... but you'e such a good girl, i know you can take every inch of my cock"

It takes a couple more kisses to your shoulder for you to sink down fully on his length, painfully so- having your hands claw into him, your lips trembling in confusion of why it feels so good to have him stuffed into you so deeply you can feel it inside your tummy, stretching into every crevice of your gummy walls. It's unlike anything you've ever felt before, fulfilling, deep pressure that you could get lost in- bathe in

Jungkooks feelings have synchronized with yours- he's unsure where you end or where he begins but you're clamped down on his cock, your skin already wet with sweat as it sticks to his unforgivingly, moans and shaky breaths fill in the silence, a unspoken question lingers, awaits for you to answer it

until you do, taking his large hands to your hips before pressing yours against his full pecks, a glint of confidence spites your eyes that makes jungkook want to hear you cry out his name over and over again

"oh fuck- baby you-" you whine, rolling your hips forward, mouth parted when you feel him move inside of you, slolwy, deeply "that's it my love, take your time, so sexy like this" his voice is far from stable, you moan again- the grinding becomes faster, assisted by his hands that pull you onto him just the way you like it- just like he said, you have it all, its all yours

"what- what if you can't come?" he needs to contain a laugh at that- the question is so absurd to him, so unimaginable that it makes him slightly angry why you couldn't understand that he could cum from seeing you alone, from one kiss to your chaste lips- he's already twitching at how sloppy, how loud your cunt is around him

"I almost came from seeing how needy that little pussy of yours is, you feel how hard i am don't you? all because of you baby" he mutters in response, you flourish at it, getting familiar with the grinding motion but you need more, you deserve more- so you start bouncing on him- up and down, slamming your own, curved hips down onto him. he's mesmerized by your pleasure, watching how your brows are knitted, how your lips leak with drool and airy moans, how your tits bounce- he gropes at them, cupping them greedily, his hands itch for your skin, for you to let yourself go on him

"good girl.. look at you, a natural at riding my cock- don't even need my help" you shake, exhaustion already growing in your eager hips but you cannot stop, you don´t want to stop taking every inch of his cock back into you, lifting your hips only to take him back in, "you're filling me so much" you moan into his mouth, having formed a unity with his lips that welcome you like home, "just like that pretty, little humps for me" he mumbles back, interlacing his tongue with yours

he tugs at your nipples with his inked fingers, reciprocrating the moaning, he mirrors you, throbs when you clench, explores your mouth when you part for him impatiently. it leaves you to no choice but to become his own reflection, your hips ground themselves in a stable rhythm as your fingertips roll over his own nipples, unexpectedly he whimpers, bites down into your shoulder cautiously

"That's it baby, driving me fucking crazy" he grinds his hips up into you, unlocking a feeling of bliss that leads you to errupt into pornographic moans, your hand flings to muffle them, eyes rolling back into your skull,

Jungkook is making love to you, letting you reach a state you would not have been able to imagine, not even in the slightest when all you have ever felt are your fingers hastily, uncoordinated on your bundle of nerves. still, he can feel you´re holding back, afraid to be loud- to take up space, but he's having none of it

"Dont be embarrassed sweet girl, you sound addicting, so cute, give me every little noise" sinful sensuality floods you with his encouragement, "gonna make you cum for me, deserve it don't you think?" you don't- in fact, you can't think, long gone into pleasure while his hips piston into you from below,

he slaps your clit gently, your walls clench from how good that feels, "i asked you something baby" he repeats, distracted by your droopy eyes that threaten to shut him out at any moment, "answer me sweet thing, do you deserve to cum hm?" he taunts, rutting his hips with a slower but harder motion, force that hits your g-spot- reels you back into the moment, you head moves frantically "yes, yes please i need to cum"

Jungkook groans in satisfaction, "that's right.. best little cunt, all mine" he goes back lapping at your chest, licking his way to any patch of skin that your addictive smell lurs him to- he feels all over your skin, sneaking his fingers to where your bodies morph into one so he can draw tight circles on your clit, stimulating you to cry out his name,

"Jungkook.. i- i can't stop it i-" you stutter, thighs tensing around him, the feeling is so overwhealming that you can't keep your head up, can't warn him more than that since you're already letting your dew sprinkle out- letting the shocks roll over your body

"just like that.. make a mess on my cock baby, you did so well, come for me" he rasps, his heavy balls release into your tightness at the thought that crosses his mind- the knowledge that he had made you orgasm, that your virginity belonged to him solely,

It embraces the both of you, fills you with a sense of euphoria that none of you wish to end

As the high washes over you, you break out into a small shudder, aware of his milky cum that splurts your walls white, aware of the oversensitive area between your legs that jungkook's fingers slowly stop touching, landing to your unstable and sore thighs instead.

his heavy breathing is woven into yours, contrasting how slowly, lazily he manages to caress your naked skin, finding comfort in your warm body

the small whisper of his name catches him off guard, he hums, pulling back to cup your face, "are you okay my love? feel good?" his eyes rank over your tired features, glowing before his very own eyes,

"so okay. I love you" you breathe out, pressing a kiss to his button nose,

"I love you too baby, so proud of you" his nose nuzzles against yours, "you were so so good"

your shy giggle lights up his face like it always does, "thank you.. for taking my virginity... felt so good" you mumble with your bottom lip tucked away between your teeth- it awakens his soft- still nestled cock, his hands grip your ass- feeling the flesh spill beneath his fingers "thank you for your trust baby, but god, you're gonna make me lose it" jungkook says into your neck, nose tracing the delicate line of your shoulder,

"why? is it too much?" unbeknownst to you, Jungkook rolls his eyes in annoyance, how could you be so fucking adorable?

"Let me show you why" he answers, making your head perk up a little,

"Wanna lay down for me pretty? I can give you another one, as many as you want. You deserve it, wanna spoil you, fuck i wanna give you everything you want" faintly audible as he's speaking into your skin, having already laid you down onto the cold cushions of his unreasonably expensive leather couch.

[andorsdoll]

Homecoming ♡ Anakin Skywalker x Reader [♀]

Summary: Anakin comes home from battle wrecked and starving for you. You’re his wife, his anchor, his religion—and he fucks you like it.

Word Count: 1.6k || Warnings: nsfw. p*rn w/out plot?? idgaf!!, reader & anakin are married, the gloves stay on during sex, no foreplay, penetration (p-in-v), unprotected sex/creampie, some praise/dirty talk, aftercare, doting husband! anakin, etc.,

Author's Note: idk how to write smut, it's hard!!!!! (stop.. genuinely no pun intended >w< )

PS- for any of you guys following my multi chaptered anakin fic on ao3, i'm so sorry that i never ended up updating but i promise it is on its way, like i'm (re)writing the first chapter as we speak ok!!

PPS- if i have any james kelly/hayden christensen girlies, i posted a one shot here ;)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ⁺ .✦.

He doesn’t knock but you hear the sound of boots trecking closer. Your breath catches in your throat the moment the door opens.

Anakin.

Finally.

You stand a little too fast and your knees almost buckle from the way relief crashes into you like a wave.

You hadn't seen him in weeks. Not since he was pulled to the opposite end of the galaxy, again, with nothing but scrambled comms and a handful of encrypted messages.

He’s sunburnt, his cloak covered in dust. His brow is creased but he looks at you like you’ve just saved his life.

“Hi,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out.

That alone nearly breaks him.

Anakin crosses the space between you without hesitation, wrapping you in his arms. He buries his face in your neck, letting out an exhale. Like he's been holding his breath the entire time he was gone.

“I thought I’d go insane,” he mumbles. “I thought if I had to wake up one more morning without you next to me—” He pulls back just far enough to kiss you.

And the second your lips touch—it all unravels.

His kisses are desperate, needy, open-mouthed. Like he’s both punishing and apologizing to you for having had to leave.

“I missed you, Ani." you stroke the back of his head, fingers tangling in dusty curls.

It's almost overwhelming now, being in his arms after weeks. You can't even get another sentence out before Anakin's mouth devours the words against your throat.

He bites and licks at the skin there like he needs proof you’re real. Then he lifts you with both arms, one still gloved, possessive and loving on your thighs, walking you backward through the apartment without looking.

When he finally places you onto the bed, he lays you down like he's been waiting forever for this exact moment.

His forehead rests against yours while his hands roam, sliding beneath your top. Thumbs grazing your nipples until you gasp and whimper into his mouth.

“I dreamed about this,” he says. “Every night. I was afraid I'd forget your touch. Afraid I’d forget how it feels to be inside of you.”

You whimper, hips pressing forward instinctively. That alone makes him groan like you’re torturing him.

“I need you,” he says suddenly, dragging his mouth across your collarbone, leaving trails of blooming bruises. “I can’t wait, baby. I need you.” he whines, deprived and desperate.

“Take me,” you plead as you grind against him.

He undresses the both of you like a man possessed. Belt clattering to the floor, robes kicked aside, cock flushed, thick, and leaking at the tip as he shoves his pants down just enough.

He doesn’t waste time teasing, just pushes in deep with a sudden thrust. His head falls into your shoulder as he groans and just stays buried inside you, murmuring your name like it's holy.

Like loving you is the only thing he's ever needed and he's on his knees for it, buried in you like it's salvation.

Your legs are trembling from how full you feel when he says, "You’re clenching like you missed this. Missed me. Is that it, sweet girl?"

You nod against him, breath caught, arms wrapped around his shoulders like you never want to let go.

And then he starts to move.

It's really slow at first, mostly because he's making sure to reach as deep as possible when he rolls his hips forward. Like he wants to fuck your soul, not just your body. “So pretty like this… so wet for me… fuck, baby…”

He laces his fingers with yours, pinning both of your wrists above your head as he moves inside you with aching rhythm, eyes locked to yours.

He drives into you with ruthless precision, your dripping pussy clenching around him. The sounds between your bodies are obscene and wet, your legs shake while your mouth falls open.

Babbling incoherently now, you're barely able to take it. And he absolutely loves it.

Seeing you flushed and undone under him, Anakin moans, slowing his thrusts just long enough to lean down. His gloved fingers cradling your jaw while his eyes drink you in.

“Stars,” he whispers, voice hoarse, almost gone. “Look at you.”

A broken sound escapes your throat again as your head falls back, eyes fluttering. Your body’s too full, too sensitive.

You feel destroyed, wrecked, and you know he can see it. He brushes your cheek and the corner of your lips with his fingertips, gentle in a way that makes your chest ache.

Because even now, even like this, Anakin is still so tender with you. His expression is molten and dark with hunger. Yet, it's so soft and loving, as if he can’t decide whether to ruin you completely or stay like this forever, just watching you fall apart for him.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” he pants, voice ragged. “Gonna fill you up. Will you let me?” He asks. But it's not really a question at this point, more like a promise.

All you can do is moan, arching your hips up to meet him, mouth still parted in gutteral cries. You come hard, clenching around him. He kisses you through it, swallowing your cries as he keeps fucking into you, desperate to reach his own release.

“Say it,” he breathes into you, hoarse and pleading. “Say you’re mine. Say you missed me.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp, fingernails dragging down his back. “Always, Anakin. I’m yours, I miss—”

He slams into you, cutting off the words, rhythm starting to falter. You feel it as his thrusts grow uneven and erratic and he's cursing under his breath. His face contorts and he groans through clenched teeth as he finally comes, thick and hot inside of you.

But he doesn’t stop pounding until he’s completely spent, until it’s leaking out around him.

━━━━⊱︎⊰━━━━

Afterwards, there's a long moment where neither of you move. Just the sound of your breaths echoing throughout the apartment. Shaky, uneven, like you’ve both been through something you barely survived.

His weight eases over you while your legs remain lazily draped around his waist. He’s still inside you, softening slowly. His breath hot and shallow against your throat.

The galaxy feels blurred at the edges, dazed and dreamlike.

Your thighs tremble with every little shift in movement. Your chest rises and falls unevenly as you blink up at the ceiling, lips starting to tremble.

It hits you then, he's really home.

Anakin senses it, the shift in your breath, the way your lip starts to wobble. So he lifts himself just enough to look down at you. There's something soft in his gaze—like he knows exactly what you’re feeling.

“Oh, sweet girl…” he whispers before leaning in to kiss your cheek, your eyelids, your nose. Your eyes flutter shut from the sensation and he gingerly brushes your hair back.

His voice is sweet and doting now, “I missed you so much. I don’t think I can leave you ever again.”

You smile. Mostly because you know he has to leave again soon. Of course you do. He’s bound by duty—by the war, the cause, the robes he never fully gets to take off.

But right now, none of that matters.

Not with the way he’s holding you while his come is still warm inside you. Not with his mouth trailing over your collarbone like he’s relearning the shape of you.

He’s here.

And he’s yours.

And that’s enough, for now.

“C-Can’t feel my legs,” you mumble.

He grins.

Actually grins. Boyish, flushed and handsome.

It's then in his smile that a flicker of a memory comes back to you. The first time you ever met him, both of you years younger, standing awkwardly in the Temple courtyard. He’d smiled at you then like this too—cocky, sun-warm, all dimples and promise.

“Good,” he says proudly.

You shove at him half-heartedly, and he chuckles again before slowly, carefully pulling out. You whimper when your hips twitch at the sudden emptiness and soreness. He gently hushes you.

“I know, I know,” he coos. “You’re sensitive. It’s okay. I’ve got you, baby.”

You’re so fucked out you can’t move. So, he moves for you. He kisses your stomach, your thighs, your knees.

Then he disappears from the bed, rummaging around for a moment before returning to clean you up. He runs the damp fabric between your legs with maddening care, cooing every time you flinch or whine.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Still dripping for me.”

“Anakin!” your cheeks flush as you throw your arm over your eyes.

“What?” he says innocently, pressing a kiss to your hip. “Just admiring my beautiful wife. All full and spent and pretty… Do you want me to run you a bath? Or should I tuck you in? Did you eat already?”

Your mouth opens to answer but he’s already climbing back onto the bed, settling behind you, pulling you into his lap. Your legs go limp over his thighs. “Ani, you're not serious—”

“Oh, I’m serious,” he says, voice low and teasing now. “I’ve got you exactly where I want you. Might keep you like this forever.”

You lean into him, humming as your head falls back on his shoulder. “You're ridiculous.”

Anakin places a kiss on the top of your head as he massages your hips slowly. "I'm in love." he responds casually, like it's the most obvious thing in the galaxy.

[tbaluver]

Hi! May I request headcanons with a reader who at first glance looks cold ,mean and introverted, but then when LaDs boys get closer to her, they realize that she is quite kind and sweet.

I also want to say that I adore your work, seriously, thanks to you, I open Tumbler every day and re-read your works. You're one of my fav authors ❣️

I hope everything goes well for you!

(´｡• ᵕ •｡) ♡

When You Look Mean and Introverted- The Love And DeepSpace Men

⤷ synopsis: when reader looks cold, mean, and introverted but actually she's kind and sweet! parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff fluff a/n: hihi my lovely anonnie ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ it is such an honor to be your favorite author! (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) i love re-reading my favorite authors works and to hear you re-read my works makes my silly writings feel so seen and appreciated so thank you for supporting my works it means a lot to me truly -`♡´- i hope this was okay lmk ! i ended up writing a story build/ up to their relationship but enjoy reading luv ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

You two first crossed paths during a Hunter’s mission when you found him asleep. At first, he didn’t think much of it, but after several unexpected encounters, he started to notice your cold and mean expression. Worry started to wash over him every time you met. Were you upset with him? Did you not want to resonate with him the first time? Do you not want him to be there? Even though you two hardly spoke, he couldn’t help but feel like he did something wrong. He has been looking for you through galaxies and back and he did not want to mess this up.

It wasn’t until another unexpected mission that you two crossed paths again. The energy fluctuations from Wanderers were rising and you found yourself in need of help. Luckily, he was right there by your side, swiftly taking down each one left and right before they could inflict any more serious harm on you.

He rushed to your side to check for your injuries after all the Wanderers were gone. To his surprise, you complimented him, shattering his belief that you might dislike him. Your warm smile brought a surprising warmth that eased his worries and revealed a kindness he didn’t notice before.

You asked if he was any part of the Hunter’s association and when Xavier replied no, you encouraged him to join, expressing how much potential you saw in him. It was at that moment he realized you weren’t unapproachable at all- your kindness and support shined through your reserved exterior, showing a thoughtful and caring person beneath.

You two would be later assigned for missions together and your conversations became more frequent and he began to see glimpses of your thoughtful and kind personality behind your reserved exterior. He had no problem anymore that you were quiet and you two would enjoy your time together.

As you both continued to spend time together, whether strategizing for missions or simply just enjoying each other’s company, the walls between you began to crumble as if they were never there. He was more than happy to know that you were more comfortable with him and pondered on taking your relationship to another step.

Zayne:

It had been years since you two last saw each other, the last time when you were just kids. Now both of you were adults, your paths crossed again in an unexpected way. He was your doctor and you were his patient. At first glance, he quickly realized that your expression might come off as reserved, something he understood all too well as many people perceived him the same way.

It would take a few patient check-ups and casual conversations to confirm that you were just a reserved and introverted person who needed time to open up to others.

You started becoming more open with him. You shared stories about your life and your missions and asked about his life. You found yourself texting him outside of the hospital, checking in to see if he’d slept well or had eaten that day.

During your next patient check up, you brought over his favorite sweet treats- something you remembered him pointing out of his favorite bakery nearby the hospital. A small smile crept across his face and he couldn’t resist taking a quick bite of one two before diving into your examination.

You couldn’t tell from his stoic expression but he was melting inside. He felt grateful that each moment you spent together brought you two closer and he was eager to find ways to connect outside of your patient check-ups.

While he examines you, he pondered whether to invite you out after his shift or to suggest getting together the next time he was free to grab a meal. The thought of spending time with you after all this time, fills him with excitement.

Rafayel:

You were the first human he would ever find intimidating. Your first encounter took place in his studio during a mission. While he fought alongside you against the Wanderers, you barely exchanged any words with him. Your cold expression left him feeling intimidated and uncertain. Luckily, he manages to get a few words out of you and somehow convinces you to be his bodyguard.

He was definitely freaking out in his head when you were coming over to his studio. What could he say? What could you both do? He was worried the next encounter would end up in a disaster and he would have to wait another hundred years to meet you again. He was not willing to die in this lifetime just die in embarrassment.

He was internally a mess when you were over at his studio. Every time you went quiet during your chats, his nerves kicked in, but he kept talking, hoping to make you feel at ease. He hoped that by sharing more, he could help you feel comfortable. He would never force you to talk but he would always leave the conversation open for you to join whenever.

But then, it’s as if the sea gods have heard him. When you spoke up, you referenced a topic from his earlier conversations. It dawned on him that you had been listening intently all along. You responded thoughtfully, engaging with his stories in a way that made him feel valued and cared for. That realization made his anxiety inside of him transform into something much more warmer and more at ease.

He would later then ask you questions, if you were comfortable with it, about you and your life. The conversation flowed effortlessly between you, as if it had always been this way. You two could easily chat for hours and he was more than happy to listen or talk about your stories, enjoying every second of your growing bond.

You both grew closer during your visit to the hospital when he had a serious injury. As you both strolled through the hospital garden, he watched in awe as you spotted a fish struggling in the fountain. Without hesitation, you knelt down, entirely focused on rescuing the little creature.

Seeing your determination and kindness warmed his heart. It reminded him of the layers beneath your reserved exterior and stirs the past  memories from 800 years ago when you selflessly tried to save him. The echoes of the past resonated deeply within him.

As you finally freed the fish, he couldn’t help but let out a smile. His heart aches with a longing for you, each shared moment igniting a deeper desire. With every second spent together, he felt the distance between you shrink, drawing him closer to the warmth of your presence.

Sylus:

He wasn’t scared or worried-at first, he liked a challenge. You were mysterious and quiet and it genuinely captivated him, sparking a genuine curiosity to learn more about you. Even though your first encounter or him trying to force you to resonate with him wasn’t ideal, he was determined to bridge the gap between you two and show you in depth of who he truly was.

He discovered there was much more to your personality through Luke and Kieran while you doodle in your book back in your room that you stayed at in his estate. An unfamiliar feeling stirred within him- an ache of longing and a mix with a hint of jealousy. He couldn’t shake the desire to be the one to uncover the layers of your personality.

One time he passed by you in his estate, the silence between you felt heavy and he couldn’t help but assume you still held some resentment toward him, not that he could blame you. But he refused to give up.

He invites you to a fancy auction where you could find the protocore you needed for your mission. Yet, his true mission was to learn more about you, to connect on a deeper level.

On the night of the auction, you both dress to impress and he couldn’t help but spoil you in compliments before you both left the estate. He also can’t hide the amusement on his face as he manages to convince you to link arms as you enter together. To his delight, you didn’t protest, your smile warming up the building but more so, him. The playful banter and shared glances as you walked in together only fueled his hope that you just might be opening up to him after all.

This has been the most that you two have talked through the entire night and each second felt like a gift. Hearing your laughter was music to his ears and hearing your stories was something he would want to listen to for hours. It was then he realized that maybe you were just reserved after all and how he wished your encounters could’ve been more different and how he regretted handling them

Unfortunately what would’ve been a perfect night was ruined by an ambush of Wanderers unleashed at the auction. As instinct, he shielded you from harm, taking any several blows himself. He barely flinched as he focused on defending you. Together, you fought side by side, the adrenaline surging you both until the last Wanderer fell.

As the chaos died down, you rushed to his side, the concern written on your face as you saw fresh wounds on him. Some had already healed, but others were fresh and needed attention, completely oblivious to the fact he could just heal himself. He watches you intently as you carefully tended to him, your gentle touch igniting a warmth within him that he so had been longing for.

A breathy chuckle escaped his lips and a small smile crept onto his face as he took in the sight of you. Maybe it was a perfect night to him after all. It seemed your reserved walls were crumbling down. The way you tended to him spoke volumes and the connection that he has been wanting has sparked beyond attraction.

"Did the kitty finally put away her claws?"

"Shut up Sy..."

[bunnybunbun0]

Renaissance

summary: because Paul Atreides was a piece of art in bed.

pairing: Paul Atreides X fem!reader

warnings: smut,porn without plot,stablished relationship.

A/N: with the hype of dune part two being released i finally got my shit together and watched part one years later and oh.my.god. Seeing timmy play a serious important yet loving duke just rocked me a bit. i hope you guys like this!

sorry its short i wasnt planning on writing it,it just came to mind.not proofread,we die like real men. english is not my first language so be kind!

you are responsible for your own media comsumption! :)

credits to gif owner!

Paul Atreides was undoubtly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

And after stumbling upon a book on what ancient civilizations considered art,you were even more convinced he was god´s most wonderful creation.

When he pants on top of you while fiercifully thrusting into your soaked slit,his black curls clinging to his pale skin with a sheer of sweat;a beautiful contrast with his dark hair and white skin.

The sounds leaving the back of his throat are a sweet melody to your ears; the gutural grunts,the ocasional moan,the pants of your name,the filthy things he whispers in your ears.

You were fully convinced paul was the most beautiful work of art youve ever seen,he was ethereal,every trace of his was brushstroke,you lost yourself staring into the honey galaxies of his eyes.

"What are you thinking about that is more important than my cock inside you right now?"

His dirty question gets you out of your head;a long whimper scaped you at how dirty his words were,you tried your best to focus on answering his question,but between his cocktip brushing your sweet spot so deliciously,the force of his hips meeting yours,and the sinful noises that filled the room,all you could do in response was moan and whine.

He lowers his head to your neck,sucking and biting the sensitive pristine skin;you shiver at the thought of being marked by his beautiful lips,having him set a clam on you.

"Answer me" he asks in a grave tone,a shiver rippling through you bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"You´re beautiful!" you blabber out in a high pitched moan,not even realizing how desperate you sound or how you´re not making any sense to him right now "you´re beautiful! fuck paul,you´re so beautiful"

To say that was not what Pauls was expecting to hear was an understatement,he knew you appreciated his looks;it was clear with your lingering touches on him or how youd be amazedly watching him while he did the most mundane of tasks,but not that you liked it enough to declare it so devotedely while he was deep inside you.

He knew your body better than anyone else,and he could sense you were on the brink of an orgasm,his hand reached down rubbing sensual circles around your clit,not once slowing down his thrusts.

You unravel around him yelping and crying out as your release washed over you,your eyes shut feeling the moment where you and him become one.

A few more faltered thrusts into your now even tighter pussy,and paul was cumming inside you with a string of profanities leaving his mouth accompanied with your name.

You both stare at each for what feels like forever,breathing deeply while coming down from your highs.

Paul was a completely different person once the sexual aact was over,the kiss he pressed on your lips right now was not desperate and hurried,it was calm,soft,he treated you like the wind blow you away into a pile of sand.

He slips out of you carefully,making sure youre okay,carefully enveloping you in his arms and throwing a blanket around both their naked bodies;a confortable silence falls into the room as thetwo of you cuddle,paul lovingly stroking your arms,ocasionally kissing whatever naked skin he could get his lips on.

"You really think i´m that good looking?" he asks with the memory of you moaning out how beautiful he was mid sex stuck in his mind.

In your post orgasm clarity your mind goes back to the beautiful paintings you found on the ancient book,the delicacy of the lines,the softness of the colors and beautiful tragedies behind every piece. The sudden desire to once again tell paul how beautiful he is and make sure to know your ancient knowledge with him are overwhelming.

You sit up in the bed looking up at his face,a smile immediately meeting your lips as you look at him and decide to ask:

"Have you ever heard of Michelangelo?"

[bird-prince-art]

Idk if you read fic but do you have any Obikin fic recs? Your art makes me want to read some 🙏

I absolutely have fics for you anon and I am honored my art makes you want some.

Some of my favorite fics, in absolutely no order:

Patience by Why_is_my_nose_a_carrot: I think probably the fic that got me into obikin specifically. AU where Qui-Gon is Anakin's master, but Obi-Wan stays his best friend. Very slowburn, but my god. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's relationship, the way they write Obi and Ani as friends, UGH! Apparently the author got a lot of flack for this fic for some reason so if you do read it give them love, or at the very least don't harrass them jfc.

Something Blue by @darthwillies : Really love this fic and its concept. Obi-Wan marries uncrispy Vader in order to secure galaxy wide peace, now we witness their domestic "bliss". I think this fic is probably my favorite depiction of Vaderkin, someone who is still desperate to be forgiven, but only by the ones who matter. Desperate enough for love to keep it prisoner but still resentful of the reminder. And poor Obi-Wan, proud but insecure. The dynamic is very intriguing to me.

Amarilli by @darthwillies : Since I'm already talking about Graciously's work, I have to recommend this one as well. Obi-Wan realizes he has feelings for Anakin, panics, confesses, panics again. It's great. I love this fic not only because it's so beautifully written, but because the entire time I was reading it I just kept thinking how real it was. Everyone's reaction to The Feelings, the confession conversation, the aftermath conversation. All of it is so in character and believable. The end is great, and it left me wanting more.

Conceal Me What I Am by @himboskywalker : Cat's out of the bag, I LOVE arranged marriage AUs. And this one is so good. Senator Obi-Wan marries Jedi Anakin in order to help the Jedi/Republic's image during the war. But Anakin's an Omega posing as an Alpha! And Obi-Wan's an Alpha posing as a Beta! What will they do??? Fall in love about it obviously. The slow-burn and build-up is so good, I had to read it all in one sitting because I was desperate for them to finally be together.

An Unlikely Duo by @grapenehifics : Modern setting where total opposites Anakin and Obi-Wan fall in love with each other. Super sappy sweet fic that explores their relationship as it grows. There're so many little details in this fic that I just adore, and everytime I re-read they make me go awwwwww all over again. It also inspired me to make Ani and Obi in Animal Crossing.

Across the Stars by @unfortunate17 : Yes, I love this fic. Yes, it makes me bite my nails worrying about their future. Anakin is a time traveler who always travels to Obi-Wan. It's so sweet and the concept is so interesting. Without spoiling, the way the story unfolds is super interesting narratively speaking and is fleshed out enough to give you some ideas about why the traveling happens. Idk man just read it you won't be disappointed.

be careful not to choke on your admirations by @tennessoui : Thank you to this fic for making me google Who Is Korkie Star Wars. (I'm trying to finish TCW don't RUSH me Katie) Anakin babysits for hot dilf divorcee Obi-Wan, who he is desperately in love with. Honestly I love all of tennessoui's work so you should read all of them, but this fic is my go to. I love the flow of their conversations, the way that Obi-Wan is so obviously crazy about Anakin and Anakin is of course oblivious. Your honor, they're a little family. I love them.

Heartbeat Drives You Mad by @renlyslittlerose : Everything about this fic is entirely excellent. Depressed alcoholic Obi-Wan falls in love with his hot young neighbor in the 80's. What more could you want. Come for Anakin in short-shorts and stay for Obi-Wan's complex journey to healing. I really love the translation of Anakin's character in this fic, and the way that Obi-Wan describes him. 10/10 read it now.

the root of peony by @tideswept : Anakin and Obi-Wan served in the Napoleonic Wars, now they deal with the aftermath. I love doctor Obi-Wan and I LOVE their relationship in this fic. This fic is simultaneously very cozy, angsty, and sweet. I love the way that their relationship develops, and I love the world building.

are you mine tomorrow by @jedibongrip : I just read this fic again and I forgot how sweet it was. Obi-Wan finds Anakin on Tatooine during the war, and marries him in a green-card marriage so that Anakin can stay on Coruscant. Even though this is an Obi-Wan centric fic, I love how you can constantly feel Anakin's presence and his love throughout the fic. Obi-Wan is so silly, your husband loves you, idiot.

Lux Æterna by @obiwanobi : Hey do you want to be sad? Read this. It's a surprise :) Beautiful. I can't believe you've done this.

Obi-Two by @virahaus : I love this concept and I love the way it's written. Post-Prequel Obi-Wan is sent to the council meeting where Anakin is denied the rank of master. I love a sassy huffy Obi-Wan and this fic has TWO sassy Obi-Wans. I also love the idea of Obi-Wan becoming significantly less Jedi as time goes on, and I love how this fic depicts that.

OKAY this got a bit out of hand so I'm going to stop here. If you'd like more I'd be happy to supply some, and if you have any recommendations for me please send them!

[iwtv-theories]

Armand mentioning Tintoretto alludes to Amadeo's backstory:

Tintoretto's first major painting in Venice was "The miracle of the slave" (also known as 'San Marco freeing the slave'). "It was the first notable work of Tintoretto's career."

In TVA, not only did Amadeo often visit san marco square, and enjoy looking at the artwork depicting 'san-marco' ( aka: 'saint mark' , the patron saint of venice). Amadeo even thought of San-marco's plaza right before Marius started whipping and beating him. The difference being, san-marco didn't save Amadeo from torture (and break the whip) of his master. Amadeo the vampire just thought to himself "i'm the slave of a tyrant" as he looked at the whip.It's probable Amadeo related to the Catholic slave (in the painting) who was stripped naked , beaten, and later saved by San-marco . Because Amadeo as a child- slave held reverence for San-Marco growing up . Which makes sense... even before the painting was commissioned , he may have heard the story of San-marco saving the slave (since the painting is based on the 'golden legend': a collection of hagiographic sources, depicting various saints' backstories). The venetian painting ('miracle of the slave') was even stolen by the French: similar to Amadeo being kidnapped and forced to leave Venice and go to Paris.

The vampire Armand excerpts: (pov of Amadeo in the 1st person talking about san marco, these excerpts were sprinkled all over the book, there was like 9 other refs to san-marco I didn't add):

Amadeo being whipped by marius (cough not the first time he did this to Amadeo, just the first time he did this to him post-vampirism):

Armand's backstory is going to kill me! I know the show writers are going to write it better than AR & re-contextualize and write it in a much more sensitive way: that's much more tragic and layered (cause the writers are clearly galaxy-brained , adding these type of small details).

Also, Armand saying part of his backstory to Daniel in s2e3, asking young Daniel if he wanted to "hear his story" & mentioning this Tintoretto easteregg to Daniel: pretty much confirms to me Armand will eventually open up and tell Daniel his whole story. Show-Daniel will probably steal that plot line from David (who wrote TVA with Armand).

[kryptonitejelly]

Flyboy!Jake you say??? You could write him going grocery shopping and I’d read it. Flyboy!Jake is my comfort character

he is mine as well!

-

You both look quite the sight walking hand in hand into the grocery store dressed to the nines Jake is still in his suit from the earlier dinner you both were made to attend at the behest of his Grandmother, bowtie undone and hanging from his collar, you in a floor length dress, the silky material flowing along with your movement and heels clicking under you.

The night air is cool, but the inside of the near empty supermarket is even cooler and Jake sees you shiver as you enter through the sliding doors, the blast of air conditioning hitting you. He lets go of your hand almost instantaneously, shrugging off his jacket immediately to drape it over your shoulders. It earns him a smile as you find yourself holding onto the lapels of his jacket, pulling the garment which smells deliciously like him closer to you.

“You always look better in my clothes,” is what Jake mumbles against your skin as he leans forward to press a kiss against your temple.

“Suck up,” you counter with a light roll of your eyes, but with a smile still dancing on your lips.

“For as long as I live,” he says re-tangling his fingers with yours as he guides you to the aisle you both had come for.

“Which one will it be?” He asks while you both stand shoulder to shoulder, eyes roaming over the selection of chocolate before you.

“I think,” you hum out as you let your gaze filter through the shelves, “that one,” you point towards on of the upper shelves in the direction of your favourite brand of chocolate.

“Guessed as much,” Jake grins, as he takes a step forward to swipe a handful of chocolate bars, off the shelf.

“No,” you say quickly in chastise as you see Jake’s gaze dart towards the top of the shelf where you both can see the side of an entire carton of your selected brand of chocolate bars peeking down, “you are not getting the entire carton again.”

Jake Seresin would buy you the whole galaxy if you asked for it.

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

Creche-master Obi-Wan Kenobi AU that im lit making up on the spot rn LETS GOOOO

Im not a expert on his past and tbh ive prob mixed up certain events so forgive me for being mega vague on the backstory ok if i stop to research this i'll never get around to actually writing this post

Obi-Wan comes back from the horrors of Melida/Daan more determined than ever to fulfill the role of Peacekeeper

But he gets pulled into another war. Another huge conflict. More death and heartbreak and trauma piles on over the years

And when he gets back from surviving Mandalore he decides he's had enough. He cant do this AGAIN

Obi-Wan resigns from being a padawan. It breaks Qui-Gon's heart. It tears Obi-Wan's too. He promised he wouldnt leave. It was one of the requirements to Qui-Gon even taking him on

He cycles through different aspects of the Service Corps, looking for his place in the world galaxy

He's working in the creche when Anakin comes through

Anakin is already a claimed padawan (by Qui-Gon if he lived or by someone else) but he's still got a few years in the upper ages of the creche. The council deems it especially important as Anakin has no sense of Jedi culture and tradition that comes with the upbringing

Its very rough for Anakin for a multitude of reasons

And Obi-Wan steps up

Obi-Wan sits with him when the other kids refuse to. Obi-Wan translates the assignments for him as he painfully learns Aurebesh. Obi-Wan holds him through the nightmares and smuggles him droid parts to play with and gets him on a nutrition plan

Anakin LOVES Obi-Wan his first friend and repeatedly sneaks out to come see him after he moves into the Padawan-Master quarters

And then the war rolls around

That awkward moment when the council realized their best strategist and one of their most experienced fighters and top Soresu Masters is a crechemaster that dropped out of knighthood

The even more awkward moment when the top GAR officials found out the most promising Jedi general is not only a kindergarten teacher but also told Mace Windu to fuck off when trying to recruit him (in any capacity)

Obi-Wan used to teach Ahsoka. When the war came he found he couldnt stomach teaching the older initiates strategy and battle tactics. He knows it will save their lives but all he sees are the bodies of the Young he couldnt save and he re-assigns himself to the younger classes

Idk where to take it from here. The next step would be him meeting the clones who LOVE him. Maybe the council manages to get him on a battlefield? Maybe he taking his class on a overnight field trip and Anakin "i overprotect because i have control issues" Skywalker sends a group to escort them?

[calware]

Transmasc aranea is so interesting to me…do elaborate on your thoughts 👀

frankly i'm not really committed to this reading, it's just floating around in my head lol. not a "this should happen" idea but a "this would be kind of interesting" idea

the thing i AM pretty committed to is that she's TME, which is informed by comparing her to vriska; essentially, aranea gets to avoid a lot of the bad-faith perceptions vriska gets tacked on to her. vriska is a dangerous weapon that can't be trusted, aranea is just some annoying know-it-all who can't shut up. granted, both are bad labels to have, and both characters are targets of misogyny, but for a good amount of time there aranea gets away with a lot more than vriska does (for example, aranea idolizes her pre-scratch self and nobody bats an eye, but karkat goes running to john to tell him vriska is dangerous at the first sign that they might be into each other). so when you look at vriska through a TMA lens, aranea reads as TME by comparison

there are a lot of directions you can take this ofc, the "main" one being that she's a cis woman. that said, i think it's interesting that hussie posits characters who take on an "authorial role" as thematic representations of toxic masculinity, which was the seed in my mind that led to me considering aranea as transmasc in the first place:

"Much later in Act 6, we see Lil Cal is a juju vessel containing the splintered souls of various controversial characters in the story: Caliborn, Equius, Dirk, and yes...even Gamzee, which means he's actually here watching this ball drop in TWO forms. But all these figures are, in some manner, highly exaggerated negative manifestations of author avatars, who have amalgamated themselves within the body of English to wreak havoc on the story/reader. This is the galaxy-brained interpretation of the line. The most important character in the story is me, or more specifically, the most villainous, destructive splinter-composite of the author's presence in the story."

"Dirk and Equius similarly aren't even that unflattering as avatars either. You could do worse. And we do do worse. As far as demonic author-tiers go, English is the true monster. His dominating personality splinters are much worse too. Caliborn and Gamzee are complete hell-people compared to Dirk and Equius. They are also sort of author avatars in certain ways, but with a degree of cartoonishly evil exaggeration. They absolutely comprise the "authorial wrath" portion of the total Doc/English personality quagmire."

"I think when the time comes to show the douchebag cocktail stuck inside Cal, there's a brief temptation to regard it as an odd, semi-random melange of characters. But there are several layers of logic to the guys who all combine to form his personality. Much of the logic orbits around these negative traits associated with men, or more specifically, the "toxically masculine" aspects often linked to certain male personalities. Dirk has a lot of these traits, which are central to Dave's feelings of tension and abuse concerning his bro. The intellectual aggression, the power of assertion, the knowitall-ism, the mansplaining.

also, this line in particular makes me think of aranea:

As an alt-author figure, [Doc Scratch's] omniscience makes sense, since the author has sweeping knowledge of story details as well. Because I "know everything," he "knows everything" too. Of course, as I write the story, there are plenty of things I don't know yet, and the "not knowing" is always an important part of the process in this largely improvisational medium.

aranea starts out almost as a historian wanting to infodump pass down oral history of previous events; eventually, however, she becomes fed up with the story and decides to seize control of it herself, placing herself in an authorial position (or alt-author) so that she can steer the ship to the direction she that believes is best for everyone. ultimately, however, she fails, and gets herself re-killed by the condesce, a puppet of the real authorial avatar (english). the gendered interpretation of this is that a woman, she can girlboss (translation: be a woman in a man's position) as hard as she wants, but can never achieve true power under the patriarchy. she can play author all she wants (and hurt people along the way) but will never be allowed into the Boys Club

now, this doesn't mean that trying to be in a masculine position means a character is masculine (or even truly wants to be). but it's clear that she wants to be an author, she wants to know everything, she wants to wield the sword, all symbols of oppressive masculinity. and ONE(!!!!!) OF the ways to subvert/break that expectation is to figure out how to be true to yourself by reclaiming and embodying masculinity without succumbing the perpetuation of the patriarchy (which, coincidentally (or perhaps, not coincidentally?) is part of the basis for my transmasc reading of dirk, something i think he's forced to grapple with as well)

again, not my true + perfect vision that i'll die for or anything. just an interesting thought to speculate on

[brotherwtf]

size queen Gale re this post and inspired by @avonne-writes and their galaxy brain

Gale who always seemed to lean towards larger partners, taller, broader, thicker, those were all of the traits he subconsciously looked for when he was looking for a man

is kind of a brat about it let's say, men will be all cocky and come up to him, think he's a submissive twink whos just looking for an adequate dicking down, but Gale will take one look at them and scoff, "do you really think you're big enough for me?" and it usually sends them away with their tail between their legs

that is until John comes up to him, that same level of cockiness that most other men have, and Gale's moments away from sending him off like every other man but John just looms over him, a hand pressed to the bar next to them so he can stand over Gale and fuck, this man is big, definitely big enough for Gale

and Johns cockiness is understandable when Gale finds out what's below the belt, gasps and smiles when he sinks to his knees and tugs his boxers down, revealing John hot and heavy against his stomach, easily shoving it in his mouth and loving how it so easily bullies itself down Gale's throat, fills him up until he feels like he can't breathe

and when John fucks him? oh Gale's in heaven, big and broad shoulders for Gale to rake his fingernails across, huge thighs that he wraps his legs around, moans embarrassingly at the thought of how John must just completely engulf Gale's slighter figure... oh he does love a big boy and John definitely is that for Gale

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Twinkump Linkdump

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in SAN DIEGO at MYSTERIOUS GALAXY next MONDAY (Mar 24), and in CHICAGO with PETER SAGAL on Apr 2. More tour dates here.

I have an excellent excuse for this week's linkdump: I'm in Germany, but I'm supposed to be in LA, and I'm not, because London Heathrow shut down due to a power-station fire, which meant I spent all day yesterday running around like a headless chicken, trying to get home in time for my gig in San Diego on Monday (don't worry, I sorted it):

https://www.mystgalaxy.com/32425Doctorow

Therefore, this is 30th linkdump, in which I collect the assorted links that didn't make it into this week's newsletters. Here are the other 29:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

I always like to start and end these 'dumps with some good news, which isn't easy in these absolutely terrifying times. But there is some good news: Wil Wheaton has announced his new podcast, a successor of sorts to the LeVar Burton Reads podcast. It's called "It's Storytime" and it features Wil reading his favorite stories handpicked from science fiction magazines, including On Spec, the magazine that bought my very first published story (I was 16, it ran in their special youth issue, it wasn't very good, but boy did it mean a lot to me):

https://wilwheaton.net/podcast/

Here's some more good news: a court has found (again!) that works created by AI are not eligible for copyright. This is the very best possible outcome for people worried about creators' rights in the age of AI, because if our bosses can't copyright the botshit that comes out of the "AI" systems trained on our work, then they will pay us:

https://www.yahoo.com/news/us-appeals-court-rejects-copyrights-171203999.html

Our bosses hate paying us, but they hate the idea of not being able to stop people from copying their entertainment products so! much! more! It's that simple:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/20/everything-made-by-an-ai-is-in-the-public-domain/

This outcome is so much better than the idea that AI training isn't fair use – an idea that threatens the existence of search engines, archiving, computational linguistics, and other clearly beneficial activities. Worse than that, though: if we create a new copyright that allows creators to prevent others from scraping and analyzing their works, our bosses will immediately alter their non-negotiable boilerplate contracts to demand that we assign them this right. That will allow them to warehouse huge troves of copyrighted material that they will sell to AI companies who will train models designed to put us on the breadline (see above, re: our bosses hate paying us):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/13/hey-look-over-there/#lets-you-and-he-fight

The rights of archivists grow more urgent by the day, as the Trump regime lays waste to billions of dollars worth of government materials that were produced at public expense, deleting decades of scientific, scholarly, historical and technical materials. This is the kind of thing you might expect the National Archive or the Library of Congress to take care of, but they're being chucked into the meat-grinder as well.

To make things even worse, Trump and Musk have laid waste to the Institute of Museum and Library Services, a tiny, vital agency that provides funding to libraries, archives and museums across the country. Evan Robb writes about all the ways the IMLS supports the public in his state of Washington:

Technology support. Last-mile broadband connection, network support, hardware, etc. Assistance with the confusing e-rate program for reduced Internet pricing for libraries.

Coordinated group purchase of e-books, e-audiobooks, scholarly research databases, etc.

Library services for the blind and print-disabled.

Libraries in state prisons, juvenile detention centers, and psychiatric institutions.

Digitization of, and access to, historical resources (e.g., newspapers, government records, documents, photos, film, audio, etc.).

Literacy programming and support for youth services at libraries.

The entire IMLS budget over the next 10 years rounds to zero when compared to the US federal budget – and yet, by gutting it, DOGE is amputating significant parts of the country's systems that promote literacy; critical thinking; and universal access to networks, media and ideas. Put it that way, and it's not hard to see why they hate it so.

Trying to figure out what Trump is up to is (deliberately) confusing, because Trump and Musk are pursuing a chaotic agenda that is designed to keep their foes off-balance:

https://www.wired.com/story/elon-musk-donald-trump-chaos/

But as Hamilton Nolan writes, there's a way to cut through the chaos and make sense of it all. The problem is that there are a handful of billionaires who have so much money that when they choose chaos, we all have to live with it:

The significant thing about the way that Elon Musk is presently dismantling our government is not the existence of his own political delusions, or his own self-interested quest to privatize public functions, or his own misreading of economics; it is the fact that he is able to do it. And he is able to do it because he has several hundred billion dollars. If he did not have several hundred billion dollars he would just be another idiot with bad opinions. Because he has several hundred billion dollars his bad opinions are now our collective lived experience.

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/the-underlying-problem

We actually have a body of law designed to prevent this from happening. It's called "antitrust" and 40 years ago, Jimmy Carter decided to follow the advice of some of history's dumbest economists who said that fighting monopolies made the economy "inefficient." Every president since, up to – but not including – Biden, did even more to encourage monopolization and the immense riches it creates for a tiny number of greedy bastards.

But Biden changed that. Thanks to the "Unity Taskforce" that divided up the presidential appointments between the Democrats' corporate wing and the Warren/Sanders wing, Biden appointed some of the most committed, effective trustbusters we'd seen for generations:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

After Trump's election, there was some room for hope that Trump's FTC would continue to pursue at least some of the anti-monopoly work of the Biden years. After all, there's a sizable faction within the MAGA movement that hates (some) monopolies:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/24/enforcement-priorities/#enemies-lists

But last week, Trump claimed to have illegally fired the two Democratic commissioners on the FTC: Alvaro Bedoya and Rebecca Slaughter. I stan both of these commissioners, hard. When they were at the height of their powers in the Biden years, I had the incredible, disorienting experience of getting out of bed, checking the headlines, and feeling very good about what the government had just done.

Trump isn't legally allowed to fire Bedoya and Slaughter. Perhaps he's just picking this fight as part of his chaos agenda (see above). But there are some other pretty good theories about what this is setting up. In his BIG newsletter, Matt Stoller proposes that Trump is using this case as a wedge, trying to set a precedent that would let him fire Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/why-trump-tried-to-fire-federal-trade

But perhaps there's more to it. Stoller just had Commissioner Bedoya on Organized Money, the podcast he co-hosts with David Dayen, and Bedoya pointed out that if Trump can fire Democratic commissioners, he can also fire Republican commissioners. That means that if he cuts a shady deal with, say, Jeff Bezos, he can order the FTC to drop its case against Amazon and fire the Republicans on the commission if they don't frog when he jumps:

https://www.organizedmoney.fm/p/trumps-showdown-at-the-ftc-with-commissioner

(By the way, Organized Money is a fantastic podcast, notwithstanding the fact that they put me on the show last week:)

https://audio.buzzsprout.com/6f5ly01qcx6ijokbvoamr794ht81

The future that our plutocrat overlords are grasping for is indeed a terrible one. You can see its shape in the fantasies of "liberatarian exit" – the seasteads, free states, and other assorted attempts to build anarcho-capitalist lawless lands where you can sell yourself into slavery, or just sell your kidneys. The best nonfiction book on libertarian exit is Raymond Criab's 2022 "Adventure Capitalism," a brilliant, darkly hilarious and chilling history of every time a group of people have tried to found a nation based on elevating selfishness to a virtue:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/14/this-way-to-the-egress/#terra-nullius

If Craib's book is the best nonfiction volume on the subject of libertarian exit, then Naomi Kritzer's super 2023 novel Liberty's Daughter is the best novel about life in a libertopia – a young adult novel about a girl growing up in the hell that would be life with a Heinlein-type dad:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/21/podkaynes-dad-was-a-dick/#age-of-consent

But now this canon has a third volume, a piece of design fiction from Atelier Van Lieshout called "Slave City," which specs out an arcology populated with 200,000 inhabitants whose "very rational, efficient and profitable" arrangements produce €7b/year in profit:

https://www.archdaily.com/30114/slave-city-atelier-van-lieshout

This economic miracle is created by the residents' "voluntary" opt-in to a day consisting of 7h in an office, 7h toiling in the fields, 7h of sleep, and 3h for "leisure" (e.g. hanging out at "The Mall," a 24/7, 26-storey " boundless consumer paradise"). Slaves who wish to better themselves can attend either Female Slave University or Male Slave University (no gender controversy in Slave City!), which run 24/7, with 7 hours of study, 7 hours of upkeep and maintenance on the facility, 7h of sleep, and, of course, 3h of "leisure."

The field of design fiction is a weird and fertile one. In his traditional closing keynote for this year's SXSW Interactive festival, Bruce Sterling opens with a little potted history of the field since it was coined by Julian Bleeker:

https://bruces.medium.com/how-to-rebuild-an-imaginary-future-2025-0b14e511e7b6

Then Bruce moves on to his own latest design fiction project, an automated poetry machine called the Versificatore first described by Primo Levi in an odd piece of science fiction written for a newspaper. The Versificatore was then adapted to the screen in 1971, for an episode of an Italian sf TV show based on Levi's fiction:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tva-D_8b8-E

And now Sterling has built a Versificatore. The keynote is a sterlingian delight – as all of his SXSW closers are. It's a hymn to the value of "imaginary futures" and an instruction manual for recovering them. It could not be more timely.

Sterling's imaginary futures would be a good upbeat note to end this 'dump with, but I've got a real future that's just as inspiring to close us out with: the EU has found Apple guilty of monopolizing the interfaces to its devices and have ordered the company to open them up for interoperability, so that other manufacturers – European manufacturers! – can make fully interoperable gadgets that are first-class citizens of Apple's "ecosystem":

https://www.reuters.com/technology/apple-ordered-by-eu-antitrust-regulators-open-up-rivals-2025-03-19/

It's a good reminder that as America crumbles, there are still places left in the world with competent governments that want to help the people they represent thrive and prosper. As the Prophet Gibson tells us, "the future is here, it's just not evenly distributed." Let's hope that the EU is living in America's future, and not the other way around.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/22/omnium-gatherum/#storytime

Image: TDelCoro https://www.flickr.com/photos/tomasdelcoro/48116604516/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

[foibles-fables]

Hey Foibs! Saw your reblog on Asley Willians >.> I wanted to ask more about it. But I am a bit afraid that I just started playing Mass Effect and don't want any spoilers. But isn't she..... a bit too much huh... racist? Does it get better over time? I mean, she is such a badass :~ but the racist part is totally a turn-down for me.

I'm going to start with a general statement and then work my way to your specific questions: Ashley Williams's character arc over the trilogy is an absolutely fantastic one--IMO, it's the most powerful. It's subtle on the surface, but if you know what you're looking for, it hits hard. For that reason she's my Femshep's unbroken canon LI, even if it's only in my head.

As for your specific questions re: racism/spacism--I do encourage some re-examining there. Since I'm not sure how far you are in the game and don't want to spoil anything, I'm going to keep my comments on this specific post on the vaguer side. However, I'll definitely refer you to @cannot-rest's awesome Spacism Debunker masterpost for when you get a little farther in the game/trilogy, as well as this video analysis of her character.

Is Ashley's attitude at the beginning of ME1 a positive one, or presented in a good light? No. From the jump it's the antithesis of what the series eventually has to say about unity. But then, isn't the council's hemming and hawing attitude towards humanity also that same antithesis? So are comments made by Wrex, Garrus, Mordin--and especially when the latter two ARE members of actual dominant sociopolitical powers in the galaxy. Of which humans are not, and have been labeled as "aggressive" as a side effect of the First Contact War debacle.

And besides--doesn't a character need a flaw from which to grow?

To that I'll add: Ashley's flaw isn't "she's racist." That's Pressley. It's a lack of self-esteem brought on by her family baggage--which, when taken into consideration, puts her mistrusting attitudes into perspective. It doesn't make them right, but it makes them make sense. Especially considering that her main comments re: not trusting the others on the Normandy are very much security/military concerns. Which, again, tie into her family history and how it's impacted her until present day.

(it's already known that the "aliens from the animals" line is bugged dialogue. And that the "throwing your dog at a bear" metaphor has been misinterpreted by fans. See the link above for delineations of that.)

I also encourage comparing her attitudes to the ACTUAL anti-alien/human supremacy folks: Pressley, the Terra Firma party (to whom she reacts with disgust), and another organization that will become important in ME2 (to whom she reacts with even more disgust).

All in all, Ashley is a phenomenal and flawed character with a fantastic throughline on her arc, and is also widely (if not understandably) misinterpreted, and it makes me really sad that so many folks write her off from the opening moments of the first game.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Backalley Galaxy - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Jinx's cosmic field trip + self-care retreat + honeymoon

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

Jinx breathes deep. She aligns emotion with essence, desire with deed.

Then, with a blink of her eyelids, the glyphs take flight. Red-gold-green-violet-blue, wrapping around her in concentric circles. Rings of a planet, and they're hers.

So's the cosmos just beyond the range of her senses, not one but thousands, rising and falling in a seismograph of symphonies.

She doesn't touch them. That's as risky as hitchhiking down the Deadlands at midnight with the family jewels jingling in your pocket and a bright red apple stuck in your mouth.

She's learnt that the hard way: that there's an ether between each cosmic fabric. An infinite fold, where broken things wander. Where you'll lose yourself if you're not disciplined enough to keep to one world, and one alone.

Jinx has been caught in the ether's undertow before. Found herself caught between the jaws of its allure, and the impact would've pulverized her bones.

She'd fought the tide with all her strength as it tried to drag her under. She'd tried to remember all the tricks in the books she'd read. The names of everyone who'd ever mattered to her. Everything she'd ever built. Everything she'd ever blown apart.

Everyone she'd ever loved.

Mommy. Daddy. Vander. Mylo. Claggor.

Silco.

Vi.

Ekko.

And all the while, from the depths, she'd heard them calling. Figments that could've been phantoms. Maybe friends; maybe foes. Old selves, new selves. Those who were still here, and those who'd been lost. And some who'd yet to live, and looked upon her with eyes the color of Silco's good blue one, and dark ringlets in their hair, and copper in their skins.

She'd longed to embrace them. Longed to hear them speak. To say: Hey, y'all. You're my peeps.

My family.

That's what they'd whispered, too. They'd promised her everything: magic, mass, matter. A love that tasted, not of bitter betrayals and hidden heartbreaks, but eternity. Kisses that didn't end on the fullstop of borrowed time and fractured fairytales, but lasted forever-and-ever, without death cutting the cord between bodies and souls.

Promises that she could have it all. That it was hers for the taking.

All she had to do was reach out and touch...

Stay, the voices crooned. Stay.

We have everything you want, Jinx. A story of your own, where you can write whatever ending you like. Where nobody's gonna tell you what ain't right, or what ain't real. You can make your life a bestseller, complete with stars and starlets. And every scene is exactly the way you pictured it. Every hero, a winner. Every villain, a flash in the pan.

All playtime, all pranks, all perfect.

Forever.

Jinx knew better.

Perfect was a losing game from the get-go.

She'd struggled. Against their seductions of friendship, their false vows of closure. She'd screamed, and those succubae and incubae beyond reckoning had screamed back to her. Their eyes, black and poison-hungry, had snared her within the wormhole of their netted designs. She'd fought on, knowing the fight was futile.

Because they had already begun to feast.

And then—

Two voices, reaching from above and below. Each speaking in counterpoint with the other. Calling out in stereo, in synchronicity. Urging her on, keeping her strong. Keeping her fighting.

You don't belong to them, Jinx.

Never surrender.

Never forget.

Vi and Silco, calling out to her like dueling sirens. Their cries, echoes of each other. Echoes of her.

Full circle.

With a scream, she'd flung herself backward. She'd fallen, and was caught by the slipstream of her own momentum. And she'd have gone on being caught, spinning in circles over and over, if Viktor hadn't cut through the maelstrom and done the job that she could not.

Ended it.

And with the ending, came the rebirth. 

The Change.

On that day, Jinx had killed Powder for the final time. She'd laid the little girl to rest in a corpus of stardust, with Vander and Mylo and Claggor gathered round, and serene silence stirring in her heart.

No funeral rites. Just farewells, and crows circling away.

She'd taken Viktor's hand, clasped his bony fingers, and touched her cheek to his. He'd been beautiful in that twilit realm, garbed in silver glory and faded sepia with gore. And yet his fragility burned bright. That boyish sense of wonder, a pindot intensity in his eyes.

Persisting, despite everything. Outnumbering the odds.

Let's go, she'd whispered.

Yes, he'd said. Let's.

And they'd begun the journey, through endless fathoms of light and dark. Begun, and yet stood in stasis, as Viktor began the deadly, delicate work of solidifying their tether, stitch-by-stitch, so she'd always feel the throbbing sense of a twin soul burning bright inside her. So they'd never again lose each other among the superhighways of the Void.

Between dimensions; between dreams; between deaths.

Together, Jinx-and-Viktor had slipped along the ether's currents. Together, they'd leapt from thread-to-thread. Together, they'd glided down the lustrous string of fate guiding them to the only destination that mattered. A haven, right and ripe for their union. He'd shaped the atoms, the sensory lexicon; Jinx breathed life into them, crafted the glittering palimpsest of their memories: lace-tipped waves flowing, spangled stars dancing, sands of time glittering cool and ticklish beneath their bare feet.

In this place, they'd shared themselves as one.

I can hear your memories, Jinx.

I can taste yours. Freaky.

Viktor smiled his gentle smile. In the other realm—the real one? the false one?—he was never much more than a pair of scrutinizing eyes at a guarded distance, his pale jaw set and his narrow shoulders braced to carry a thousand burdens.

Here, he could let down that shielded stance. Be himself, stripped to the softly-luminous core.

Human, and all hers.

There was so much I wished to unlock, he whispered, tracing folded fingers down the constellations on her cheek. And it's all here. Within you.

Told ya. I'm one of a kind.

Viktor's smile stayed put. He pressed his forehead to hers. Do you know... how many universes there are, Jinx?

Oodles.

A hypothesis, then. You, Jinx—

Me?

—and all your variations throughout the multiverse are the nexus of a grander design. You are a singularity, around which our private cosmos spins.

Like an atom?

Or a cog.

Jinx drew back. Made a moue. Cogs are for killjoys.

The gentle shine of his eyes was undimmed. The fingertips tracing her skin left spectral swirls, fireworks balanced on their reflections in the water. 

Cogs are part of something greater than themselves. Their beauty lies in their connection to the rest. And their meaning lies in their motion. Without it, we would stagnate. Wither. Die.

Sheesh, that's depressing.

I mean to say that you have freed me from inertia, Jinx. With you... He stopped. Not bashfulness, because Viktor had no room left for that. Not here. All that stood out was the reverence: bleeding through as he cradled her head in his hands.  With you, there is the potential for infinite possibilities, each spinning off into another, and another after that. And I... Awe, spilling out in trembles.  I want to discover them. Discover all the possibilities there could be.

We will, Jinx promised, and twined her arms around him. We'll punch 'em out—Bam! Pow! Ka-ching!—until it's all just one big beautiful mess with Zaun's flag flying over it.

He'd laughed, as she'd known he would.

They stayed on that little island forever. Or between fractions of split-seconds. Whatever. Time wasn't time there. It was timeless. Hand-in-hand, they'd walked the mirrored shores and followed the seagrass bowing over dunes shaped like diamonds. They'd played tag through the night-blooming gardens, swinging under flowering archways, until their own laughter left them dizzed. They'd embraced in the coral caves, foreheads together, eyes locked and spirits resonating as they resurrected old pains and buried them there, together.

Later, dragging herself through the unmitigated ugliness of reality, Jinx would wish for eidetic memory. Wish she'd captured every ripple, every revelation, every rapture. Keep it catalogued somewhere for posterity.

But wishes are for wide-eyed dreamers.

Jinx was eyes-shut awake.

And because she was awake, she remembered enough. Enough for nostalgia. Enough for dreams.

Enough for hope.

Enough, but little else.

She remembered when they'd departed the silvered shores, leaving unmarked the sand where their feet had left prints, and the latticed starlight had safeguarded their secrets. The parting was inevitable; life was waiting for them beyond its bounds. Silco, and Vi, and Zaun. The consequences of Viktor's reckless error, and Jinx's swandive toward martyrdom.

The cost of perfection, writ in blood.

They'd joined once more, but it wasn't the death-defying anamnesis of before. It was easy-as-you-please, as Jinx opened herself to him and invited him to melt into the spaces between her atoms. Because he belonged there now; because this was home-away-from-home.

It would be, for the rest of their days.

And though the joy was a sacred flame, and Viktor's smile so, so sweet, it was a sorrowful sweetness.

Because Jinx knew, down deep, she was meant to be twined with another.  Another, with whom nothing was going to be same again. Her bond with Viktor was set, settled, deep in Jinx's matrix. Her quicksilver thoughts, filtered through Viktor's keen self-focus. His wisdom, transfigured by her volatility.

A mutuality that'd make the Void sing, if they traversed these dimensions again.

And yet...

And yet, Jinx wished for someone else. Wished with every fiber of herself. Because even if their orbits had spun out of sync, the scars were still strung like pearls between them, shining bright as the stars that'd made them for each other. Still calling out, back and forth: an endless song-of-call and response.

Ekko, Ekko, Ekko.

It’d always be the pair of them. Hand-to-hand; heart-to-heart. Building gizmos in the basement and racing across the rooftops, their laughter chasing after like shooting-stars.

She must've wept, or wailed, or shown some secret anguish. Because Viktor had paused to clasp her hands in his own.

I'm sorry, he'd told her. Truly. I wish—

She'd wished too, for a whole different outcome. For better odds, and safer bets. For a happily-ever-after that left you smiling to the last, not sobbing till your guts ached and your heart bled across the rainy cobblestones inches from your father’s corpse.

She'd wished so fucking bad.

But wishes, well. You know.

It's okay, Vik, she'd whispered back. I don't regret this.

No?

Not for a damn second. It's the shiniest thing that ever happened to me. A tiny grimace. Even if we did sorta cock it up on the other side.

He didn't laugh, as she knew he wouldn't. Only enfolded her close, as fiercely as he must've prayed for a good leg and a working pair of lungs as a boy.  Jinx held him back, twice as tight, knowing, somehow, that it would be the last time they could do so without boundaries. On the other side, the gentleness of him would recede from her synapses, leaving behind an imprint. An echo.

And not the Ekko who was always just one step away, forever reaching out his hand to catch her when she fell, or when she flew too high on the fumes of freedom and forgot how to live without hurting others or hurting herself.

How strange, to be held, yet hollowed out.

To be so close, yet so far from closure.

 Viktor's lips touched her forehead. They were one: the essence of themselves flowering into a breathless harmony. Yet there were tears standing in his eyes, unashamed.

If it were mine to give, he said. I'd let you stay here forever.

Psssh. Jinx nuzzled closer. No can do.

No?

Silly would shank ya.

Viktor said nothing. Just smiled. Just waited.

And Jinx, readying herself for the home stretch, nodded.

The last threads wove into one. And together, they plunged. Back through the membrane of creation, universes strobing and spinning out from underneath their feet. The cosmic strands rippled at their passing, each humming their own individual melody, each imparting their own secrets. Jinx breathed those melodies in. Hoarded those secrets for safekeeping. In another life—one where Vi kept her temper screwed on straight; where Sevika didn't pity her guts; where Silco...

Oh, Silco.

Jinx shut her eyes, and let the tears burn out. Shut her ears to the screaming chorus as they crossed the in-between realm. It sang out from all directions, filling the dark fabric between hers and Viktor's consciousness, trying to invade the stronghold their mindmade love had fused between themselves.

No dice.

Their bond lasted the distance. It outran the phantoms snapping at their heels, and the vortex yawning to swallow them. Viktor felt her pain and wrapped it in empathy; Jinx felt his fragility and fortified it with fearlessness.

That, at least, they could do, and well.

Together.

Merged, their spirits scaled the distance, carrying them out from the interdimensional fold, and back to the Now. Back to Zaun, with its pulsating neon and its insatiable hungers: the nexus of home and hell, where tragedies and triumphs marched to the mad drum of Progress.

Maybe, Jinx cracked, I'll write a book.

Oh?

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Backalley Galaxy. It'll be a hoot!

Doubtless, replied Viktor, half-here, half-everywhere, but solid as an anchor as they made explosive landfall.

Together, they returned.

Together, they lived.

Together...

...in the med-bay, with its nauseatingly bright halogens, and the searing stink of disinfectant, and Silco's bottomless rage, and his fist slamming into Viktor's gut.

A strange pain, hot and prickling. It echoed inside Jinx. In tune with Viktor's shock.

Then: darkness.