#helm’s not such a hero after all

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Since we’re talking about Helm Hammerhand again in light of the latest War of the Rohirrim news, I’m gonna use the moment to unload my take (alluded to earlier this week) that Helm’s life and legend are a lot less heroic and a lot more ambiguous than they’re often treated.

The popular version of Helm is that he killed the troublemaking Dunlending upstart Freca with a single punch before leading his people through a combination war-famine-climate disaster and dying on their behalf as part of the effort. But that story misses a lot of the details and ignores the things that were very much Helm’s fault!

Let’s start with Freca. First of all, he was actually a Rohirrim, not a Dunlending. He claimed to descend from King Fréawine, and maybe you don’t believe him about that. Fair enough. But he both physically lived in Rohan – he had a stronghold near the Gap of Rohan – and was a member of Helm’s own royal council. So he was absolutely a citizen of Rohan, even if he perhaps had Dunlending heritage (as would many people who lived in the border area). 

Now, was Freca a jerk? It sounds like it! He was rich and influential and he “paid little heed” to Helm and only bothered to show up to councils when it suited him. Not great! And he eventually showed up to one such council “with many men” to seek Helm’s approval for a marriage between Helm’s daughter and Freca’s son, Wulf. All that suggests that Freca was an ambitious schemer who probably didn’t have good intentions and might have been an actual threat. But Helm’s reaction on that day was unhinged. He calls Freca fat, makes him sit around waiting before Helm will speak to him, “forces” Freca outside, sends Freca’s men away with the assurance that the two of them are just going to talk, then insults him again and sucker punches him to death before designating his entire family (“Who, us? We weren’t even there!”) as enemies of the kingdom. That seems…over the top?

Helm doesn’t have to like Freca’s proposal, but it wasn’t unreasonable — marriages of strategic alliance between powerful families are as old as time and often prudent. Helm could have just said no (though it would have been nice for him to check with his daughter because for all we know she was into Wulf!). Instead, he verbally and physically bullies Freca, lies to get him isolated and then straight up murders him. There’s no evidence this was necessary. Helm was on his home turf, surrounded by loyal men. Freca does nothing physically aggressive — he even waits as directed when Helm tells him to! — and he only gets verbally aggressive after Helm has already insulted him.

Helm could have played this much smarter and much calmer and avoided a whole lot of later heartbreak. Because when Rohan is invaded from the east 4 years later, guess who decides to take advantage of the moment to invade from the west? An army of Dunlendings led by Wulf! That results in Helm and the Rohirrim being holed up at the Hornburg for the Long Winter, where they all suffer grievously from war, famine and 5 months of snow and cold. Helm behaves admirably during this time, exhibiting courage and tenacity, and he suffers right alongside his people before dying in their defense. But he wouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place if he hadn’t all but pushed Wulf into the Dunlendings arms by murdering his father and banishing the whole family. 

What I think ACTUALLY happened is that Helm was a total hothead who hated the fact that Freca had an independent power base and failed to show him enough respect as king. He was pissed off at the very idea that he’d have to make a concession to Freca’s power by uniting their families, and he probably felt threatened by the possibility that Freca or Wulf might usurp him at some point. So he committed cold blooded murder and then successfully ran a propaganda campaign to paint Freca and his whole family as foreigners to delegitimize them and excuse his own behavior. And as a result, he got a whole ton of good Rohirrim (including both of his own sons, Háma and Haleth!) killed during the horror of the Long Winter and ended up dead himself.

So I don’t know. That’s not very heroic! I’m open to having my mind changed. But he seems like he’s, at best, a MUCH more complicated figure than the Rohirrim remember him as. And, at worst, he’s kind of a dick.

[emilybeemartin]

Boromir Lives AU: We Didn't Have a Choice

Alternate title is They're All Just Kids With PTSD, Your Honor

This (ridiculously long? omg why so long, I did not mean for it to be this long) comic is a good example of how my plotlines usually develop---I'll write what I think is a self-contained story and then realize there are whole new narratives beyond it. This is how my first novel, Woodwalker, became a trilogy---I was writing it as a standalone novel until about the last three or four chapters, when I realized I'd kicked off a whole new series of political events. For this AU, I was thinking about how it would feel for Elboron to grow up in the long shadow of his parents, and idolizing his uncle(s) while also wondering how he'd ever measure up. For Boromir, I think he'd be so fulfilled to see his nephew get to come of age in a gentler world that he and his brother and all the others didn't get. Though if he had a future as anything other than a soldier I'm pretty sure it would be as a TikTok star showing us how to create a perfect ballerina bun. Show us your products, Boromir, dang.

This comic also reminded me that I clearly have a distinct set of author tropes because this has STRONG Veran vibes (Sunshield, Floodpath), with a young character feeling overwhelmed with the legacies of his parents. This is a bit of an opposite arc, though--- Veran wants to follow in his mother's footsteps but isn't allowed to, and so gravitates toward diplomacy, while Elboron feels pressured to take up soldiering like his namesake but would rather study language. Come to think of it, the manuscript I turned into my agent a few weeks ago also has some of these themes, which either means I need to stop writing quest follow-ups or start a Protagonists With Heroes For Parents support group.

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Boromir Lives: Helm's Deep

Boromir Lives: Whump-Time After Pelennor

Boromir Lives: GO TO SLEEP

Boromir Lives: Aragorn's Coronation

Boromir Lives: Faramir and Eowyn's Wedding

Boromir Lives: It's a BABY

Boromir Lives: High Uncle of the White Tower

Boromir Lives: The Haircuts

[simpxxstan]

best friend's older brother mingyu

this is part of my 550 followers celebration event! find the rest of the members' headcanons in the event too as i post them through this month!

warnings: SMUT 18+ NSFW, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT making out, dry humping, untouched orgasm, mingyu is a slight perv

thinking about best friend's older brother!mingyu who you haven't seen in seven years

ever since he'd been selected into the under-19 basketball team, and then the national basketball team for south korea, you'd only ever see him on the tv screen in his games and interviews. he hasn't come back home in ages and has probably forgotten all about you.

that does not, however, mean that you have forgotten about him. you've watched all of his matches, kept track of his records, and following him like his #1 fan. you are his #1 fan, you think. you keep a scrapbook with all of his achievements and photographs and every little symbol of him. you're perfectly content with loving him in secret, in the depths of your heart. the ideal man, the hypothetically perfect match, the epitome of perfection.

his sister does not know about your not so little crush. she's aware that you liked him once or twice in school days. but she's dismissed it because you haven't seen him in ages, how can one have a crush on someone they haven't met in years?

oh but you can. it's a wild pining, that blooms into warmth every once in a while, when you open your scrapbook each night, when you watch him play on the tv. and as each day passes, instead of your desire for him decreasing, it seems to be rapidly rising.

for, if fifteen year old mingyu had been taller than his entire class and a certified visual, twenty-two year old mingyu is an absolute god. it's positively worse for you because unlike others, who treat mingyu as a celebrity crush, you know him. you remember what his touch feels like, you remember what his scent is like, you remember what his gaze feels like. you remember how nervous he made you every time he talked to you. you remember how broad his back had been even as an adolescent. you remember how raspy his morning voice would be freshly after he had hit puberty. you remember how kind he used to be to you, because you were sister's best friend. so, unlike the others, your fantasies are based on real things and not just intangible imagination.

thinking about best friend's older brother!mingyu who retires from his basketball career after winning the gold medal at the olympics

he returns to his hometown, a cherished celebrity, because he wants to go back to his normal life. he's seen how some of his most respected seniors got dismissed as soon as they could be replaced by young talent, and mingyu wants to retire while he's still remembered as the golden star of korea. so he retires at the helm of his career, a hero.

and while he will miss the team, he won't be missing the pressure that came along with it. he'd rather become an engineer like he'd always wanted to and live a steady life ahead.

but when he returns, he sees you. after seven years. standing next to his sister at his home, where there are a ton of unfamiliar faces, all here to get selfies with the celebrity.

"who's that?" his sister barks out a laugh, "you don't recognise y/n? you idiot!" y/n? fuck him for not realising you've grown up too. fuck him for not remembering how pretty your eyes had been underneath the thick glasses you'd worn since childhood.

"how could i? i saw you last when i was, fifteen?" "yeah. and i was twelve." "nice to see you're still my sister's best friend." "nice to see you back home. congrats on the win, though." mingyu smiles. you smile too. fuck. you have dimples. where did the nerdy little girl with braids and freckles go?

thinking about best friend's older brother!mingyu who joins your college, majoring in aerospace engineering, which is coincidentally also your major

he sits next to you. it's your first day in class and mingyu's joining three years late but no one really minds. everyone is too busy fawning over him. look at his arms. look at his smile. look at his long hair.

"why are you sitting here? there's plenty of place for you to sit." "i'd rather sit next to a familiar face. why, do you want me gone?" "no but you're distracting." he leans in closer, leaving nearly no space between your seats. "distracting?" "yes. if you haven't noticed, there are like a dozen cameras pointed at you right now, and a dozen more eyes. not to mention that everyone wants to sit next to you, so you choosing to sit next to me ruins my chances of making friends with others." your glare is stern, and mingyu can't help the way his heart races when you look at him like that from above your glasses.

"i'm shier than you think. i'm here to escape the attention too." you sigh, "i don't remember you to be like this." i don't either, mingyu wants to say. from your height difference, he can see a bit of your cleavage and he almost drools. "people change, y/n-ah." you turn your face away as the professor comes in. "well, please focus in class then. otherwise i won't really like you sitting next to me, no matter what your excuse is."

thinking about best friend's older brother!mingyu who begins to rely on you totally in college

from sitting next to you in class, to sitting next to you and his sister during lunch, he's become a permanent feature in your periphery nowadays. and you're not sure you can take it any longer. because fuck your memory had served you wrong.

mingyu still smells like that, his voice is still like that, but he's grown at least three sizes bigger, and he just doesn't fit in the small class seats. his arm is nearly always on your desk, especially because he is left-handed. you always sit on one end of your seat to ensure mingyu and your legs aren't constantly touching. and it doesn't help that he laughs at even your smallest jokes because he always, always ends up slapping your thighs or arms during his laughter. frankly, every day in class is torture.

it doesn't help that mingyu now hangs out a lot more with you and his sister. so if you're doing homework in the library, mingyu tags along. if you're gossiping in her bedroom, somehow mingyu's also there, although he's engrossed on his phone. eventually, you stop becoming conscious of his presence, and stop censoring your conversations. it's not easy, but not impossible.

mingyu eventually invites himself over to your house for a study session before the exams. it's just the two of you, because your best friend is studying with her own group of classmates who have the same major as her. it's safe to say, it's a completely useless session for you because you get no studying done.

mingyu is literally in your personal space throughout the evening. he may be sitting opposite to you, but somehow his knees knock against yours under the table, his long hands stretch across the table to take the highlighter you're using from your hands, and he leans right into your face on the pretext of listening to what you're explaining. finally you can't take his attention on you any longer, and you take too many bathroom breaks to calm your racing heart.

thinking about best friend's older brother!mingyu who is a part of the varsity basketball team

he may be a freshman, but he's still the captain because his skills are undoubtedly the best among the lot. and while he has retired from the national team, he still loves the sport enough to be a part of the college team.

of course, he wins the inter-college basketball varsity cup, and the entire college is roaring and cheering for him. mingyu knows you're somewhere in the stadium- he'd spotted you right before his final match-winning shot, but now he can't see you at all.

using this as a means to escape the attention of cameras and other people, he runs through the corridors to find you sitting in a classroom, empty because everyone's at the stadium in the grounds to watch the match. "didn't you watch the match?" his voice makes you turn around, slightly jerking at the sudden voice. "of course i did. i knew you would win."

you look heavenly right now. not that you don't all the other times, but especially today because you're wearing the jersey he used to wear for the national team. he knows a hundred other girls were wearing it too in the stadium, but they were all copies. this is the original- he knows because his sister has told him that she's given it to you. and while it's loose on your body, there's crazy rush of arousal running through his veins right now as he sees his name written all over your back: number 9, mingyu.

"then why are you hiding here? i was taking out my sis for lunch afterwards. my treat. she'll be happy if you come along." i will be too, but he doesn't say it.

"no i- i have some revision to do. the viva's day after tomorrow, and i know i-" you stand up to face him, but your words fail you when he takes three steps closer towards you until his entire figure towers over you. "or are you just avoiding me?" he can see the effect he's having on you, the way your skin gets redder with blush and the way you keep averting his eyes. it makes the adrenaline rush quicker and his braveness increase. he's high from the victory and from playing his beloved sport after so long, so he's not averse to taking a few risks right now that he would not take any other day. so he leans in closer to you, until he can smell your perfume.

"why would i avoid you? and why are you here? shouldn't you be celebrating with your team?" "i wanted to see you." "don't lie to me for no reason, please." mingyu huffs, and pauses before replying. he takes in a deep breath, inhaling your delicious scent again, before he replies. "i'm not lying. why don't you believe me? is it so imposs-""not impossible. just, i don't know. irrational. doesn't make sense. look i know you may feel shy but i'd think you're used to this kind of attention. in fact, i always thought you rejoice in this attention."

you're right. you're so right, because any other day, and he knows he would be out there with his team, hollering and celebrating the win. but right now, he can't think of anyone but you. even on the field, from the moment he spotted you in the stands, he couldn't think of anything but how he wants to play for you. win for you. impress you. so that you have more reasons to like him. more notes to add in your-

"i saw your scrapbook." he sees the way your eyes dilate. "when?" "when i went to your house." "you fucking snoop-" "was that all a lie?" "min-" "i need to know, i need to know. i need to know because i can't think of anything else. i need to know because i don't want anything else from my life. i need to know."

"no!" you finally look up at him, cornered against the desk because he's caved you totally. "it's true. all of it. so what? will you laugh at me for it?" at that, mingyu's confidence falters for the first time. "laugh? why would i l- y/n, what are you saying?" "i know what you're doing. all this smooth talking, all your attention, you're just playing me along. and i won't be played along, mingyu."

"fuck, is that- is that what you've been thinking all along? fuck, no wonder you're avoiding me." he mutters under his breath, but he can see the confusion in your face too. "what do you mean, mingyu?" he doesn't want to answer, because he knows he will fuck up the words. so he just says, "stop me if you don't want this."

and he leans in and kisses you. it's a messy kiss from the first moment, because he's moving too fast and you're moving too slow in your shock. he pulls back after a second, his eyes glazed. "talk to me, y/n. tell me somethin-" "kiss me again, mingyu. kiss me like you mean it."

so he does. your tongues clashing and you moan when his hands wrap around your hips. spurred on by your sounds, he picks you up from the desk in one go. you squirm in his grip, wrapping your hands around his neck, clinging on to him as you float in air for a second. but you don't break the kiss. he holds on to you like dear life, as he turns around and sits on the desk himself, pulling you on to his lap. he carefully pulls away from the kiss for a breath and leans against the wall.

mingyu drags you closer to him, your legs folding around him and- "fuck, gyu- you- you're hard?" he hisses when you grind your body against him. "you're so hard from some kissing?" there's a teasing lilt in your voice, and for some reason, it's turning him on even more. but then his grip tightens on your hips as he pulls you to grind over him faster, while kissing you desperately.

your hands get lost in gyu's soft, long hair. mingyu's hands trail along your bare thighs under the skirt, and when he touches the hem of your panties, he feels from over your panties just how wet you've become, and he moans from the sticky feeling. "don't stop, gyu," you're whispering, and he doesn't. he sees you throw your head back, as you crave the friction and keep grinding against his crotch. the sweat from mingyu's body has trailed onto you, and he finds droplets of sweat running down your neck into your cleavage. he bucks his hips up into you at the sight, and you hold on to his shoulders to grind on him faster.

"can you come like this, baby? i can- i'm going to, if you keep moving your h-hips like-fuck!" and he does. kim mingyu, star of the generation, national basketball champion, icon of the college, comes right in his pants as you ride him and kiss him, chasing your own high. he doesn't stop you, although the humping is pushing him to overstimulation, but he keeps biting your lips and your neck the way you seem to like it, and soon you pull off his lips with a scream, your entire body trembles, and he can see the way your thighs quiver and then go still.

"that was so hot, baby." mingyu says after a minute of the two of you just looking at each other, coming down from your highs. "it was so risky- what were we thinking!" he laughs as he sees the shyness kick in after all this time, "don't go all innocent on me, love. now, do you want to take this home, or do you want me to keep kissing you here, my pants wet with my own cum like a teenager?"

and then, you giggle. the prettiest, fucking giggle ever in the world. for all your brisk attitude, you go soft over him at this moment and hug him, pulling him to your chest. but he's so wrong if he thinks you're talking soft, because he then hears you whispering in his ear, your breath hot against his earlobe, "i want to go home and ride you properly, gyu. will you let me?"

[physalian]

Pacing your Story (Or, How to Avoid the "Suddenly...!")

Arguably *the* most important lesson all writers need to learn, even for those who don’t give a damn about themes and motifs and a moral soap box: How your story is paced, whether it’s a comic book, a children’s chapter book, a doorstopper, a mini series, a movie, or a full-length season of TV (old school style), pacing is everything.

Pacing determines how long the story *feels* regardless of how long it actually is. It can make a 2 hour movie feel like 90 mins or double the time you’re trapped in your seat.

There’s very little I can say about pacing that hasn’t been said before, but I’m here to condense all that’s out there into a less intimidating mouthful to chew.

So: What is pacing?

Pacing is how a story flows, how quickly or slowly the creator moves through and between scenes, how long they spend on setting, narration, conversation, arguments, internal monologues, fight scenes, journey scenes. It’s also how smoothly tone transitions throughout the story. A fantasy adventure jumping around sporadically between meandering boredom, high-octane combat, humor, grief, and romance is exhausting to read, no matter how much effort you put into your characters.

Anyone who says the following is wrong:

Good pacing is always fast/bad pacing is always slow

Pacing means you are 100% consistent throughout the entire story

It doesn’t matter as much so long as you have a compelling story/characters/lore/etc

Now let me explain why in conveniently numbered points:

1. Pacing is not about consistency, it’s about giving the right amount of time to the right pieces of your story

This is not intuitive and it takes a long time to learn. So let’s look at some examples:

Lord of the Rings: The movies trimmed a *lot* from the books that just weren’t adaptable to screen, namely all the tedious details and quite a bit of the worldbuilding that wasn’t critical to the journey of the Fellowship. That said, with some exceptions, the battles are as long as they need to be, along with every monologue, every battle speech. When Helm’s Deep is raging on, we cut away to Merry and Pippin with the Ents to let ourselves breathe, then dive right back in just before it gets boring.

The Hobbit Trilogy: The exact opposite from LotR, stretching one kids book into 3 massive films, stuffing it full of filler, meandering side quests, pointless exposition, drawing out battles and conflicts to silly extremes, then rushing through the actual desolation of Smaug for… some reason.

Die Hard (cause it’s the Holidays y’all!): The actiony-est of action movies with lots of fisticuffs and guns and explosions still leaves time for our hero to breathe, lick his wounds, and build a relationship with the cop on the ground. We constantly cut between the hero and the villains, all sharing the same radio frequency, constantly antsy about what they know and when they’ll find out the rest, and when they’ll discover the hero’s kryptonite.

2. Make every scene you write do at least two things at once

This is also tricky. Making every scene pull double duty should be left to after you’ve written the first draft, otherwise you’ll never write that first draft. Pulling double duty means that if you’re giving exposition, the scene should also reveal something about the character saying it. If you absolutely must write the boring trip from A to B, give some foreshadowing, some thoughtful insight from one of your characters, a little anecdote along the way.

Develop at least two of the following:

The plot

The backstory

The romance/friendships

The lore

The exposition

The setting

The goals of the cast

Doing this extremely well means your readers won’t have any idea you’re doing it until they go back and read it again. If you have two characters sitting and talking exposition at a table, and then those same two characters doing some important task with filler dialogue to break up the narrative… try combining those two scenes and see what happens.

**This is going to be incredibly difficult if you struggle with making your stories longer. I do not. I constantly need to compress my stories. **

3. Not every scene needs to be crucial to the plot, but every scene must say something

I distinguish plot from story like a square vs a rectangle. Plot is just a piece of the tale you want to tell, and some scenes exist just to be funny, or romantic, or mysterious, plot be damned.

What if you’re writing a character study with very little plot? How do you make sure your story isn’t too slow if 60% of the narrative is introspection?

Avoid repeating information the audience already has, unless a reminder is crucial to understanding the scene

This isn’t 1860 anymore. Every detail must serve a purpose. Keep character and setting descriptions down to absolute need-to-know and spread it out like icing on a cake – enough to coat, but not give you a mouthful of whipped sugar and zero cake.

Avoid describing generic daily routines, unless the existence of said routine is out of ordinary for the character, or will be rudely interrupted by chaos. No one cares about them brushing their teeth and doing their hair.

Make sure your characters move, but not too much. E.g. two characters sitting and talking – do humans just stare at each other with their arms lifeless and bodies utterly motionless during conversation? No? Then neither should your characters. Make them gesture, wave, frown, laugh, cross their legs, their arms, shift around to get comfortable, pound the table, roll their eyes, point, shrug, touch their face, their hair, wring their hands, pick at their nails, yawn, stretch, pout, sneer, smirk, click their tongue, clear their throat, sniff/sniffle, tap their fingers/drum, bounce their feet, doodle, fiddle with buttons or jewelry, scratch an itch, touch their weapons/gadgets/phones, check the time, get up and sit back down, move from chair to table top – the list goes on. Bonus points if these are tics that serve to develop your character, like a nervous fiddler, or if one moves a lot and the other doesn’t – what does that say about the both of them? This is where “show don’t tell” really comes into play.

4. Your entire work should not be paced exactly the same

Just like a paragraph should not be filled with sentences of all the same length and syntax. Some beats deserve more or less time than others. Unfortunately, this is unique to every single story and there is no one size fits all.

General guidelines are as follows:

Action scenes should have short paragraphs and lots of movement. Cut all setting details and descriptors, internal monologues, and the like, unless they service the scene.

Journey/travel scenes must pull double or even triple duty. There’s a reason very few movies are marketed as “single take” and those that are don’t waste time on stuff that doesn’t matter. See 1917.

Romantic scenes are entirely up to you. Make it a thousand words, make it ten thousand, but you must advance either the romantic tension, actual movement of the characters, conversation, or intimacy of the relationship.

Don’t let your conversations run wild. If they start to veer off course, stop, boil it down to its essentials, and cut the rest.

When transitioning between slow to faster pacing and back again, it’s also not one size fits all. Maybe it being jarring is the point – it’s as sudden for the characters as it is for the reader. With that said, try to keep the “suddenly”s to a minimum.

5. Pacing and tone go hand in hand

This means that, generally speaking, the tone of your scene changes with the speed of the narrative. As stated above, a jarring tonal shift usually brings with it a jarring pacing shift.

A character might get in a car crash while speeding away from an abusive relationship. A character who thinks they’re safe from a pursuer might be rudely and terrifyingly proven wrong. An exhausting chase might finally relent when sanctuary is found. A quiet dinner might quickly turn romantic with a look, or confession. Someone casually cleaning up might discover evidence of a lie, a theft, an intruder and begin to panic.

--

Whatever the case may be, a narrative that is all action all the time suffers from lack of meaningful character moments. A narrative that meanders through the character drama often forgets there is a plot they’re supposed to be following.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Not exactly a meet cute between Jazz and Jason.

Jason's had a long night of beating the shit out of a gang that dared to sell in his territory, the last thing he needs is the Bats on his tail. He can always sense them when he leaves Crime Alley- they watch for him. Waiting for him to fail. It pisses him off.

So Jason shakes his tail, he's pretty sure it's the demon brat, parks his bike, removes his helm and heads into the loudest bar he can find, ditching his mask along the way. There are no camera's and there was no one watching, so Jason just looks like any other angry frat guy at the bar. Well, he supposes that the Leather jacket might be a stand out.

He grabs a drink, and looks at the time. Jason just needs to wait out the chance that a baby bird saw his bike and hope that curfew kicks in before this has to be a 'conversation'. Besides, the music is good and despite all the people, the crowd is pretty behaved.

"Hi! I'm so glad you're here!" A woman approaches, he can tell she's had a few drinks from her walk but her eyes scream sobriety and fear. She's tall in her flats, her hair looks disheveled (from dancing maybe) and her outfit screams 'this is the one fun black top I own'. She's beautiful and her approaching him might've been a wet teenage dream if his suspicions weren't immediately raised.

"I certainly am here." Jason replies, a smirk set into his features easily and as he straightens out his back he can see the three men watching the back of her head like predators. They're wearing super lame white hoodies and coats, like they're organized somehow.

"That's why you're my hero! Always ready to grab me at a moment's notice! Any chance you'll be good to leave after you finish that drink?" Her eyes are pleading but she keeps the same happy smile and joyful tone the whole time.

"Nah, no worries about the drink. It was cheap and I was just getting bored with it anyway. " Jason explains, setting his glass down on the counter. He's mentally photographed the three creeps, "Did any of your friends also need a ride home?"

"Nope! They all got in an uber... without me. So they'll be just fine!" She explains and there is an anger in her eyes that clearly meant she was telling the truth. Her hands are straightening out his jacket collar, making it look like they're more comfortable with each other than just strangers. She lays her hands flat on his chest once her task is completed and Jason feels his throat go dry.

"I'm always telling you to find better friends. Now c'mon, I parked out back." he wraps an arm around her waist, though its not tight, and peers over his shoulder. These guys weren't going to leave without a fight it seems, Dumb, Dumbie and Dumber are all watching her with evil in their eyes.

The two of them walk out and before she can even say thank you, the door swings back open and she's sucker punched one of the assholes and Jason's pulled his gun out for the other two.

"You gents are gunna go home, or you're gonna end up in the dirt. Pick." Jason growls. Not taking him seriously at first, he shoots one dudes foot and the last one standing looks like he might pass out. He picks up his fallen comrades and backs away into the bar.

"For ancients sake those dudes were trying to traffic the hell out of me." She sighs, and Jason holsters his gun.

"Yeah no shit. You okay?" Jason inquires.

"I will be. I'm Jazz, thanks for saving me Hood."

"I'm no-"

"You're literally leaning comfortably on Red Hoods motorcycle that still has his helmet perched on it. No one would do that unless they were suicidal or him." She challenges, but then a look changes in her eyes and she almost looks nervous "But still, do you uhm, wanna get out of here?"

He blinks. She was trying to pick him up? AFTER finding out he was a crime lord??

The answer is that yes, Hell Yes, Jason does want to get out of here. None of the Bats will bother him while he has a civilian, not at the diner he takes her too and certainly not while he's taking her back to one of his safe houses.

Jason had expected one of his siblings to show up in the morning and cause a ruckus. He hadn't planned for a dude to let himself into his kitchen screaming about government agencies tracking Jazz down that wasn't related. Turns out it's her brother and he's floating and no he's not going to explain why he's there or how he found them.

Jazz has a lot to explain to the both of them and it starts with "So I can admit that I have a thing for motorcycle guys-"

[yandereunsolved]

Breath of a Yandere - ,, Yandere Wild headcanons

tw(s): yandere themes, (Wild) multiple mentions of suicidal ideations/suicide & self depreciation

ꨄ︎ Yandere Wild who met you after waking up in the Shrine of Resurrection. You were a lone traveler from Lurelin Village. You traveled countless months, with many others accompanying you at various points on your journey. You had to know the truth. You had to know if it was true. The rumors about the legendary hero fueled your adventures. You feared the worst, but you found him. He didn't awake at first. You spent weeks traveling out of the Shrine only for necessities.

ꨄ︎ He heard a strange voice coming from the darkness and then saw you. You spoke to him with such a reverence that he wasn't accustomed to. He was incredibly cautious and wouldn't allow you near him. That all changed when you offered him some glazed meat. He shoved it down his throat and suddenly you were his closest companion.

ꨄ︎ Words never leave his mouth. You thought at first it was just the surprise of awakening after a hundred years, but no. He just never spoke to you. He spoke with his hands and through his body language. He taught you most of the Hylian sign language that you know. It is probably better that he doesn't speak. You would be disturbed and greatly flattered about the things he thinks about you.

ꨄ︎ He never leaves your side unless you are both put in a life ending situation. He's like a silent but loyal dog. He is always watching your movements and standing guard over you. You have to cuddle with him before he finally allows himself to succumb to sleep.

ꨄ︎ Guardians? You are staying behind. Shrines? You may stand at the entrance as long as there are no monsters around. If there are then he will kill them and then make you wait. The Divine Beasts? Okay, fine— he allows you in all the Divine Beasts except for Vah Naboris. He allows you to ride with Riju but only because she has the Thunder Helm. However, the Ganonblights? On Hylia's name, no. You go back to the entrance and wait there.

ꨄ︎ Ganon himself? You wait. After your entire journey together, he only speaks one word to you. "Wait." He presses himself against you and makes you hide behind one of the castle pillars. There are tears in his eyes and he is shaking. You are his God(dess). He has killed and sacrificed so much. You saved him. You did. He signs to you. "I face Ganon alone. I can't lose you." His hands get shaky. "I love you."

ꨄ︎ That's the first time he ever says he loves you and his yandere tendencies only get worse from there. More possessive. More obsessive. More puppy-like. He's a wolf in sheep's clothing. He always has an eye on you and doesn't allow you out of his sight. He would never hurt you, but he'll hurt others for you.

ꨄ︎ After the battle you two embrace each other and he sobs quietly into your chest. He allows you to patch his wounds. It's difficult because he's hanging off of you. Zelda is sitting near you both around the campfire. It's a little a lot awkward because she's seen his entire journey. She has seen his feelings for you blossom. A part of her hurts because she won't have her Link back, but was he ever hers? It was just his duty.

ꨄ︎ His memories may have come back but he only has one person in his heart. That person is you. Zelda wants him to come back as a knight. He signs no. He has to stay near you. He will die without you.

ꨄ︎ He thinks the sweetest and most depraved things in his mind. He is constantly praising you within his mind. He wishes he could speak those words but he can't. So he signs them. He shows them through acts of service. His mind is just a constant track about you. Partially this is because of his knight training. He was trained to protect and serve. He was trained to help the princess. His mind still sometimes slips back into that. It's just you, you, you, danger?, you, you, you.

ꨄ︎ On that note, his trauma is constantly fueling his tendencies and how he sees you as his god(dess). He was a child knight, blames himself for failing to protect everyone before Calamity Ganon gave over, and woke up with zero memories and a mission to save all of Hyrule. You were the first person he met. You were and still are his guide to this world. Sure, you aren't fated to be with him. Sure, it could have been just a mistake— but you are the first person that ever got him. You didn't push him to speak. You took your time in learning how to communicate with him. You respected him not just as the hero but a person.

ꨄ︎ He takes interest in whatever you are interested in. He will go so far as trying to replicate what you are doing. He isn't great at art but he'll do his best to draw what you are doing. He shows it you like an excited little kid. He does little poems as well. They are all about his adoration to you and how much he wants to spend time with you. Sometimes they have some blood splatters on them. Don't think about it too hard.

ꨄ︎ He his naturally cautious when all of these goods things become interrupted with the introduction of The Chain. He is like a frightened animal with his hackles up. He has his mastersword pointed to the strange group. They introduce themselves and he relaxes a little. He stays by your side the entire time and makes sure everyone knows that you are taken by him.

ꨄ︎ It's really, really, really hard for him when you say you want to travel with The Chain. His thought process is like this: heartbreak. My God(dess) wants to be around other Links? Why do they want to put themselves in danger? Why? Why? I have to protect them. I have to. I need them near me. Why do they want to travel? Will they still cook for me and me only...? Or will I have to share? You want to travel to different Hyrules and fight monsters with them? You want to see their Hyrules? What if my Hyrule isn't good enough for you?

ꨄ︎ As much as he hates it— he'd do anything for you. He sets some ground rules though. No letting the others get too close. Stay by his side. Tell him everything. And do not, ever, put yourself in harms way. That has been his number one rule since day one. No getting yourself hurt. That scares him the most. He could live without you, but you are alive. He'd barely be alive but he could live. If you died? He'd kill himself and die right next to you. So when you get a scratch he wants, needs, aches to kill the thing that gave you that scratch.

ꨄ︎ You both begin traveling with The Chain and it goes better then expected. Wild is still the same Wild. He may even be getting a little better. The Chain is a bunch of hims. Wild is doing better in a way. He's gotten close to everyone and now knows some of their secrets. He's quiet and he listens. They are unassuming of him. Even the more cautious ones such as Hyrule, Legend, and Time bring their guard down a little. He rarely communicates with them but you know he is acutely listening. He only really signs to you.

ꨄ︎ So, it's perfect. There are a bunch of hims that stay away from you and protect you. He is getting them to trust him. You are safer than you have ever been. Safe. So safe. And if he needs to kill them for you? He's already got the information on them.

ꨄ︎ Wild always buys you things from the villages you all go to. He runs up to you and shoves them into your hands happily. It's one of the few times you see a smile on his usually stoic face. He absolutely adores buying you matching fits. He's practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He loves matching with you. He even gets you a sword that mimics the mastersword in style. He teaches you how to wield it and everything.

ꨄ︎ He sabotages the others in The Chain if they try to spend time with you. He'll tell you things about them, dark things that he's learned. He'll write them out to you and slip them into your back pocket, your satchel, your bed roll. He'll make them look stupid in front of you. He might accidentally trip them or outbest them in sparring. He makes sure you see the worst of them and the best of him. He doesn't need words to steal your heart all for himself.

ꨄ︎ He always wakes up early and watches you sleep. He tries to resist your warmth to not fall asleep but it's too much. So he wakes up in the morning before you. He watches silently, unblinkingly. He thinks you look so adorable, so pretty, so handsome. You are even more angelic when you are awake. Your smile could even make Ganon fall to his knees.

ꨄ︎ He either makes breakfast for you or with you. He sits guard while you bathe in the river. He wants to take a peek but he doesn't! He's a loyal man. He's tempted. Very tempted though. He loves watching you do your skincare and getting ready though. His eyes rarely leave you while in eyesight.

ꨄ︎ His habits reach their most overbearing after Sage joins The Chain. His life was going so perfect with you. You got protection and he got you all to himself. Now, there's this new version of him. He is acting so... clingy towards you. He just seems so attached to you. Wild begins to get shooed away when Sage is near. You are all about being near Sage. Saving Sage.

ꨄ︎ He refuses to leave your side, even for a moment. He distances himself from the rest of The Chain. He begins to not eat. He begins to not sleep. He gets very nervous and becomes a wreck. He thinks if he does this to himself you'll love him. You loved him when he was like this before. Is this what you want? Do you want someone that needs you? He needs you more than anyone else. He doesn't see any reason to live anymore without you.

ꨄ︎ Like always, you save him. You save him from that dark place and refuse to leave his side. He cuddles into you and refuses to let you go. You feel guilty and you are worried sick about him. Wild almost died and he refuses to tell you why. You were sparring with Sage and suddenly you heard a sword slash in the woods. Wild stabbed himself in the heart with a sword... If it wasn't for Hyrule he'd be dead.

ꨄ︎ You sobbed for hours over his body and you refused to leave. You still do. You are beginning to succumb to his neediness and overprotective ways. Just like Wild wanted. He just needs to be wanted by you. He just needs your love. He just needs one person who will love him above all else.

ꨄ︎ Wild has you, but at Sage's expense. He's extremely irritated that this little boyfriend of yours is taking you away from him. A few of the other Links have mixed, upset, and possessive feelings as well. However, we'll discuss that another time.

tag list; lmk if you want to be tagged: @screaming-until-god-hears-me

[twilightkitkat]

OK QUESTION with the one series with the different universe we see how you think the X-Men would react to a similar Logan being so close with Deadpool.

BUT

How do you think our main universe reacts to the relationship especially when they compare this new Logan to the fallen hero?

This is such an interesting question that I thought about it for a while before answering because I wanted to do it justice. Firstly, I want to clarify that my answer takes place in a world where all the X-men are miraculously alive somehow except for Logan (maybe by some time shenanigans or just twisting the plot).

---

The world at large would be shocked to see The Wolverine again, especially after he was confirmed dead and his bones were buried. The TVA wouldn't want the entire world to know about them, and Logan and Wade would probably be the type to never really formally address his existence (since they aren't actually official heroes or a government body).

His resurrection would likely spark a lot of conspiracy theories and people wondering if he had a secret mission where he pretended to die or if he had a reason to stage his death. It's almost like the urban legend of Bigfoot with how rarely he shows up (somehow always next to the same red vigilante).

Aside from the initial shock, the public reception would be very positive. Who wouldn't want to see your childhood superhero back in action again? People would be excited to see him rejoin the X-men only to be extremely confused when he showed no interest in returning to his superhero work (especially when they assumed he either died and came back or was on a mission and so would naturally want back his spot).

As a matter of fact, after initial sightings of him in his suit, he just sort of... fades away. He never really makes public appearances or is involved in much of anything. He looks different than he did before and he always dresses casually. This combined with the lack of media about him after the initial outrage means that he only occasionally gets recognized in public.

(Something he's secretly very grateful for. He disliked being reminded of his past, of a world where he wasn't a failure. Of the version of him that was revered instead of feared and hated. He has to stop himself from flinching sometimes when people loudly yell out, "It's The Wolverine!" He lays low for a while in Wade's apartment, only accompanying him sometimes on covert missions until people mostly stop caring about his existence.)

But more than public confusion is the confusion of the X-men. They heard the truth through Colossus that this Wolverine was from another universe than their own and that he'd helped save their timeline.

(And most of the X-men were very confused because... why does Colossus know this of all people? Why didn't Logan just come to tell them himself? They knew Colossus was in cahoots with this vigilante vaguely from the time he visited the mansion, but they didn't know he was actually close to him. And why did being Deadpool's friend give him exclusive access to The Wolverine and his situation?)

They expected Logan to show up at their doorstep, one day. He apparently had the X-men in his own world, and while Colossus never really elaborated further (despite their prodding) they could surmise something happened to them if Logan was staying here. It's a perfect fit: the X-men who lost their Wolverine and the Wolverine who lost his X-men.

But he never does. At first, they chalk it up to him going on one of his solo trips. He liked to do that—to go out into the wilderness or disappear on some unspecified mission. He never really stayed in one place too long. (It was his personality, wasn't it? He got antsy being tied down to commitment and wanted to be free from everyone. It was fine even if it was inconvenient, it was just how he was.)

But then he never makes an effort to get involved. To reach out to them. He doesn't show any interest at all in returning to his old life or taking up the helm of an X-man again.

This Logan couldn't be all that different from theirs, right? Even if he was a lone wolf type who kept up his guard and acted gruffly, he only really had them. They took him in and fed him and clothed him and he showed up when shit went sideways in return. A perfect, neat, package with a bow on top.

But then a month passes. Then two. And even if he was the type to do his own thing, this was a little ridiculous. He'd just come back to life and didn't even bother showing up?

They all cornered Colossus, one day. Asked him about his well-being and what he was doing. Why he wasn't reaching out and when they should expect him to come back.

His answer shocked them. Apparently, Logan wasn't out on a mission at all. Instead, he was staying with Deadpool at his apartment and just... living there. Existing. He wasn't even particularly busy, he just hadn't visited. When they inquired further, Colossus smiled slightly and said that he seemed happy there. Content. That Wade was good for Logan and Logan was good for him, too.

It was... hard to wrap their heads around. Logan—fierce, closed-off, restless—just staying in one place? Content to just live with someone and accompany them on mercenary jobs.

Since when did Logan prefer teamwork? He always tried to turn joint missions into solo ones, and went out of his way to brush people off.. More than that—Logan, a mercenary? He'd rather pick up illegal work for some extra cash than return to being a hero? To being with them? Why did he decide to stay in a shitty apartment taking shady jobs for rent instead of just staying for free at their mansion? It made no sense.

It all came to a head when Laura (who'd been staying with them but largely kept to herself around the X-men) had her birthday party. They had parties often for the children in the mansion, that wasn't anything new. Except for the fact that the Wolverine was coming. She'd been excited when she mentioned that both Logan and Wade were going to show up (they didn't even know she'd stayed in touch with them).

(Why was the first time they saw Logan at a birthday party for someone else? Were they not enough? They'd taken him in despite his... difficult personality. What more did he want?)

And Logan comes. But he's entirely different than their Logan, the one they remember.

He's more... relaxed, somehow. He looks less hostile and cagey, letting his muscles relax and his head lean back. He looks like a man content with life instead of the guy who ran away the first chance he got, who always had an itch under his skin to move and never stayed too long.

He sticks to Wade like glue. They're always touching, somehow. An arm around the shoulders, a hand placed firmly on Wade's waist, fingers intertwined, legs pressed together. Logan is touchy in a way he never was with them.

And the way he looks at Wade—like he hung the stars and the moon and the sky itself. Even when they try to catch his eye from across the room, to get him to come over, he doesn't pay attention. His eyes are firmly locked on Wade's face, a warmth there (a softness) that they'd never seen before.

Wade gawks at the mansion and its decoration, flitting between Colossus and Negasonic and Yukio, gleefully grabbing some of the food. And Logan stays by his side the whole time, only watching him, murmuring in his occasionally which makes Wade either jab him in the elbow or cackle.

(And Logan lets him. He doesn't even retaliate aside from a grunt when Wade punches him in the arm, rolling his eyes and flicking his forehead in return but entirely content to let Wade at him. The trust there was so obvious it was painful. The familiarity. The warmth.)

The first time Logan takes his eyes off Wade is when Laura comes up to them. His eyes soften as he looks at her, almost imperceptibly if not for the fact that in their memories, his eyes were always hard. Guarded. They could count on one hand the number of times they saw even a semblance of that expression, normally involving Jean or Rogue.

Laura hugs him, grinning as she prattles on about whatever she'd been doing lately. Logan hugs her back, arms coming to wrap firmly around her. Easy affection. She pulls back and Wade hugs her too, spinning her around in the air as she laughs and hits him and asks him to put her down.

When Logan looks at them, the fondness is so obvious it's painful. They were used to seeing Logan show emotion—anger, sadness, fear, arousal. But never softness. (Especially not for a tumor-ridden mercenary and an experiment built off of his DNA.)

The party continues like that, with Logan leaning against Wade and basking in his presence. Hiding in his shadow when he's tired, leaning his forehead against Wade's shoulder.

Until they finally decide to approach them. Scott and Jean hold hands as they approach him for the first time, tired of observing him all night. Storm follows closely behind.

"Logan, nice seeing you man. It's, uh, been a while," Scott smiles crookedly at him. He expects Logan to respond how he normally does. To grin back, insult him, and start up their typical banter.

Like a well-oiled machine, they kept their rivalry going. Logan and Scott would act like they hated each other in public and fight like children over Jean until she inevitably chose Scott (and then it'd repeat). Sometimes, in the quiet of the night or an emotional moment, they'd become more. But that was rare, and Scott preferred the comfortable rhythm they normally kept to.

But Logan barely looked at him, nodded, and then turned back to Wade as he talked about some kid's show.

"Logan, that was a little rude, don't you think? We haven't heard from you in a while, it's good to see you're doing well." Jean lightly scolded him before letting her face melt into a smile. It was meant to be welcoming. Kind.

Scott tightened his arm around Jean. He knew Jean would always choose him, in the end, but it was annoying to see Logan flirt with her. She'd entertain him enough, and occasionally the three would wind in bed together in a moment of passion. But Jean was his, in the end.

Except, Logan didn't react. He just grunted in response. When his eyes met Jean's they were completely devoid of any attraction. He didn't flirt with her or pay her any attention. His eyes were solely on Wade.

It was only when Wade's eyes flicked toward them and he waved that Logan bothered to acknowledge their existence.

"Oh, hey! You guys are the real deal! The original X-men! The ones that took the 2000s by storm and made Marvel a shit ton of money," he rambled. His face was... interesting, to say the least.

Logan snorted. "Did you not expect to see the X-men in the X-mansion, bub?" The first time he verbally admitted they were even there.

"Considering the budget on my previous movies? Fuck no. It was too expensive to even have a good cameo, let alone actually have them on screen for more than a minute to have a conversation."

...What the hell was he talking about? He sounded clinically insane. And Logan was living with this guy?

But Logan laughed, genuinely, and it was like the world stopped spinning. He smiled and his eyes wrinkled, forming crescents. He teased Wade back in response, but they were stuck in that moment.

Logan was never like that. Never open, never soft. He cared, in a distant way, but he never really stayed. (Was it really that? Was it that he never tried to stay, or that they never gave him reason to? That they never gave him the chance before shutting the door in his face.)

But here it was. Physical proof that he was capable of looking at someone so softly. Of melting his hard exterior and becoming someone softer. Someone capable of cherishing the person they loved, of being domesticated.

Because there was really no other way than "domesticated" to describe him. He used to be like a wild animal—all sharp edges, jagged teeth, and razor-sharp claws. He snarled and growled at anyone who got too close and cornered him. He'd drop by for food, but snatch it and run off.

(But that's the thing about wild animals, isn't it? To get them to calm down, to stop seeing you as a threat, you need to be patient. To reach out. To prove you're safe. Did they ever really try?)

And now he even looked different. His hard muscles had filled out with a layer of fat. He looked healthy, like he wasn't just a tool built to fight and gnaw on the scraps he was given. He looked like a person who went home and ate a warm, balanced dinner at night. Who got adequate sleep and had all of his needs taken care of.

They thought that Logan's personality was rough, sharp, and jagged. That he was just Like That, and that it was useless to try to change it.

(After all, the bad boy is just someone you flirt with. Not someone you take him. Jean had said that, hadn't she?

And Logan had told her he could be the "good guy." Tried to show that he was capable of being more than just how he acted when he was hurt and alone. But she brushed it off. They all did.

And yet here Logan was. Soft and entranced by Wade in a way he never had been, even with her. Looking at him with something so much deeper than lust or attraction or infatuation. Looking at him with devotion. Reverence. Complete and utter love.)

But Logan wasn't Like That. He had always wanted to be soft. To be able to curl up next to somebody and trace the curve of their spine with his fingertips. He'd always yearned for a home he could feel genuinely warm in, where he'd be accepted and allowed to be vulnerable even if it wasn't pretty.

He'd only been hard because he had to. Because if he wasn't, the biting words and indifference of everyone around him would cut so deep he'd never recover. Because if he let himself love and be vulnerable with the X-men and they still viewed him as a passerby, as a tool, as an outsider, as just someone to sleep with—he'd break.

But Wade gave him a home. Gave him the chance to finally love and be loved and not feel afraid. To finally relax and open up. To show his emotions without fear of being scorned and to know he'd always be taken seriously. To not just be seen as the bad boy, but as a broken man desperate for anyone to cling to and feel cared for.

He was finally seen as more than just a stereotype. He was seen and loved for he was.

He was used to being hidden. Like a shameful secret. Jean was embarrassed to like him. Scott hid him away during the night and fought him during the day. He was a temptation, but that was it. They'd always choose each other first. Every member of the X-men had their person, but he was nobody's.

But with Wade, for the first time in his life, he was the first choice. He was the priority. He got to eat at the table instead of being fed scraps thrown onto the floor.

Logan thought it was natural to be treated as lesser. To be an afterthought. But with Wade, who cradled his face like he was something precious and was willing to die for him, he realized that he could be loved just as fiercely as he loved Wade. As an equal. As partners.

And so when he saw the X-men, he reacted the same way they had all those years ago: with indifference. With the same detached care he'd grown so used to. He spared them the effort of a few words, of reluctant acknowledgment, but that was it. If they never wanted to look closer at him or care about his needs, it was fine. But he'd do the same.

After all, there was so need to scramble to collect crumbs when he was well-fed. There was no need to look for a shitty room in an empty-feeling mansion when he already had a home.

[radiance1]

Unintelligible chanting echoed in a warehouse. A perfect summoning circle drawn on the ground with one cultist standing before it with a group more standing behind them.

Even thought the chanting was unintelligible, it was perfect. Not a clipped word or uneven tone out of place as they all, in unison, chanted the words to summon an almighty being from beyond.

Even as interlopers broke in the warehouse, they didn't stop chanting, only the cultists who weren't chanting and were previously standing around the room, broke away in an attempt to stall.

The circle glowed a toxic, unnatural green before growing dark yet darker. A black, mist like substance spreading from its focal point and out into the bounds of the circle before twisting and twisting as the temperature rose and grew into a sweltering heat that could be felt all throughout the warehouse.

They did not stop chanting.

Even as the last of their guard fell.

They did not stop chanting.

Even as some of the cultists at the back of the group started to engage in combat.

They did not stop chanting.

Until finally, the black mist twisted into a brilliant, unnatural black flame as the heat soared and shaped itself in the giant form of a bird before larger than large wings snapped themselves open.

Black flame slide off of the being's form like water, small flickers of deceptively harmless looking flame trailed down the bounds of the summoning circle as the phoenix lowered itself.

"So we meet again." The being spoke, its very presence demanding attention and respect. Impossibly red eyes focused all of their intent on the cultist and the helm. "What do you want this time? I am quite busy, as I'm sure you should be aware."

"O'h' great one," The cultist fell to their knees, hands spreading up and out reminiscent of a prayer. "The deepest flame, the guardian of the blackest fire, rival of the-"

"Enough of that nonsense." The being snapped, scoffing as it turned its head in disdain. "I did not answer your pitiful call just to hear you praise me. Make your demand, now. I have an appointment to keep."

The cultist seemed to deflate, for but a mere moment, before lowering their hands and clasping them in front of their chest. "O' great one, I have sowed the seeds and cultivated a cult in your name through the ages, we are might in number and consistent in our worship."

"I do not need a recap." The Pheonix said, blandly. Looking utterly disinterested in the cultist's words. "Your demand."

"After all of this, surely you would not mind parting with but a bit of your power?" The cultist asked and finally, the Pheonix seemed to stare with something more than mere disinterest before snapping its head up. "Do not interfere, mere interlopers." It snapped.

The heroes froze as, suddenly, they felt held down in place.

It then disregarded them, staring back down at the cultist before him with some level of interest and clicked its tongue. "Already blessed with immortality yet you wish for more? How..." Its eyes seemed to smile. Amused. As it purred. "Ambitious."

"Please, O' great one. Just a bit. A mere fraction would be enough."

"Oh all alright," The Pheonix said, holding up a wing as it plucked off a feather with its beak. "I suppose you have done enough to be worthy of a bit of my power."

The feather flew down from its beak, encased within a ball of black flame that, as the cultist spread their arms, fused into their chest.

"Do try not to be consumed by it. As I do expect noteworthy things from you."

With that, the Pheonix disappeared in a puff of mist like fire. The circle instantly losing all vibrancy and the sweltering heat snuffing itself out.

And the heroes were free of whatever magic kept them bound in place.

The cultist slowly stood up, back facing them as something bubbled up under the back of their cloak before large, flaming wings burst through the cloth of their cloak. They slowly turned around, and the movement almost looked serene, and faced the heroes.

The cultist slowly spread their hands. "I would have thought the Justice League would have handled this matter themselves, not send their younglings after me." They spoke, calm and measured and holding no feeling whatsoever. Black flame spilled from their hands as they stretched their wings.

"Come. Young heroes. You would be the perfect steppingstone to test my new abilities."

[keigo-chan]

I Don’t Know Where To Put My Hands

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Keigo comes home, just for a bit, in the middle of spying on the League of Villains. He needs you, he needs this. And you love him. What else is there to say?

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings/Tags: Pro Hero!Reader, No Gendered Pronouns for Reader, Reader Has a Vagina, Extremely Dubious Consent, Unhealthy but Loving Relationships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Emotional Masochism, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injury from Sex, Fluff but Evil

FULL TAGS/NOTES ON AO3

Communication from Keigo had all but disappeared after the battle in Kamino. He didn’t even text anymore. He certainly didn’t call. He didn’t even send mail, or notes, or anything. Civilians spotted him, even around the very city they lived in, as the tags you had alerts on for notified you, but he didn’t make any effort to contact you.

You tried to be calm about this. He was still alive. That’s what mattered. If he wasn’t trying to talk to you, it was because he couldn’t.

But that was a scary thought, too.

You thought about asking the Commission for a short leave. It was the Holiday season, so many other heroes were beginning to stagger out their own leaves. But that only made you more hesitant to do so in turn. Your agency- Hawks’s agency- was always close to reaching ‘understaffed’ numbers. You wanted to be there to help fill in the gaps. Especially with the biggest gap right at the helm of the agency. What was important these days, as the voice in your mind that sounded a lot like Keigo reminded you, was how the public saw the heroes. The best thing they could do was bring hope- so you kept busy making public appearances, trying to just keep up with him.

When you finally got home at the end of that week, the end of your set of patrols, you were exhausted. You were distracted by your phone when you unlocked your door and went in. You tripped over the threshold of it, barely catching yourself with your wings. You looked back at your stoop for what had made you fall, and saw a red book waiting for you.

Attached was a note. “From: K”.

Your heart dropped. You lunged for the book at once, picking it up and flipping through it. Just like you suspected, there were many highlighted portions.

You and Keigo had been working side-by-side for years, and though actual partners for longer, you knew a couple of the more intimate details of what the Commission dragged Keigo through. You’d known for a long time that skills associated with espionage would be necessary. The two of you had made up your own.

You flipped through the book, barely registering what it was even about, as you hurried to shut the door and locked all the locks behind you. You fluttered about quickly, drawing the curtains and blinds while opening the book with one arm. There was nothing else written not in code. You settled in on the couch and began to decipher.

You used a cipher, always based off of a word or phrase or date only you would know. The cipher that worked would correlate to the level of danger they were in or amount of secrecy they needed. You worked your way up three levels, to the day of your anniversary.

‘Being watched by LOV.’ Reading that alone had made the ever growing anxiety worse. Is that what he was doing? Something involving the League of Villains? ‘No big danger now. Keep ear to ground. Lay low. Attack in four months. Hope to come home for New Years. Miss you. Love you. Be safe. Keigo.’

You sighed out a long breath you didn’t know you were holding, shutting the book and resting your forehead against it. He’d held this book, had written in it with care. You wished he had left anything else, though the messy handwriting on his note was nice. 

All of the feathers you’d had from him had faded, gone a very dark, dull red- a sign that they had died. Keigo no longer had control over them, and could no longer hear or feel through them.

If they were going to attack in four months, did that mean that he would be away until then?

You tried to clear the thought from your head. He was on a mission. Clearly one that even he took seriously. For now, you needed to take over as the cool-headed hero that everyone wanted. For now, you needed to take care of the Agency. Keigo’s image as a hero didn’t need to suffer, even if he was away.

You could do this. You would wait for the next couple of weeks, until you might be able to see him again. Keigo wouldn’t have mentioned it if he wasn’t decently sure that he’d be able to come back.

He’d be alright on his own. He’d be alright on his own. You set the kettle on to boil and made his favorite tea. It gave you an idea.

Over the next couple of weeks, you left things out for him. Boxes outside with small notes, assurances left in code. Sweaters and smooth pebbles and old trinkets they’d collected over the years, so that wherever he laid his head to rest, it would feel a little more like home.

He took them. Sometimes it was overnight, sometimes days or a week went by without them being taken. But he always did, and he always left something in return. A shiny, pink shell. One of his feathers. One of the silver rings he always wore, too big to fit anywhere but your thumb. You took to wearing it around at once, rubbing it when you were nervous or overwhelmed, thinking of him, thinking of his hands.

 New Years came limping around the corner. You sent everyone in the agency home with warm smiles and their much-desired bonuses. You went back to your own home alone, shuddering under your coat. The Christmas tree had already been put away- because it had never gone up. You and Keigo always took it out together, decorated it together.

You hadn’t spent a Christmas without Keigo before since you’d met him. Even before you were dating, when the two of you found out you had no one else to spend it with, the agreement to visit each other came almost immediately. That very first time, you’d waited to put up the tree until that very day, and you hadn’t managed to finish decorating until he’d gotten there. You were ashamed- but he was just excited. He asked you, stars in his eyes, if he could help. He confessed, words rushed and still half-flying, that he’d never gotten to before. You didn’t ask and he didn’t offer. You handed him a box of mismatched ornaments gladly. 

That night, you’d sat around the tree, the sight of threadbare branches and two gifts perhaps looking pitiful to anyone else, but there were lights. Keigo had gone and gotten lights mid-way through, saying he’d been struck by inspiration, and he hadn’t come back for quite a bit since most of the stores were closed, but they were beautiful. You’d turned the rest of the lights in the house off and just basked in the warm glow of them. They reminded you of Keigo’s eyes, a bit. That was the first time you’d rested your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his wing around you.

You couldn’t help but be upset that he hadn’t even mentioned Christmas, much less apologized for missing it, even if it felt a little childish. You felt homesick more often than not. All you wanted to do these days was lie in bed, lounging around in his baggy clothes, twirling dead feathers between your fingers.

You left him a gift before Christmas. When you saw that he still hadn’t picked it up the next day, all you could do was sigh. By the time New Years came around, the gift remained by your doorstep. You began leaving less and less, just to stop crossing that threshold.

You baked cookies that night. You lit candles and dimmed the lights and listened out for sparkles and fireworks all over. You’d started hating fireworks when you started dating Keigo. He’d made a joke once about having to fly through them and it made you sick to your stomach just thinking about it. He was as flammable as a bundle of dry straw. The heater was on, but you still wore one of his old, tacky Christmas sweaters around. You popped open a bottle of Champagne and poured yourself a glass.

You had a bad feeling, but you pretended like you didn’t. You glanced at the clock. Keigo wouldn’t have given you false hope- no matter how optimistic he was. But eventually, the clock struck eleven, and you were two glasses of champagne and batches of cookies in, and there was no sign of him. 

You groaned when you finally heard the clock mark the hour, resting your forehead on the cold of the kitchen table. 

Why were you so miserable without him? You obviously could never know, but you were willing to bet money on the idea that Keigo was not nearly as shaken up about it when he was away. In fact, the more dangerous a task he was about to embark on, the happier he seemed to send you away. A familiar coil of bitterness rose up in you. After all this time, he didn’t trust you. He didn’t think you could hold your own, not next to him.

But maybe he’s right, You mused, munching miserably on your cookie. After all, he goes away and I spend all my time sick and moping and thinking about him. God, I really am useless.

Maybe you should get a cat. Keigo was never their biggest fan, and they didn’t do well around his wings, but you really wanted one for times like these. And if he was going to spend this much time away from now on, what did it matter?

You were idly scrubbing a dish when the clock went off at midnight. Screams erupted from every direction around you, the sound of illegal fireworks, the cheers of loved ones celebrating with one another.

Honestly, you thought you’d be more sad, and angry, and disappointed. But you weren’t. The hour passed and it was the next year and Keigo wasn’t there to celebrate- like he always was- even though he said he’d try to make it and it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as Christmas. There was no one to call, no one to text. You finished washing the dish and downed the last of your glass, before pouring yourself another.

You settled onto the couch. You weren’t ready for bed yet, not with the sounds outside. You scrolled through a million shows and movies before settling on one you’d seen a million times, like white noise. It was past one am, and you had finished up your millionth game of Sudoku when you heard someone at the door.

Fear rang through you, at first. You were alone, you were tipsy, and your hero brain whispered that nobody would hear your screams with the din of New Years around you. You jumped to your feet the best you could, setting aside your glass and phone at once, preparing to defend yourself when you heard keys turn the lock.

It was Keigo. Of course, of course, it was just Keigo.

All of the resentment, all of the bitterness, all of the anger you told yourself you’d take out on him softened at once when you caught sight of him. Not only because he looked more tired than you’d seen him in a long time- with uncharacteristic bags under his weary eyes, slumped shoulders, and wings noticeably smaller than usual- but just because…

Because it was Keigo. Because, miraculously, he looked like he needed you more than you needed him. 

“You’re awake.” He sounded surprised. He didn’t look it. Maybe he was too tired to even look surprised. He locked the door behind him, but didn’t move from across the room.

”I was-” You words caught around the lie. “I was waiting for you.” But he beamed, and you were glad you hadn’t told him the truth. Oh, Keigo. Always the optimist.

“I’m home now.”

“Yeah,” you walked to him, pace increasing with every step, until you were flinging yourself into his arms. Keigo, for his part, was more than ready. He caught you easily, and no more conversation was needed. When you kissed him, his face and nose and mouth were all cold, and he held you like a dying ember. The way you fell into each other reminded you of the moment you’d managed to catch him after the battle in Kamino, behind the alley, a moment you had been unable to stop yourself from replaying and replaying and replaying.

There was no thinking to be done while you were kissing, your mouths opened immediately for each other’s. You wrapped your legs and arms around him, indulging both of you in the kiss. He turned the two of you, pressing you flat against the wall. His kisses fell against your chin and neck, and then all at once-

“Keigo!” You gasped, which was the only thing saving it from being a scream as Keigo sucked at the skin on your neck hard. You squirmed, thrashed really, in his arms, trying to push him away, but it was fruitless. “What are you- Keigo, oh my God-” Your voice was just a whimper by the end as he barely even reacted to you. “W- wait, you can’t-”

The Commission had strict rules involving appearance. Some were obvious: no alterations may be made to the uniform without going through one of their designers, heroes must appear at the scene relatively kempt (unless coming from another battle), tears or rips must be mended by next appearance. But there were other, unwritten rules, pertaining to the professionalism of the costume. No hero could be caught drinking or smoking in their uniform. No hero should be seen doing non-heroic activities in their uniform. And, of course, famously, hickeys were not allowed to be showing while they were in uniform.

Everyone claimed to have a friend of a friend who had gotten in trouble for it, to the point that it was just something heroes knew to avoid while participating in… more illicit activities. But it had happened closer than that to the two of you. In fact, Keigo had once gotten in massive trouble when the Commission caught him with a hickey that you had given him. It was (mostly) an accident, and they hadn’t suspected where it actually came from, but he was put on night patrol with no breaks for the next couple of weeks.

You were extremely apologetic, but not enough to accompany him out all of those times.

Ever since then, you were both careful about it. After all, they really didn’t need the scrutiny that the Commission was trying to protect them from in a roundabout way. Not only would Hawks’s fangirls go ballistic if they thought he was actually seeing someone, but it would invite people to speculate on who. And nothing good would come of that. 

This was to say, it wouldn’t be good if either of you showed up to your job with a lovebite visible on your necks, and concealer could only last for so long in a job like yours. The two of you whined and bitched about it, but for the most part, you reserved your marking for things below the collar, even if the ‘claiming’ of it all was half the fun.

Until tonight, apparently. Keigo was still sucking and biting at your neck like a man starved. “Sorry- sorry,” It sounded genuine, he sounded almost hurt him, but he didn’t stop. “Need- Need something permanent- need it to last-”

And it did hurt. You weren’t prepared for the sharp heat of it- but it was good. It was so good, Keigo’s lips wrapped around such a sensitive part of you, making you feel a mind-numbing pain derived intimately from his own mouth, his face buried into your neck, while he was holding you close together. And he was marking you. He was marking you and everyone would know you belonged to someone and entirely irrationally, for a split second, you hoped they would know it was Keigo.

He growled and pressed open-mouthed, sloppy kisses to your neck, before licking a stripe up your throat and swirling his tongue over what must have been the forming bruise. your head was going fuzzy from the abuse of your neck. You barely recognized the usual care he treated you with, even in their most morally bankrupt moments of fornication. Instead, he bit down on another part of your neck and started the process again.

You threw your head back and gave in, moaning and bucking your hips against him. This only seemed to egg him on, as his kisses grew more frantic and messy, and a heavy sort of note joined his panting, like he was moaning with every breath. 

Your neck was starting to feel wet at this point, but you didn’t care. You could feel every move he made down to your pussy, and it was leaving no room for anything to go to your brain.

Several marks later, Keigo finally seemed to remember that there were possibly other ways that he could have you- though he didn’t give you any warning of this thought at all before he pulled you away from the wall and fell to his knees. This would have been alright, hot even, if you weren’t still attached to him. You yelped as they dropped, performing a clumsy combination of your arms flailing and still clinging to Keigo as he went down. 

But you didn’t collide with the floor, you were simply on his lap now, nails digging into his clothes and back. He took the second of your confusion to tear off his work jacket and reveal the compression shirt underneath. You dearly loved the eyeful of his lithe muscles you got through the tight fabric. You ran your hands over his chest and shoulders appreciatively.

”You know, you could have given me a heads up,” You meant to scold him, but it came out more as a sort of pout. But Keigo didn’t laugh like he usually would have, didn’t even smile. He sort of frowned distantly as you spoke, staring only at your lips. “Keigo?” You brushed a lock of flaxen hair behind his ear. “Are you oka-”

”No,” He shook his head, his voice thick with something you couldn’t name. He took an unsteady breath and shook his head, looking somewhere just past you. “N- no, I’m-” The glint in his eyes wasn’t right. You were contemplating it when he sprang back into action. He lunged, pinning you under him on the floor, but his arms had broken the worst of your fall. Still, you cried out in surprise, Your world suddenly in an entirely different orientation. Keigo licked and nibbled at your ear as he pulled off your- his- sweater roughly, the friction of it burning for a second. He tossed it aside carelessly before returning to his position right on top of you. His hands squeezed and groped at your chest painfully- and not in a good way.

Your head spun. What was going on? This was nothing like Keigo. Even when he was rough, it was usually only because you had asked for it, or confirmed it was what you wanted at least once. Every once in a while, you even had to egg him on. But this- this felt careless and crude, bouncing between the two extremes of him being too intense and not there with you at all. 

“Ow,” You hissed, but it was really more of a whisper. You were almost afraid to snap him out of the trance, even as he bruised you in places you weren’t accustomed to. “Ow-”

”Please,” He whined. His mouth was against your chest, he had begun to work his way down. He sounded… truly pitiful. “Please, I- I need- I can’t-” He sat back up and away from you, running a hand through his hair, only for half of the strands to fall back into place right after. You finally got a good look at him, closer now than across the room. He was frantic, searching. His eyes darted around your face wildly, but he didn’t seem to find what he was looking for. “Please.” He slumped down again on top of you like his strings had been cut, all at once, landing hard onto you.

“Are you on something?” You wondered aloud. “It’s- it’s fine if you are, but you should tell me, Kei-chan-”

”No, no.” He shook his head frantically. “No, I swear, I just-” He tugged at your pants. His eyes grew pleading, beseeching. “Please-”

This wasn’t how you pictured their reunion. But he was looking at you with those desperate eyes, and you could only ever be the personyou were. 

Keigo was hurting. You could help him. As always, you could do your service by helping him, by being at his side.

You didn’t speak. You just nodded. Keigo breathed out what could only be a sigh of relief and tore your pants off. You were wet, your moments of hesitation unable to strip that awaym  especially not when Keigo spread your legs and dipped his fingers into the place that you had wanted him for weeks. Thankfully, he didn’t finger you. You shuddered a bit to think of what his thick, rough fingers would have felt like inside you in this state. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your knee and then tapped you gently on the ass. ”Flip over.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice.you turned and assumed your position, ass in the air and face against your arms on the floor. There was a second where it was just ou, in the dark, your face warm with your breaths and the sound filling your ears. Maybe- maybe it would be easier this way, unable to see his face.

There was no preamble before Keigo slammed in.

”Oh my GOD!” You shrieked, nails digging into the hardwood floor in front of you and leaving gouge marks in their wake. “Oh my fucking God,” He took you with a speed and strength that truly belonged on a battle field. Every other stroke or so hit your cervix, entirely bottomed you out with that thick cock of his, a Russian roulette of pain that entirely cleared your mind. 

”Fuck,” He cursed. He gripped your hips brutally, but you didn’t even feel it over the flood of sensation below it. He pulled you back and forth against him like you were an to for him to use, something small and thoughtless he could move as he pleased. “Fuck, yes,” He hissed through his teeth sharply. “Holy fuck, you take it so good, look at you- taking my cock so fucking good.” He babbled.

”Please,” You choked out, eyes rolling back so faryou couldn’t see anything other than stars. “P- please,” A broken gasp wracked through your chest like a sob. In fact, you rather thought you were sobbing. Your fingers and hands jumped and convulsed, just trying to hold on, to regain any sort of footing as he fucked you into the floor. you didn’t even know what you were begging for. For him to stop? For more? For him to hold you, just hold you, so you could sit in the silence and look at the Christmas tree?

Your safeword danced on the tip of your tongue. You wished you could say that you hadn’t used it to be a good girlfriend, that you’d suffered through it all silently because it was clear he needed you, that you were kind and benevolent- but the truth was that you simply couldn’t even string enough of a thought together to control your tongue enough to say it.

”Please-” He panted, pleaded, “Baby, say my name-” His voice broke around the syllables. “I- I need to- pl- please, saymyname-”

“Kei- ei- go- oh-” Each sound was broken up by the bounce of you against his cock. You couldn’t speak properly even if you wanted to. You slurred his name, your tongue too heavy in your mouth, too confusing to move properly. “Kei- go!”

“Yes, yes, yes,” He whined, bending over your body. His chest pressed against your back. He was all over you, inside you, above you, all-encompassing. Each thrust sent your body back and forth against the floor, scraping against the skin of your face and arms. Your knees ached from holding yourself up on the hard surface. Your legs trembled, weak with the strength it took to even stay up. “So tight, so fucking tight-”

”Keigo- w- wait, please-“ You gasped out, but the words were unintelligible to even your ears, too breathy and muffled and confused, too pierced through with your moans. Instead, all Keigo heard was ‘please’. The next couple of thrusts were even harder.

Your mind and body couldn’t take it any longer, you tensed, trembled so much your limbs began to hurt, and came so hard you saw white. The scream you let out was guttural, and gave its way into sobs. Your whole body gave out, but unfortunately, Keigo’s grip didn’t relent, he hardly even noticed. “Pleasepleasepleaseplease-”. You keened pitifully. “Keigo-”

His grunts and noises had become animalistic. There were no more words or pleas from him. Instead, he moaned his own release, slamming into you with absolute abandon, finishing inside you by using his body’s weight to pin you all the way to the floor. You were squeezed between the two unrelenting surfaces, as Keigo came as deep as he could possibly go, gravity assisting him in his terrible mission.

Finally, finally, he was still.

He breathed heavily above you as you shook and trembled and just tried to do the monumental task of catching your breath or moving your limbs. Your hands shook so hard it looked like you had tremors when you tried to draw them back into yourself.

Every body part that you could think of ached in one way or another. You tested different parts of yourself, operating them like a puppet who had just gained control of their own body. It was a long while before Keigo let up, long enough that you had almost forgotten it was him on top of you. You lifted your own face from the floor. It was wet. You hadn’t even realized you were crying or drooling. Your hair stuck to your face with tears and sweat. you took a deep, shuddering breath.

Keigo pulled out. You felt his soft cock slip out of you and were astounded that the now-feeble part could have done what it just had. You remained on the floor, little will to move, no capacity to consider what he might think about it.

He laid his hand on your hip. ”Hey, do you wanna-” But you jumped. You hadn’t meant to. But it was a motion so sudden it startled him. He blinked. And it came to him. The scene, the house, his love- it all finally appeared in front of him. “Oh my God-” He breathed, expression stricken and horrified. “Oh my God, baby bird, I- oh my God-” You tried to push yourself off the ground, but your arms gave out underneath you, and it looked downright painful as  youfell. Keigo pulled you up at once and flipped you over, as gently, but quickly, as he could.

Keigo hoped, prayed, that it wasn’t as bad as he suddenly remembered it all was- 

When you turned, something in the back of your head warned you to school your expression into a more neutral mask, but it was too slow and quiet. But every bit of the shock and confusion you felt must have been evident on your face, because when Keigo turned you around, he shattered.

He dissolved into sobs, curling and melting onto you, into you. It only took a split second before you, too, were crying, until you were both wracked with it, holding each other. Clinging tighter than ever before.

There was nothing else to do.

*****

You woke first the next morning- and you woke in pain. The way your insides ached made you feel like maybe the phrase ‘rearrange their guts’ wasn’t as fun as it was before. You realized, when you went to the bathroom, that you had been bleeding. A wave of sickness. You put on a pad and walked carefully back to bed.

The noise of the bathroom alone had woken Keigo. He locked eyes with you as soon as you came out of the restroom. Your heart sank. You immediately tore your own away. You were really hoping he wouldn’t wake for a while. He sat up as you got into bed, back towards him. Neither of you said anything for a long moment. 

You gave in. You flipped over towards him, tossing an arm around his lap, your forehead against his hip. He rubbed a hand down your back, almost on instinct. You hated the way his hand jumped away once he realized what he was doing like nothing you’d ever experienced before.

You gave a gentle demand, ”C’mere.” He obliged at once, shifting down to rest next to you. You were careful not to make eye contact, even as he stared at your face, watching your expressions like- well, like a hawk. You adjusted until you were lying on his chest, arms curled around him. He was sleep-warmed. Comfy. Smelled familiar.

It was still Keigo. 

Just Keigo. 

Always Keigo. 

Only Keigo.

”I’m bleeding.” You said softly, shutting your eyes. You didn’t know why. You didn’t want to guilt him. You didn’t really even want him to know. But you felt like he needed to. Deserved to, even. You listened to the sharp breath he took.

”Fucking shit,” He breathed, and that was it for a moment. You pretended like you couldn’t hear him crying. He pretended like he couldn’t feel you do the same.

”Will you make me some tea?” You asked quietly, when you had both gone still and silent again. Keigo jumped up at once. He was just in his boxers, the ones he had pulled on last night when you had finally gone to bed in a daze.

”Yes. Yeah. Of course.” He nodded, looking grateful for something to do. He hurried off to the kitchen at once. You laid on in warm space he had left on the bed. You tucked yourself in and sniffed the pillow he’d been lying on deeply. It smelled like him- like the man you knew and loved. In the kitchen, pots and pans moved around, water ran, the stove clicked to life.

It wasn’t long before the smell of food filled your nose instead. It smelled like grilled fish and rice. After another couple of minutes, he walked in, holding your favorite mug.

”What kind?” You asked, pointing for him to set it down on the bedside drawer.

”Your favorite.” He didn’t even let you react before he hurried out, “ButIcanmakeyouadifferentone! I just- I thought that I- I guess I could have asked-” He winced at his own words, and you sighed.

”It’s fine, Keigo.” But your voice sounded tired, even to you, and his name rang cold. ”Thank you.” He hesitated. You buried yourself deeper under the covers. You just… didn’t want to hear it right now. Thankfully, whether he got the message or simply couldn’t decide what to say, he walked out of the room once more. After another ten minutes, you finally stood and came to the kitchen, wincing as you did so. He smiled when he caught sight of you, but the worried furrow in his eyebrows didn’t unknot.

”H- Hey, good morning. I made breakfast.” He gestured around at the spread. You eyed it over. “I- um- there’s fish and rice and miso soup and a rolled omelet- I made coffee, too, just in case- or we could- we could always order takeout or-”

”Hey.”you put your mug down on the table and walked towards him. His wings drew up, somewhere between fear and shame. He seemed to balance on a knife’s edge as you stood in front of him. You leaned forward and rested your forehead on his bare chest. “It’s okay.” You said softly, wrapping you arms around him and stroking at his back, between his wings.

Keigo nodded shakily, before finally hugging you back.

”I- I just- I didn’t feel like me when I came in last night,” He babbled against the top of your head, “And I’ve- I’ve felt really lost in the mission, all of my interactions are being watched, I could only step away last night because-” He took a breath. You felt the shudder in his body. He was tense, like he wanted to hold you tighter, but was too afraid to. “I wanted to come back and feel like me, I wanted- I-“ You hushed him. Keigo buried his face deeper into your hair. ”I’m…” Keigo started. You tensed. “I’m so-”

”Don’t.” You snapped.

You had an unspoken agreement- the two of you never apologized. You were almost proud of it, your ability to move on from mistakes and stupid things the other had said. You gave each other space any time you had an argument, and came back with level heads and open arms. This was the first real thing either of you had, they were both bound to make mistakes. You were happy you both knew that, and found something that worked for you guys, even if other people didn’t understand it.

Hearing him almost do so now made your throat tight and eyes burn.

”No, really, what happened last night-”

”Takami Keigo.” You wrenched yourself out of his grip, instead grabbing him by the arms, pinning them to his side. The cruelty in the sneer and look and touch and name shocked him like ice water. “It’s fine. I said yes. I could have used my safe word. I ask you to be rougher all the time. It-“ You cleared your throat. You removed your hands. “It is fine. I need you to drop it.”

Keigo stared, face to face with bared teeth and anger. “Okay.” His voice was just a whisper.

You stared for one last minute before letting go and turning away, back to your tea.you took a long, deep draught, before something caught your eye. He looked where your gaze fell. It was a mirror, in the hall. You touched your neck. “I forgot about those.” You hummed, looking thoughtful. Keigo couldn’t discern anything else from your expression, so he said nothing. 

He turned away and grabbed a couple of dishes and began to plate everything up for the two of you. Before you sat down, he grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it under you without a word. For this, at least, you were grateful. 

You ate in silence for a while. It wasn’t exactly comfortable. He found it a little hard to look at you, now, close up. He wished he could have been pleased to see you all marked up, but instead, you just looked… bruised. Battered. The way you did after a battle didn’t go your way. There was an exhaustion in your eyes you couldn’t fake and you didn’t bother to hide.

“When are you leaving?” You asked, your voice carefully free of any inflection. He bit his cheek. Usually this question would be asked with the clear wish that it wouldn’t be for as long as possible. But today, he was unsure.

“I was-” Any strength in his voice broke. “I need to leave tonight.” He admitted. You were entirely still for a moment, but just a moment. You resumed eating, without even looking at him the whole time.

“Alright,” Was all you said, soft and small and sad. Your utensils clicked, but otherwise, it was silent.

*****

The first day of the New Year was difficult. For once, you found yourself glad that Keigo was leaving. No matter what you did, you couldn’t get rid of the silent stiffness that permeated all of your interactions. Perhaps the distance would do you good for once.

When night fell, Keigo had to leave. He stood by the door and you came to say your goodbyes. He held his arms out tentatively, and you fell in at once. He squeezed you tightly. You squeezed back.

”How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly. ”…Probably at least another three months.“ Your heart sank. You knew that, but to hear it was another can of worms. “But I will visit before then, I promise.”

”Okay,” Your voice was hollow with unshed tears. As he made to pull away, something desperate in you woke at once, and you held on tighter. “I- I miss you so much when you’re gone.” You rushed out, like he didn’t know that already. “This mission was so sudden, I went from seeing you all the time to not at all, and I don’t know what you’re doing or how dangerous it is, and I don’t even have anyone I can talk to about this because you’re who I talk to about things, please don’t leave me.” Your pathetic plea rang in the air for much longer than was comfortable.

He spoke, “I’ve been seeing you online again.” Picturing him seeing all the embarrassing headlines and memes and photos from your recent appearances made you groan. “You have no idea how proud I am of you, or how much I miss you, too. I’ll tell you all about it the second I can.” He pulled away a bit, cupping your cheek in his large, warm hand, lifting your chin to look at him. “I don’t- I don’t want to do this again, okay?” His gaze was loving, and sincere. You nodded, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks silently. “I don’t like it either, I promise.” He kissed your forehead. “Be brave, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, but the lump in your throat and chest hadn’t gone away. He hugged you again, and you both rocked back and forth and back and forth.

”Hey,” He said seriously. “I love you.”

That was another thing you didn’t say. Or, at least, it was very rare. You really only said it when you didn’t have to actually… say it. You wrote it in notes in code or texts. Occasionally, during a very intimate moment, or if you weren’t sure you were going to see each other again.

You swallowed, wondering which one of these things was true now.

”I love you, too.” He wrapped his wings around you. Their hold was soft and strong, and you felt like you could breathe easier, even if your chest was tighter.

Finally, finally, you pulled away. ”I’ll see you soon.” He promised, and your lips met for one last kiss.

”See you soon.” You repeated throatily. You waved with a miserable little half-smile as he slipped out the door, taking his bright red wings, all the color, and your heart from your world.

When you went out the next day, you remembered Keigo’s present and groaned unhappily, having forgotten to remind him of it- but when you went to check it, you saw that he had taken it, and left something in its stead.

It was a tiny box, covered in shiny, red wrapping paper. You stepped right back inside your place and tore it open, finding a ring box inside the first. Inside was a silver band made of metal feathers widing their way into a ring. Your mouth fell open at that alone, only to realize that there was an extra slit in the box.you checked the larger box it had come in. Inside was two photos- one that must have been of the advertisement, with your ring and a thicker-banded version of it- and the other was one of Keigo.

In the photo, he was somewhere far in the sky during sunset, pink and purple and orange and lovely all around him. He was beaming, always so handsome, but glowing with the halo of the sun and his smile. His wings were a blur behind him, but in front of him, his gloveless hand was fanned out, showing off his own ring from the matching set.

You laughed through tears, sliding the ring onto your finger. It seemed he hadn’t forgotten about Christmas, after all.

[mylonelydreaming]

All Co-Habitation Evidence *TotK Spoilers*

I'm going to hide all of this behind a read-more if you would like to remain unspoiled on everything like npc interactions, towns, quests, etc. Which I do have to talk about when it comes to this topic. Now, without further ado:

The bed in the house is the exact same as BotW, and unlike other beds in the world, you can freely sleep in it. If we open up both botw and totk, the bed is the exact same one from botw. Meaning that at the absolute minimum, Zelda has been sleeping in Link's bed. However, if you go up to the bed, Link can still sleep in it. There are very few beds that are free in this game, and the only other beds you can sleep in is obviously communal beds, such as those at lookout landing for those who are sick, injured, etc. You cannot normally sleep in another person's bed.

2. Link's hair-tie, Zelda's diary and the Champion's photo.

If you have completed The Champion's Ballad DLC, and correctly transferred your save, then the photo will still be there. But more importantly, the house has a new addition. Behind the house is "Zelda's secret well" that functions as her new study. In that well, you will find one of the volumes of her diary, hot-footed frogs splashing around, and Link's hair-tie in the corner of the room. Link never took that hair-tie off in botw (only when wearing the ancient helm), so it's a bit suspicious that it's down here of all places.

Not only this, but if you read the volumes of her diary, both the one in the well and on the desk near the bed, there are a couple of things that stick out:

Firstly, Zelda had Bolson build the well because she needed somewhere to focus alone. If she was living by herself, this makes no sense (and, in japanese, rather than "my house" it's simply "the house" here).

Secondly, Zelda states that Link is always by her side. To the point his clothes have become worn. So as a gift she made him a new tunic (and she "can't wait to see the look on his face" when he gets it, just saying).

and third, she had to hide said gift in the castle, otherwise he would find it in the house.

3. The School and Symin

During the time-skip, Zelda founded a new school in Hateno, where she became a teacher. Due to this, a child who misses her visits the house at around 12-2pm and calls it "Ms Zelda's house".

However, if you talk to Symin, he has this to say:

So, clearly, this is not Link's first time here (which should be obvious, how exactly did Zelda get to Hateno and the house in the first place after botw's ending? Link brought her there). He even asks Link why he came back to the village alone without Zelda. Additionally, if you go upstairs and read the "School Notes" it says this:

It talks about the opening expedition under the castle happening soon, and reiterates Link being by Zelda's side. Interestingly, in that opening sequence Zelda says she is glad she didn't leave the Purah Pad behind. Meaning she's glad she didn't leave it at home.

But wait, there's more

There is a side-quest at the school where Link becomes a teacher / substitute teacher. When you finish the quest, one of the children says this:

They say they already thought of Link as a teacher figure even before this quest. To add onto this, there is another child who wants to become a hero and is "always on the lookout for baddies".

4. Manny

Manny is an interesting case. At first, like some other npcs, he seems to have been entirely memory-wiped to be approachable for brand-new players who didn't play botw, but then he has the following to say:

So, first of all, he doesn't call the house "Zelda's house" and instead calls it "the house the princess was staying at"

Secondly, he asks Link to "keep the naive, new-in-town act" to a minimum.

Third, Manny has another dialogue, he wants to "check every well" in town to find frogs for Ivee (because, similar to his quest with Prima in botw, he thinks that's what she likes). But after he says this, he seems to realize he should not have said that in front of Link, saying "Uh oh, no coming back from that one" in the smaller text as though he knows Zelda's well is off-limits. Combined with him calling the house "the house the princess was staying at" he seems to know something.

5. Two Place settings, etc

The house has two places set, two towels, etc. And just in general a lot of things for supposedly one person. There is also a bigger kitchen, and let's be honest with ourselves here, who is more about cooking and actually good at it, Zelda or Link?

Under the stairs in totk

VS botw:

Now, for this next section, I have to talk about things regarding another town in the game, a quest and a mechanic many have not unlocked yet. Continue to read at your own peril (I would hide it under another read more if I could)

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The Tarrey Town House

During TotK, after we wake up and leave the sky islands, we can complete a quest to unlock the ability to build a brand-new "Dream Home" in Akkala, close to Tarrey Town.

The quest involves baby-sitting Hudson and Rhondson's child, Mattison, who, if you'll recall, did not exist yet in botw. In totk, she is starting to gain independence and appears to be around 5 or 6 years old:

I doubt Link was sleeping rough for several years (and Zelda would never be okay with that). Anyway, Link babysits her, goes up into a hot-air balloon with the family, and then has to watch a tear-jerking scene between Mattison and her parents as she has come of the age young gerudo girls have to go to Gerudo Town and stay there until they get older and are ready to venture the world.

It is only after completing this quest, a quest completely about parenthood, that you are offered the "Dream Home" by Rhondson.

Additionally, an npc at the nearby stable has this to say:

So, the in-universe implications of the dream home is that it is a family home, something you only buy when you plan to marry someone or start a family.

Adding onto this, the dining table in the dream home has four seats instead of two. But there's also an interesting comparison to make with the Hateno house. The Hateno house had two seats and two places set, this house has four seats, but is clearly only being used by one person:

In other words, Link is living by himself in a house meant for a family. Which is depressing to think about, but in the context of the game makes sense.

But there's something else. In the new house pieces (including a study you cannot use yourself), all the photos on the wall are of Hateno Village:

Why would Link hang photos of Hateno in his new home, if it was not important or nostalgic to him? (and, as a minor detail, the same yellow flower is in both houses, presumably Link's favorite flower)

In conclusion, it's clear from all the evidence that not only were they living together in Hateno, but the brand-new house actually has it's own implications behind it (and further proves that Hateno was and is important to Link).

Oh, and there is also one last thing, in the japanese version of the game, but I can't mention it here because it is an even bigger spoiler than all of this combined. It'll be an addition to this post later

[kawaiigirly21]

Spark Chapter Two

Sentinel, impressed, kept his optics on the two miners as they competed in the race. That was until he heard the voice of an angel. She was certainly louder than most of the crowd. Cheering on the miners. Seeing as she was a miner herself, it made sense. But no matter how engaging the race was this year. Or how much he liked it, he could barely pay attention to it. Not when the femme of his dreams caught his optic. He wanted her. He just had to have her.

After the race, he had the very worried femme brought to him. Snowflare looked around the large palace before feeling a presence behind her. Turing, she was greeted with the multiple optics of Arachne. “AH!” Snowflare jumped back in shock. Completely dumbfounded that she hadn’t heard the other femme come up behind her. “Now, now, arachne. Let’s not scare my guest! She’s to be treated….like a queen.” Sentinel spoke in a sultry tone. Snowflare stepped back a little to try and get a better look at the mech that towered over her.

This was Sentinel Prime! The sworn protector of Cybertron and Iacon City! Her hero! She almost felt faint. “What would your name be beautiful?” Snowflare was so starstruck that her hero wanted to know HER name that she didn’t even notice the obvious flirtations. “Oh! It’s Snow! Snowflare! I-i just want to say that I am a huge fan Mr. Sentinel Prime sir!” Sentinel chuckled as his optics scanned her form. She was small. Really small. Which was to be expected.

She was a mini con after all. But mini con or not, after reading her file prior to him meeting her, he knew she was a hard worker. The small bits of rubble that dusted her pastel blue and yellow were proof of that. His wings almost fluttered noticing that her color pallet was just the toned down version of his. Elegant yet adorable. He also liked the fact he had to bend down to her height to speak to her. It gave him a sense of pride and made him feel powerful. His optics lingered on her neck a bit as he fantasized wrapping a large servo around it and ever so slightly applying pressure until he rendered her unconscious.

“Well, I’d like to speak to you about something important. It’s about your friends D16 and Orion Pax…” Snowflare’s smile suddenly dropped when she heard the tone the large mech used. Elsewhere, Orion and D16 were contemplating their situation with their new companion B-127. “I hope she’s ok…We’ve never been away from her this long.” D16 paced the tiny room. “I’m sure she’s fine D. She’s never had issues before. I don’t see why this time is any different.”

But little did they know, this time was very different. While they found a message from Alpha Trion, Snowflare was trying to process the fact they were dead. As told to her by Sentinel Prime, Both her mates died from their injuries from the race. A fact she wasn’t sure how to handle. Coolant threatened to spill from her optics before a cloth was offered to her by none other than  the mech who gave her the bad news. Sentinel Prime.

“I…can’t possibly imagine what you’re going through little one. But I want you to know that I am here for you. Perhaps later, I could take you to dinner. To cheer you up.” The mech watched with a ghost of a smirk on his face plate as the mini con nodded her helm to the proposition of having dinner with him. “Oh good, I’ll leave you be and I’ll be back later tonight…Again I am.. Truly sorry for your loss.” As the mech took his leave and made his way down the halls of the tower, he looked over to Arachnid.

“I want her to be as comfortable as possible. Tell them to treat her like she’s their queen. Because after tonight, she will be.” Arachnid nodded before she was stopped by the mech. “Oh and…get her a cog from that…place. The best one.”  That night Snowflare looked up at the bright lights coming off the buildings of Iacon City. “I miss you both…so much..” Her optics began to wet with coolant as memories of D16 and Orion flooded her mind.

It was hard to believe she had seen them that morning in high spirits, seeing them race not knowing that would be the last time she would see them alive. That morning being the last time she was held and kissed by them. “Oh you have got to be kidding me! You!” Snowflare turned in alarm to the voice behind her only for her face plate to be pressed against the mid section armor of none other than the very intimidating Darkwing.

“You’re that mini con femme that’s always hanging around those trouble makers!” The mech grabbed Snowflare by her arm as she attempted to flee and slammed her against the wall. Her face plate pressed against the gold tiles. “You miners piss me off! And I don’t nearly get enough pay to deal with you! So, I’ll just take what I’m owed.” Snowflare’s optics widened in fear as she felt Darkwing’s digits reach around and found her interface panel and quickly pried it open showing her very inexperienced valve.

“No! Please! Don’t!!” Putting a servo over her mouth Darkwing opened his own interface panel before forcing the femme to bend over for him. Snowflare gripped the wall in preparation for the pain to come. She knew that no one would come to her rescue, so why fight it? “I’m gonna mess you up little bitch. You’re gonna be mine!” Coolant fell from Snowflare’s optics as she  felt Darkwing’s servos feel her breasts plates. She felt violated and used.

“Now, stay still, little con.” As the mech aligned his spike to enter the small femme, a voice interrupted him. “And just what do you think you’re doing Darkwing?” Snowflare felt the mech behind her stiffen before jumping away from her quickly. Letting her have time to close her interface panel. “I arrive to check on my little guest and I find you trying to get a taste of her. I'm very disappointed in you.” Snowflare turned to see the prime with his servo around Darkwing’s neck.

"She belongs to me. Understand?” The look of fear on Darkwing's face said it all as Sentinel dropped him. The mech then transformed and flew away as the prime turned to Snowflare. “Come now little one. Let me help you get cleaned up.” Snowflare didn't know how to feel as Sentinel picked her up bridal style and carried her inside. His sweet charming smile hid his true intentions well. And Snowflare was none the wiser.

[aayakashii]

granite and soft sand

Warning: mentions of violence and gore; angst.

Alan's fists were merciless.

He punched once, twice, thrice; a meteor shower falling down onto a wasteland.

Splatters of blood gushed out of the anomaly's body as he beat it down into a pulp – until there was nothing left; until the flame of its wrong, unholy life had been snuffed out by his hands and the ground it once stood upon was painted red.

Alan's ears rang loudly, silencing the inhuman screeches of agony from the thing that laid battered under his arms. It was long gone. The only sounds left were the splatter of its blood and guts onto the ground.

Alan's ears rang loudly, silencing your voice as you tried to save him from drowning in an ocean of grief of his own creation. You tried to yell louder than his grunts as he blindly hit the ground, voice hoarse and tired and persistent. You'd bring him back.

“I'm alive, I'm alive” you repeated, loudly, as he painted himself in red.

A small, lonely lighthouse in the midst of a raging sea. His boat crashed against the unforgiving waves, lost. There was no helm to steer him to safety in your arms. Still, you shined a light on his path.

Through his blurred vision and foggy mind, Alan finally heard your voice cutting through the dense mist of his violent trance.

He felt the warmth of your hand gently touching his back, shaking him lightly to snap him out of his daze.

He found your tired eyes, searching for a sign of conscience underneath the veil of grief and hatred that had clouded his vision.

You were alive? You were alive.

Alan reached out his arms towards you.

He had to feel you were real – that his mind did not decide to torture him even more by plaguing him with visions of a lost love.

In his memory, your cry for help – your cry for him, as the anomaly dragged you away where he would not be able to reach – echoed endlessly. It sounded like the swan song for his happiness.

All that he recalled after that was red.

Alan reached out his arms towards you. And then he stopped.

Bits of guts stuck to his skin and blood drenched his arms and his clothes. The iron smell was abrasive inside his nose. Beside him, an unrecognizable pulp laid still – cause of death: the anger of a hateful man.

It was all so red, so red, so red.

You reached out for him with your hands and intertwined his fingers with yours. He tried pulling away immediately.

The spoils of his rage had no glory and no dignity; he couldn't allow you to be dirtied by his violence.

And you couldn't let yourself be pushed away by hands that seeked nothing else but to protect you.

His fists were of iron, yet his skin was a petal under your touch, and you carved your nails into him, steeling your hold.

You'd cake them in the blood he spilt, if only not to leave him alone in his despair.

You finally pulled him into your arms, through his protests and flails, pressing his head flush against your chest.

His breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes, a foreign pressure building up behind them – he didn't even remember what it felt like to cry.

“I'm alive, I'm alive”, each heartbeat drummed rhythmically in his ears, reminding him that you were there.

“I'm alive, I'm alive”, your lungs filled with the putrid air that surrounded the both of you, reminding him that you were there.

Your hands gently brushed his hair, matted with sweat, as you held him.

Alan was kneeling on the tainted ground, arms limp beside his body – he didn't deserve to hold you as well – and he stared at the bloodstains he left on the fabric of your clothes.

“I'm a monster.” he murmured, his thunderous voice just a fearful whisper against your heart. “I'm sorry.”

You kissed the top of his head and held him tighter.

“You saved me.” you replied, pulling his arms and placing them around your waist, where they belonged. “You're my hero.”

Fallible, angry, made of granite and soft sand at the same time.

Like every hero.

Like every human.

Alan choked out a small sob.

And you held him, amidst the blood and guts, as he allowed himself to cling tightly to you.

Okay I tried to do something ✨️poetic✨️ so I apologize if it sounds confusing rip

[in1-nutshell]

Bot Buddy the single parent with a sparkling and being friends with Swerve

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

MTMTE

Swerve has a lot of respect for Buddy.

Who else goes on a ship looking for a new life for them and their sparkling?

Not a lot of bots sadly.

Buddy and Swerve first met in one of Blurr’s races.

Swerve had just left with his supposed hero’s number in servo when he noticed a bot holding a sparkling trying to open a door with their pede.

Swerve opens the door for the bot.

The bot looks in surprise at the open door and looks down at Swerve.

“Please, after you.”--Swerve

The bot goes through and turns to smile at him.

“Thank you so much! I’ve been trying forever to try and get that door open, but you can only do so much when your servos are tied.”--Buddy

Swerve just smiles before looking at the sparkling who was staring at him curiously.

“No Problem! Happy to help!”--Swerve

The bot looks at a nearby confection stand.

“Hey, let me buy you something as a way to say thanks.”--Buddy

“Oh, there’s no need—”--Swerve

“BAH!”--Sparkling

The bot smiles a bit.

“I think they’re insisting too…”--Buddy

“Oh! The names Swerve!”--Swerve

“That’s a nice name, I’m Buddy.”--Buddy

After a bit of talking the two had exchanged numbers and the rest was history.

Buddy doesn’t go on the ship immediately; they ended up on the ship as Megatron’s official guard.

It took a lot of convincing to get they’re only sparkling to come aboard the ship.

When Swerve heard about his friend joining the ship, he made sure to be one of the first to meet them.

Buddy was so relief to see a familiar face when they entered the ship’s entrance.

The sparkling was just cooing and giggling hearing the familiar voice.

Swerve loves the little sparkling.

The sparkling gets very attached to him and their parent when more and more unfamiliar faces start to appear.

“Hey Swerve, have you seen—”--Buddy

The sparkling is crawling on the floor with Swerve crawling behind them.

“Imma getcha! Imma get—"--Swerve

Swerve pauses and looks at Buddy who’s leaning on the door frame with a tired smile.

“I take it you got them?”--Buddy

The sparkling perks up and happily crawls to their parent.

Buddy picks up their sparkling as Swerve stands up brushing the imaginary dust from his armor.

“We just finished one of those Earth dino films and they wanted to play dinos so…”--Swerve

Buddy chuckles a bit and pats Swerve on the helm.

“Thanks Swerve.”--Buddy

Swerve looks a bit more at Buddy’s tired face.

“You know I don’t mind watching them for a while longer. Really! Anyways I think a few hours of recharge would do you good. You look like Whirl after that 36-hour cocktail binge last month.”--Swerve

“I’m fine Swerve—”--Buddy

Swerve gives them a look.

Buddy sighs before giving him their sparkling.

“Only for an hour.”--Buddy

“I’ll wake you up Buddy.”--Swerve

Buddy smiles at Swerve and their sparkling and walks back to their habsuite for some extra sleep.

Swerve knows that Buddy’s job isn’t easy and long night are a common thing, but it turned into a real nightmare when the sparkling was awake or had a nightmare.

He did his best to help Buddy with their sparkling so they could at least get an hour or two of sleep or work done.

One of the best ways he has figured out to get both Buddy and the sparkling to relax a bit was through movie nights.

He has all sort of kid’s movies or softer toned ones to entertain them both or just the sparkling and let buddy sleep through it.

It’s mainly a minibot club that joins in for the movie nights, but on the occasion, they’ll get other bots to join in.

While watching Beauty and the Beast.

“When is Belle going to use that knife and kill the Beast?”--Whirl

“Whirl this is a kids movie!”--Swerve

“And? The last ‘kids’ movie you put on had that earth cats creator die from that free fall.”--Whirl

“Wait he died!?”--Tailgate

“Yes?! Weren’t you—oh yeah, you left in the middle for a snack break.”--Whirl

“Shhh! Buddy’s sleeping. Keep it down a bit.”--Rewind

Whirl sassily waves his claw dramatically draping part of his frame on Cyclonus who was holding Tailgate in his lap. Tailgate was holding the sparkling on his lap, both extremely invested in the movie.

The sparkling is very shy meeting the new bots but does warm up to them with some time and with enough talking.

They prefer the minibots a lot more than the rest of the crew.

It may or may not be because they associate smaller bots to Swerve.

Tailgate loves playing around with the sparkling.

But he can only play certain things with them.

One time Tailgate thought it was a smart idea to bring the sparkling on his hoverboard to take a quick ride around the ship.

Buddy, Swerve, Cyclonus and Whirl walking down the hall.

“Do you think they’re okay? It’s been a couple of hours…”--Buddy

“You worry too much Buddy; Tailgate isn’t going to let anything happen to them. Tell them Cyclonus.”--Swerve

“Tailgate would never put your sparkling in harm’s way.”--Cyclonus

“Hmm…”--Buddy

“Please! What is the worst thing Panic buttons gonna do? Take them on a high speed chase—”--Whirl

Tailgate zooms past them with the sparkling strapped on their sling.

“HI! BYE!”--Tailgate

Rodimus is chasing after him with Drift following closely behind.

“…I stand corrected.”--Whirl

THUD!

Buddy falls backwards fainting.

Swerve is by their side slightly panicking that his friend just passed out.

Rewind shows pretty colors and shapes to the sparkling.

He teams up with Chromedome in trying to get them to say their first words.

Both secretly think this is their idea of practice in case either wants a kid in the future.

“C’mon say ‘Rewind’.”--Rewind

“Or Chromedome.”--Chromedome

“That’s too long.”--Rewind

“And Rewind is too complicated.”--Chromedome

Brainstorm comes into the room.

“Brainstorm?”--Chromedome

“I brought the new binary gun designs—”--Brainstorm

“Bwainstorm.”--Sparkling

“…”--Everyone

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”--Brainstorm

Brainstorm picks up the sparkling who just looks confused while Rewind face palms and Chromedome just chuckles a bit.

“Buddy is not going to like this.”--Rewind

Swerve is the sparklings favorite.

They have him wrapped around their digit and everyone knows that.

He gives the best bedtime stories, and they love hearing his voice.

The sparkling will get excited whenever they hear their parent of Swerve talk.

Swerve is Buddy’s go to babysitter but knows that they can’t rely on just him and the mini’s. They do take more of an effort to formally introduce their sparkling to the rest of the crew.

A safety precaution if you will.

Buddy pointing at a picture of Swerve.

“Safe?”--Buddy

The sparkling nods.

Buddy shows them a picture of Lockdown.

“Safe?”--Buddy

The sparkling shakes their helm.

Buddy shows a picture or Whirl.

“Safe?”--Buddy

The sparkling nods their helm.

“HA! Take that Magnus!”--Whirl

Whenever Buddy has a mission out of the ship and Swerve is babysitting them at the bar, he puts up a sign announcing when the baby is present.

This is a universal sign of being on your best behavior or he will sic Magnus or Ten on you.

[merwgue]

Introduction: The Inner Circle—Prythian's Pinnacle of Elitism

Ah, the Inner Circle. We’ve been told they are the champions of freedom, the guardians of goodness, the leaders of a new, fairer Prythian. At the helm, Rhysand and his merry band of elite soldiers, spies, and diplomats would have us believe that they are a beacon of morality, integrity, and justice in a world rife with corruption and cruelty. But is that really the case?

The truth is, for all their talk about fairness and equality, the Inner Circle is a tight-knit clique of power-hungry elitists, operating behind closed doors, making decisions that benefit themselves first and foremost. They may wrap themselves in the guise of the protectors of the downtrodden, but at their core, they are just as hypocritical, privileged, and out of touch as any of the villains they claim to despise. In fact, they might just be worse, because they have the audacity to act as though their privilege makes them better—more enlightened, more justified in their actions.

So, let’s dissect these so-called heroes, one by one, and see just how elitist, manipulative, and self-serving they really are.

---

Argument: The Inner Circle—A Case Study in Elitism

Rhysand: The High Lord of Moral Superiority

Rhysand, the self-anointed savior of Prythian, is the poster child for disguised elitism. He masquerades as a progressive leader, but peel back the layers, and what you find is a ruler who thrives on control. Rhysand isn’t just the High Lord of the Night Court—he’s the king of moral superiority, looking down on everyone from his lofty throne of righteousness.

Sure, he says he’s for equality and freedom. He claims to fight for the good of the people. But what does he actually do? Let’s take Velaris, his perfect little utopia, hidden from the rest of the world. While Velaris flourishes, the Court of Nightmares festers in squalor and fear, serving as the dirty underbelly of Rhysand’s pristine world. He never bothers to reform Hewn City—oh no, he needs it just the way it is, a place where he can flex his power and superiority whenever it suits him. The citizens of Hewn City? Well, they don’t matter. They’re just the pawns in his game, existing to bolster his reign.

And let’s not forget his relationship with Feyre. Rhysand may parade around as the epitome of respect and love, but make no mistake: he’s always in control. From hiding their mating bond to orchestrating her role in the Night Court, Rhys pulls the strings and Feyre dances along. His actions scream “I know best,” and why wouldn’t they? He’s convinced that only he is smart enough, only he is powerful enough to do what’s necessary to save Prythian—even if it means bending a few minds, breaking a few rules, and making everyone else think it was their choice all along. Manipulation, after all, is Rhysand’s true craft, and he’s a master of making his elitism look like benevolence.

Feyre: The Nepotism Queen

Then there’s Feyre, our humble protagonist-turned-High-Lady who skyrocketed from a poor, illiterate human into one of the most powerful figures in the world. But let’s be real here—Feyre didn’t climb the ladder through hard work or merit. She fell in love with Rhysand, and with that union came a direct elevator ride to the top.

Feyre may have been born into poverty, but ever since she became High Lady, she’s lived in a bubble of privilege. Velaris is her kingdom of starlight, where she spends her days painting and redecorating her river house, while the rest of the world struggles to recover from war. Her empathy is selective at best—sure, she destroyed Tamlin’s court under the guise of justice, but did she ever stop to think about the people living there? The families who depended on their lands for survival? Of course not. Her personal vendetta against Tamlin was far more important than the lives of those fae. After all, the rules don’t apply when you’re Feyre Archeron—especially when you’re backed by the High Lord of the Night Court.

And while Feyre may now hold the title of High Lady, don’t be fooled into thinking she’s earned it through any political savvy or leadership skills. No, her place in the Inner Circle is due to one thing: her connection to Rhysand. It’s nepotism at its finest, wrapped up in a pretty bow of self-righteousness.

Cassian: The Hero with a Savior Complex

Cassian, the brute force of the Inner Circle, is constantly playing the part of the good-natured, relatable warrior. He’ll tell anyone who’ll listen about his rough upbringing in the Illyrian camps, as if that somehow makes him immune to the elitism that defines the rest of the group. But here’s the thing: Cassian may have started at the bottom, but now? He’s sitting at the top, living a life of luxury while his people—the Illyrians he’s supposed to care about—are stuck in a cycle of oppression and backward traditions.

Cassian loves to flex his power, both physical and political, while simultaneously acting like he’s just a humble servant of the Night Court. But let’s not forget that his entire identity revolves around being Rhysand’s lapdog. Sure, he’ll fight for his brothers and his court, but when push comes to shove, Cassian isn’t going to challenge the status quo. He’s too comfortable playing the hero to actually get his hands dirty with real change. His elitism is hidden beneath layers of camaraderie and bravado, but it’s there, lurking just beneath the surface.

Morrigan: The Queen of Hypocrisy

Morrigan, the moral compass of the Inner Circle, is perhaps the most hypocritical of them all. She spends centuries railing against her family’s oppressive, regressive ways, yet she remains complicit in the elitist structures of the Night Court. Mor presents herself as a champion of freedom, equality, and justice, but when it comes to taking real action? She’s as stagnant as the rest of them.

Mor’s treatment of Azriel is a prime example of her selective morality. For centuries, she’s let him pine for her, never being honest about her true feelings, all while claiming to value honesty and transparency. She preaches fairness, but when it comes to her own actions, she hides behind the convenient excuse of “complicated feelings.” The truth is, Mor is content with her position of power and privilege, and she’ll never rock the boat as long as it benefits her.

Azriel: The Silent Judge

Azriel, the brooding shadow of the Inner Circle, operates with an air of superiority that’s masked by his quiet demeanor. As the Night Court’s spymaster, he holds everyone’s secrets, wielding them like a weapon when necessary. But for all his talk of loyalty and honor, Azriel’s true allegiance is to his own sense of righteousness. He judges others from the shadows, believing that his pain and suffering give him the right to decide who is worthy and who is not.

Azriel may claim to be a humble servant, but his actions speak otherwise. He holds power over people’s lives with the information he gathers, yet he only uses it when it benefits his circle. His elitism is rooted in his belief that no one else can truly understand the burden he carries—and because of that, he places himself above everyone else, quietly deciding their fates while keeping his own cards close to his chest.

Amren: The Untouchable God-Queen

And finally, we have Amren, the literal embodiment of elitism. She’s not just better than everyone—she’s practically a god, trapped in a fae body, tolerating the rest of the world with barely concealed disdain. Amren operates on a level of superiority so blatant, it’s almost admirable. She doesn’t even try to hide it. Mortals, fae, even her so-called friends in the Inner Circle—Amren sees them all as beneath her.

Her loyalty to Rhysand is purely transactional. She sticks around because it’s convenient, but make no mistake: Amren serves Amren. She doesn’t care about the people of Velaris, or the fate of Prythian. Her elitism is so ingrained, it’s not even a character flaw—it’s simply who she is.

---

Conclusion: The Inner Circle—Elitism, Hypocrisy, and Privilege

So there you have it: the Inner Circle, a group of individuals who cloak their elitism in the guise of heroism. They claim to fight for freedom, equality, and justice, but in reality, they are a self-serving, privileged group of fae who operate above the rules they enforce on everyone else. From Rhysand’s manipulative control to Feyre’s nepotistic rise to power, from Cassian’s savior complex to Mor’s selective morality, and from Azriel’s silent judgment to Amren’s godlike disdain, each member of this circle operates within a bubble of elitism, making decisions that benefit themselves while pretending to serve the greater good.

And we’re supposed to believe they’re the good guys? They might wear the mask of Prythian’s protectors, but make no mistake—behind the starlight and shadows, they are a class of elites that operate under their own rules. At the end of the day, they’ve created their own little world, where they are always right, always justified, and always on top. Their hypocrisy knows no bounds, and their elitism? Well, it’s woven into the very fabric of their existence.

But don’t worry—they’ll still invite you to Velaris… if you’re useful enough.

Taglist: @hrizantemy @flat-neines @foxyfairydream @travelingbandit @naravelia @headfulloflettuce @chococococya @roseadleyn

[hauntingkiki]

could you do young, student! allmight x student! reader?

they both go to UA and they’re in the same class, and they’re sitting besides next to each other and they become friends.

then a few months later or so, they start crushing on each other(without knowing it), and the reader gets injured during a practice match and he gets worried and confesses to her, thinking she was badly injured, but she ends up being okay and recovering.

ooo!! this is a really good concept!:3

Home Room Buddies

Student! All Might/Toshi x Student! Reader

My Hero Academia

2nd POV

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

your hands gently shook slightly as you held your schedule, your eyes darting around the white sheet of paper, the words “UA HIGH” was at the top in bold, ‘heroic’ font.

swallowing thickly, you looked at your first class, which was in class 1A. you knew it was one of the best classes in the school, so you had to take this seriously otherwise your shot at being a hero was going to be ruined.

you came to a halt, your eyes glued to the floor before slowly looking up through your lashes, the red font of ‘1A’ immediately caught your attention, making the butterflies in your stomach even worse.

you shook your head with a faint groan; you were being ridiculous. once you were inside you were going to calm down and you were going to be just fine. gently slapping your cheeks with both hands, you sucked in a breath and made your way into the classroom.

the cold air of the classroom immediately hit you once you took a step inside, soothing your redden cheeks. blinking a few times as you adjusted your tote bag, you glanced around the room, getting familiar with the layout before noticing the name plates that were scattered along the desktops. you shuffled your way towards your desk, not picking up your feet as you walked towards the desk that was near the back of the classroom. you slowly stopped hearing the ringing that was in your ears, the sounds of students voices soon filled the void of the buzzing noise.

you slipped your bag off your shoulder, placing it by your desk before taking a seat, adjusting your skirt a few times so it wasn’t bothering you as you sat. your fingers fiddled with the helm of your muted green skirt that fell a little above your knees, faded black ink stained the skin around your knees from doodles you did a few days prior.

kids started to pour into the classroom, filling up the desks before the bell rang, which seemed to be a minute after all the desks were filled with students. the teacher soon came into the classroom, a stack of papers were in her hands before dropping them off on her podium. she did a quick introduction, her eyes glued on the sheets as she grabbed a good, small stack of the papers. as she spoke, she walked around the room, dropping the packets on every desk. she explained that this assignment was to further her knowledge on what all of her students were capable of, outside of your quirks.

once the paper slipped in front of you, you gulped at the equations that filled the page. you opened the packet with both hands, skimming through it to get your bearings. first page, front and back, was math, the erector pages were english, one page of history and science. not too bad, but you didn’t really want to do this; especially on the first day, that is!

with a huff through your nose, you twilled your pencil in between your fingers, skimming over the problems, you started off with the more easier questions, waiting to do the harder questions later when you had some form of help.

you perked up when you felt a finger tap on the back of your shoulder. turing your head to glance at the culprit, you noticed a teen boy with bright blond hair. he had two, think strands in the front that were longer than the rest that fell in front of his face, the back of his hair was messy, looking unkept, but it suited him well. he also had bright blue eyes, a few scars that were on his hands and face as well, you were guessing from his quirk.

his face was a soft pink, , scratching at his cheek as he pointed at the problem that was left blank, faint marks of led were barely noticeable. “do you think you can help me with this problem?” he asked, watching as your eyes skimmed over the text that was shown in front of you. when he made eye contact with you, he gulped and glanced off to the side, continuing on with his reason. “i noticed that you had that whole section complete, so i wanted to ask you if you could help me.”

you smiled softly, nodding as you passed him your paper, letting him take it from your hands before fully turning in your seat, your torso pressed against the back of your chair as your arms rested on his desk. you snapped your fingers slightly, your eyes widening slightly. “oh, and when you’re done, could you help me with a problem? i’ve been stuck for a good while now.” you gulped embarrassingly, a faint chuckle escaped your lips.

he glanced up from the paper, blinking at you for a moment before nodding with a toothy grin on his face. “yeah, of course!” he beamed, turning back to the papers, pressing his lips together as he continued writing.

you noticed two metal wires that wrapped around his teeth. ‘retainers..must’ve had braces a while ago’ you thought to yourself, watching as he finished up the problem, passing your paper back to you. you flipped through the papers, humming once you found the problem. “this is the one, by the way.” you pointed it out to him, lowering the packet so he was able to see.

he hummed softly, flipping to the same page before smiling, turning the paper so you were able to see it.

you grinned, quickly writing down the answer that he had on his page.

silence fell over the two of you as you continued writing before the blond cleared his throat, holding out his right hand. “i-i’m toshinori. toshinori yagi.” he smiled, tilting his head to the left.

you blinked a few times before smiling, taking his hand into yours. “i’m y/n. y/n l/n.” you beamed, the two of you awkwardly staring at one another, the grip on each others hands was tight and firm, as if you two have known each other for years.

toshi quickly pulled his hand away after a moment of holding yours, blushing slightly when he realized that his palms were getting sweaty for a million different reasons. he watched you continue to write down the answer before handing the packet back to him. “say…” he started, swallowing when you perked up at his voice. he scratched his cheek with his index finger, glancing off the the side as he spoke in a somewhat shy voice. “would you like to be friends…? that way we’re not completely alone in the school.”

your eyes widen slightly at his proposal, your cheeks flushed pink as you nodded with a warm grin. “yeah, i’d like that!” you chuckled softly, spinning the pencil in between your fingers.

toshinori nodded as he grinned back, his face equally pink as yours, if not more. “great…great!” he beamed, swallowing when his voice got a little too loud, putting people attention onto the two of you. the two of you chuckled nervously, toshinori holding back a laugh as you shushed him playfully, holding a finger over your lips.

at this moment, you both knew that you two would be fine together.

•••

months have passed since the first day of school, both toshi and you closer than ever. toshinori trusted you with everything he was, and the same with you. he trusted you to the point where he told you about his quirk, the truth about his quirk, which was a doozy in itself.

~~

you swallowed, your hands gently pressed against his knee as your brows furrowed in worry, trying to make eye contact with the blond but he kept moving his head away from yours. “toshi….talk to me…” you whispered, gently squeezing his knees.

he swallowed thickly, his hands clammy from the nerves. he took a shaky breath in, closing his eyes as he took a few more deep breaths. “it’s not that hard to explain…” he muttered under his breath, trying to figure out the best way to explain it.

you shook your head softly, humming softly. “just…say whatever’s in your mind…we’ll piece everything together, okay?” you reassured, getting worried for the boy and how stressed out he was getting.

he nodded faintly, sitting up straight, keeping his gaze away from you. “i…okay….” he swallowed, taking a moment before speaking again. “i….i was born quirkless…my power was given to me by the number one hero; nana shimura…”

your eyes widen, your jaw dropping harshly that you though it snapped off of your head. “…what…?” you muttered out, any other words you tried saying ended up being gibberish.

toshinori nodded softly, sighing as his body continued to shake. “yeah…she’s teaching me everything i know…she’s my master…” he meekly confessed, rubbing his hands along his thighs to get rid of the sweat.

you nodded softly, staring at him for a moment before engulfing him into a hug. your grip was tight and reassuring, your chin resting on his shoulder.

he flinched in shock, not expecting you to hug him, especially since he was lying to you for months. he slowly wrapped his arms around you, his face burrowing into the crook of your neck, tears swelling in his eyes as he squeezed you, not wanting to let go of you. “thank you…” he muttered against your skin shakily, choking on a sob.

you shook your head softly, a faint smile on your lips. “don’t mention it…thank you for telling me, toshi…”

~~

a hand snapped in front of your face, startling out of your daydream. “jeez, h/n! thought we lost you for a moment!” toshi snapped slightly, relived that you snapped out of it. “come on, it’s just the two of us against class b!”

you let out a scream, dodging an attack by a few inches, your eyes wide as you scrambled to your feet, taking a few steps back. “JEEZ!” you cried, running off and following toshi. “what’s the plan now, all might?!”

toshi was quite, trying to think of a plan. he didn’t really have one at the moment; everything happened so fast that it was hard to keep up with everything that was going on. he came to halt, turning around on his heel to tell you the random plan that popped into his mind. he opened his mouth, stumbling over his words when he realized that you were gone. he mentally cursed to himself when the announcement was heard throughout out the training ground, the voice of class 1b beaming as she beamed about her classes win for the round.

you let out a groan, pushing yourself out of the grasp of a class 1b student, shuttering faintly as you walked away from him. you brushed your hair out of your face, glancing around for toshi before letting out a yelp, stumping back as you were immediately tackled into a hug. your eyes went vast, blinking a few times before gasping when you realized who it was. “toshi! w-what are you doing?!”

he pulled away slightly, his hands on your waist as his gaze lingered over your body, checking for any wounds or injuries. “what happened?! y-you just vanished!” he sighed, his hands going up to your shoulders, shaking you gently.

you hummed softly, fiddling with your hero costume. “it was a sneak attack…they knew they only had a few more seconds until the match was over so they went all out, the three of them catching me and taking me to their ‘jail’…” you muttered embarrassingly, glancing off to the side before making eye contact with the blond. “i’m sorry…i didn’t mean to scare you or make you worried or anything…”

toshi sighed softly in relief, glad that you weren’t badly injured, just a few scratches and scrapes. “of course i worried!…i deeply care about you, y/n…” he confessed, his cheeks a faint pink hue.

you immediately noticed, quirking a brow as you dragged him away from the other students. “toshi…are you okay…? you’re red in the face…” you muttered, stopping once you two were a good distance from everyone else.

he groaned, running both hands down his face, his heart pounding in his chest as he realized what kind of situation he got himself into. “look…y/n, i…” he swallowed, staying silent for a moment as he silently argued with himself, not sure if this is the best course of action. but despite everything in him telling him not to, he swallowed again. “i….i um…really, really like you, y/n.” he muttered out, his body shaking faintly from the confession.

your eyes widen, cheeks flushed to a deep red at his words. you weren’t expecting that to be the thing that he said to you. “o-oh wow…toshi…” you gasped out, swallowing thinking as you licked you lips, struggling to find the right words for this situation.

the two of you fell silent, toshinori anxiously waiting for your answer, his body shaking faintly from anticipation.

you let out a few strangled sounds, trying to find your voice but struggling the first few times. she swallowed, taking a deep breath before nervously looking him in the eyes. “i…i like you too, toshinori…”

his breath got caught in his throat from your words, his face a bright red as he swallowed thickly. “you…you do…?” he mumbled after a moment of silence between the two of you. he released a breath he was holding when he saw your faint nod, your eyes breaking contact and glancing over to the side. slowly, he brought you into a hug, his arms tight around your body as if he was scared you’d slip away. “you don’t know how happy i am to hear that…”

you froze for a few moment before slowly wrapping your arms around him, smiling faintly at his words, also releasing a breath you were holding.

he pulled back after a moment, his arms still wrapped around your frame as he shyly looked you in the eyes. “does….does tonight at seven work?” he quirked a brow, smiling weakly down at you. “maybe we could catch a movie or something fun…”

your eyes softened as you nodded, a faint hum following after as you placed your hands on his shoulders when he pulled away. “yeah…that works for me.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

OMG IM SO SO SO SORRY I HAVENT POSTED IM SO LONGGG!!😖😖😖 i’ve been really unmotivated lately but hopefully i’ll start writing again😢

[amuseoffyre]

Since insomnia is kicking my arse of late, I naturally tilted into the thoughts about the nature of the 3-act structure and why S2 of OFMD may have felt off and incomplete to a lot of people.

I am fully in agreement that we lost a lot of valuable time with only 8 episodes and a lot of it did feel rushed, but for the amount of story and set-up and growth and development they needed to fit into 4 hours of television, they did astonishing things.

DJenks has said from the very start that this is a story that has been planned out to take 3 seasons. It's literally a 3-act play and we are currently right in the middle of the worst part of that timeline according to every traditional 3-act structure.

Act one/season one is self-explanatory. Like New Hope in the Star Wars Trilogy or Fellowship of the Ring, this is the set-up. We're introduced to our protagonists and antagonists, the relationships are given a foundation.

The beginning is Stede's journey to becoming a real boy. The inciting incident, the one that actually pushes his change beyond "playing pirates" is meeting Ed. The second thoughts come together in episode 8/9 after his confrontations with Jack and Chauncey and episode 10 is the climax.

Act 2/season 2 is never going to be as smooth and simple as act 1/s1. A big part of the A2/S2 job is set up for A3/S3 and this is what we're seeing and why a lot of story threads seem to have been left dangling.

Again, to call back to Empire Strikes Back and The Two Towers, the structure is much the same: the original batch of people are divided and scattered, the big enemy from A1/S1 is looming, new allies make themselves known. In SW, this meant the introduction of Lando and Yoda as allies plus the hint of the Emperor lurking in the background. In LotR, we have the Rohirrim, Gondor and the Ents as allies and the expansion of Sauron's forces in Helm's Deep, Osgiliath and the winged wraiths.

There's a clear trajectory following the A2/S2 structure:

obstacle 1 - the crews separated and struggling

obstacle 2 - the end of episode 2 and the repercussions of his actions

twist - just when things start to settle, the Ned Low situation happen and Stede kills for the first time

obstacle 3 - Ed's struggle with his identity leading to him leaving

disaster - Ricky's assault on the Republic

crisis - do-or-die battle because they have no other choice

climax - the last 15 minutes of ep. 8 live here.

As with SW and LotR, there's an ending, but weighted with the knowledge of a story that is meant to continue. Each of those act 2 films end with the heroes still aware of the looming threat, some of them heading out on new missions, and some of them resting and healing. There's brief pause, brief respite, a moment to take a breath.

We have all the characters in place now and the battle-lines have been drawn. Luke still needs to confront Vader (I see you, impending Ed and Hornigold confrontation), Frodo still needs to destroy the ring, Aragorn still needs to lead the army against the Black Gate, the second Death Star is still hanging in the sky.

I'm so excited to see what S3 brings because we have so many arcs ready to go: Zheng's vengeance trip, the inevitable enforced out-of-retirement arc for Ed and Stede, Hornigold, Ricky trying to maintain his tenuous control of the republic given how many of his people were killed when the crew escaped, the pirate rebellion gathering forces.

Also how often do we get shows/films where the supporting cast are given this much storyline? We have a named/speaking-role cast of upwards of 15 central characters. That is a staggering amount of people to work with, when most shows would only focus on the leads and a couple of their friends. Six is the average for most TV shows, while comedies can inch higher because ensembles, but most ensembles don't get as much as our crew did.

I know a lot of people aren't happy about Izzy's death. I know I would have liked to see him a lot more, because he's such a grumpy old bitch and I love him and him affectionately roasting Ed and Stede would have made my entire month. But I'm also aware that narratively, as a figurehead of the old ways of piracy and "we were Blackbeard", it was a symbolic death as well - a sign of the death of the old ways of piracy and of Blackbeard as was.

(Also, they Obi-Wanned him. I'm not over that. Gave him the "if you strike me down I will become more powerful" speech. I'm just... guys, your star wars nerdery is showing XD)

So while it was flawed in places and pacing, given the scale of the story they're telling, the number of pieces and characters they had in play, and the arcs they have been setting up while also still keeping the humour, I am giving a standing ovation for a remarkable piece of work.