#honestly gifs don't do this scene justice

[shiningwonho]

favourite kpop mv shots • 7/∞

mayday - victon

[nilsavatar]

All's fair in war and love

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!Sarentu

Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI +18, no use of Y/N, ANGST, SMUT in the end, love bites, sexual tension, P in V, manhandling, fingering, praising, cursing, pet names (tìyawn, yantu, yawne, love, sweetheart), dirty talk (Neteyam has a breeding kink as request by Anon), edging (orgasm denial), soft-dom Neteyam. All characters are AGED-UP. Neteyam is a bit cheesy, but from the way he shows how much he cares for his family, it's in character to be a romantic in a love context.

!DISCLAIMER! Presence of dark and sensitive explicit themes: destruction by explosive devices, massacre, and murder (the protagonist and Neteyam kill soldiers). Please do not read if these topics are not for you.

Summary: The story takes place in one of the final stages of the video game Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora, in one of the most poignant and heartbreaking moments of the plot. Following a heavy earthquake at the Well of Souls that hit the Zeswa hunting party, Sarentu, who will take the name Ateyana here, travels to the site in search of survivors. Finding that many have perished, she decides to find the source of the devastating tremors. Quakes that are not of seismic origin, rather human. With vengeance in her heart, she goes to the military outpost seeking justice. There she will be joined by her lover, Neteyam, and together they will fight for Pandora. But also for themselves.

Little note: This story should have come out months ago - many months ago, way too many. Writing it was a source of great frustration for me. I found myself having a precise idea that I couldn't put into words. The biggest challenge was the action scene that you will find as you read, and, honestly, I don't even think it came out that well. It was the first time for me to deal with this type of narrative. Even if I'm not at all satisfied with the result, it feels right to publish it, for those who have been waiting for it. Anon who requested it, those who answered the poll to choose Sarentu's name, @akari-rosefield who DMed me for updates. This fic is for you.

Word Count: 9k

Masterlist - Request a fic

“Yana!”

Shouts. Shouts and gunshots. The alarm siren.

“Ateyana, we must move!”

A male voice. Nor? The noises mingled with the high-pitched whistle that filled her ears, her eyes blinded by too much light blocking her view. A wall of intermittent red cleared up only by the white of bullets and the few monitors still working.

“Telisi, Yefti-.” “Come!”

Somebody pulled her by the arm. Her legs ran as if pulled by a force she thought lost. The images blurred until they took on the contours of a face she knew. Eyes that were large and bright, but distant as if hiding a secret, now wide with terror.

“It’ll be fine. Don’t be afraid. It’s gonna be like falling into a deep sleep. When you wake up, it will all be over.” “It burns.” “I know, dear, it’ll pass now. Just close your eyes and start counting down from ten. Ten... nine... eight... seven...”

The woman’s voice became distant like a ghost's, her eyelids heavy. The fire coursing through her veins gave way to a sudden cold; a searing chill that numbed her feet, then her legs, and slowly worked its way up her entire body.

“... six... five...”

Surrounded by darkness, all she could hear was the capsule hissing shut, protecting her from everything but silence.

Neteyam remembered his first meeting with Ateyana well. The excitement and commotion that her entrance to Awa’atlu had triggered, on a par with a resurrected spirit — the dawn of a new day. It felt like déjà vu, but in reverse: this time, the Sullys were not on the side of the outsiders falling from the sky, and instead of suspicion, there was a mood of celebration. On the back of her ikran, she wore with ease the hallmarks of the clans that had touched her, each symbolizing a stage in her rebirth; the teachings of their ways. The sea breeze sighed through the soft kinglor silk of her robes, the feathers of the stiff Keme’tire cloak vibrated with every breath, while the colors of the Zewsa shone brightly in the sunlight. Her eyes even deeper and more orange by the sharp contrast with the white, purple, and fuchsia that tinged her skin. So unusual was her appearance, yet harmonious, paired with the banshee that sported the same fanciful pattern. “Look! Look at her face!” “The mark.” The young warrior's gaze followed the whispers around him and settled on the girl's left cheekbone, cut by a crescent moon and four drops just below the eye.

Sarentu. The lost clan.

Neteyam had only heard of them in his grandmother’s stories. The old woman had a sad smile as she talked about the lost storytellers, who were distant cousins of the Omatikaya and descendants from Entu, the first Toruk Makto; diplomatic wanderers who preserved the oral memory of clans’ history, carriers of Eywa wisdom. A beloved People whose terrible fate was known to all Na’vi. Exterminated by the RDA. The same organization that kidnapped their children to raise them as deviant soldiers, alienated from the Great Mother, from all that made them pandorians. Kids who disappeared twenty years ago as a result of the attack on the Tree of Souls and the dismantling of the TAP program.  Or so they thought, for one of them had just dismounted her dragon, its wings still rustling with the sound of powerful beats.

Making her way through the crowd, the plaintive wails of the baby cradled in her arms acted as a herald of the tsahìk's arrival. Loran, younger brother of Ao'nung and Tsireya, born shortly after the RDA attack that nearly killed the Sullys' eldest son, seemed to have absorbed the heartbreak of his People, the turmoil of those dark times, for relentless was the torment that plagued him until he fell asleep.

The girl stepped forward, kneeling as she made a small bow before her forehead. “Oel ngati kameie, Ronal eo lu Metkayina Tsahìk.” The woman smiled, and her calmness seemed to ease the breathlessness of her son, who stared at the visitor with large, tear-filled eyes. “Ateyana te Hìtaì Kataru’ite.”

For a split second, her gaze flickered. It had been so long since she had heard her full name spoken aloud. The mention of her family, specifically her mother, sent a shiver down her spine. With a long history of being used as an experiment, trapped within the confines of sterile concrete walls, she had come to see herself as nothing but a test subject. A lab rat. A cluster of inconsequential cells employed to experiment with a substance and observe its reaction. Or worse, treated like a monkey that was given logic games to assess its intellectual growth. With each class, each shower in disinfectant, because the stench of Na’vi was unbearable, every trace of her natural self slipped away; depersonalized from everything her name stood for to the point of hating it. Ateyana, Spirit of the Dawn. It sounded like a joke, the sense of hope that her name carried. In the RDA compound, scientists educated Sarentu children in math, English, weapon use, and also introduced them to human literature and history. A series of conflicts, wars, colonization, and destruction caused by the idea of taking things simply because one had the power to do so. Throughout those years, she couldn’t ignore the eerie parallels between them and the indigenous communities who had been eradicated in certain areas of Earth. The name of one population in particular had stayed with her, as it bore a striking resemblance to her own. The Yana, a population decimated by the California genocide unleashed by the Gold Rush, ceased to exist in 1916 when the last descendant perished in a Rancheria.

Right from the beginning, she saw that historical reference as an omen of what was to come for her and her people, now down to just five survivors. Whether through brutal erasure or assimilation into other clans, the Sarentu would disappear.  She made a decision that day: to only go by Yana. She abandoned her full name and any other nickname despite her sister’s disapproval, and adopted what everyone now regarded as a diminutive, oblivious to its true status as a legitimate name. 

A name that signified the final chapter of their lives.  Hers and those who shaped her into the resentment and anger-filled young woman she is today. And with almost absolute certainty of all those who would accompany her in her revenge.

“For a long time, we believed in the defeat of your people, but our hope for your return never wavered. The Great Mother could not fail those she had delivered her word to. We have missed you.” Ronal caressed her cheek, her thumb feathering the raised outline of the mark. A moment of weakness that surprised those present, accustomed to the woman’s stoic and fearless nature. “Come, you need rest. You’ve been through a lot, and your eyes tell me there is much to discuss.”

The girl nodded, her heart full of gratitude at the warm welcome, a gesture she hadn’t anticipated (the tsahìk's reputation preceded her). A fleeting warmth that would soon fade.

2174, PANDORA, RESISTANCE HQ, KINGLOR FOREST

“We have located the epicenter of the quakes near the Celebration Arches”. Priya’s finger pointed on the map to the demarcation point between Aranahe and Zeswa territories; just beyond the network of caves that connected the Kinglor Forest to the Upper Plains.

“Ayvitrayä Ramunong (Well of Souls),” Jake’s voice belonged to a hiss, recalling vividly the last time he had admired the magnificence of rock arches growing up from the underground, driven by the incredible magnetic force. A shell that enclosed within it a dense, lush vegetation protecting the Tree of Souls. Two decades earlier, the RDA had destroyed the Omatikaya’s most sacred site. Although the basin was at the foot of the Hallelujah Mountains, right in the Flux Vortex’s heart, their attack wiped out the clan’s memories and, almost, their spirit. Something similar was happening here. He was certain of it. The tremors recorded were too cadenced and regular to result from seismic activity. Humans orchestrated it. 

“Drills.” “That's what we suspect.” “Unobtanium?” “We do not detect a relevant presence of unobtanium in the subsoil that would justify extraction. On the other hand, it is rich in carbon-fossils.” “Oil?” “Let's call it that.” “What's the point of extracting it? We have abandoned fossil energy sources for more than a hundred years.”

We have. At his side, Neytiri clutched the handle of the bow she had not laid since their arrival, her eyes darkened by the battle paint that adorned her face. Sometimes her husband still spoke as if he were one of them. After all, a part of him always would have been. Just look at the military waistcoat he wore like a second skin, the rifle always at hand, despite Eywa's abhorrence of metal weapons. The man spoke before his mate did, “We must act, but we need to be smart.” “Anqa is already on site examining the situation. Yana is with her,” she added, noting the friend's apprehensive look at the mention of one person alone in that dangerous place. “What?” The tone in Neteyam's voice was caustic; a venomous hiss barely vented between clenched teeth, but he did not have time to question the girl's presence in the field any further, as a loud din echoed from the two-way radio on the table.

“Anqa! Anqa, can you hear me? What's going on?” The purple-haired ecologist was terrified. -The RDA… Arches…! Blew up! Zeswa… the signal was disturbed. The hunting party… Everything collapsed. The arches collapsed…- Neteyam snatched the transceiver from her hand to bring it to his mouth with cold timbre and a blank stare. “Where is she?”

No further explanation was necessary for Anqa to understand to whom that male voice, she had come to know all too well, referred. Despite the number of forced interactions with the young Na'vi, despite the operations they had collaborated on side by side, it seemed impossible for her to get used to the chill that ran down her spine whenever she heard him speak with that tone. Especially at times like these. Netayam was frightening when altered, a worthy son of his mother. His lips pulled downward in a thin line, his teeth clenched to the point that his jaw snapped, the tips of his canines showing in tacit menace. His eyes fixed and alert, serpentine, his nostrils flared, and his lungs swelled to a peak and then deflated into severe rumblings in the deepest part of his throat.

-She went looking for survivors.-

Adding nothing more, the young warrior pushed the device against Priya's frail chest, who could barely stand on her own strength, and took wide strides toward his ikran; his parents at his heels. Jake grabbed him by the arm as the boy adjusted the throat-comm around his neck and set it to the frequency matched with his girlfriend's.

“Where you think you’re going?” “To get her.” “You stay here. We’ll go.” The son ignored those words by loading the bow onto the animal’s back. His mother called him back, in tune with his father’s admonition. “I won’t say that again.” “Fine. ‘Cause I won’t sit on my hands while the girl I love is in danger. I’ve never done that with my siblings, and I’m certainly not going to start now.” Jake stepped back as his son pointed his fingers to his own chest, right at the level of the scar that marked him; the everlasting reminder of when he was dying in his arms. “I’m the one who has to keep her safe. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to her.”

“Just as I couldn't live with myself if we lost you.”

Neteyam’s gaze straightened, “I wouldn’t change a thing, even if saving Spider meant giving my life. I am ready to die for those I care about.” “I know, son, that’s what scares me.” He took his face with a palm and brought it close until they were face to face, “Bring her home.” “Yes, sir.” “I expect a mateship ceremony when this whole thing is over.” The boy chuckled, “Yes, sir.”

Yana looked at what was left of the watercourse leading to the heart of the prairie, almost totally dried up except for a few puddles here and there — the water within them of an unnatural greenish hue with purplish reflections and dense consistency. Her vision was blurred by the cloud that had risen after the collapse, and made it difficult for her to breathe; the air tainted by smoke, dust, and pollutants intoxicated her lungs. Around her, the high rock walls were lined with rubble, uprooted trees, and … bodies.

Of winzaw (arrow deer), pa'li and Zeswa.

Most of the hunters had perished crushed by their own mounts, others by boulders or sudden impact with the ground. All were covered in the grayness of ash and death. The only color was the red dye they dyed their hair with, which, mixing with the blood, stained the rocks.

-Tìyawn (love)? Tìyawn, do you read me? “Teyam?” -Thanks, Great Mother, you’re doing okay. Anqa gave us a heads-up about the blast. Where are you at?- “I'm going up the river. There's so much death here. So many killed, so much life…,” her voice died in her throat, ”… destroyed. I'm going up to the drill now. Stop this from happening again.” -No way. Call off the ikran and get back here. Now. We need to regroup. We can't afford recklessness. Do you hear me, Yana? Do not attack!- “I will carry the pain to the ones who caused it.” -Ateyana…!-

Neteyam's inhaled voice died out in the metallic noise of the interference caused by the flow. She was alone. Not that it made any difference. Even though she knew she was hurting him, she would have ignored his intimate but selfish request. She would never have turned back, at the cost of annihilating him in the soul. The Zeswa had welcomed her as a clan member returning from a long, grueling journey. They had raised the festival kites to honor the rebirth of the Lost People; they had taught her their way. She would not abandon them to their grief. The Sarentu were once a peaceful tribe of storytellers and diplomats, they weren't warriors, the Sky People had made them so. Who forced them to take up arms, paint themselves in the colors of war, and swell their chests with battle echoes. If there was one valuable lesson she had learned from human cruelty, it was that there are circumstances in which one must be stained with sin to achieve the goal. Yana was willing to do that, too. She was willing to be abandoned by Eywa and the Na'vi to save Pandora. To give up her integrity and love. To force Neteyam to remain without her. Therefore, even with a grasp gripping her heart, before advancing on the path that had formed in the ruins, besides checking the state of her bow, she counted how many munitions she had in the rifle she carried. As the invaders used to say: all's fair in war and love.

“Fuck!” imprecated Neteyam, pressing the side button to change frequency and connect to Anqa’s throat-comm, his voice sharp. “Anqa, do you copy? I’ve lost signal with Yana. The flux is making the instrumentation crazy.” Static crackled in his ear before Anqa’s voice came through, laced with tension. -Copy. What do you mean, lost signal? Where was she heading?- “She moved into the rubble,” Neteyam said, his frustration barely contained. “Trying to avoid being spotted by soldiers on her way to the drill.”

The woman’s silence spoke more than a thousand words, as heavy as the burden that gripped their hearts. If flux interference was disrupting communication with the Sarentu, it could only mean one thing: she was at the center of it, right in the collapsed area. Then Anqa replied, her tone edged with worry. -Damn, girl. She always does this.-

“I’m not leaving her out there,” he said firmly, his eyes scanning the horizon as he tightened his grip on the banshee's reins. Anqa’s response was swift, resolute. -I’m not suggesting you should. But don’t go in blind, Neteyam. We need you in one piece, too.- “She’s taking out that drill whether we’re ready or not,” the warrior shot back. “You know her—she’ll make the shot even if it kills her.”

A heavy sigh crackled through the comm. -Alright. Listen, head toward the north ridge. The flux is thinner there. I’ll try to guide you remotely with what’s left of the scanners. And, Neteyam?- “Yeah?” -Don’t let her do anything stupid. We need her alive for this fight.- He smirked faintly, though his heart was pounding. “She’s not the only stubborn one here, you know.” -Clearly. Watch your six out there. Out.- The communication fell silent, and Neteyam nudged his mount forward, his gaze narrowing on the jagged horizon.

Flying over the area, he spotted the yellow-and-white-banded Scorpion below him, close to a tall tree growing crooked, almost horizontal, on the top of a hill. A lone stone arch remained intact to shield it. As he imagined, he found the tawtute at the foot of the gigantic tree admiring its leaves turning to fall; the disconsolate expression of someone who had already experienced that same desolation on their skin.

His blood froze when he saw Telisi catch up to her with her typical awkward walk, and rub her muzzle against the woman's cheek as if seeking comfort. Determination burned in his chest as he murmured to himself. “Hold on, love. I’m coming.” With a sharp whistle, his ikran spread its wings, and they dove into the flux-laden skies.

With each step, the dust thickened, and her heart bounced in her chest in rhythm with the increasingly deafening thumps of the drill. Slow and steady, the thuds that sounded by the second seemed to numb her. But even as her feet stumbled over the craggy ground shaken by the vibrations, she did not hint at stopping her progress. Gradually the path became more impassable, where the gorge had filled with giant boulders and uprooted trees, blocking access. She could have scaled what remained of the arches to get an aerial view of the surroundings, but climbing to the top would have meant exposing herself to the aim of snipers and automatic machine guns. Surveillance at that extraction site had to be on high alert, she was certain.

As she advanced, a faint glow hit on her right, warm and clear. Sunlight. A passageway free of disaster. She approached it cautiously. The entrance was just big enough for her to crouch through and gave access to a cave; the ceiling smashed by the earthquake into a natural skylight. Yana hesitated before entering; the air was cleaner but venturing inside a rocky way could be dangerous, even fatal with those continuous tremors running through the underground. A collapsing wall could easily have turned that cave into her grave. But the alternatives were few, and between standing in the mist that prevented her from seeing potential enemies and making her way through the shadows, she chose the one that would give her an advantage. When it comes to Na’vi, the sun is always expected to cast banshee shadows over the heads of their enemies, or the patter of galloping hooves to announce their arrival. It would not occur to anyone to look down, to guard ravines and underground passages to quell any surprise attacks. The People were skilled hunters who never mixed such skills with the art of war. But Yana was not just Na'vi now. Certainly, her DNA was, but a substantial enough part to create ethical contrasts in her person was human.

Penetrating inside the cave, she could ascertain that the main exit had, in fact, collapsed. The only other point of access was the skylight itself, but to reach it she would have to rely on the strength of her arms to climb. With no small effort, she reached the top, and the mammoth, frightening figure of the drill appeared before her, the building structure circling it like a barrier. A stroke of pure luck: as she ascended the passage, she had come right to the heart of the Alpha platform; the auger staring her straight in the face as if to give a defiant welcome.

“Priya? I'm at the drill. Tell me how to tear it down.” -I hear you. Destroying the drill-core will leave that monster useless. It's protected, but cut the control wires, and you should get an opening. Hurry, it's the RDA. Nothing's ever enough.- “Consider it done.” With those words, the tsamsiyu (warrior) took her leave, before turning off the transceiver and penetrated inside the platform, filled with enemies armed to the teeth. But she wasn't afraid. She possessed the skills to accomplish the mission without having to engage in open confrontation. With patience and calculated movements, she would have tampered with that contraption. What could go wrong?

The military base sprawled across the battered terrain like a metallic parasite, its angular structures jutting out from the ground, illuminated by harsh, artificial floodlights. Sarentu advanced through the shadows to make herself invisible, her breathing controlled, every step deliberate. She crouched low behind a jagged fragment of collapsed rock, her body blending with her surroundings. She inhaled deeply, her ears twitching as she listened to the heavy footfalls of a nearby patrol. Her bow was slung across her back, and a quiver of arrows hugged her side, a blade ready in one hand. She slipped between the patrols, weaving through their blind spots, and approached her prey. The monstrous drill, the beating heart of devastation.

The machine seemed alive, a colossus of metal and energy, digging relentlessly. The hum of its turbines vibrated in the air, an almost hypnotic rhythm, but the girl could afford no distractions. The base was heavily guarded; squads of soldiers moved in coordinated patterns, their exosuits clanking softly as they patrolled the perimeter, a mechanical dance of strength and control.

Moving with feline grace, she watched them for several minutes, mapping their movements. Three guards on the raised catwalk, two near the energy core, one stationed at the control room door. The others roamed unpredictably. She’d have to move fast and strike silently. Stealth was the key, and a strategy formed in her mind as she did so, accurate and deadly.

Her chance came when two soldiers paused to speak, turning their backs to her. She darted forward, her feet barely making a sound on the uneven ground. With a lightning gesture, she drew an arrow and stuck it. The string of her bow was stretched in deafening silence. The first shot struck the guard in the throat; the second fell before he could scream. When the third turned too late, her blade flashed, slipping through the crevices of his armor, her palm plugging his mouth before he could react. He collapsed with a muted thud. Yana dragged the bodies into the shadows, methodical despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. No mistakes, no hesitation.

The main control panel was located in a cabin protected by armored walls and a digital keypad lock, where the last soldier was typing distractedly. Taking cover behind a stack of crates, an arrow flew, quiet as the whisper of the wind. The lone guard fell onto the controls, his hand smearing blood on the screen, as the rustle of the drill grew louder. She pushed him aside to access the panel that displayed data incomprehensible to anyone but a skilled technician, but she had no need to decipher it, SID would have taken care of it—a portable interface capable of decoding the security frequencies of enemy forces.

After a few seconds of work, her eyes lit up as the device emitted a soft beep of success, unlocking the door. The cabin was cramped, lit by cool neon lights, and the control panel dominated the room, its screens and switches monitoring every aspect of the drill.

The hanged plans showed how the core was protected by an electronic security grid, making it inaccessible without a specific command. Quickly, she navigated the panel menus, bypassing the access codes with her device. Her experience enabled her to locate the sequence that activated the turbines' maintenance mode, which was necessary to temporarily expose the core for technical interventions.

The next step required rigor. Yana pulled out a small vibration-cutting tool and began to disassemble the panel's side plate. The metal shell was resisting, but with a sharp blow, she managed to remove it, revealing a tangle of wires and circuits. She quickly identified the wiring for the core cooling system, a critical component in keeping the turbines stable. By cutting a single blue wire and replacing it with a connector she modified, she created a controlled short circuit that sent a false overheat signal to the main panel. The lights flashed, and a low alarm went off, prompting the system to automatically open the bulkheads protecting the drill core to allow for a supposed inspection.

Before leaving the cabin, the girl deactivated the hacking device, automatically erasing all traces of her digital intrusion. She remounted the panel plate and verified that everything appeared intact from the outside. Finally, she slipped between the shadows once again.

With the core now exposed, she could see it shone with an unnatural blue-green glow, pulsing like an alien heart.

“Time to finish this,” she murmured, moving briskly to it. She retrieved a bundle of small adhesive charges from her belt, aware that every second lost could be lethal. She carefully placed them in the most vulnerable spots, her hands steady despite the time pressure. The bomb timers were set on a delay long enough to allow her to move away safely. She was just finishing cocking the last one when a cry rang out behind her. “Intruder! By the drill!”

The searchlights all pointed at her, and the camp exploded in chaos. Cursing under her breath, the girl dived behind a support beam as bullets tore through the air, arrows at the ready. She shot one, then another in rapid succession, each finding its mark. She shot down the nearest enemies, but there were too many reinforcements for her to face them alone.

The situation seemed desperate. Her eyes rested one last time on the drill, then her fingers went to the detonator as she murmured a quiet prayer, ready to make a drastic decision. Just as she was about to press the button, a shadow loomed overhead. A high-pitched whistle cut through the air, followed by the shrill screech of an ikran, its wings slicing through the chaos in a bright trail. Neteyam plunged into the fray, the claws of his beast bearing down on a squad of soldiers. He leaped from his back mid-flight, landing next to Yana with a force that made the platform vibrate.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she fired another arrow at an approaching guard. “Saving you,” replied her boyfriend, unsheathing his blade, piercing a soldier who came too close in the chest. Sarentu gave him a look full of sarcasm and defiance. Together, they fought their way back toward the drill side by side, their movements perfectly synchronized even in the crossfire. Time was against them; the charges were set, and the girl had the detonator.

“Now or never!” Neteyam shouted, shoving her behind cover as another wave of bullets ripped through the air. She took a breath, staring at the target. Everything came down to this moment. The explosion was deafening, a column of blinding flash of light rising skyward, devouring the drill. The shockwave knocked them both off their feet, flames and debris raining down around them. Yana felt the heat lap against her skin as Neteyam covered her with his own body.

“It’s not over yet!” he shouted, pulling her to her feet as the ground beneath them broke, reacting violently to the destruction. They sprinted toward the edge of the base. The warrior whistled sharply, and his dragon swooped low, its wings slicing through the smoke. He hauled her onto its back and the animal soared as the base sank into the rubble.

As they ascended, the flux pulsed ominously, a deep, rhythmic thrum that resonated through the air. From the sky, as the ikran carried them away, they watched the flames consume the drill. She turned to him, her breathing still labored. “Thank you,” she said, the word full of emotion and relief, while hugging him. He nodded in return, his gaze fixed on the horizon. That was only the beginning. The battle was not over, but for the moment, the drill was gone.

The ikran landed on a rocky ledge hidden in the tops of the tallest trees, a safe place away from the chaos. The wind, charged with the wild energy of the flow, subsided. Neteyam descended first, his movements stiff and charged with tension. When the young woman set foot on the ground, she found him already distant, his back to her.

“Yawntu?” she called, her voice low, almost hesitant. He turned abruptly, and in his golden eyes shone a storm of emotion. His voice, usually calm and reassuring, was broken by a tremor of restrained anger. “What the heck were you thinking?!” She stopped in place, surprised by the ferocity of the tone. “I-”

“You left on your own, you walked into that damn field,” he interrupted her, taking a step toward her. “You were going to-” He couldn’t even say the phrase—You were going to let yourself blow up—, too painful to even think about. The trembling that still shook him was not just a momentary fear: it was a deep-rooted feeling, born of the overwhelming love he felt for her and the horror of seeing the possibility of a future without her. The scene played out in his head repeatedly, like a vortex of conflicting emotions consuming him. Even knowing she was safe now could not quell.

He felt a surge of panic when he realized she would remain in the base, risking her life to destroy the drill even though the bombs were active.  His mind, usually clear-headed in battle, filled with chaotic images: her face illuminated by flames, her hands reaching toward him as life left her, the emptiness of a world without the sound of her laughter or the warmth of her gaze. Each beat of the ikran’s wings felt like an eternity, and every second that passed was a weight piling on his chest.

“What was that all about, huh?” His chest rose and fell furiously, his breathing quickened as he drew closer to her again, towering over her with his stature. “Why didn’t you wait for backup? You always want to do everything yourself, you trust no one.” A sequence of questions and statements that sounded as if they meant something else entirely. 

You didn’t wait for me. You don’t trust me?

Neteyam fought with himself not to give in to the sense of helplessness, but with each passing moment, the girl’s silence only infuriated his sense that she had consciously chosen to sacrifice herself to destroy the drill. This tormented him, for it meant that she had decided to leave him behind.

“You were ready to die in there! Do you have any idea what that would have meant for me?!” he shouted, and, for a moment, seemed about to burst, but he held back, running a trembling hand through his hair. “I... I can’t lose you, Yana. Not like this.” Those words crashed like waves against a wall, leaving a pain-filled silence. Sarentu stepped forward, her gaze catalyzed on him. “Teyam, listen to me. I had to do it. It was the only way.” “Your life is not an acceptable price!” he replied, his voice louder than he intended. He took a step toward her, his eyes staring at her as if he feared she might disappear. “Not for this war. Not for any war.”She looked at him, surprised by the vehemence of his words. “And anyone else’s life is?” she asked, calm but firm. “If it wasn’t me, it would be someone else. You know that.”

There was nobility in her intent, but Neteyam shook his head nonetheless at her disinterested altruism, his breathing still uneven. Her martyrdom might mean nothing to someone else, but to him, it would amount to the nullification of himself.

“I don’t care about someone else. I-I care about you. More than duty allows, more than I wish sometimes. When I saw you, surrounded by the RDA with the detonator in your hand, crouching in front of the ordnance ...” He shook his head again as if to banish the image, his eyes glazed over. “It was as if a part of me was already dead.” Silence descended. He ran a hand over his face, trying to regroup his thoughts. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, almost a whisper. “When I saw you wouldn’t stop ... I felt my whole world falling apart. You can’t ask me to bear it, Yana. You can’t.”

She looked at him, motionless. His words sank into her heart like knives, but she did not defend herself. Instead, she moved slowly closer until their foreheads almost touched. “You think I wasn’t scared?” she murmured, laying a hand on his chest, where his heart was still beating so fast. “You think I didn’t wonder, every second, if I could come back to you? But I did, Neteyam. I made it. We made it.” Her hands went up to graze his face, her eyes searching his with an intensity that left him breathless. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

The Omatikaya prince felt the knot of anger and terror loosen inside, leaving a void filled only by his love for her. Saying nothing, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, breathing her own breath. His hands moved to encircle her waist, pulling her against him. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I won’t be so reckless next time.”

The young warrior closed his eyes, lowering his head to leave a kiss on her forehead. “There won’t be a next time,” he whispered. “I’m not letting you do that on your own again.” The echo of his words bounced between them, an even stronger bond forged in the fear and love that united them. “I cannot lose you,” he repeated, his voice an almost imperceptible rustle. “I can’t. You’re my everything.”

Yana replied without speaking, laying her hands on top of his, squeezing them with a gentleness that contrasted with the ferocity of their battle. When she finally lifted her face to his, her lips found his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was urgent, desperate, a reminder that they were alive, that they still belonged together.

As they lost themselves in each other, the world around seemed to vanish. There were no more wars, fears, or dangers; there was only them, two souls who had defied fate to find each other once more.

Neteyam broke away from the kiss, his breath short, his face still very close to hers. He looked at her with an intensity that seemed to want to carve that moment in time. “It’s not just fear,” he murmured, his voice rough, as if the words cost him immense effort. “It’s that without you ... I’m nothing.”

She shook her head, her hands rising to clutch the fabric of his warrior belt, pulling him toward her. “Don’t say that,” she replied, her eyes shining. “You are strong, more than anyone I know. But if you think it’s any different for me, you’re wrong.” Her voice cracked as she continued. “Every time I fly with you, watch you fight, hear your voice through the wind... it’s like the world makes sense. And the thought of losing you... it would kill me.” Her words slid between them, breaking down all barriers. Neteyam closed his eyes for a moment, giving her time to see the vulnerability he rarely showed. When he opened them again, there was a warmth in them, a promise that did not need to be spoken.

“We will not be lost,” he said, with a conviction that seemed carved in stone. “No matter what, we’ll always find our way back to each other.” Yana smiled, an expression at once sweet and wistful. “Then never let me go.” Neteyam responded by grasping her face in his hands, his thumbs tracing the contours of her skin as if he wanted to memorize every detail. “Never,” he promised, before kissing her again, this time with a gentleness that contrasted with the desperation of minutes before. The kiss intensified, fueled by something more than desire. A silent communication, a dialogue of souls seeking each other, recognizing each other. Neteyam’s hands came down along her sides, clutching her as if afraid she might fade away. The girl reacted by wrapping her arms around his neck, letting go completely.

Words became superfluous, replaced by the hushed language of their bodies and their gazes. The adrenaline that had sustained them up to that moment transformed into another energy, warmer, deeper. Recognizing their vulnerability, the go-or-nothing gamble they’d taken, they seized the present as if it were their last. They lay down on the carpet of moss that covered the ledge, the sky above them tinged with the vibrant colors of sunset. The sun’s rays streamed through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on their faces. For a moment, the world seemed to slow down, allowing them to lose themselves completely in each other, without fear, without hesitation.

His hands ran all over her body as if to imbue it with his essence. With each caress, a piece of her clothing slipped away. With each kiss, the ornamental paintings faded. “What should I do with you, huh?” He asked. “Do I need to breed you to generate some reason in you?”  She chuckled, but then said in a serious tone, “I won’t stop fighting even if you impregnate me.” “I know already, geez. That’s why I’m so into you. I still wanna see your tummy swell with my child, though. Still wanna fuck you senseless until my cum fills you whole.” A shiver ran down her spine until her toes curled, and she could already feel a small knot tightening in her lower abdomen. But her stubbornness, combined with a taste for having the upper hand, kept her anchored enough so that she would not get lost in the glee of carnal sensations. So that she would not say something she did not mean, or make promises she would not keep, in the heat of the moment. “It’s not gonna happen until we get the RDA out of here for good.” Neteyam agreed: raising a child in such a volatile, perilous environment was out of the question, “But we can always train for it. ‘Til we’re one forever.” “You mean in front of Eywa? Are you sure? You want to do this with me?” He beamed, in love. “You’re the only one I want this with. Are you up for it? When all this shit is over-” “Yes!” The Omatikaya prince gasped at the sudden answer to a question not quite expressed. “Yes?” “Yes, I will marry you as soon as all this shit is over. For what it’s worth, you are already my mate, with or without tsaheylu.” Their unconventional, colorful declaration of eternal love, though far from romantic, felt perfect for them.

Neteyam resumed kissing her everywhere. Her eyes, the tip of her nose, cheeks, neck, breastbone. Reaching her flat belly, he lingered there for a long time as if something was already sprouting inside. Strong fingers gripped her hips possessively, sinking into them until they left their imprint, while his nose tickled her navel, followed, then, by his tongue. He traced the outline there, then went up to one of her breasts and sucked greedily, his hand massaging it as if he could stimulate something else besides the nipple’s turgidity. As if he expected nourishment. When he was satisfied so, he gave the other tit the same treatment, and Yana had to bite her lip hard to keep from moaning. 

When, at last, the warrior pulled away with a resounding pop, she could sketch out a sly giggle, partly from the ticklish sensation, partly because she knew the source of so much attention. “I love your kinky side.” His face, already flushed from the exertion and impetus that was shaking his insides, turned purple at that joke. This side of him still ashamed him. A side he could not repress. And, to be fair, he didn’t want to erase it either, being linked to the unbreakable connection he had felt with Sarentu from the very first day. The way she held Loran, the way she cradled him, captivated him. The gentleness in her manner, the kindness in her eyes, despite the belligerent times in which they lived, had forged her into resentment and death. Yana exuded a warmth and fragrance that smelled like home. He fell inexorably in love with it and longed to turn the world into a safer place for her. She was his person, he knew it immediately.

She laughed again, her face slightly bent in a canny expression. “It’s cute when you get all bashful.” Stung to the core but refreshed by the challenge, he lifted her legs, spreading them apart just enough to observe how she glistened in the sunset light. A little revenge rattling in his head. “Soaking wet already? Did the raid get you pumped? And you called me kinky.”

With both forearms on either side of her face, one knee crept between her legs to make room for himself, now bent to graze his pelvis, he towered over her in all his majesty.  “You keep getting more and more beautiful,” he declared before moistening a finger and bringing it past the edge of her intimacy. His mouth stifled a sigh that faded into his oral cavity as tapering fingers flew over her inner thigh, caressing the soft skin and slowly growing a pleasant warmth. Attentive to her every slightest change of expression. A soft moan fell from her lips as he rubbed her clit, tracing tight circles, eager to make her tremble under his touch. Her hips moved unwittingly against his.  She sensed him sneering when his finger probed the dewy soil of her womanhood, the ring of muscle already yearning to capture him inside. “I barely touched you.” Provocation to which Yana couldn’t hold back and, embarrassed, she intimated him to shut up. His phalanges slowly slipped between her folds and plunged inside her, caressing the soft walls. She felt him melt into her passion, wet noises filling their ears with each languid lunge of his digits. Sarentu moved in his grip, stammering his name, her heart bursting in her chest as she closed her eyelids. 

“I’m here, sweetheart.” He cuddled her, and she moved closer to his caress, crossing her shins behind his back, her heels wedged into Venus’ dimples, inviting him deeper, harder. “Please don’t stop,” she purred in a moan. The walls sucked him in so deliciously, begging for more, and Neteyam was hardly the type to deprive a woman of her desires. His fingers curled, teasing her most sensitive spot, while his palm rubbed against her agonizing clit, causing an uncontrolled stream of meows. Each more desperate than the last, as they turned into acute wails as she neared orgasm. She gazed at him, her eyes filled with longing, “More,” but his hand retracted, slowing the pace almost to quell the spiral in her stomach, ready to snap. A whimper hovered in the air as he stopped, just a breath away from that wonderful spot that made her toes curl. He stared at her in amusement at the frustration that crippled her delicate facial features, her mouth open at the revelation.

Neteyam was making her pay for it. Whether it was for teasing him just before or for the headshot at the Alpha platform, she couldn’t tell. 

“Neteyam,” she admonished him afflictedly. “Beg.” “Wha—” “Apologize for scaring the hell outta me out there.” “Oh, come on!” she begged him, rolling her hips against his fingers, trying to chase the sublime sensation that was slowly withdrawing from her. “Apologize.” “Sorry, okay? Sorry, sorry, I won’t put myself in danger like that ever again,” she said all in one breath, reduced to a mess of sobs and soft grumbles similar to a cat’s purr. “I need you” The man shook his head, still in her hands, and a shadow fell over his eyes. “Promise me.” Yana snorted in disbelief. But if Neteyam needed to hear her say it, to be reassured, she would.  “I promise,” she sighed, drawing his face to hers and placing light kisses over his eyes, shining with desire but veiled with anguish. He slid to his side, his forehead juxtaposed against the girl’s. Yana drew the contours of his face. The arch of the nonexistent eyebrows, the feline nose, the line of the lips, the cheekbones so sharp they could slice glass. She rubbed the tip of her nose against his, at the affectionate gesture the warrior massaged her shoulders. 

“Roll over your side,” he whispered, and she complied. Once her back matched his torso, his strong arms encircled her, gluing her to him.  “I love you,” he claimed, kissing her shoulder blade. His palm traveled all the way down her body to her shanks, his digits again infiltrating her thighs, still finding traces of arousal. His fingertips collected the liquid and moved on to the stimulating lubrication of her intimacy. She trembled under his skilled hand, babbling his name as his fingers crept further, dancing in rhythm with her thrusting hips. She gasped when she felt a bulge rub against her butt. Then, without warning, his searing erection pushed its way inside her. Her mouth opened wide in a silent cry of pleasure, and her eyes rolled back as she bucked against his firm frame. Her mind clouded with the pulsing need to let the lust wash over her like boiling lava, as her vision turned white and her head grew light. 

She no longer sensed anything around her. Only Neteyam’s thrusts grew deeper and deeper, kissing her cervix at an ever-increasing pace. This would not last much longer. The man behind her knew well. In fact, his tapering fingers took to torturing her clit in concentric motions, as precise and relentless as his cock paced her back and forth, threatening to come out, but never quite.

“T-teyam,” she uttered, earning a quick bite at the base of her neck.“Let go. Almost there” It was like being bewitched by a spell. The knot that plagued her belly melted away, releasing waves of pleasure so intense they blinded her and pinned her to the bed of moss. There, impaled on her one true love dick.  It didn’t take long before the charge with which he poured into her lost its force. Neteyam was close, very close. So close that she didn’t even have time to prepare herself when, with one last, vigorous thrust, he burst free. A grunt rose in the air and an immense heat filled her.

He rested his forehead against her nape as, breathless and with a hint of malice littering his voice, he said, “I got so far down that if we were already mated, I definitely would’ve gotten you pregnant by now.” Yana started laughing in his arms. “You’re obsessed with this stuff, you know that!”He squeezed her tighter, sliding out of her. “How can I not be with a hottie like you?” She turned as far as she could to search into his eyes. Into his beautiful eyes, yellow as the winter sun, soft from exertion and surrounded by the redness of the moment. And he smiled, a full and genuine smile. A smile in love.

They remained hugged under the darkening sky, saying nothing. There was no need. Their hearts spoke more clearly than any words. Neteyam brushed her hair, studying her with a gentleness that contrasted with his usual resolve. “If this is all we have,” he whispered, ”that’s enough for me.” She closed her eyes, a smile that talked of peace and gratitude painted on her lips. “For me, too.” They remained like that, two souls entwined in a world that tried to separate them, but that night failed to do so.

“If this leads to awesome sex, I’m totally down for more trouble!” “Yana!” The sound of their laughter, carefree and light, mingled with the rustling leaves and the gentle breeze, dancing on the wind like a playful melody.

[dovahkiin796]

Shadow Generations

If the Fallen Angel motifs weren't obvious enough with Shadow's wings. This is the nail in the coffin. A biblical accurate Black Doom form of some kind. That thing looming over you in the White Space is going to be so creepy. Always watching you no matter where you go.

Looks like Black Doom still wants Shadow to be a part of his army. That honestly does makes sense. Black Doom was promised the Ultimate Lifeform to be the vanguard of his race, and he'll get what's his. I do think Black Doom unlocking Shadow's new Doom powers will allow him to create a deeper connection with the hedgehog. Making it easier for him to mind control Shadow.

Holy shit! This looks so very painful for Shadow. Am I the only one getting Symbiote vibes from this? Given the many comparisons that have been made between Shadow and Venom.

Damn! Black Doom look good in the updated graphics! In the upper right-hand corner, you can see the biblical accurate form. A while back a person by the name of cr1ms0nesp3ra-ac3 made a comment saying that Black Doom could be trying to possess Shadow's body.

I replied that in the previous trailers, we saw Doom's Eye, but I later stated that this does not definitively prove Black Doom has returned physically. His mind could still be trapped within the Eye. Alternatively, the new moon form in the White Space could be the new vessel for his consciousness, rather than the Eye. We'll have to wait and see. For all we know he could actually be back with his body. The new information provided in this latest trailer has led me to no longer believe in the possibility of body possession.

Seeing the volcano erupt in the background of the Chaos Island stage is a cool detail. To anyone who played Sonic Frontiers would know that the volcano only erupts after Sonic beats the pinball machine. After seeing this part of the trailer, I like to think Future-Sonic is on Chaos Island right now playing the pinball machine while Shadow is traversing the island.

Definitely won't happen but it would be awesome to see Super Sonic vs The Knight fight from the distance. It was said the Shadow's story would have crossover moments. Not sure what that means.

These two images go hard. In the background is the Doom Moon and it looks different here than it does in the White World. The sight of Shadow flying toward that thing is giving off a redeemed Lucifer vibe. You know? It's a good thing Eggman doesn't know about this. Eggman has a track record of pissing on moons.

Mother fucking Mephiles!!!!? I was completely blown away by this reveal! Mephiles has been pretty much a no zone for future stories after 06. Mainly because Sonic 06's story was erased from the timeline meaning him along with Iblis don't exist anymore. However, we know the real reason why Mephiles never made a return till now. His debut game in the franchise was and still is the worst one that nearly killed it. So, we can't blame for SEGA never wanting to acknowledge him again. I do hope he's done justice in Shadow's story. I am curious if Shadow will remember him. It will end the debate if Sonic is the only one who remembers the events of 06.

Such a cool scene! Shadow being a badass is always a treat to watch. Though his red eyes are concerning. Does that mean he's closer to falling into Black Doom's control the more Doom Powers he gets and taps into?

Maria Robotnik in the White Space. I would not have believed you if you told me during the early years of Youtube that Maria would come back in a game. But here she is, pulled into the White Space where Shadow is. I hope the reunion between the two is well written, acted, and animated.

[mandacantu]

10 Reasons Why I Actually Loved The Crow Remake

FKA Twigs - I'm not going to sit here and pretend I am not a huge twigs fan, because I love anything she touches and especially her music. This was her first time as a leading lady and I thought she did a good job. I do think there were some points where her line reading could have been a little more fast paced in some spots, but overall, I think she was captivating, eloquent and emotional. And wow, so many stunning visuals that we got of her from this movie!

2. We didn't have to see depictions of brutal and violent deaths of women in this film. I didn't want to spend too many of my thoughts on comparisons to the original The Crow, but one thing I noticed was that I didn't have to endure the violent and sexually abusive death of Shelly or any other woman in this movie. I do like the original movie but never cared for the way they went all in on Shelly's death. In this remake, we still see Shelly die but we don't have to endure gratuitous SA scenes whilst losing the leading lady. I appreciated that and was able to relax more, honestly.

3. The villain had actual motivation for killing and being a villain. There was some decent backstory and character development for the villain and that is something that I always appreciate. Some of my favorite pieces of media (like Spirited Away and Knives Out) do well to at least give the villain a story or a reason for being bad. I think it adds depth to the story and for me, helps immerse me into the plot more.

4. It felt like a comic book come to life. From the color grading and palette to the way scenes were cut and moved from one to the next, it felt like I was flipping through a comic book. There were moments that were very whimsical in depictions of love and then very gritty scenes. The contrast in some of those scenes felt similar to flipping a page in a comic.

5. It was very romantic and spent a lot of time focusing on their love story. I thought their love was believable and felt like that whirlwind kind of love where you just want to party and kiss all night. It gave me a reason to care about both of the characters and it gave Shelly a place in the spotlight where she becomes so much more than just a symbol of loss for character development. Focusing on their love and giving us some romance was a timeless decision and puts their love story up there with Romeo and Juliet or Christian and Sateen.

6. Soundtrack was amazing! If you are into some new wave, some goth tunes and some dance tracks, this is the playlist for you. Beyond just the soundtrack, it was truly a different experience to see it synced up to parts of the movie as intended. The intro was amazing, I thought it was like a James Bond meets Underworld mixed with some NIN music video sprinkled in there. The folks who worked on the score deserve a standing ovation. There were moments where I was tearing up because of how well the music paired with the scene. Most memorable and moving was Joy Division's Disorder when they bust out of rehab together and a perfectly placed Boadicea by Enya. There were so many other good ones too, I'm seriously considering seeing it again just for the mini music videos you get from the film.

7. It was aesthetically pleasing. And I'm not just talking about the eye candy that was Bill Skarsgård, though lets give him his flowers for being a true Mr. Fanservice! The actual visuals were beautiful. I loved the cinematography and color choices. It was truly a feast for the eyes. Just take a look at this beautiful gif set by pizgif!

8. I could easily see a story about grief and the longing for justice for loved ones. I thought it was a good story and as I watched it, I thought to myself that the person who wrote the original comic must have gone through an immense loss. It wasn't until I looked it up that it seems to be confirmed that The Crow was inspired by such loss. The moodiness of the movie itself added to the weight of the tragic storyline. In that, I liked that it takes a while for Eric to become The Crow. Losing someone you love transforms you and in this sense, the movie is all about that transformation and pain and longing.

9. I liked the ending. I don't want to say too much to spoil it, but I enjoyed the different ending and I was definitely teary eyed and sniffling as I left the theater.

10. It was goth as fuck. I think goth can be a multitude of styles and honestly shouldn't be something that has a gatekeeper. This was emo-boy-goth, it was e-boy-tiktok-hottie-goth, it was goth in a different flavor. I think folks are quick to see this new Eric not dressed like a new-wave-leather-daddy-goth as decidedly not dark enough. To quote a favorite musician, he was "goth as fuck, even when [he's] not in black, gothic is the pain you feel and not the clothes that's on your back."

Closing thoughts: A lot of the negative criticism is coming from men or diehard fans of the 1994 movie, so I am not surprised. This rendition felt like the same story, just done differently and with more emphasis on the love story than the revenge plot. There is nothing wrong with that and nothing wrong with a gothic romance heavy action flick.

This was intended to be a different version of The Crow and that isn't a bad thing. I personally think that if they had done the styling to be an exact replica of Brandon Lee's rendition then the movie would still get tons of hate, if not more. It was a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situation for sure. I'm glad they took a risk and deviated from the '94 version.

We have been doing remakes since the creation of art. It has always been common to hear that the new movie coming out is actually a retelling of this classic tale or continuation of that scary story. Remakes are not a new concept and some of them do well to tell the same story in a different way. We are in the day and age where there isn't really an original idea anymore, anyway. In a world full of countless retellings of Batman/Joker and Spiderman movies, why not remake The Crow? I say fire it up!

I think they do a good job to pave the way for others to retell this love story in the same vein as The Joker and Harley Quinn. Hell, I would say to keep going, next let's see a remake where The Crow is about two badass lesbians. (I might have gotten too peppered up watching the movie, it was hot.)

P.S. I loved that there were little things like Eric wearing Shelly's jacket later in the movie. I feel like a lot of critics saw him wearing this jacket and were quick to bash the costume design too, but this is the kind of attention to detail that made their love believable to me. And I thought he looked cute as hell in it.

Okay, the end.

[imagitory]

All right...for those of you who don't know my thoughts about Wish, yes, I wasn't happy with the finished result, but no, I'm not a hater. I'm mostly just disappointed that this project that had so many good ideas came out so half-baked, and THIS is a perfect example of what I mean.

No, it's not because "Star Boy" appears in it -- at least, not by itself. I do actually like Star's "himbo" personality in this, even if I also completely understand liking the idea of a mute version of the character. (The downside is that the mute Star from the finished film honestly doesn't have much personality outside of just being cute, in contrast to other mute magical Disney characters like Tinker Bell.)

No, the lost potential here is two-fold --

Firstly, I once again felt more emotion watching this storyboarded sequence than I did at any point in the finished film. I smiled hearing the fun banter between Star and Asha, insinuating that they're becoming closer despite their contrasting personalities; I felt some suspense in how Star and Asha were going to get away from evil!Queen Amaya; I even laughed pretty hard at the cat-and-yarn gag! I didn't laugh once while watching the finished movie.

Secondly -- and this point is actually the one I want to focus on more -- is the commentary given about why this scene was cut. I truly think another unspoken reason behind the decision was that this sequence was clearly inspired by the transforming chase scene in Nimona, which Disney of course infamously dropped when they closed Blue Sky Studios and later got picked up by Netflix, only to receive glowing reviews from just about everyone...but one of the core reasons that Head of Story Mark Kennedy cites for why they changed this scene (aside from wanting Star to be mute and not a shapeshifter like other Disney characters, which I'm a bit confused about because yeah, Disney's done cute, mute non-human characters before too -- what about Dopey, Pascal, Maximus, Dumbo, Bambi, Magic Carpet, Sven, and again Tinker Bell?) is that they wanted Asha to be the hero and be able to "solve all her problems" without Star's help.

Up to a point, I understand what Kennedy means -- the theme of the film is supposed to be that we all have the power inside of us to make a difference, and that's great. But by making it so that Asha doesn't need any help from Star, it takes something away from their relationship. No human is an island, and relationships, both in stories and real life, are often built on that fact. Just look at Ariel and Eric in the original Little Mermaid -- Ariel saves Eric from drowning and from Ursula zapping him with Triton's trident, and then Eric saves Ariel from Ursula by skewering her with the broken figurehead of a ship. Even in non-romantic examples, we have Judy and Nick having to help each other solve the case in Zootopia; Buzz and Woody helping each other get back to Andy in Toy Story; the Parr family and Frozone all fighting together against Syndrome's robot with their unique powers in The Incredibles; Jim Hawkins and Long John Silver working together to save themselves and everyone else at the end of Treasure Planet; even Anna helping Elsa learn how to control her magical abilities through an act of authentic, courageous, selfless love that only she can do in Frozen. These characters needing help and deep emotional connections with others is what creates a bond between them, helps the characters grow and change into stronger people, and makes us as an audience enjoy watching the two characters together. We become invested in both the two individual characters and the relationship forged between them. Because they all have their unique strengths and weaknesses, they supplement and complete each other. Even perfect paragon Superman in most DC properties isn't an island -- when he's in the Justice League, there are plenty of times where he needs help from Batman or other team members to save the day. Even Superman is a stronger character when he has people around him who can balance out his flaws.

If Asha never needs help, that runs the risk of the challenges she's facing seeming far less consequential, because no human can handle absolutely everything, all by themselves. Yes, perhaps in the finished film, Asha asks her friends to help her liberate the wishes (a task which ultimately fails, leaving Asha to confront Magnifico alone again and realize exactly what everyone has to do to defeat him on her own anyway)...but just in regards to Star and Asha's relationship -- which even the filmmakers have said is something like a "soulmate" relationship, though not in a romantic sense in the finished product -- these two can't have a meaningful connection if one of them is completely self-sufficient. This is also why quite a few Disney fans didn't like that the Little Mermaid remake changed Ursula's defeat to have it be Ariel who killed her, rather than Eric, because it hurt the "equal" dynamic between the main couple where they both helped and supported each other.

In short, "girl power" shouldn't have to mean never needing to rely on anyone else...and honestly, looking at this scene concept, we don't see Asha relying on Star too much! She's the brains of the outfit -- she's making plans; she's providing Star some much needed common sense; she's using Star's light as a distraction so they can get away...she even escapes Amaya at one point by sliding right under her horse! Asha in this storyboard is a bad-ass!

What we see in this sequence is these two characters having to help each other in order to succeed. And that would've been a great foundation on which to build more dramatic stakes and a relationship with actual pathos, whether romantic or not.

[keenzinemugstudent]

Superman x witch fem black reader x Superboy! Our future? Part 1!

You come back from a mission only to meet a boy who claims to be your son?!

After your mission with Flash which was an epic win! After going back in time to help stop an ancient Egyptian pharaoh from destroying world you just wanted to turn in your report go home and watch TV and rest but life had another plan for you today!

"When you use that spell on that other guy and had him hallucinating that he was fighting in his underwear was absolutely hilarious Y/H/N! (Your Hero Name)

"Right? Like he didn't see that coming! I do feel bad for the poor guy tho." We entered the Batcave as we got closer we could hear three people talking I saw Batman and Superman an unfamiliar face. It was a boy well more like a teenager he had blue jeans, black combat boots with a black shirt when he turned around I can see the Superman symbol and for some reason you had this pull towards him and he looked strangely familiar?

"Hey guy's! We're back it took a while you know with the whole space-time thing but we're fine, we made it got the job done so uh who's the new guy new face looks pretty young to join the Justice League don't you think?" Flash says. Superman looked at me I gave him a small wave to say hello but he just gave an awkward smile looking pass you. It was weird he usually doesn't do that, something must have happened you turned your attention back to the teenager who was looking at you with his eyes glossing over like he was close to crying?

"Since when do we allow fans into the batcave?" I asked hands on my hips I had got a good look at his face better and to your surprise he looked kind of like Clark? Before you could say anything the boy ran towards you with such speed nearly knocked you over he pulled you into a big bear hug almost like he was too scared to let you go everyone just stood watching the scene Bruce stood with a blank face, Superman stood there with an uneasy look while Flash was just as confused as you were with what was going on.

"Your here! I made it just in time!" The boy says into your shoulder you honestly didn't know what the heck was going on but something in you felt a connection to this unknown boy. You hug him back rubbing his back he pulled back flustered.

"Uh hi?" I say with a confused smile.

"H-hi! I mean I'm sorry for uh hugging you I just got really excited!" The boy said with a nervous smile geez even his smile is like Clark's!

"That's fine hon just uh be careful next time you wanna hug someone. You nearly knocked me off my feet!" You say hitting his shoulder. He smiled but was still flustered, you got a better look he was definitely a spitting image of Clark but only a tad bit kid had some muscle on him that's for sure but what really caught your attention was his eye's they were Y/E/C (your eye color)you put a hand on his cheek making him flinch a bit from your warm touch.

"That's funny your eyes..." Before you could finish Flash cut you off sliding over next to you and the kid.

"Can someone explain what and who this boy is please?" Flash says looking the kid up and down, Batman looked towards Superman who looked back shaking his head Batman looked towards the boy who looked back nodding than turned at you nervous.

"Um so first I'm really happy to meet you and second please don't freak out when I tell you this but I'm Kon-el."

"Oh so you are Kryptonian! Another cousin you failed to tell us about Superman?" I asked jokingly but he just looked at you awkwardly with a tiny blush, okay what the heck is wrong with him? You just turned your attention back to the young man.

"Well it's very nice to meet you Kon-el the minute I saw you I knew you were somehow related to Superman. You are just as handsome as the man of steel himself!" You say with a smile he blushed at your words while Superman also looked flustered by you calling him handsome.

"Thanks...mom."

I froze the smile on my face slowly dropping I heard Flash gasped while Bruce and Clark stared at your face waiting for reaction the boy looked at you with a bit of concern but the only thing you could do was just stand in shock looking between the boy and Superman who was still waiting for your reaction but you let out a simple small confused "Huh?" before everything went black.

Clark's POV

Before anyone else could react Y/n eyes rolled in the back of her head luckily I had caught her in time. Conner I mean Superboy started to panic kneeling to the ground along side me.

"I-i'm sorry it just slipped out!" I just gave him a small understandable look.

"It's fine Superboy she's okay just in shock."

Not that you blame her I nearly had the same reaction I was in metropolis when Bruce had gave me the call saying that it was urgent I rushed over only to find Batman holding a teenage boy at gun point (it was a kryptonite gun) at first I was confused and concerned until Batman told me that the boy claimed to be mine and Y/H/N son which of course was hard to believe because I was in a relationship with Lois even though we've been having issues and Y/n had no interest in dating (at least that's what I was told by Diana) and we were only close friends nothing more nothing less. At least that's what I thought until the boy in front of me claimed to be our child and he needed the Justice League's help. Of course me and Bruce had doubts but I could see that he did resembled me a bit only he didn't have my blue eyes but had Y/E/C (your eye color) that's when the boy who called himself Superboy told Bruce to look in his back jean pocket and that there was a picture to prove it of course Batman did in to our surprise it was a picture of me and Y/n who was laying in a hospital bed, a beautiful but tired smile on her face and was holding a newborn baby, at the bottom of the photo it read "Welcome to the world our little miracle child Connor Kent" I had to hold on to something because I felt faint, Bruce held my shoulder trying to help me stand on my feet.

I had a son? the son of Superman and Y/H/N...we had a son?!

it just it sounded so...right??? I shouldn't be saying or thinking such things because I'm in a relationship with Lois but recently we've been having issues especially about how she feels about Y/n which just make this whole situation worse!

Just as Connor was trying to explain how he got here that was when Barry and Y/n entered the cave back from their mission, which brings us back to the present with me holding Y/h/n in my arms and Connor looking very concerned for his future mother.

"She did say she was tired after using so much magic and the shock of meeting Superboy I guess was too much for her body." Barry says arms crossed, I picked Y/n up bridal style then turn to looked at Bruce.

"I'll take care of this you call the other's." I say before walking out with Conner not far behind. Today has been tiring for everyone.

To be continued this and AU where Conner isn't a Clone between Lex and Clark but you and Superman's son idea I had while working 🤷‍♀️

Here part 2!

[nym-wibbly]

who in the three main spn actors gave the best performance?

Yowch! That's like trying to figure out if apples beats oranges beats bananas, you know? Beyond subjective preference, how do you even start? I can't think of a single actor on Supernatural - main, recurring, or shortlived, gore-coated guest-victim - who didn't nail whatever material they were handed. The casting was spot on from start to finish, the direction was generally superb, and I think when a show gains that level of reputation among actors (and crew) as an opportunity to do good work, everyone levels up just that bit more to do it justice.

Misha Collins was the only one of the three whose other work I already knew going in. Still is, really, on account of me spending most of the summer watching Supernatural and not having time for anything else. So I can gauge his role(s) on Supernatural against his other work - see what technique and energy he carries from role to role, his unique actor's toolkit if you like, and how that evolved throughout the show's long run, vs what he created for and from Castiel specifically.

I can see more of what he's trying to do in a given scene because of that familiarity with his other work. I'm not in a position to do the same for Jared Padalecki or Jensen Ackles, so I don't even want to try comparing that fruitbowl!

Honestly, I'd be much more interested in what they (and maybe the directors) have to say about each other's performances—and their own. Actors usually just have to get on with it on the day, no time to do anything else, but their benefit-of-hindsight analysis is something I usually enjoy a lot.

[baxterstockmanisthecenterfold]

Do you prefer Baxter mutated 🪰 a cyborg 🤖 or just plain human? 👨🏿‍🔬

My answer has changed since the last time I've thought about it. Originally like most people I liked his mutant fly fate. But now honestly. I prefer Baxter be a regular human. I don't hate either of his fates anymore I still love them & am fascinated by them. But when it comes to new takes on them. Nobody seems to actually DO anything with them. Nowadays when Baxter's a mutant it's only just for the sake of fanservice to the 87 cultists. DC's 2 portrayals of him being the biggest example of this

Because I want you to genuinely answer me this: what PURPOSE did him getting mutated, even serve? In literally BOTH adaptations he was just. There. Aside from fanservice what was literally the point in him being a fly? I'll tell you: Jack shit. They literally could have kept him human & I promise you nothing would have changed. Hell they could have easily replaced him with a random scientist and nothing would have changed! That's how little him being there or a fly mattered! And every version that has him go this route always make that same exact mistake. It's honestly crazy how Baxter becoming a fly in the first place was because of a horror movie yet nobody ever bothers to.. ya know, DO THE HORROR part?! A giant killer fly is seriously giant fucking potential especially in these darker TMNT adaptations. 2012 was even CLOSE to getting that mark when their Baxter mutated

Bro was fully ready to catch bodies in the most disturbing way possible. Yet the only time they cooked with him in this was this & that scene of him taking out the foot bots. The rest of the episode they just still have him get easily beaten by everyone and it's the same status quo for the rest of the series, he just buzzes now. *Sighs* honestly I just want at least ONE version of mutant Baxter to do this to somebody

At least ONE version of mutant Baxter just going full fly on niggas and & being seen as a legitimate threat to look out for & not just "heheheh, goofy fly just like the 87 series" Like is that seriously too much to ask for?

Cyborg Baxter isn't safe from this either. Even though it's a much more rare fate, only happening a total of 3 times btw. Yeah. Only 3 times was he turned into a cyborg. And only ONE of them was actually a really cool & dangerous concept. That of course being his ORIGINAL Counterpart

The man broke into a military base, killed 2 guards, cut out his own brain & put it inside a killer robot and wasted ZERO time fucking around. A lot of people really don't seem to know Baxter canonically has a bodycount

He killed over 6 people because he possessed the body of a giant robot. He basically pulled a sci-fi Chucky & I don't think anybody seems to realize how terrifying & cool that concept alone is! The second time this happened was 2003 & I'm honestly a little disappointed it wasn't used in a more dangerous way. Granted I'm aware that version of Baxter is more of a victim than his original self & mostly just used his robot bodies as just. Bodies in place of his old one. He didn't actively choose this, but you would still think he'd try to make himself more stronger & capable of defending himself like he did when he betrayed Shredder in season one. But alas. That never became the case. The final time we got a cyborg Baxter was the Roninverse who is another rare Baxter to do his original counterpart justice in more ways than one.

Still, we didn't get to see this one in much action. Aside from punching the shit outta April, this Cyborg Baxter was another case of "just there" ism. Don't get me wrong he had an actual purpose of being in the story & why he's a cyborg, but they just didn't have him do much in this form. And it is a really big shame ngl.

Both of these fates are honestly amazing & fun to explore if you genuinely put your creativity caps in it, & it's honestly frustrating that they're just never put into true fruition. It's honestly one of the main 2 reasons I just rather he just be human now honestly.

The wasted potential with either one & the complete lack to bother trying to do something with them

Like with his race, fans seem to think that that's (mainly being a fly) his only character trait that matters & he's less of a Stockman if he's not which is.. beyond stupid honestly.

Baxter doesn't have to be a mutant or not human in general to be a great character, there're tons of villains in TMNT that are humans that still do the fans & themselves justice without always losing their humanities, why should Baxter be any different? Because he's a scientist? There's literally hundreds of evil human scientists in Superhero media that are still threatening. Doctor Octopus, Dr. Eggman/Robotnik, Lex Luthor, Hugo Strange, Gizmo, the list goes on! With the right writing a regular human evil scientist is a major good threat! And Baxter Stockman should NOT be any different from this category! Especially when IDW showed us you can literally do something even better with his fates.

IDW being the best Stockman he is showed us that he can literally have fly themed technology (his Flyborgs of all forms) as his personal minions and things to do his bidding aside from his Mousers! Even the 87 cartoon showed us that he has the power to control flies! Have him be a fly themed evil scientist. Matter fact. Have him built like this

This absolutely AMAZING 2-for-one that is basically giving him a fly themed mech suit. I literally can't explain into words just HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS CONCEPT & I'm so happy I've seen other fans draw their own takes on this too because literally why not go this route?! It has both fates, he's still human & he's still a big threat! I say THIS is my ideal Baxter Stockman fate honestly and I need it to be a real reality someday 💖🙏🏿🙏🏿🙏🏿

[aragarna]

Zorro Vive

And vive bien!

So, I've finished Season 1 of the new Zorro show (available through Amazon in the US and most Spanish and Portuguese-speaking countries), and I really enjoyed it!

Without spoilers, I'd say that its main qualities are that it's fun and earnest and more cosmopolite in its retailing of the old story. It doesn't take itself too seriously, there's plenty of little homages to previous adaptations. There's many interesting and well-developed characters - of all genders and ethnicities.

It's (literally) colorful, with a comic/pulp feel that suits it well. There's been a true care brought to the action scenes, and OMG the night scenes are damn well lit. It's rare enough nowadays so points for that. Generally, the show is quite beautiful.

More spoilery thoughts under the cut.

I honestly wasn't sure what to expect from a new show. It's always hard to bring new canon to something so established and so iconic. And even though the Disney show is *not* the original canon, for a lot of people, it is.

But as a principle, same as for book adaptations or remakes, I'm not opposed to variations or changes. As long as they're good changes.

And I have to say, the vast majority of the changes in the new Zorro show, to me, were actually good changes, or necessary improvements for today's audience.

The most obvious is giving back a real voice to the Natives and not sugarcoating the colonization aspect. There's tension there. Natives are angry. But as years passed, people born there consider themselves "true Californians". Natives aren't just background characters or peons anymore. They're a driving plot force. They're shown in their own environment, with their own rites (I don't know enough about Natives of this area to know how accurate it is, but it felt a lot more authentic and respectful to me than other versions).

I do like the idea that the Zorro character comes from the Native culture, and that it's been passed on from one person to the next. Though it also brings my one big issue with the show: Diego becoming Zorro reads a lot like "a white dude steals a Native heritage." And yes, it's symbolic, and yes the fox spirit chose him, Diego didn't pick him, but still. Given that the audience is meant to support Diego (who really is a sweet guy!), that the narrative keeps showing us that Nah-Lin is wrong and should accept it, given the colonization context of that story, it's sitting a bit wrong with me.

This aside, I do like the exploration of revenge vs. justice, violence vs. a more measured response, in the face of adversity. When a few months back, the tagline "revenge is personal, justice is for all" appeared on the first poster, I wasn't sure what to think. I don't like revenge-driven characters. It's cliché and wrong. But the fact that the show precisely explored that, both with Diego and Nah-Lin, was actually quite interesting.

Diego, as I said, is a decent guy. A sweet boy really, vaguely immature originally but having to mature really fast, as the death of his father, the business of the rancho, the Zorro thing and Lolita's wedding are all dropping on him at once. Miguel Bernardeau is a clear departure from most of the previous Zorros, who were played by older actors, giving a more "adult" vibe to the character, but given he's supposed to be fresh out of college and out of his element, Bernardeau's more juvenile features fit the character well.

Nah-Lin is a lot angrier, and while in the context of the story, she's shown to be going at it the wrong way, all that anger *is* justified, and not something that can just be brushed off. Peace can't come easy when you anger people that way.

And you know who else I really liked? That damn Capitan Monasterio! Who would have thought LOL No, but seriously. Not sure why they named him that way. He was actually more of a Sergeant Garcia (or Mendoza from the 1990 show) than a Monastario. Obviously without the comic relief and cutely incompetent side of the character, but as the character who is a decent guy stuck between a rock and a hard place, serving a tyrannic boss and chasing a heroic outlaw that he may not hate that much.

I also really liked what they did with Lolita. An opinionated young lady that throws away all the corseting conventions of her time is always very relatable to me. Also, I just love her fashion sense. I wasn't sure what they were going to do with that impossible love triangle (I thought for a long time the wedding wouldn't actually happen). I wouldn't have thought they'd have Lolita figure it out, but I'm glad she did.

I'm glad they kept Bernardo, the mute confident. And I love Mei, too. The dynamic between the three of them (with Diego) is great!

Also, it's great to finally have a Spanish-speaking production, and have the characters speaking in Spanish, instead of having American actors put on fake accents.

I may have a couple of minor complains: namely that I didn't care about Samael nor Alejandro's first love. Not sure planting so early something that they're keeping for S2 is a right move. Feels like a waste of screentime. Also, I'm not particularly found of secret societies trying to rule the world, but it seems to be mandatory to any Zorro story... And the finale episode didn't actually wrap up that many plotlines - every major villain escaped! So that kinda made it look like Zorro didn't accomplish much, apart from breaking Lolita's heart, and his. But none of this prevented me from having a good time watching the show. I just really hope there'll be a S2 cause it'd be a shame to leave things there!

How about you guys? What did you think of it?

[whoishotteranimepolls]

hello, finn here, resident one piece "insane tag" writer.... im doing my duty to defend mr. smoker. smo-yan, if you will.

what are my credentials in commenting on this matter? Well. Glad you asked. I've been a onep fan for admittedly not that long, but in that time (like... 8-9 months?) i've messaged one of my close friends. hm. discord receipts.

681 times about him. also you know that one post? yeah from "smoker. smo-yan." to "i fucking love him good god" that's all me. glad we've established my expertise here

2. look at him. first of all, im raising my eyebrow at you anon because woahhhh looking 60 is fine for me. just perfect, actually. they grey/white hair is fucking wonderful to me personally considering i also love rayleigh and beckman.... also just like. every other part of him. he has huge boobs that he refuses to cover because he's allergic to shirts for some reason. he has leather gloves (would suck on any day). when also jacketless, he wears his jitte with a thick strap over his chest that is So droolworthy. he has a Fat Ass. search up stampede smoker because that's like his peak look. his face scar is endlessly sexy. the slicked back hair (more recently) and the more messy spiky look from earlier in the series both serve in contributing to his bad boy persona, which leads me to my second point: the dichotomy of personality.

3a. part a - the bad boy delinquent persona. if you only take him for his surface level actions and words, he seems a little bit mean. like every gruff, rough-around-the-edges mad dog delinquent type. just look at him as a marine cadet, head shaved and frowning. look at the illustration oda did of him as a kid, holding a nail-imbedded bat. he's loud and brash and commands a whole marine squad, he's big and always has a frown on his face and he's arguing and cursing and you just expect him to be unkind. but. But.

3b. But he's not. he's not unkind at all. He's not nice, maybe, but he's so kind. when tashigi has her crisis about justice vs the marines vs "doing the right thing" are often, actually, at odds with each other, smoker supports her in his own gruff way. tells her he'll be there to support her. and. the scene of all time;

4. la pièce de résistance - his character introduction. oda does character introduction SO well in general (see: mihawk, zoro, galley-la shipwrights, countless others) but the smoker intro is my top intro of all time, it's SO good. to recount to those who don't know, we basically see this big scary gruff guy - shirtless, obviously strong, all spiky hair and big stompy boots - and a kid bumps into him and spills their ice cream all over him. He obviously has a reputation as a powerful guy, because the villiagers around all beg him for forgiveness, ask him not to hurt the kid - and yknow what he does? He says to the kid "looks like my pants ate your ice cream," drops a few coin into their hand, and tells them to buy more scoops next time. that's the most attractive thing i've ever seen. he does masculinity like NO other. gods.

5. strong moral compass - doesn't often agree with general marine guidelines. he's pretty shit at being a marine, honestly. tells the brass to go fuck themselves often. follows his own sense of justice, and even though he hates pirates.... temporarily allying himself with them is not off the table, not if it means more justice (in his eyes). he doesn't like innocent people being killed. in stampede, even as everyone attempts to leave the island in light for abuster call, he stays because there must be something he can do. hina sighs and calls him stupid for it, but takes tashigi koby and helmeppo away anyways, showing that this has happened before, likely multiple times.

6. can he stub those cigars out on me. please. please. plea- [comically large piano falls on me, cutting off my speech]

For context, they are responding to this post about Smoker

It's always the last paragraph that pushes it into horny jail territory every time

And he does have one of the best intros. I hope they keep it in the live action

[tempkiriri]

Tiger & Bunny Week (Day 1)

Technically I'm late but uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

April 2: Favorite Character, Episode, Movie, and/or Song

Most people seem to be doing them all, but I'll be skipping movie since there's only 2 of them.

Favourite Character:

MY CRINGEFAIL SON IVAN!!!! I relate to him immensely, even his dynamic with Edward I'd say I can somewhat relate to with someone in my life. It's uncanny. He tries his best to be outgoing but anxiety and self esteem issues sure are fucking bitches, so he can only really do it behind a mask. Even in S2 whilst his whole outlook may have taken a bit of a rollback, that's honestly realistic, not everyone can just keep marching and continuously improving themselves, there are setbacks and holes you can fall into at times. I wish we knew more about his personal life beyond his backstory of getting bullied as a child + what vague stuff we have of his hero academy days, a lot of heroes suffer from this, however. His passion for his hobbies is also just like me. He's cringe but he is free, just like many of us wish to be. Runner up is Keith I love the Autistic dog man

Favourite Episode:

I gotta go with Sky's The Limit. The title is a very OH GEE WHOS FOCUS EPISODE IS THIS kind but genuinely it doesn't prepare you for the content. There's a wholeass lore drop, an intense fight scene with a robot, and of course Keith being Keith. It also puts into focus just how much pressure heroes are put under when it comes to the rankings, and second place apparently not being enough for Poseidon Line is a very corporate reality. It's go big or go home. The ending is also like OH MY GOD IM CRYING???? Like, we know Cis isn't very capable of behaving like a human, but Keith doesn't realise she's not human at all, he treats her as any other person and falls harder than an anvil for her despite their short time in contact. It makes me think that Cis had a potential to be something, someone more than she was initially made for. And these two are a bit of a guilty pleasure ship that me and like 2 other people in the west side seem to ship and yes I will be taking those "Keith is still lowkey in love with her even in S2 era" crumbs thank you-

Favourite Song:

Oh shit this is where it gets tricky. I have so many, so I'll split it into categories:

OP: Earth Diver ED: Pilot Character Song: GHHHAAAAAA DONT MAKE ME CHOOOOOSE Other supplementary Song: Orion Wo Nazoru Hero Cover

I can't really put to words for Earth Diver, but I really like how it starts and kinda soothes you into the song before it really kicks. The lyrics are also very passionately sung.

I really like the calmer tone of Pilot and even though the explicitness of the shippyness isn't as heavy as Aida, the subtlety honestly fits them more. The credits themselves are also just beautiful; the visual aspect of them hits immensely hard in ep 14 especially since you saw what could happen to their suits in the fight the episode prior, and they're both no longer in their prime. Closing it out as they stare at the sunset makes me emotional and Proud Fiesta I love you but goddamn why did you return for Episode 25 that was a fucking mood killer I stg.

I love a lot of the character songs, with the ones from Best Of Hero very enjoyable romps, especially Mikirezakura and Thanks and Thanks Again, the energy these two songs have makes you wanna coreograph something. Some other highlights are POWER OF JUSTICE and Aaa Hero Suit. (Also Hidden Heroism actually kinda sucks it tries to be Mikirezakura 2 and thus loses out on an identity of its own which is very disappointing).

I love the harmony of the heroes cover of Orion, I can really picture them all in recording booths singing next to each other...who's the cheering guy, though? I've listened to this cover so many times and the line the cheering guy seemingly sings just sounds like Hirata's Kotetsu, I don't get it. I get wanting to balance the lyrics between groups and characters evenly but that was an awkward way to do it.

[fangbangerghoul]

👉👈 Second request incoming...

Sookie x Eric Northman

Warm summer night; Yearning; A car

😏 Really telling on myself with this one. You don't have to recreate our favorite scene, but if you want to you can haha. The sky's the limit ❤️❤️

Just you wait Spooky. You are going to have many more favorite scenes I PROMISE!

Here is a gif that definitely happens in the book you are reading now.

          This was not right, not in the slightest, but I could not help myself. It had been days since I felt skin against mine and, even if my mind knew I should not give in, my body said otherwise. Eric leaned more into me. His body pushing me against his corvette and I could see in his blue steely eyes there was not going to be an easy way out of this. His blonde hair covered us like a curtain before his lovely soft lips were pressed into mine. I could feel the fire rumble in my core and without my permission my own arms wrapped around his neck. The warm and sticky humidity of Louisiana was gluing us together. He was sooo good at this. So good at putting people in peculiar positions. Good at kissing especially with all the practice he got. There was not enough that had been said about that week and I knew sooner or later we would have that talk but that talk was not going to happen right now.             His fangs protruded gracing my lips their pointy tips poking at me then he moved to my jawline till his lips engulfed my neck. I was scared for a moment he was going to bite me but instead there were only the softest of touches that were unexpected from the tall Viking. He still couldn’t remember but there was something inside of him that seemed to with the way his hands traveled my body it was hard to make myself say no.

I hope I captured her voice! I honestly had just paused reading, so it was fresh.

Word count: 258 but in my heart its over 200k

Thank you for submitting another prompt and for my two faves! I love them so much I COULD DIE. The TV show doesn't do them enough justice UGH!!

[dg-outlaw]

Blue Beetle - Movie Review

Finally got to see this on HBO Max... yes, "MAX" we still think of you as HBO just as Grogu is still Baby Yoda. Deal with it.

So, back to 'Blue Beetle'.

Long review, short, I thoroughly enjoyed this movie and think it's one of DC's best in their quasi-DCEU/not DCEU or whatever is going on with WB and the DC movies these days. From what I understand, James Gunn/WB is not scrapping everything from the Snyder-verse/DCEU, but changes are coming and there's rumor that this iteration of Jaime Reyes/Blue Beetle will stick around and I really hope so. I also think it helps that there were no character cameos in the film, only mentions of heroes like Superman, Batman, etc. so this Blue Beetle could easily be folded into the upcoming Gunn-verse.

As a latino I'm both ashamed to say I don't know much about Jaime Reyes' Blue Beetle outside of his appearances on the 'Young Justice' animated series, but I was also excited to see him on the big screen (metaphorically) and plan to go back and check out his comics.

I won't do a random synopsis as you can easily hit up a Youtube trailer or read an IMDb blurb to get that info, but I will talk about some of things I really enjoyed about this film. Warning: Slight Spoiler's ahead.

First off, this was overall a well-polished, well-written, directed, acted, and enjoyable film. The CGI was CGI, but it never felt janky and I could see the attention to detail in a lot of the VFX work, even with Jaime's practical Blue Beetle suit. I also truly appreciated that this film took risks and didn't shy away from taking those risks, creating stakes and sometimes following through, and addressing certain cultural and socio-economic subject matter without being preachy. In some ways I compare it to the MCU's 'Black Panther' in tackling the cultural and socio-economic things that mainstream, especially Disney, often tries to shy away from.

While 'Blue Beetle' isn't as serious in tone as 'Black Panther' there were several moments in the film where you knew that the writer and director had some creative leeway as opposed to having lots of studio oversight, just as Ryan Coogler had in the first 'Black Panther' film. I'm not sure if this is because WB wasn't paying attention because the DCEU was dying off or if they were somehow convinced to let the creators do their thing.

There were also so many moments where my Hollywood Blockbuster/MCU-trained brain said, "now is where they pull away from the hard moment, make a joke to pull away from a real emotion, or water down the stakes", but that didn't happen in this film. Yes, it was funny throughout, and jokes were made to lighten the mood where appropriate, but it was never at a disservice to the story or the characters. There were no moments where I felt like some director/screenwriter/studio-exec was getting embarrassed because it's a superhero movie so [insert Whedon-esque quip here] to avoid showing feelings.

Plus, you had George Lopez bringing his well-known loud, wild humor as the conspiracy theory spouting, 1% hating, mad-scientist Uncle Rudy, but if anything I think he was needed to give light to a story that potential to be really dark and sad at times. This is not to say there weren't moments that tugged at your heartstrings and made you feel or think. This movie went there because yes, we can think it's cheesy because it's just a superhero movie, but in-universe these events are reality for the characters and I think other superhero movies need to remember that. This was really well done in the first transformation scene of Jaime into the Blue Beetle as it started with light humor and slowly morphed into an almost horror-film like scene. There was no gore, but you felt the terror that Jaime and his family were feeling by watching things unfold. We, as the audience know what's going on, but for him and the family, the shit was hitting the fan and they didn't know what was going on.

Honestly, I didn't know what to expect from this film. Having recently watched Shazam 2, which I thought was really funny and better than the first, but also forgettable and the Flash movie (which I also thought was fun but forgettable), I just expected more popcorn fun--the last sugary drops of the DCEU slushie before the Gunn-verse got underway. What I recalled about the trailers and vague reviews about this film was that it was a fun superhero movie that focused heavily on family.

But unlike the popcorn, turn your brain off and enjoy chaos of the Fast franchise, it didn't require Vin Diesel, 30 movies, and an endless string of memes to drill that concept into your head. Yes, Jaime Reyes is the hero in the film, but it's the collective efforts and support of his family that ends up helping him win in the end and it's what gave the movie heart.

This is also not meant to take away from Xolo Maridueña's performance as Jaime Reyes as the hero, an actor I've enjoyed since first seeing him on the Netflix series 'Cobra Kai'. Just like in 'Cobra Kai', I continue to enjoy his almost innocent boyish charm, shyness, and vulnerability he exudes on-screen. In some ways his character and performance remind me of Tom Holland's Spider-Man as just this kid trying to do the right thing, but is totally in over his head as a teen superhero (even though Jaime is a recent college grad from Gotham U). And just like Peter Park, Jaime didn't ask to be a hero and had no real aspirations for being a hero, other than to his family, but in the end he stepped up. This was not for cool points, though Jaime eventually learned to embrace the scarab's many cool powers, but because he knew it was the right thing to do. And yes, Mr. Vin Diesel, because of family.

I could go on and on about all the cultural moments and subject matter addressed in this film that I thought was really brave and refreshing in a superhero movie, but I won't as that's a giant article in it of itself. But I honestly think Disney/Marvel could take some pointers here as they often pull away just as they are about to get there. Also, no hate on MCU. There are many of the MCU films I enjoy, but the overall formula hasn't gotten tired and needs a revamp. Again, another post for another day, but just putting in a BIPOC, female, or LGBTQ character in a movie doesn't make it good and marketable. And no, we don't need PSA sob-story movies beaten into our heads, but what does it mean to be part of a marginalized community and be a hero? What does that look like? What different perspective does that character bring to the table?

In the end, yes, enjoy 'Blue Beetle' as a superhero movie, but also keep an eye out for the smaller messages and heart of this film as it was a delightful surprise for me. I hope we get to see more Blue Beetle in the future of DC films and I'd even be down for a live-action adaptation of 'Young Justice', with Jaime on the team.

[qrjung]

I finally watched 12 Angry Men (1957) and honestly it was quite a ride. Three things really stood out to me though and I need to ramble about it. Spoilers (can you spoil a 66 year old movie?) below the cut

1) Davis is the only person wearing a white suit!!! Everyone else is wearing a black suit. I picked that up at the last scene and I could see the contrast since everyone else was in the background. It's a nice little detail. I guess the movie wanted to really make him seem like a good man from the start even though he'd sway everyone to his side.

2.) THE WEATHER!! The movie uses weather so well. It's hot and of course everyone is going to argue and even more Intensely. At the peak of the argument, everyone is really sweating. When the vote is 6-6, the rain starts. Right after that, Juror 7 turns on the fan and it doesn't take long for him to get swayed.

3.) The first scene where we really get a close up of the boy's face and he's kinda crying 😭. The movie really does try to make us feel bad for him right from the start.

4.) HA! I hated juror 10, till the very end. I hated him so much 😤. Anytime he got dissed, my heart soared. A prejudiced old man, willing to persecute a young boy on the basis of "he's one of them". Fuck him. At least, he had a bit of an eye opener.

5.) The movie sets up Davis as doubtful. When everyone speaks to him, he remains silent. I just knew he was going to be the one with the not guilty vote!

6.) I love how everyone had a whole section dedicated to swaying them. Showing their own opinions on why they think the boy did it and then arguing against that. Very cool.

7.) Mr. Foreman doesn't have that though. It's almost as if his vote was ambiguous until a few minutes to the end. He never stayed his opinion or his reasoning. He was just there to guide.

I wish juror number 7 had been harder to sway though. It felt a bit anticlimactic since he was the one that seemed like he didn't even care about the case.

But thinking about it, it makes sense that the two men bound by prejudice were the hardest to sway.

Also kinda wish we knew who actually did it. What if they let a guilty man go? What if they didn't? If he's not guilty, who's lying (the officers, obviously 🙄)? Who actually did it? What was the motive? What did the boy have to do with it?

Or maybe he did do it and Davis was wrong. Either way, he did the right thing—he didn't persecute a man because there was doubt he was guilty. It's a perfect place to end the movie — in a state of ambiguity. And it's up to the viewer to decide if they think the boy is guilty or not.

Personally, I don't know. I don't think Davis does either.

It got me thinking though, ho often does a jury decide to persecute someone (even when there's reasonable doubt) just because of prejudice? I know the American Justice system is flawed.

But here, we don't even have a jury. And I know for a fact, many people have gone to jail, because a judge just didn't like them. If the American Justice system is flawed, ours is on fire.

Edit;

THIS IS ALL I'M GOING TO BE THINKING ABOUT FOR THE NEXT WEEK!!!

Anygays, there's more movies in my recc list. The next is Come and See....Yeah. I heard it's deeply unsettling and I believe it will be. It's a war movie and usually "horror" movies grounded in reality tend to be more terrifying than fantastical ones

[redux-iterum]

I'm telling you now that when I commented on your rewrite originally, I did not expect any of this... And by God you never fail to impress me more with each update you do, it's honestly astounding how you've managed to so skillfully portray each character's emotions and quietly give them arcs. I see you over there giving Ravenwing some confidence points 👀 I've never seen a Ravenwing with a personality and storyline like this, he is such an amazing character. I haven't even gotten to Fireheart, Tigerclaw, BLUESTAR. I'll admit, I have a silent dislike for canon Bluestar. But your version of Bluestar is freaking amazing, I especially love the scene with her and Fireheart during their training when she gets angry. She's not just a perfect, noble warrior with a tragic ending anymore (This is excluding the content from Bluestar's Prophecy). SHE HAS FAULTS! And Fireheart, showing him having the noble, justice seeking personality while also having him be an emotionally complex and relatable character is awesome! Fireheart is no longer a Mary Sue type character who is creepily in love with a dead woman who he spoke to twice! Tigerclaw has depth for once, he isn't just some evil guy anymore! He feels fear, he feels love, he's more than just a villain. He's shown to be terrifying when Fireheart realizes what his father is capable of, he has a dark side that longs for power AND a soft side that tries to make excuses for the people he loves. HE'S FINALLY COMPLEX!! This is honestly one of my favorite rewrites of all time (although I don't really have a favorite XD andddd excluding those that haven't been written out) alongside Warriors Fire And Water, FatalBlow's Warriors Rewritten, and Strelles. You can rest assured that you have gone above and beyond to create one of the greatest Warriors Rewrites I've ever seen and it's truly payed off.

This is one of those asks that is so wonderfully nice and complimentary that I have absolutely no idea how to answer it with a coherent, thought-provoking response due to being overwhelmed with joy. Just be aware that I AM flailing and hollering to myself, and my pets are very startled.

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Devotion

Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC TV Series)

Ship: Guy of Gisbourne x Robin Hood's Sister

Trope: Ennemies to lovers (sort of) - Angst with a fluffy ending

Note: @sorisooyaa Second one. I still don't know what to make of it, but it's there sooo....

Word count: 9 258

Warnings: SMUT (because I cannot write a story without a sex scene apparently), violence in acts and in words, threats of rape, threats, betrayal, mentions of starvation and torture. (Promise it's only in passing) Mentions of christian faith from the reader and from Guy.

Tag-list: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard (I know you love Guy, I hope I did him justice :) ) @sotwk

“I want her imprisoned and hung! Now!”

The outrage was a novelty. Usually, you were only accompanied by the sound of the merchants, maybe the laughing children running around. You were not technically allowed to go out on your own, but the walls of your room were beginning to imprint themselves onto your mind and going crazy was not a death you were willing to live. The heavy hood on your head covered you enough for the Sheriff’s and Gisbourne’s men to patrol by without recognizing you. You were exchanging pleasantries with an old woman, when nearby a tall and broad-shouldered man had screamed after a thief.

“She stole a full loaf of bread! Arrest her!”

Of course, you had not seen the scene. You figured that he was right, the young girl struggling to get out of his grip, proof enough. She was still holding the bread trying to find an escape with her eyes when she landed on you. Why was it always you? You sighed, excusing yourself to the merchant before walking towards the commotion.

“Kind Sir, you would not deprive a young girl of food, would you?”

Only then did he look at you. He was towering over you, still not releasing the girl. With the cloth of her ragged tunic, you could not see, yet it was certain in your mind he was going to leave a mark.

“Only if she pays for it! It’s my life’s work lady. “-I will pay for it. As for you, Sir” you pointed a finger at his face, coming closer, making him step back, “God will see to it that your unchristian behaviour is punished.”

The merchant’s face fell as if the threat really frightened him, and in a swift movement, you pulled the girl out of harm’s way and behind you. She was shaking and crying. Two pieces of silver fell into his hand. Even then, the man did not seem satisfied. This time, he grabbed you by the arm to shake you down. Before you could do anything, the hood you were wearing fell backwards, revealing your face to the soldiers passing by. You panicked. If the Sheriff knew you were there, he was going to have you executed. You were a prisoner of his. Not a guest. He had made sure you had known that when they had found out about your existence.

Being Robin’s sister was not always an easy path to be on. Even if he had left you to watch over your parents’ estate, Robin had been foolish enough to think the Sheriff had principle. Or honour. As soon as he figured out you were related, a mysterious invitation demanded your presence in the city. For your protection. It came from the king. Or so you thought. Upon arrival, you were stripped of your clothes, dressed in rags and left in a prison cell for an unknown period of time with only water and stale bread. He wanted to break you, and he did. After a prolonged time in the shadows, you finally yielded, begging him to take you home. You did not know where Robin was, he knew that. What he wanted was to have you on his side, at least in appearance. You were living within the city walls, under constant surveillance. Luckily, some men and women within the castle were still on Robin’s side and helped you out of that godforsaken prison. What little privilege you had, you had because of your status. The Sheriff could not stop you from spending your own money, nor sending letters containing orders for your employees left to fend for themselves. He wanted to have your goodwill, to turn your brother to disgrace in the eyes of the people and finally capture him. After weeks and months, nothing had changed. The people of Nottingham were still on his side, no matter what. Even worse, they were suspecting something was afoot after you had arrived overnight, seemingly uninvited and did not make any public appearances for a long while. This would be the last straw to your precarious peace with the Sheriff. You turned to the girl, petrified behind you. “Run!” And she bolted. The soldiers noticed your predicament and were walking towards you. Your fingers were digging into the man’s forearm. He did not move. The bruise would have to be covered for the next few days, you thought. If you didn’t get caught before then. You closed your eyes, tears threatening to fall. Upon the soldiers approaching, the merchant thought his case won.

“Finally! I demanded your presence long ago! -Sir, unhand the lady, if you wish to keep your hand.”

The tone was unmistakable, his voice as level as could be. Gisbourne. You were dead.

Escorted by soldiers, you left the market without a word for any of your “saviours”. You could feel the animosity of Gisbourne’s men, angered by all the running around you had provoked. As you came to learn, your escapades were not as sneaky as you had thought. Vaisey had known about them all along, only authorizing them under the scrutiny of his guard dog. Alongside his men of course, tired of spending all their time running after you. Guy of Gisbourne was not what you would call a kind man. Sometimes, he would surprise you and everyone else - probably himself too - by making a merciful decision, such as leaving the girl and not sending after her. You hoped she was alright, these days survival was the only priority. The thought of having her steal again made you inexplicably sad.

Unexpectedly you were propelled forward, the horse under you coming to a halt. You ended up grabbing anything you could, forgetting who was in control of the horse. Hence, finding yourself face first into Gisbourne’s back, your hands clasped around his waist. Of course, he would not let a lady walk back to the castle. Even though you had walked from the castle in the first place. What it told you was not that he was a gentleman, but that he did not want you to run again. The hassle of having to find you the first time was enough for him.

“Milady. You can let go. We have arrived.”

He untangled your hand from his body with a quiet and soft chuckle. The sound surprised you both. A faint red tainted his cheeks as he dismounted. Your eyes scrutinized the man before you. His palm extended towards you, eyes cast downward. His body was stiff, his back straight, a hint of care in his manners. In hindsight, you had never seen him raise his voice at any woman. Not that you were interested in the man, in the first place. He was handsome, yes. When no one was looking, at the Sheriff’s table, you had noticed the way his eyes filled with something… something close to longing. His smile was so rare too. Although, you knew better than to trust appearances and did not dwell on the thought. His hands were covered in blood. That was who he was. Who you were, was someone who would do anything to stop him. This was the only thing you needed to know about Guy of Gisbourne.

You dismounted on your own, the rejection a not-so-subtle way of telling him to leave. Predictively, your clumsiness stroke. Luckily, the last man on Earth you wanted to, caught your waist, steadying you. The warmth of his hands knocked the air out of your lungs. For what felt like an eternity and in the blink of an eye, his palms settled there, thumbs moving in a slow soothing motion. You could feel the heat of his breath on the shell of your ear, his body slightly hovering above you. Every sense was heightened by his proximity. Until you pushed his hands back. Just as he had done with you, you slowly eased his fingers from your waist. The loss was felt deeply. Without turning around, you whispered a muffled “Thank you.” Frowning to yourself, the inner turmoil caused by his touch would not leave you. It had been so careful almost tender. Something stirred in you, unsettling you in the deepest. Gisbourne’s presence had never felt hostile to you, even if you knew of his actions. Somehow, he never felt like a threat to you, even as a sworn enemy and rival of your brother. He could have used you, punish you for what your brother had done - whatever that may have been. Marian was a good part of it, you knew that. She has chosen Robin, not Gisbourne. A cold feeling ran through you: had he ever stopped loving her? Despite everything had he not stopped caring for her? Worse: why was the notion of him caring for someone else, was so upsetting for you? The answer never came. In the shadows, he followed your steps, guiding you silently towards the main hall. You thought you knew what was to come. This moment between the two of you changed everything. But so little at the same time. You were still a prisoner. He was still a monster. Nothing would change that. You gained back composure as you stepped into the hall, hearing his steps closely behind you, ever watchful.

“Milady of Locksley. What a surprise to see you here! And here I thought I would find you in your chambers, quietly reading as a lady is supposed to. Not very lady-like of you to go running around with peasants.”

Vaisey’s breath stunk of wine and red meat. His nose was a mere inch away and you could count the riddles around his eyes as if they interested you. He stepped away, a cheerful expression on his face. That was a first.

“You see, milady, I am afraid that I will have to keep you much longer than anticipated. Indeed, your brother has yet to show a decline in popularity, and you have yet to help us find him… -Sheriff, with all due respect, which is to say none, could you get to the point? I have a better story than yours to get back to.”

Your words rang in the air, echoing through the room. His face was twisted. He gripped your jaw. He, too, would leave bruises you’d have to cover. Somewhere behind you, you could feel Gisbourne straighten. Just as an archer ready to shoot, the arrow taunted and eyes on the target.

“Stupid, silly, little girl. You do not know who you are playing with, do you?”

He observed you, from one side to the other, manhandling your jaw, hurting you more and more. One of your teeth was bound to break if he kept at it. Deliberately, he gripped your throat, not enough to hurt but enough to know he could strangle you in a second.

“Sir…”

It had escaped him. Knowing full well what his superiors would and could do to him, at that moment, Guy did not care. For if he had learned something about you, all those afternoons and mornings watching over your every move, is that you were kind. Smart. Rebellious and resilient more than he could ever be. If he had been foolish enough to say it aloud, he would have said his feelings for you rivaled those he had for Marian. But he could not. Not yet. So, instead, he said the only thing he hoped would save you.

“What? Don’t you see I am occupied?”

He steeled himself for what was to come, stepping next to you.

“Sir, I fear that if any harm were to come to her, the riots would only grow stronger. Would it not be wise to lock her in her room and limit her outings as you thought? -She defies me. She defies you too, you know. Sneaking around, losing your men in the marketplaces and the streets of Nottingham.”

Vaisey eyed his right-hand man. Unfortunately, the appointed Sheriff knew where people’s weaknesses laid, and he knew how to manipulate them.

“Unless… you have a soft spot for maidens in distress? First, Marian and now this one?”

A shiver ran down your spine as he focused on you once again. His hand had an ever-growing grip on your throat, even with you were desperately trying to get his hand to give, nails biting into his flesh, leaving blood and red trails on his wrist. The world was becoming darker with each passing heartbeat, the air barely passing through your lips and nose. Then, abruptly, he released you, and you fell to your knees. Gisbourne did not move, only clenching his fist in frustration as you were coughing harshly at his feet. This was humiliating. When you gained back your breath, you stood up, voluntarily stepping forward, standing your ground. Vaisey laughed, pouring himself another cup of wine. His face lit up. An idea had emerged in his brain and you were not sure you wanted to know what it was.

“Gisbourne, since you cannot seem to keep notorious thief Robin Hood’s little sister under control, how would you like it if I made the task easier for you? -What do you mean?”

He looked you over, lurking at your body as if it was a piece of meat ready to be eaten.

“I mean, that his little bird is not going anywhere. But what better way of keeping her from running if she was bound to this place… in holy matrimony.”

Before you had a chance to realize it, Vaisey ordered his guards to keep you quiet and still. This time, tears did spill, down your cheeks, wetting the hand of whoever was keeping you from speaking.

“I would have taken her for myself, alas my interest lie elsewhere, and I have no patience for a wench who can not keep her place.” The Sheriff licked his lips, visibly amused and excited by your predicament “Although, I would have had a good time taming her.”

Gisbourne was heaving. He could not… would not entertain the idea of marriage. It felt beyond him. A muted hope lit up inside him. Was it the only chance he’d have at love? The beacon was extinguished just as it appeared. You did not want him. None of the women he had cared for wanted him. Guy knew himself to be many things, including a murderer. But forcing your hand, he could not do it.

“My lord, I can not accept. -Oh, but you’ll have to. This” He gestured to you, as you were still struggling against the hold the guards had on you. “Is your punishment. Everything she does you will have to answer for. If you lose her or if she escapes, your head rolls. It was simple enough to keep her within the castle, but you spectacularly failed at that too. I should hope that chained to you, you would not let her go. Find a way to make her tame. Put a baby or two in her, that will keep her occupied.”

The thought of it made you want to gag, your body used and abused, violated beyond recognition, your very existence not your own. You would rather die than suffer such a fate.

“Her presence here is essential. Her brother will come in search of her. If he has not already. The sister escaped you, why would the brother be any different? -Sir… -That is an order! She will be your wife and you will be her husband. I do not want to hear another word from you before I see Robin Hood’s head on a spike. If not his, then it’ll be yours.” Vaisey stepped closer to Guy, a finger pointed at his chest. “Find a priest. Marry the girl. Spread the news and her thighs. The brother will come running. He is a hero after all, is he not?” A dark chuckle escaped his lips. “Now out of my sight before I change my mind and have you both hung.”

The guards released you within the confines of your bedroom. Gisbourne had not followed. He was probably searching for a priest at this very moment. You felt stupid for ever thinking something could be salvaged about him. Whatever your heart and body were telling you, they had to be wrong. That moment had been a fluke, a passage of weakness you would soon come to forget about. Nighttime came and still no sign of him. Maybe, just maybe, he had fled, to save himself from impending death. Your skin was tingling where he had touched you still. The bruises on your arms and throat were more painful though, erasing any softness you could have felt. Despite your initial doubts and hopes, Gisbourne did show up. With a priest. Neither addressed you, only stepping in the room without being invited to. Even if you had wanted to speak, your throat felt as if it was about to rupture.

“Is this the lady?”

Guy nodded. His breath hitched in his throat upon seeing your arm and neck. The purple marks were still there, an awful reminder of what you had survived. And what he could not prevent.

“Place yourself in front of one another.”

You looked at Gisbourne, words stuck. You frowned. He looked so lost. Awkward, bashful even. He took his gloves off, revealing his hands. He took yours in his with careful movements, minding your injuries. It confused you, his gentle manners and his murderous ways. You followed him, moving according to the priest’s demands. You would not be able to escape this, even if you ran he would catch you, you could not scream, and he had to have bribed the priest into some sort of agreement. It was all orchestrated to trap you. The lump in your throat made it even harder to breathe. The robes of the priest smelled of wine and sweat. He was probably somewhere else when Gisbourne had plucked him out. He did not even ask for your consent. Merely mumbled the vows and added: “You may kiss the bride.”

Gisborne was unreadable, even at such a short distance. Closing your eyes in the hopes it would pass soon, the warmth of his fingertips putting a strand of your hair away made you jump. You heard a sharp intake of air before he leaned in and put his lips to your cheek. It was slow, thought-through, and delicate. So many adjectives, you would never have associated with him, as late as of this morning. Once the priest went, he lingered in the room, fidgeting with his gloves. It felt as if he was about to say something. But he shut his mouth and left the room. He did not come back. Not even to claim what was his to claim. Insomnia plagued you that night, not being able to sleep more than a few hours at a time, until dawn came, all too soon.

Somehow, the Sheriff had organized what he called an “impromptu” dinner for your “hidden” union. One he intended to see to the consumption. The thought left you quiet and frightened. The bruises on your forearm and neck were now yellowish, healing slowly but surely. Unlike your ego. Vaisey was a snake. He needed to be treated like one. Poisoned by his fangs. Nevertheless, this was not the most pressing issue at the moment. Your heartbeat was erratic, panic settling in your bones at the Sheriff’s initial intentions. Gisbourne had not appeared again after last night. Hopelessly, you had thought he would. To talk at least. This was a brutal way of marrying someone. Your faith had guided you all your life. This marriage even if forced was to be respected. You were to spend the rest of your lives together and it felt strange to avoid each other like so. A young maid knocked on the door, before entering your room. She helped you get changed, and left again without a word. This silence around you was going to drive you insane. You grabbed your coat, opening your bedroom door in a hurry, only to be met with two guards and Guy of Gisbourne about to knock.

“Oh.”

Guy looked you over. You were breathing rapidly, from what he assumed to be the hurry you were in, your dress in a maroon colour he immediately recognized. Despite the Sheriff’s threat, you were about to go out. He gritted his teeth.

“Leave us.”

The guards hesitated. He threw them a look over his shoulder and they left rapidly. Without asking you, he stepped forward, making you go back into your room. Your hands were still clutching your cloak. Fear took you over as he closed the door behind him.

“Do you have a death wish?”

His eyes met yours, his full height towering above you. You craned your neck to meet his stare with the powerful force of the steel hiding in them.

“The Sheriff specifically asked for you to stay here. -I know.”

Your voice was hoarse and harsher than you intended it to be. His hand inched toward your neck, and you flinched. He pulled back when he saw it, not wanting to hurt you more.

“If you know, then why were you about to leave?”

He signaled to your hands, holding on to the cloth for dear life. He kept overstepping into your space, making you step back until you could not anymore, stuck between the wall and his unimpressed stare.

“I wasn’t… -Do you think me a fool?”

You bit your lip. Answering him would only bring more trouble.

“Do not answer that. I do not need your wits today.”

He sighed, lowering his head in an exasperated gesture. He was resigned, you would always defy the Sheriff’s authority. He only had to make sure you were not slandering his name. Or running off into the forest. Away from him, he thought.

“If we want this” he gestured between the two of you, even with the minimal space left. You could feel his breath against your cheeks. It only made them warmer, remembering the dream from the night before. “To work, you will have to follow the rules.” You scoffed, undignified.

“I am not one of your men, you cannot tell me what to… -I am not trying to tell you what to do, I am trying to protect you!”

He was angry. Frustrated by your actions. You knew he was right, even if you did not want him to be. He was right. It felt excruciating, the tear in your mind almost able to be touched, between reason and feelings, between the will to leave and the fact that you would be leaving everything behind. Including him. You looked up, staring straight into his eyes, willing yourself to put up a front. Always. The only thing you had not accounted for was the way he looked at you. His mouth agape, affection clear on his face. His pupils were blown, as dark as the abyss you were falling into. His brows furrowed in frustration and fear. You wanted to think he was genuine in his intentions, but the voice of reason was always pulling you back. He wanted your brother dead, you told yourself. That was more than ample reason to hate the man, anger flaring up in you, destroying everything in its path. You lowered your eyes, missing the way he pulled away from you, wounded, stepping back until he opened the door and turned one last time to you.

“I have no intention of forcing your hand. You make your own choices. Yet, those choices implicate me now. Would you consider it the next time you try to run away? -Why would I? My brother is in danger because of you! Because of you and your misplaced attachment!”

The words had escaped you before you could think. It was as if the place was set on fire all of a sudden. He did not touch you, but he might as well have with the brutality of his words.

“My misplaced attachment? Do you remember who your brother is? Who you are loyal to? His actions have led to lives lost! He is a thief! -Just like the Sheriff and you then! My loyalty is the only thing keeping you and your men from killing him! He is my brother! We grew up together! We…” Tears swelled in your eyes. Your hand drew his eyes to your collarbones and the yellow bruise on your throat. Guilt washed over him. He let that happen to you. The sadness, the anguish of not knowing if Robin was alive, everything for him to see written plain as day on your face. What husband did he make causing you to suffer, not being able to defend yourself…

“We grieved our parents together. We shared secrets, waves of laughter and scrapped knees. Late night stories and early morning horse-rides…” Something in you snapped. You turned away from Gisbourne, fearing for your life if he was to reach out to you.

“I had to marry you. Spend the rest of my life… with someone who wants to kill the only family I have left. Do you see the torture I am in or are you just blind?”

His silence made you wonder if he had not left the room altogether. Guy was taken aback by your sudden outburst. His honour depended on him achieving what the Sheriff asked him to do. His heart on the other hand… Seeing you hurt, desperate, and your spirits broken was the last thing he wanted to do. Marian came to his mind, fleeting, only passing through to remind him: she did not choose him. Neither did you. Would he ever learn? His love was not worth it. His affections were not required. All he loved, he loved alone. It was time he accepted it. A soft thud echoed in your bedroom. He had put a box on a table, near the fireplace.

“I will leave this here. If you will, I… I could accompany you. Outside, to the market, wherever you want to go.”

You did not answer, wrapping your arms around yourself, the sobs finally stopping. It was pathetic. How much you wanted him to say he was sorry, so you could forgive him.

“I hoped…�� his throat felt tight, keeping the words at bay for a minute “I hoped that at least, my company would not be such a burden for you to bear. Maybe not now, but in the future. I have no wish to see you suffer. Nor in pain.”

A muted metallic sound let you know he had left the room. When you turned around, a faint smell of leather and heat was still lingering in the air. It made your heart clench. You went on to look at the small wooden box he had left on the table. Your fingers opened it before you could think the action through. A wedding band. You closed it in a hurry, afraid and happy.

The banquet arrived all too fast. Vaisey had outdone himself. Or told someone to. The decorations were nothing short of ostentatious, tapestries hanging from the walls, candles being lit everywhere, and tables full of plates capable of feeding more than a family of four could have in months. It was disingenuous, a display of wealth you could not bear to see. Gisbourne arrived soon after you. He looked at your hands. The band was there, settled perfectly on your finger. His chest filled with pride.

“Milady. -Sir.”

You bowed to him, willing yourself to be impassible. So far, if your companion’s stare was any indication, it worked. He offered you his arm, and you felt yourself tremble, laying your hand on his forearm. Without breaking eye contact, he grabbed your hand and kissed it tenderly, his lips leaving a hot feeling where they met your wedding band. It had taken you hours to decide whether or not you were going to wear it. Not wearing it would mean a sign of defiance to the Sheriff and you did not need any more of his wandering eyes on you, whereas wearing it meant… meant you belonged to someone, which left a sour taste in your mouth. Out of the two evils, at least you knew one of them to be more benevolent than the other.

“The newlyweds!”

The cry made you stiffen in fear. Your hand gripped Guy’s arm in response to it. He stood up, head high, putting himself a step before you, in a posture you assumed to be of protection. Was he protecting you? The thought was quickly erased from your mind, and the hope accompanying it was sniffed out when he let go of your hand. Vaisey was arriving towards you. Instinctively, you stepped forward almost colliding with Guy’s shoulders. Your hand wasn’t even an inch away from his.

“Gisbourne. Any news on the Locksley front?

Men have been posted at all entries. Guards as well.”

You clenched your jaw, looking at him sideways. The bastard.

“Oh. Milady of Gisbourne is not too happy about it. Remember, if you can’t tame her, I’ll be happy to do it myself…”

Guy’s face was stern. No emotions transpired. There, next to him, you worried he might lurch and kill the Sheriff with his own hands. Your palm met his wrist as he was about to raise his hand. His eyes snapped to you, surprised by your gesture. Though, you were not looking at him. With a saccharine smile on your lips, you addressed Visay straight on.

“I will have you know Sheriff that my husband sleeps with a sword next to him. I, on the other hand, prefer a good old dagger. Covered in poison of course. Would you like to know the provider for such a weapon? Coups are so frequent these days. Especially with…” you eyed him up and down, biting back a smirk. “Temporary replacements.”

Your tone was laced with charm and softness, yet the sharp threat underneath it all was clear.

“If that was all, I believe the first dance is ours. You’ll excuse us, will you not?”

Visay gritted his teeth, Gisbourne visibly approving of your behaviour.

“Of course, Milady.”

He let you pass in front, stopping Gisbourne in his tracks. “Get him. I will not accept another failure from you. Think about what I could do with her once you’re out of the way…”

You had stopped a few steps ahead, looking around, head high as always, saluting nobles of the court in a rehearsed manner. Guy nodded curtly before leaving Visay right there. The Sheriff did not know if he had made a wise choice when putting the two of you together. He hoped for more fight, even some evident traces of violence on you. Anything to get the Hood’s blood boiling. As usual, he feared his amusement had gotten the better of him. He should have taken care of this himself.

The feast lasted until the heavy hours of the night, leaving drunkards and young couples behind. Your feet were killing you, the wine still present in your body making you lean into Guy a lot more than you would have done sober. He was not complaining. Your hair smelled divine, with fresh flowers and honey. Maybe he had drunk a little too much himself. Or not enough for what he was about to do. He accompanied you back to your chambers, opening the door for you to step in. Without a second thought, you took your shoes off, walking barefoot on the cold stone floor, a sigh of contentment passing through your lips. The guards were dismissed. Gisbourne, hypnotized by you, smiled despite himself. You were flushed, eyes just as fiery as ever, but, still, not looking at him. He put his hand inside one of his pockets. What he had between his fingers was enough to get him executed for treason. Although he had made his choice, Guy was not sure what your reaction to this would be. You were his to protect and to love. To serve too. His choice was made. The price for it would come soon enough.

“Your brother left this for you.”

You opened your eyes, not quite believing your ears. Guy was reaching out, putting a piece of paper in your hand. He closed your fingers around it, seeing your face going from one emotion to the other, not knowing what to do with yourself. You sat down on the edge of your bed, carefully opening it. A small flower fell. A forget-me-not. You smiled. Guy’s heart skipped a beat when you brought the flower to your lips. How he wished to be those petals, graced by your breath. Graced by you. What you read made you laugh, and cry a little. The whole time he just stood there waiting for you to finish it. The closed door next to him was calling for him to leave. Hope in his chest told him to stay, just for a little while longer. The letter wasn’t even that long. In essence, Robin was asking for you to keep your head low until he would come and save you. He had not abandoned you. Your eyes met Guy’s over the paper. He seemed out of place, a prisoner of his world. He had done that for you. Collected a message from Robin for you. He had risked his life for you. A warm feeling erupted in your chest akin to birds in flight. The relief in your eyes stopped his breath. You got up from the bed, your dress caressing the floor in gentle sounds. He felt more than he saw your hand on his chest, pulling yourself up. Your lips on his cheek melted everything. The armour, the mask he wore, his barriers, walls… Everything, in one kiss. His breath hitched when you pulled away.

“Thank you.”

The words rang in his ears. His hand came to rest upon yours, right above his heart. The drumming beat underneath your fingers echoed your own. He leaned, his forehead meeting yours in an intimate embrace. Soon, he pulled away, earning a heavy sigh from your lips. Your head bowed questioned him. He pulled your chin up, delicately.

“What is the matter?”

Close like this, his voice resonated through you like a lightning bolt in the dark. Your eyebrows were knitted together, hesitation etched in your eyes. You showed him the letter.

“Is this… are you still going after him?”

His hands went to your cheeks, keeping your eyes level with his. There was nothing but pure devotion in his eyes. It made you shiver. Only then, did you realize the power this man held over you. And you over him.

“I have cared for you long enough to know I would do anything not to hurt you. Including betraying my values and duties. I would burn the world to the ground if only to make you smile at me.”

He looked at you intently, his thumb tracing the shape of the apple of your cheek, drawing his fingers lower still, settling on your jaw. The sensation was overwhelming you, your ragged breath fanning over his cheeks, your sensations swallowing your thoughts entirely.

“Guy.”

He was startled by the sound coming out of your mouth. That name had been nothing short of a curse for him, yet it felt the greatest blessing of them all in your mouth.

“Yes? -Kiss me.”

A split second passed before he pulled you in by the waist, closing the distance between the two of you. His kisses began gentle, tender, turning hungry, harsh, pulling moans and whimpers out of you. He was gripping your hips, before embracing your whole body in his arms, willing for you to be one. His lips traveled to the junction of your shoulder and neck, gently nipping. You yelped, alarming him.

“Are you hurt? -No. Quite the opposite…”

He frowned, barely catching his breath before you pulled him with you towards the bed. You met no resistance. You made him sit, placing yourself between his legs, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders. His hands moved up to your hips, enticing you closer. His forehead met your sternum, your fingers carding through his hair, dark locks untangling between your knuckles. The air was stifled between desire and agony, not knowing how far things could go, or how far either of you wanted it to go. So, you stayed there, him hugging your body as he would a lifeline; you kept him there, caressing his face in slow motions, reassuring yourself he was indeed real. Time passed without either of you noticing, until Guy looked up at you, murmuring your name, mouth barely opened, scared he would chase the dream away.

“Aren’t your legs hurting? -A little. Nothing I can’t…”

His hands were faster than your words as he pulled your knees up, one after the other, making you sit on his lap. An involuntary gasp passed your lips. His smirk was quickly hidden. Without another word, he kissed you again, leisurely mapping over the expanse of your stomach, your back, your ass, your thighs. It knocked every hesitation you might have had out of the window. You willed your legs wider apart, pulling your dress higher than needed, revealing skin and heat. Your fingertips toying with the collar of his shirt were finally met with his as he pulled it off. His eyes met yours, ever so inquisitive. His scars were visible, some deeper than others. It was only fair to show him yours in return. As if reading your mind, he pushed you off of him, getting up from the bed and turning you around. The only sounds you heard were the unmistakable sound of a blade and the snap your laces made as they were cut through. The corset fell to the floor, your hands pulled the rest of the clothes down. Your back was littered with traces of whips. Some of them were so deep, it must have been hard to move for several weeks after that. As he did not move, you turned around awkwardly covering your breasts, modestly trying to hide them.

“Who?”

His hands grabbed your face, anger transpiring.

“Visay.”

He looked at you, all frowns and tears unshed. His eyes were glimmering with them. You reached to him, erasing them in earnest. “I’ll kill him for…” Your lips shushed him in a heated kiss. You guided his hands on your body, eyes pleading with him. Not tonight. Not now. Obedient as ever, he complied. You laid down on the bed, his body hovering above you. His lips and moans were tantalizing. As if in trance, he followed down the path from your jaws to your collarbone, mindful of the bruises there, worshiping this body of yours in every touch, every moment. His movements were calculated, even if hesitant, always asking you if you were feeling good, making sure your desires were fulfilled. You could feel the hammer in his chest resonating through your ribcage, through the skin, in echo with you. Soon, you found yourself closing your eyes, your breathing altered in a shapeless rhythm. Your knuckles were turning white, your hands clawing at the sheets like a woman possessed. The way his tongue curled against you made you lose all train of thought. As if he had done it thousand times before, his lips were making sinful sounds, while his nose was pressing against the apex of your thighs. The pleasure you felt, kept on growing and growing until you could not hold it anymore. Silently, you arched your back a soundless cry leaving your lips. Guy pulled away. His head leaned against your thigh, an easy smile appearing on his gleaming mouth. You could feel, still, his hand on your hip drawing mindless patterns there. You reached out for him. Before you could think of anything to say, he pulled you to his bare chest, leaving no space between you two. Without an afterthought, his rough fingertips were caressing the birth of your back in a soothing gesture. It lulled you to sleep quickly, feeling safe and sound in this bed with him. The thought almost made him cry. Him, whose only purpose was to fight, to obey, to threaten and to be violent, had found in you a new home. A new reason for a new beginning. He promised himself then, that whatever was to happen next, he would never let anyone ever, hurt you again.

Upon the morning, your hand reached out for him in a familiar gesture you did not know you had. His face was peaceful for once, a deep sense of contentment settling in his brow. Leaning up, you placed a delicate kiss on his cheek bone. He stirred a little, his hand curving around your waist, pulling your body closer to him. The cold air of the room and the sunlight sneaking through the window brought a sense of urgency over you. He had spent the night here. In your bed. You sat up in a hurry, pulling your night dress over your head. But, before you could get yourself more stressed out, he pulled you in bed with him, visibly very widely awake this time.

“What are you doing?”

The gruff of his voice made you shiver slightly. You caressed his jaw, the stubble there scratching your palms, a hint of a worry in your voice. “You spent the night.”

He smiled lazily into your hair, his hand settling at the nape of your neck.

“Yes. I believed it is allowed between a husband and his wife.”

Oh. Oh. Would he believe you had forgotten about that? Yes, it even made him laugh. You were so cute when confused like this. Mornings were not on your side by any means but this was new. The domesticity was new. You did not know how to feel about it.

“I… -You forgot. -I did not. -You did.”

You hit his shoulder, half a smile on your face. He pulled your chin up, hooded eyes meeting yours. His lips leisurely covered yours in a deliberately slow kiss. His chest was warm against your palms. Eager to meet his skin, your fingers ran across the planes of his back, while he pushed you down, spreading your thighs with his hips. His hands made your back arch against him, your breasts peaking under him meeting his chest through the cloth of your dress. He was hard against your abdomen. Desire pooled there, down, between your lips as well at the idea of him deeply seethed inside you. Guy must have sensed it, for he pulled any remaining garments off of you, before taking your hand in his. Kneeling on the bed, he put your sweaty palm against his waist, letting you found your way to the waistband of his trousers. The leather there clung onto his skin, just a little too tight not to notice the bulge threatening to snap the cloth in two. Your fingers were shaking as you undid his bounds. Then, once you were done, he pulled them down and he was finally bare in front of you. In the morning light, he was glorious. Breathtaking. You leaned against one of the post of the bed, biting your lips hard. You were clenching on nothing, seeing him there. He smiled wickedly at you, all but throwing himself on you, devouring your mouth in a hungry haze you never wanted to snap out of. Quickly, his fingers find the hair between your thighs, caressing down until he met your clit, drawing heavy, long, drawn out circles around it. He felt so powerful. More powerful than he had ever been before. Graced by God in the perfection that you were. He felt trusted and trusting. Your eyes met his in a silent plea. The need for him was plain and simple. Still, he could not help himself.

“Are you sure?”

Surprised, he followed your pull on his neck to your lips, all but falling into you.

“Yes. God, please, yes.”

The ushered tone to his ears, your legs secured around him while your hips could not help but press onto his cock. He readjusted his hold on you, entering you in one swift movement. The cry escaping your lips was nothing short of sinful. He could live only hearing that noise, over and over and over again. The burn of him soon left to be replace by untethered pleasure. It was foreign and familiar at the same time. You could feel him inside of you, move and hold on to you as he would a lifeline. His grip on your hips tightened. Those bruises you would cherish, you were sure of it. Your chest fell and rose with each movement. It elicited so many sensations in you, you were incapable of forming words or thoughts. His mouth met your shoulder in an attempt to keep quiet but to no avail. You felt his release deep inside you, quickly followed by your own.

As he pulled himself off of you, a knock resonated through the room. You exchanged an inquisitive look with Guy. You were not expecting anyone today. A second knock, much more impatient, hit the door. You pulled yourself up, and covered yourself in your night dress, opening the door slightly. It was pushed open by none other than Visay.

“Well, well, well, what have we here? Lovebirds huh? How sweet is that?”

The guards behind him laughed heavily. You doubted they were genuine. Guy had barely had the time to put on his trousers.

“Gisbourne, I need you to make a sweep in the castle and in the town. Apparently, our dear Hood was there yesterday. Yet, he still escaped you.” His forefinger dug into Guy’s chest. He remained stoic, almost calm. His eyes felt heavy on you, sparing only a glance before Visay almost kicked him out. In a flash of remembrance, you wondered where the letter he had brought you the day before was. But before you could recall, Visay gripped one of your wrist twisting it until you could no longer move your arm. The guards, even if not entirely in agreement with him, were afraid, and frightened men were even more loyal to the one holding the chains than the one being beat up with them. Their eyes told you that if you made a move, they’d make you pay double for it. On the verge of stepping out of the door, Guy turned around, eerily quiet. He was buttoning up his shirt, taking his time. Somehow, you knew what he was about to do before he did it. He pulled out a knife out of one of his boots and threw it in Visay’s direction before he was grabbed by the guards. He was pushed to his knees in an instant. Visay merely laughed before releasing you and picking the knife up.

“Oh my poor Gisbourne. Has your brain gone to goo?…” He kneeled in front of him. Gesturing towards you he added: “Or has the pussy been that good?”

Without a second thought, Guy spat in his face. Visay’s first instinct was to strike him, so he did. His second instinct was to strike him a second time, but he thought better of it. He had quite the tools at his disposal to make him yield. Including you. The knife in hand, he turned around and pushed you down.

“Poor little bird… Doesn’t know what’s best for her? I’ll show you what’s best for you, you bitch.”

You knew exactly what he meant to do as punishment for Guy’s affront. One of his hand blocked your wrists above your head, as his knee was pulling your thighs apart. The knife started to tear at the cloth you were wearing. It would not hold long against it. Despite his best efforts your husband could not get out of the grip the guards had on him. Still, he trashed like a man possessed. Yelling insults and threats you could not hear. You could only hear that old man on top of you, his knife leaving marks deep in your skin, trying to entice you into keeping your legs open for him. You knew how to trash around too. One of your knees made contact with his groin and he doubled over in pain. Guy stopped moving when he saw you had the knife in your hands. His face went white when he saw the blood on you. Visay was less than happy about your little stunt. While the room had gone quiet, even the guards not daring to move, Guy jumped to his feet and knocked Visay down in one motion. He pulled him by the collar, and knocked his head and body against the wall so hard, he would have a concussion later on. For the moment you did not care. Everything was hurting, your thighs, your chest, your arms. The monster had left almost no part of you intact. Suddenly tired, you relinquished the knife to Guy’s expertise. Without an afterthought, he plunged it into Visay’s guts. The man was moving like a loose puppet, making the blade only go deeper in the wound. The loyal men did nothing. They were too afraid of the one who had defied their boss and won. In a disarray, the soldiers let both you and Guy leave unscathed. And you followed him. As you would to the ends of the Earth. You felt a fool for trusting him too fast. Yet, he had thrown away everything he held dear and holy, for you. Only for you. But you were so tired. Before you could stop it, you collapsed against the stone floors.

When you opened your eyes, everything was dark. A little light came through some kind of cloth above you. Had the sky been torn? Your head was pounding, but at least, you could feel your arms and legs. As well as a light movement from where you were. Using your hands you pushed upwards and sat up. Horses. It smelled like horses. And the grass. God, how much you had missed the smell of grass. You were in a carriage, it seemed. One of hay, perhaps? It was too dark to tell. Your wounds stung as you moved around. Only then did you notice the fresh bandages on your limbs and the new brown cloth of a gown you did not own. A hand pushed you back down. A woman’s hand. Her words were hard to understand but when you saw her face, you knew exactly where you were. Or at least where you were headed.

“Marian?”

She called your name again, this time you heard loud and clear.

“You need some rest, please, lay back down. -How? Where?… Where’s Guy? We were with Visay and then… -Slow down. We know. He told us.”

You frowned. Her voice was soothing you yet your thoughts were spinning out of control.

“He told you? What…?”

The carriage came to a stop then. The light came in as someone pulled the cloth apart, revealing the early evening sky behind them. You could recognize that face anywhere.

“Robin!”

You winced as you jumped off your feet and out of the carriage, hugging your brother as if your life depended on it.

“Oh my God, I really thought for a second…” You pushed out of the embrace in a swift motion, keeping him at arms length. “Wait. You had me so worried! I’ve spent months in that castle trying to escape and you come in now?! I’ve been waiting the whole time! What took you so long!” You slapped his shoulder and he pretended for a minute to be hurt.

“I am sorry I could not get you before. We had our own adventures to deal with. But as soon as I heard you were married to Gisbourne I had to come to get you! -You do hate the man. -I do. I did. He did help you escape though.”

You smiled fondly at Robin, his soft side always a reminder of the good in this world. An anxious thought reached your mind.

“Where is he, Robin?”

A queasy smile on his face, he gestured to the head of the carriage. There, you could see Guy’s silhouette dismounting. His eyes met yours. He ran to you.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

His eyes were mischievous but the strong hold he had on your shoulder was a sign he was not joking. He pulled you against him, kissing the crown of your head, his hands settling on your face. His thumbs moving in slow circles on your cheeks, settling himself in your warmth and real breaths.

“I am alright now. Thanks to you.”

A pained expression appeared on his face.

“No. I… was helpless. I could not save you. I could not protect you… I…”

The kiss was meant to be reassuring and innocent. Instead it turned hungry and passionate. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Marian and Robin walking away silently.

“You did save me. You save me, everyday. I don’t know what I would have done if I had been forced to marry someone else but you… -Perish the thought. I’m never letting you marry anyone else.”

Your laugh echoed in his ear, like a sound he knew by heart and was discovering for the first time in years. All of a sudden he felt emotional. Needing to tell you how much he adored you.

“I never realized it until now but I think… I truly think I was in love with you even before we met…”

Your stunned silence drove his thoughts in the wrong direction.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t feel the same. Not yet anyway. It’s alright. I have you, so, everything will be alright.”

His arms tightened around your waist, your forehead against his chest. A moment passed in silence. The words were escaping you, but they’d have to do anyhow.

“ Guy… I… I can not imagine a future without you in it. Our relationship moved so fast, it shook me a little. But… I don’t want a life where you’re not in with me. No. I cannot and will never picture a life where you are not tied to me like you are right now. If this is not love, I don’t know what it is…”

His eyes were fixed on the horizon, the forest behind and the people in the camp talking. He was listening to you, you knew that. If he was hearing you was something else entirely. Your fingertips found the side of his face and forced him to look at you.

“Guy of Gisbourne, I believe I was not in love with you before we met. I know I hated you with everything in my being. And then you touched me and everything changed. You fell for me softly and reverently as you do with all things. I fell for you - as I do in life - passionately and wholeheartedly. I don’t regret it. I love you, Guy of Gisbourne… Whether you like or not.”

He looked at you with awe, wondering for a moment how lucky he could have been to find you in this life. He had been right about something. With you, everything was going to be alright.