#i cant figure out what the implications of this are | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

youuuimeanmee · 6 months ago

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ENDOO SHUT THE FUCK UPP

SO U MEAN TO TELL ME

THAT OUR FAN THEORIES

ARE CORRECT.

(endo-san, if you've planned this from the beginning, then a thousand applauds for you for sticking to this plot & foreshadowings for so long. If u were just throwing shit up & rely on fans' theories to see where you're going next, then great job for making it seem so seamless. wtf.)

I still don't buy the "Donovan is an alien" narrative completely; I still think he changed after he secretly volunteered to be a lobotomy experiment subject, to get the superpower he wants to reach a greater understanding in humanity.

Although, if Endo really wish to introduce a terrestial being into this series, then, does that mean Anya's telepathic ability is really born from the lab's experiment? Is she born from the sperm of an alien?? Alien DNA recombination?? Lolol. *edit: this is just me hoping that Anya's telepathic ability was developed in vitro, bc the idea of those mad scientists opening up Anya's skull & cutting up her brain whe she was a baby is just sick beyond belief & i cant accept that.*

I am so so glad to see Fiona in this chapter, trying to extract extra info from Desmond's staff! It really hammers down how incredible this valuable opportunity is for Westalis. Great job Endo-san, for not forgetting to include this 👍

Wait.

Wait a damn minute.

If what Melinda say is true, Donovan can read minds,

Then Donovan must've read Twillight's mind on their first meeting; his fake persona & and Operation Strix have already been busted.

Maybe this is not just a mere illustration inside Twillight's head, maybe this really IS Donovan's reaction when he find out about Operation Strix?? LMAO

Or maybe Donovan can only read minds to a certain extent –not fully like Anya, so maybe he can only get the gist of what people are thinking; so he doesn't know Operation Strix yet, but he knows that Twilight wants to extract some information from him.

(though I wanna add, even if Twillight is from the opposing country, I hope Twillight's sincerity to meet in the middle could reach Donovan too.)

I've known these theories for awhile, but could these be true afterall?? (We're already at this stage, but I still don't wanna assume fanons as canons.)

Then.

IF Damian —at the family dinner— was remembering Anya's confession that she can read minds, and he wished he could read what's on his father's mind too,

Does it mean Anya's telepathic ability is already busted by Donovan?

Is my theory from ch 106 correct afterall???

Oh wAIT.

FUCK I forgot if Donovan read Melinda's mind too, then he must've learned that Melinda has befriended Yor Forger. The mother of Anya Forger. The daughter of Loid Forger.

Combine that information from Melinda and information from Damian that Anya can read minds....

... does it mean Donovan has assumed that Twillight from Westalis is using his telepathic "daughter" as a spy in Eden Academy?

Funny thing is, Twilight himself has no idea about all this implication. He's a million steps away from Donovan.

HAHAHAHHAA

(lol how could I not read this from miles away)

Argh fuck, I'm really worried for Anya now.

This could very well escalate into the "war" of obtaining Anya as an asset. Maybe it'll still be light-hearted, like manipulating Damian's romantic feelings for Anya by inviting her to have dinner together, but still. At first, I thought Donovan might get Anya expelled from school because she's dangerous, but I figure she's just too valuable to be tossed away; it's better to keep her close while extracting info from her as much as he can. Or use her ability to the fullest.

At least Anya is now aware that Donovan has the same ability as her, so at least she can proceed with more caution now.

I hate seeing Anya being the only one aware of the whole situation & she struggles alone to keep it all together — like what she has done all this time. That's why I really want Anya to come clean with Twilight so he can at least get a picture of the whole situation he's facing right now, and protect her properly, but I know it'll massively shift the Forger dynamic we're used to. I have no idea how will Endo handle this development from now on.

Well, that's enough anxiety for tonight.

Stay safe Anya! 🙏🥺🥺🥺

#spy x family #spy x family manga #sxf #spy x family spoilers #sxf spoilers #sxf manga #spy x family chapter 110 #sxf ch 110 #sxf manga spoilers #sxf theory

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gale-dekarios · 1 year ago

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i think the reason that i like the night in the stars with gale so much isnt because of that scene in and of itself (even though i admittedly love it) but rather the future implications for gale and his partner's romance from there.

if you have sex with gale in the astral plane, you gain an experience you probably wouldnt have had otherwise, but therein lies the problem: that night with gale is unique, and i wonder, considering his need to point out that he's out of practice, when you two eventually do have regular mortal sex, how would gale feel about that?

because now he's given you (in his opinion) The Best He Has To Offer, but its not going to be a regular occurence -- it cant be -- does he feel nervous about giving you "boring" or potentially "disappointing" mortal sex in comparison? if "nothing compares," can he? just by himself?

and when it finally happens, when afterwards, youre dopey and smiling up at him like he hung the sun in the sky just to keep you warm, do you think he realises that the point isnt that he blew your mind and youll never have another experience like it, but rather that you simply enjoy having sex with him? because it's with him?

do you think he realises soft knuckles brushed over sweat-slick skin can feel an awful lot like two souls merging in the astral when youre in love enough?

i love the bed scene, this isnt to sway anyone one way or the other, but i think gale coming out the gate with what he thinks is the best sex he can offer his partner only to figure out that any sex is the best sex he can have with his partner because theyre his partner is compelling.

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kiththecat · 12 days ago

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it is time for me to talk about the psychology of ajwiaap branzy (never mind the fact that i have never studied psychology outside of doing my own research and analysing my fave pieces of media)

because lately, i’ve been thinking about how the story went from something with a lighter tone, to psychological horror. and i've always been aware that each development happened because i sat down and considered how the events would realistically affect branzy. and yet, it kind of sneaks up on you.

so let's talk about unreliable narration, addiction, and trauma bonding, etcetera. let's yap😊

i think it’s pretty obvious that i never planned to write something with this level of toxicity. you can read the first author’s note where i, young, hopeful, unknowing, say this fic is me evening out the power imbalance. those were the times.

funny thing is, already back in the early chapters, i was keeping track of their toxic behaviors. i have a list in my outline chapter that reads: no boundaries, they both like mind games, they’re both obsessed with one another, would kill for each other no questions asked, and possessiveness. back then, it was just a silly little list i made because you can’t write them healthy, but you don’t want them abusive.

and let me be real for a moment here. by chapter 11, i was dying to write some messed up shit, but i didn’t want it to come out of nowhere. i wanted to be able to look back in the story and see that the signs where there and they just went unnoticed because of branzy’s unreliable narration.

here’s what branzy does whenever he’s struggling: he makes light of a situation and never ends up processing it.

there’s one line in the very first chapter that goes like:

“But now he looks smart in the way that Rek is with Branzy; the way he knows Branzy—and Branzy doesn’t want Rek to hear about this thing at all.”

and back then, i just used it to set up rek’s existence, but whenever i look back at it, i think this is branzy recognizing that rek’s involvement would mean being forced to interact with a perspective that treats his predicament with the appropriate severity. he cant pretend it’s not a bad situation to be in if his best friend is there, serving as a reality check. rek will look through him and rek will stay .and when rek finally does show up and makes all his good points, branzy literally brushes it off with “i wouldn’t worry about that.”

this is chapter four and he’s willfully ignorant to the danger he’s in. and will continue to be so.

at that same time, he’s getting addicted to it. he knows he has no choice, so he engages and when he experiences successes, like profiting off clown’s appearance, or successfully managing the halloween murder incident, or seemingly becoming someone who’s special to clown, those give him such a kick, a thrill, that it’s almost comically easy to ignore the negative implications.

and on top of that, there’s genuine chemistry with clown. there’s this inexplicable connection that’s more intense than any other relationship could ever dream to be. every little praise and validation from clown makes him feel seen, loved, while from clown’s perspective, there’s someone who’s eager to please but surprisingly deadly. they study each other, and the more they learn, the more intertwined they become.

it goes downhill though because of the lack of boundaries, the power imbalance, and the possessiveness.

the lack of boundaries in the earlier chapters are toxic, but excusable when it comes to branzy’s reactions. sure, he’s scared the first few times clown invades his personal space. but lets look at chapter three. when branzy is spiraling because of the crisis, clown covers his mouth and forces him to calm down, and when branzy complies, clown praises him. later, clown wipes away branzy’s tears and orders him to figure it out. in chapter five, most of their cutesy affectionate interactions, involve the scythe. so from the very start, clown’s affection is indistinguishable from danger. sure, branzy is into that because the emotional intensity is addictive by nature, like a high, but these smaller instances are like the snowball near the top of the mountain, still safe, but you see it rolling👀

then, there’s the power imbalance. again, obvious. but it’s viewed through a more lighthearted lens in the early chapters. branzy never had a choice. this is just a fact. it doesn’t matter that he got something out of it too. he only did because clown allowed it. in chapter 17 (i think) i had rek bring up the complications with consent in their relationship. because throughout the entirety of the fic, branzy’s ability to consent to anything has been extremely dubious. there’s absolutely not an absence of coercion. the partnership is built from veiled threats and self-deception, no matter how real the feelings are. but all the way up until chapter 10, branzy’s playing on his home-field. he has an inherent upper hand there, even if it’s severely undermined by his powerlessness. the reason everything falls apart in the house is because he went from controlling his surroundings—which he had created—to being forced into complete submission. and in chapter twelve, when he tries to challenge the arrangement, it ends catastrophically.

lets talk about the scene that set them back for a moment. the wrist breaking incident. because i like that one.

for starters, branzy absolutely knows that he’s going to deteriorate mentally if he stays isolated and uninvolved. but when he expresses this to clown, he kind of downplays it. (“I think…” he starts slowly, “that for the sake of my sanity—that we might want to reconsider the whole ‘trapped here indefinitely’ thing.”) this is coming from a man who’s already displayed a flair for the dramatic. i don't think he expresses the severity of his needs here

and then there's this whole thing:

“Oh, you know, the fact that anyone would be an idiot to attack me in public? And even if they did, can you imagine the coverage?” He quickly shakes his head. “Not important. The point is, from what I’ve seen of Parrot and his little team of troublemakers, they don’t want, nor benefit from having their reputation be smudged any further. Which it would be. If they tried to kidnap me with a bunch of witnesses. So I should be fine to go out.” “You’re expecting a lot of predictability from the people who attacked your park,” Clown retorts. “And you’re not thinking about all the other people who hate me too.” He sighs. “I’ve gotten a very good picture of how much of your thought process is dedicated to keeping yourself safe, Branzy, and it’s almost nothing—beyond submitting to whoever threatens you first.” “Attacking the park was a predictable move!” Branzy argues. “I’m not saying they won’t kidnap me! Goodness knows they’ll do anything to kill you. But the waiting game doesn’t work with the media. If Parrot shows up and saves someone tomorrow, things will shift again, and I’d rather they kidnap me than that happening.” Clown regards him for a moment, radiating disappointment. “You’re not making a good case right now.” “And you’re not being a very good—friend.” The word comes out stilted, wrong. Branzy glares down at the floor. “Okay,” Clown says, sounding more tired than anything. “You get to go out in public, and then what? You test the waters? You decide you might as well speak to a few more journalists and officers, a politician too if you’re being bold. You get that far, might as well open the park again. Tell me this: which one of your rides do you want blown up next?” He snaps his fingers. “Ah! I remember you saying that the Ferris Wheel was due for a renovation. I’m starting to think that this whole thing was an excuse to tear it down without having to hire a demolition crew.” “That’s not—” Branzy’s eyes sting, so he rubs them with the palm of his hands and tries to recover. “God. That isn’t it, Clown.”

branzy’s greatest strength, his strategic thinking and understanding of media dynamics, is overridden and undermined. no matter how good his points are, they’re made to be irrelevant when standing against his reckless tendencies. and it's being done in a location he has no choice but to be in, after a traumatic incident that also served as a huge sacrifice. on top of that, he picks up on disappointment from clown, and he’s dedicated so much of himself to please clown at this point. he opened his world to clown and made him a part of it. there’s no going back from that.

and to top it all off, clown physically harms him. i liked this scene because if you go back as early as the first chapter, branzy’s already decided that clown isn’t interested in hurting him. he’s sacrificed his life to serve clown, and when he tries to create autonomy and involvement and intimacy, it ends up in flames. it doesn’t really matter that it was an accident, an old, useful instinct, because it blurs the line between violence and care even more. control and protection can’t be told apart anymore either. branzy recognizes it as an accident because he refuses to see it as anything directly harmful, but it also teaches him that physical harm is on the line. and he buries that concern too.

again: branzy never processes anything ever

lets talk possession quick because that’s one element of clown’s perspective i'm willing to talk about.

making clown wealthy was a very deliberate choice. he’s younger than branzy, but he’s been raised in an environment where he gets what he wants, where there are thousands of subtleties and slights in all interactions. he can love branzy with his whole heart and still not be able to untangle that from feelings of possession. he feels entitled to branzy. because he’s clownpierce and he gets what he wants and always has.

branzy’s home life was deliberate too. i haven’t shown much of it, but from what i have included in the story, it's clear that there’s some chaos. of course, we join branzy at a time where he’s been away from home for over a decade, so he isn’t going to be thinking about that. but i definitely think that growing up in a household where he was an unwanted only child and where his mom got his only close relative arrested left a mark. like it’s skewed his perception of what love looks like and if he even deserves it. i guess. so he “thrives” in a relationship where things are dysfunctional because that’s what he knows. i don't know. maybe he feels the need to justify his existence.

anyway, point is, the power imbalance doesn’t just come from clown’s reputation. it's in his privileged upbringing, his strength, his profession. he’s been made to use people, to always be in control. he can’t just relinquish that. he can’t let go of branzy. so they’re both trapped, in a way.

point: branzy needs chaos as distraction, clown becomes both chaos and the relief from it. clown loves the attention and keeps himself distant to manufacture a stronger emotional response when he comes back. (and what if i said he was scared of branzy getting bored with him. what if)

AT THE SAME TIME, branzy is vulnerable and clown loves that like idk what to say. give it time and branzy will be biting into vulnerabilities too.

okay im running out of things to say now but here’s a list of signs you’re in a trauma bonded relationship

relationship moving at a fast pace (check)

love-bombing (mhm)

intense emotional swings (yes)

fear of abandonment (haha yes)

isolation (gee)

abuser-pleasing behavior (oh dear)

feeling ashamed (aw heck)

power imbalance (chu-chu)

excusing negative behavior (oh no)

associating or confusing abuse with love / intensity with intimacy (ding ding ding)

repeated patterns without repair (shocked pikachu face)

lack of autonomy (yikes)

inability to leave (hmmm emoji)

loss of self-identity (i mean he literally saw the void in a mirror)

dependence on validation (:/)

these are most certainly present in the later chapters, but i do think the early chapters put down the framework. of course there are still a lot of missing pieces within the story due to lack of understanding of clown’s motivations. spoiler: he's silly?

but things like addiction (branzy is clearly a workaholic) and emotional repression were always there. the “this is fine” mindset is build to collapse. he’s a self fulfilling prophecy. and lately i've been looking at branzy from a perspective of not someone who just waltzed into an unfortunate situation, but someone whose mental stability was held together by duct tape and super glue. healthy people don't overwork themselves to the point of passing out. healthy people have a work life balance. healthy people don’t fall in love with evil assassins. and the only reason i can get away with saying any of this is under the excuse that branzy is amazing is self-deception. because we all know that i first started to consider all these things in chapter 12 lmao.

oki im done yapping now heheh 🥰

#tldr:#i cant help myself from making things messy and morally ambiguous #its about nuance 🤌#ajwiaap #clownzy #branzy

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tiredcowboyy · 1 year ago

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Merlin connecting to arthur through his dreams: arthur morgana has a secret plan to attack you, heres how to stop her!!

Arthur who wakes up and doesnt even question how merlin told him or weather he should even follow what he says since it was a dream: leon!!!! Ive got a new plan!!!!

Also merlin a few hours later: arthur I have magic

Arthur, who followed what dream merlin said and it turned out to be right: WHAT??????

——

I genuinely cant get over it like??? I mean I guess he could have forgot bc he was in shock of being stabbed and merlin actually saying it but still cmon arthur bffr. Like does he just listen to everything dream merlin says in hopes that its true?? Or does he think he managed to figure it out himself and that his brain simply chose to project the information through merlin? And the implications there speak for themselves really.

#merlin was definitely like? so do you trust everything dream me says on a whim it reflects reality or?#theres so many signs arthur knew about his magic #but this was the icing on the cake #like bbc be so serious hes not THAT much of a blonde #like no wonder merlin looked slightly taken back #he was definitely like ‘wait I thought this was just me confirming what you knew?’#bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin #merthur #merlin emrys #merlin bbc #sir gwaine #princess morgana #sir leon #leon the long suffering #tiredcowboyys shenanigans

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squeakadeeks · 7 months ago

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merry christmas my gift to you is telling a terrible tale since I think enough time has passed (ie over a decade) that i can tell you this without exploding.

when i was like 12 and starting out with art, i was so excited to open commissions just like a ✨real artist✨ and it being deviantart in the 2010's, within about a month i got someone asking for furry inflation fetish art. being a kid and having no sex ed, let alone the insanely specific sex ed that would be needed for me to understand what that is, i didnt flag it as inappropriate. I thought it would just be a "cool anatomy exercise like ✨real✨ artists do!" i was so ready and i took it on for 200 llamabucks or w/e the onsite currency was at the time. i did it, i drew it, whatever. well sure enough after posting it i quickly learned what furry inflation art actually was and i was mortified. being in like.....7th grade i was still terrified of sex and i was worried about my parents finding out so i took the entire sketchbook and buried it under my mattress. I lived in fear for months afterwards and felt like i deserved to be shot for falling for it and making something sinful.

the proceeding events happen in a confusing haze because my mother is an utterly puzzling woman so some suspension of disbelief is required but believe me when i say. i wish this was apocryphal. I dont know how or why, but some how some way my mom not only finds the sketchbook under my mattress, goes through the entire thing, finds the one singular offending sketch, then in a concerning mystery i will invest not a single iota of effort to solve due to the implications, immediately clocked that it was sexual fetish art. the one saving grace of a spherical wolf being niche enough that people wouldnt understand the dark deed i had done was out the window. She rips the page out, goes downstairs and parades it to the rest of the family like: "oh my god! look what ____ drew! lets all look at this! lets all look at this right now and laugh at it!" even with just this, i'm full on bursting into heavy hiccuping tears. as a kid this was the ultimate nightmare. you did something bad, you did something really bad, and your primary authority figure not only found it, but is now making sure everyone else you care about also knows the horrible shameful thing you did. except. there was something i couldnt have fathomed at the time that was about to get much, much worse.

my grandfather was dying of parkinson's at the time. when my mother took the sketch and displayed it to everyone like an auctioneer with a high ticket item, i ran out of the room sobbing so i never saw what happened to the blue inflated wolf with punk bangs. Well we all went to visit grandpa. we're all sitting around grandpa who used to be a famous local artist and was a big inspiration to me as a kid. and my mom goes "hey. ____ also wants to be an artist. Do you want to see what they drew?" and you'll never fucking guess what she pulls out of her pocket. hes barely able to turn and look over only to see that goddamn motherfucking wolf again. unlike before where i was crying so hard i couldn't breathe i remember being dead silent and stone still in shock. i dont think i blinked for 5 minutes but when i got up i threw up in the bathroom lol. I cant remember how but this time i did actually get the sketch back and i tore it to pieces and buried it in the yard. it haunted me for YEARS

but anyway now i have a memory of my mother showing my dying grandfather furry inflation art that i accidentally made when i was in middle school because i wanted a rainbow llama badge on deviantart.

#the ?? good news is although she knew (again not even attempting to unpack that) what it was no one else did #so i remember my family just being like 'why are you showing us this i dont get it'#while i was crying so hard i was about to pass out in the corner

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mlmgaze · 11 days ago

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[Transcript: Audio from My Brother My Brother and Me podcast over still images of characters from NBC Hannibal. Travis McElroy as Dr. Sutcliffe, Griffin McElroy as Hannibal, and Justin McElroy as Alana. (Implication is “Drew” refers to Will Graham)

Dr. Sutcliffe: Is somebody gaslighting Drew?

Hannibal: Probably. He’s worth it, I think.

Sutcliffe: Oh definitely! He’s definitely worth driving insane slowly over time.

Hannibal: Oh I’d gaslight his brains out.

Sutcliffe: Oh yeah, he’s a great guy, I would gaslight him.

Alana: I don’t wanna gaslight Drew.

Sutcliffe: Coward.

Hannibal: I already started. For all of us, so.]

(audio from a MBMBAM moneyzone jumbotron for drew davenport. i made this edit a few years ago and now i cant figure out what episode it's in😭)

#this makes me laugh pls clap #hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #alana bloom #will graham #my edit #ik it's not an Edit but like. i dont have the tag anyway idk man #sid talking #hannibal edit #hannibal meme #mbmbam #mbmbam audio

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windybreeze12 · 1 year ago

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DBD Quotes that are my Roman Empire (and my reactions to them)

No version of this where I don't come get you - Charles S1 E7 (SIR???? IM SORRY??? If someone said that to me, i'd faint. Edwin is a strong one) .

Do you think it must be torture? Being the way we are? - Simon S1 E7 (I swear you could audibly hear my heart break when he said that) .

Teethface, what the fuck? - Esther S1 E6 (I love her. She's an awful person and is literally irredeemable but dammit she does her shit with style and sass and i love her) .

He did not feel the same way. But I think we are better friends because of it - Edwin S1 E8 (THEM. JUST THEM. I CANT WITH THEM.) .

You, Charles Rowland, are the best person I know - Edwin S1 E5 (It's like they want me to go throw myself off a cliff their friendship is everything to me) .

And we've got literally forever to figure out what the rest means - Charles S1 E7 (Charles is raising the bar too high i fear. the standards are through the roof) .

When you punish yourself, everywhere becomes hell - Edwin S1 E7 (*starts sobbing in the corner*) .

Imagine thinking there was only one way to do any one thing. How difficult would life be? - Kashi S1 E6 (I swear Kashi walked into this show to spit straight facts and then was never seen again. Icon.) .

We didn’t matter, he and I - Edwin S1 E1 (No because the way I swore to myself that I would protect these boys with my life the minute he said this) .

I will always hit a demon with a cricket bat for you - Charles S1 E6 (Fellas, never settle for anything less than Charles Rowland) .

I wasn't talking about you - Edwin S1 E5 (I'm not even kidding I paused the show, got up and had to take a minute because OOF Monty darling) .

As more than a friend, I’m afraid. Charles, I'm in love with you - Edwin S1 E7 (No joke this is one of the best scenes in a show I have ever watched. The acting, the dialogue, the pacing, the emotion??? UGH!!! Perfection) .

I certainly hope not, that story ends tragically - Edwin S1 E7 (There are already a million and one posts about the implications of Charles referencing Orpheus' story so go check those out but holy hell the way it made my heart twist) .

I could- we could lose Charles - Edwin S1 E3 (This was such a tiny detail but GOD I replayed it ten times before moving on) .

Honestly I just find her so charming - Edwin S1 E2 (I knew from this moment that Edwin and Niko were going to be a pair to watch. And boy was I right) .

That was my third life you bitch—i only get nine; would you fuck off - The Cat King S1 E8 (now THIS is how you creatively use a cat's nine lives in media I love it I freaking love it) .

You sacrificed me to a demon who traded me to another demon who traded me to a thing that is worse than a demon and this is your punishment! An eternity of papercuts! - Edwin S1 E7 (Honey I have an eternity of questions cause what the FUCK is this human trafficking system down in hell??? but also go off king??? 😭)

I'll update this whenever I remember anymore. Tell me more quotes in reblogs/replies i'll add them into this!

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #but GOD i love them #they are my roman empire fr #save us dbd #but we must save dbd first #SO GO WATCH #TELL YOUR CHILDREN AND GRANDPARENTS AND FISH TO WATCH THIS SHOW #GOGOGO

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sinisterexaggerator · 1 year ago

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Dead or Alive

Cad Bane x Fem! Reader

NSFW / 18 + for Blowjobs, titty fucking, ejaculation, public sex acts (semi), and a bit of demeaning behavior / slight humor on Bane's part. Yes, he has two dicks.

Summary: Cad Bane is the most handsome man you have seen in your whole life. He knows that look, and decides to have some fun with you. For you, it's love at first sight. You would let him take you in any way that he saw fit; lucky for you, he's into that (you give Bane sloppy head in an alley behind a bar).

Word count: 3.1k. Short and sweet.

Notes: Haven't written for Bane for a minute. Just wanted to gush over him for a bit. He was so hot in TBB season 2 that I was inspired. This fic takes place from many points of view, but halfway through it settles into the reader's perspective. I may write a part 2 when she/you bump into him again. ;D

A raucous discordance of voices quieted to a dull roar, and then nothing – a nervous cough, the scrape of a chair – so many languages hailing from different star systems pinched off like oxygen from the lungs. Those sentient beings who absorbed the stuff found they held it inside like a scream; they harbored this bated breath, as if releasing it might bring certain doom in the guise of a figure.

A figure who wore a hat, canted downward, its wide brim shielding them from judgement, from the burn of this creature’s gaze, this otherworldly being who was half myth, half legend, half flesh and green blood, bound together by a kind of apathy that bordered cruel.

But the stories were true— time stood still once he walked into the room.

One might swear they could hear the drop of that toothpick, discarded with both absence of mind and disrespect. It bounced once across greel-wood floors strewn with sand, in need of a sweep.

All eyes, including ones that were bulbous and backlit, remained on the blue Duros, a person of sound intelligence left to ponder the notion—the implications—as to the appearance of a diminutive droid from behind his legs, only knee-high. For a hunter of such notoriety to keep a companion that for all intents and purposes seemed harmless was a mystery, almost as big a mystery as the man himself.

“Geric Zodri,” its haughty, high-nosed voice called out, little hands akimbo on his hips, both the new arrivals unaware of the woman who sat at a table just diagonal the door. Her caf cup was held stationary in a position that mimicked art, as if sculpted from marble; she dare not move, wanting nothing more than to observe the sight before her, to commit it to memory, for such a beautiful thing it was.

Skin the color of cerulean seas; eyes as red as human blood that shone like fire; fingers as long and delicate as the legs of spiders. His teeth were as sharp and deadly as his stare, two the length of dagger points, the Duros’ body as thin and gangly as the stem of a candlewick flower sold on market days.

He was covered from head to foot in leather, tubes jutting from his cheeks like extra limbs, his pants so tight it appeared he had been poured into them. The girl imagined his wide-brimmed hat to be a crown, fixated atop his head and steeping him in shadow, its artificial shade casting its dark pall across honed planes and angles, only making those stark, elliptic eyes more prominent.

Love at first sight—she might believe it, now that she had come face to face with hell incarnate, a fallen angel, a man so handsome tears threatened to fall from her eyes, her previous occupation all but forgotten.

What had she been doing? Datapad sitting idle, screen blackening to the color of pitch. She hadn’t a clue, forgetting to breathe, forgetting to blink, forgetting her own name as the soft jingle of some unidentified bits of metal clinked against one another with every graceful, slow, deliberate step of this man advancing, strolling beyond her, just to the left.

She felt she might faint; simply pass from this world into the next, to die on the spot as she caught the scent of the gunslinger who smelled like something smokey, something sweet, something not quite like anything else on this stinking planet; it was a wonder she did not spill her beverage straight onto her lap, finally having the sense to place it down upon the table.

Then, another man stood, a human, though nothing about his appearance suggested he was from any place in particular, his eyes wide like an animal ensnared, caught in the path of a hungry predator, though the droid approached him first, his gold-colored photoreceptors angling upward as he tilted his large head.

How did it even stay upright? How did this little bot balance when it was so top heavy, defying the laws of physics? Questions she asked herself as she watched the scene unfold; they were all members of a theatrical audience, her and the other patrons, seated on the edges of seats, cramped in corners to make themselves small, heads bent low with hoods drawn, others smiling wicked smiles of twisted delight.

“Ah, there you are! There is no escape, I am afraid,” the droid said with certainty, joined by an air of pretention that was almost comical. Maybe this woman would have laughed had not all the other people surrounding her been so adamant to keep their silence, a few others daring to inch toward the door in hopes of a subtle escape.

The Duros paused as his target’s eyes shifted, mapping out possible exits, his heartbeat so loud he was positive it could be heard over the eerie quiet that had descended upon this little cantina like an ominous cloud. The gears of his mind were practically visible, turning in the direction of the blaster on his hip, the perp’s arm lifting incrementally in such a fashion as to make everyone aware he planned to draw.

“Naht smart, what yer thinkin’,” the creature’s voice announced, low and husky, words drawled in absolute indifference. So calm and cool, like a tall drink of water served ice cold; he rushed for naught, the girl thinking she would pay all the credits in the galaxy just for him to read aloud to her.

“Whaddeye say ye come quietly, save me a heap a trouble.”

Something akin to fear bristled down her spine, though the threat had not been directed toward her. Worse yet, it wasn’t as simple as that, the tingling of her loins accompanying a heat that spread like wildfire from her groin up to her cheeks.

God, he was perfect in every sense of the word. The tilt of his hip, the drumming of his fingers against his gun belt, the scars that not marred, but complimented his rugged visage. She realized she wanted to kiss him, touch him, worship the very ground he walked on, and she did not even know his name.

“Cad Bane.”

His quarry had spoken, eyes narrowing to match the width of the Duros’, constricted into tapered slits at either end. The girl had only spared him a glance, returning her attention to the rough and tumble nerfpoke whose hand idled over blasters of a kind she had never seen before.

“Supposin’ ye know why Ah’m here, dhen,” the hired gun offered, though his droid perked up, easing himself back into the conversation as if he enjoyed the act of provocation, no better than a sentient who fed on drama.

“For the sizable bounty on your head, of course!”

Cad Bane, the bounty hunter, the girl recited soundlessly. Only known by name, she had never once laid her eyes on him—not that she had desired or ever expected to.

The hunter’s upper lip lifted in a partial sneer, revealing the point of one elongated tooth more clearly. How might it feel for it to press against her flesh? How might it feel to be bitten?

“Dhat’ll do.” The droid needed no other encouragement, backing up to a safer distance as its master stayed put, seeming to know better than to interfere with what was about to occur. The one called Bane never once looked away from his mark, and the girl never once looked away from him, the way in which the Duros carried himself exuding a reptilian-like patience that preceded his species, yet this was something else entirely.

It was a standoff, like those kinds she witnessed in holofilms, but she found herself rooting for the villain—was he the villain? What had this man done to warrant being hunted down like vermin? She would not contemplate the possibilities, too engrossed in the here and now, eyes trailing from boot to brim; she thought she caught a sideways glance in her direction, causing her to dip back in her seat—had he looked at her?

That was the moment a shot rang out, followed by the smell of Tibanna gas and gasps from all around. Another followed suit, within milliseconds, echoing the first. Bane had sidestepped, his reflexes like that of an agile nexu—the human male had tried to take him out and failed.

“Ah’d say better luck next time,” the hunter quipped. The butt of his joke need not be stated, the point of it obvious—he was deader than a starship rivet, hitting the floor like a sack of Corellian potatoes, no one seeming to want to acknowledge this fact as they returned to card games, to gambling, to drinking caf.

But the girl—she would continue to stare, lip nearly chewed to shreds as she bit her tongue to keep from spurting off nonsensical things such as “I love you,” or “please fuck me within an inch of my life.” It was as if he could read her mind, another glance cast with the accompaniment of a smirk.

“Todo.”

The droid was alert and ready to serve, somehow wishing she was he, or it, at his beck and call and then some, never once assuming she could be jealous of a thing that had no soul, made of ones and zeros.

“Get de repulsor,” he commanded. “And ye,” he faced the girl, “come with me.”

---

The coiling of a single digit easily persuaded you, your heartbeat a separate entity set out to betray you; it was felt as a persistent throb below the belt, your cunt clenching as you stood. You were unsure of what the hunter wanted from you, but it did not matter, all thoughts fleeing to be replaced by unconditional obedience.

It would have been unwise to turn him down regardless, apparent from all eyes now set upon you, none wishing to be caught in your shoes. Had he felt disrespected by your ogling? Had he set out to punish you? Would you wind up like the man inside the bar?

You would not see his face again in the span of time it took for him to travel the path laid out before him, unconcerned by your lagging behind, finding you to be no threat. Despite your predicament, you were eager to discover what he had in store, pausing when Cad Bane vanished beyond the mouth of a narrow alley.

Now would be the time to run, to flee for your life, but instead you were stupid, enamored by the way he walked, the way he talked, the clothes upon his back, the color of his pretty scales.

You took a breath, turning the corner. He was waiting for you, thumbs hooked along the waistband of his trousers. Once he was sure you had not abandoned him—and he did allow you your own freewill—he advanced, arriving at a more secluded portion to which he pointed with a downward turn of his index finger.

You bravely stepped forward, aligning yourself with the wall. Bane positioned himself in front of you with a curious tilt of his head, towering above. And while you felt intimidated, you did not outwardly express it, keeping a straight face notwithstanding the trepidation you harbored, meeting that piercing gaze head-on.

Then, he angled his hand, pointing again, this time toward the ground with that same finger, a smug look of callous amusement registered by only a small quirk of his thin lips.

Slowly, thoughtfully, you lowered, drifting to your knees before him as your gaze stayed trained on his gaunt face. He wanted you humbled in supplication; you held no qualms, holding his red eyes with an expectant look for as long as he allowed.

You could get drunk off them, like sanguine-colored wine, your own reflection mirrored back to you; your own desperation; your own indecency, assuming what might come next, yet your expression could only be observed as eager. The Duros’ lithe fingers branched out like twigs as they curled beneath your chin, a hint of a thing most heavenly stretching languidly in an upward curve.

It was a smile, or the beginnings of one, dastardly in effect, Bane all too entertained by your lack of self-respect, perhaps. Yet you obeyed when he pried your lips apart with the pad of a cool thumb, exposing your teeth—nothing like his and dull in comparison—your instinct to wet his scales as your tongue gave a tentative lick, mouth closing around its blue tip.

You sucked, not once breaking eye contact, drowsy with desire as you mimed fellatio, moaning sweet sounds that caused the man to hiss, as if somehow unprepared.

You watched as his free hand unzipped his fly below where his belt fastened, leaving his holsters intact about his tiny waist. It took more than that to partly undress himself, realizing there was a hidden panel made of some extruded, matte material that sealed him off from the outside world; it was like a second skin, only black.

Bane’s bulge pushed against it, as if the thing behind it demanded to be released. Like a snake, it—they—slithered out to your surprise, his thumb abstracted to be replaced by not one, but both his cocks.

Awestruck, your eyes widened; you never would have imagined that what his species packed would be anything quite like this. Coated in a sheer slime that tasted divine, these flexible appendages glided down your throat as if a liquid, bypassing your uvula to delve toward the deepest part of your oropharynx, barely giving you space to breathe.

But you found you could, inhaling through your nostrils as you sat up on your knees, finding his flavor to be enticing, lulling you into a more relaxed state of mind. You were receptive, more than perhaps you ought to be, puckering your lips for better suction, the Duros’ gloved hand finding the back of your head.

He pushed you forward; you did not resist, his slender hips thrusting into you as his reedy fingers coiled into your hair. You aided him, seesawing your neck back and forth, adopting a frictionless speed that caused his grip to tighten, the Duros shamelessly fucking your face like you were a common whore, yet he was not paying you.

His genitalia seemed to be hardening, which was unexpected, making it difficult for you to obtain the oxygen you sorely needed, yet you found to be starved of air was worth it, instead your nostrils filling with a most addicting aroma, none like you had ever smelled before.

Today seemed to be a day full of firsts; your hands found the hunter’s small, yet muscular ass. He did not stop you, though he could if he had the mind, your tongue roiling across and between his members as if imparting a passionate kiss.

What was that? you wondered, your human brain only comprehending it as pheromones, you heart beating faster as you drooled on yourself, spittle leaking down your chin to fall against your breasts. The hunter yanked you backward by your locks, stealing his cocks from you; you panted, gasping, yet you were indignant, tongue searching them out in a pathetic display worthy of embarrassment as you whined in dismay.

“Human girls would choke dhemelves te death,” he commented, tone mocking, allowing the reinsertion of one, while the other slid down the front of your top to fondle a pebbled nipple, slipping beneath the fabric of your brassiere.

He was right; you had not wished to stop, only now noticing how dire the situation had been. As if hypnotized, or seduced by his scent, in that moment you would not have cared if you asphyxiated, so avid was your zeal.

You moaned in earnest, enlivened further by his attention to your tits, however unconventional, moving your hand to grip his interred cock’s sleek base. You gorged on it, one of the Duros hands finding purchase against the wall behind you, propping himself up as you deigned to never be forgotten, feeling privileged to have even gotten this far.

You changed your mind; you went hands free, smashing your breasts together, creating a snug crevice between your cleavage for him to fuck. You continued to slather his first cock in your saliva, deepthroating him to the root of his tentacular shaft, putting your whole body into motion, your tongue ebbing and flowing, cheeks hollowing, coaxing him to bust.

He produced a gruff, throaty sound that nearly caused you to cum untouched. You would have played with yourself right then and there, but his pleasure was the thing you sought, keeping your tits level as he drove his secondary cock between them, droplets having formed at its head; the sticky beads of precum leaked out onto your chest.

“Give a Rodian a run fer dheir creditsss…” he praised, your underwear thoroughly soaked; you relaxed your throat as he face-fucked you harder, though his movements slowed, his strokes deeper, longer, more succinct.

“Get ready,” Bane warned; you felt born ready, squeezing your tits around him at the same time your mouth hugged his every inch. He came, a torrent of ejaculate pumping itself down your gullet and into your belly, the other spreading its seed all across your breasts and neck, spurting as high as your chin.

You were covered, inside and out, verbalizing your ecstasy by way of a happy purr, though you were quickly disappointed when his snake-like dick wriggled right out of you to join its twin, both dripping with remnants of his sperm.

You licked them clean, begging for more, a plaintive whine escaping you as you gazed up with sorrowful, pleading eyes, so sad that it was over.

Bane stuffed himself back inside his suit, his trousers, and awkwardly adjusted, waiting for the moment his dual dicks would retract inside himself, making his pants all the more comfortable to wear.

He pat your cheek; it was a demeaning gesture, yet you ate it up, nuzzling your face into the bowl of his palm for those few seconds, like an eager kitten who craved attention, finding yourself to be devastated when he broke physical contact, your mind swirling with thoughts of him and only him, Bane knowing that look all too well.

“Thanks fer de head.”

The hunter tipped his hat, turned, and moseyed back the way he came, the way from which he had ushered you minutes prior, his droid drifting by with the body of the man Bane had shot laid out on a hover-stretcher, leaving you to pine away for him as he knew you would, walking out of your life just as quickly as he had arrived— oh to be his bounty, dead or alive.

—-

Cad Bane masterlist

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