#it feels like the fall release window is still windowing :D

[felassan]

hi felassan, this news article mentions EA only bringing EA sports to gamescom, not dragon age. haven't seen anyone else write about it so I couldn't verify. https://wccftech.com/ea-and-paradox-arent-showing-dragon-age-the-veilguard-and-vampire-the-masquerade-bloodlines-2-at-gamescom/

coolbeegoesbsss asked: sorry for sending two asks about the same thing (no gamescom) but it's somewhat confirmed in the official discord by an EA employee. https://discord.com/channels/1234565251513585736/1245248476305035304/1266132999125204992

hello! ◕‿◕ tysm for stopping by to let me know about this and no worries at all!! [article link] I will update my calendar post about Gamescom.

here is the full article contents for those reading.

"EA and Paradox Aren’t Showing Dragon Age: The Veilguard and Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines 2 at Gamescom Despite both being slated to launch this Fall, neither Dragon Age: The Veilguard nor Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines 2 will be shown at Gamescom 2024 by EA and Paradox Interactive, the respective publishers. With less than a month left before the beginning of the big European convention, the exhibitors list has been finalized. Since Wccftech is attending with media accreditations, we are looking into which games will be shown there, and we can confirm that neither of two of the most anticipated games scheduled in the latter half of 2024 will appear. EA does actually have a presence at Gamescom 2024. However, we confirmed with the publisher's PR department that the only game shown there will be EA Sports FC 25, which means Dragon Age: The Veilguard is sorely missing. It feels like a weird repeat of what KONAMI is doing with the Silent Hill 2 remake, which is also skipping Gamescom 2024 for some reason despite only being a few weeks away from its October debut. It's enough to make one wonder if a delay is coming, although Electronic Arts has actually shared a lot of Dragon Age: The Veilguard info lately, which pointed to the Fall release window being respected. Another game in a similar situation is Paradox Interactive's Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines 2. The troubled sequel is still formally pinned for a Q4 2024 launch, but Paradox is skipping Gamescom altogether, Wccftech was able to confirm via the publisher's PR, meaning Bloodlines 2 will be nowhere to be seen at the Koelnmesse. A delay in this case would be less than surprising, as what's been shown so far isn't quite as polished as we would have liked to see. It is far from unlikely that the developers will require more time before launch. Even if both games missed their Fall 2024 launch windows, Western RPG fans would still have two high-profile games pretty much assured to debut this year: Warhorse's Kingdom Come Deliverance 2 and Obsidian's Avowed, both of which will be shown at Gamescom."

[source]

[Discord link] And here is what the EA CM said:

"I'm surprised so many people are surprised about Gamescom 😄 As an industry professional, I don't view that event as a marketing event at all and its completely normal for companies to not go (IMO)" [source: the official BioWare Discord]

[weirdogirl888]

morning sex with donnie blurb

warnings: somophillia, dubcon if you squint, pnv, nipple play, afab reader, unprotected sex, donnie's a loving perverted boyfriend

wc: 1.2k (might’ve gotten a lil carried away lol

a/n: ending sucks cuz i got lazy, hope u enjoy none the less. requests are always open

donnie loves the sight of you sleeping in his bed. your nighty shrugging off from a deep night's sleep. the sleeve fully off the shoulder, just barely revealing your breasts with your hard nipples visibly poking through. you look so peaceful, so innocent. so hot.

it's not donnie's fault he's a boy with the insufficient plague of morning wood. and it's also not his fault his girlfriend is sleeping soundly looking like a beautiful stone statue in his bed.

she deserves something for looking this pretty. he thought to himself, in a delusional idea of an excuse to lean down and gently kiss your soft lips. he left a trail of kisses from your cheek to your collarbone, while he stopped and gave one last look at your unconscious face before slipping the remnants of your silk night down to your stomach.

he gulped and gave a shutter until he moved his large hand and started groping the soft mounds of fat. eyes staring into your closed lids, looking for any sign of a reaction, which wasn't visible. from the way last night went, he knew you'd be hard to wake. especially so early in the morning with the fall sunrise coming early but just as beautiful from his attic window.

donnie decided to test his luck and get on top of you, boxers already forgotten, he gets more bold and starts sucking on your boobs one at a time. leaving both in a sloppy reddened mess. he dotted hickies all down your stomach for a surprise you'd see in the morning. thankfully the autumn weather prevented you from wearing a bikini any time soon, a factor he took gratefully.

when he slid your cotton white panties off your smooth legs, he was met with a wet mess. much like his cock that was leaking precum just from touching you. maybe it was the adrenaline rush and thrill of getting this far with you still unaware.

he slowly swiped his fingers up your warm pussy and slid them into his mouth, his other arm being used as a prop on the bed for his body weight as he loomed over you.

"you taste so sweet, baby. Are you sure you can't feel any of this? I think you're just pretending to sleep. Do you get off to boys touching your unconscious body? god, you really are fucked up." he said slowly spreading your legs, lining up his shaft with your dripping entrance.

"it's okay-." he shoved his entire dick in until your clit brushed his pelvic bone, sending a light whimper from your lips.

"So am i."

at first, he slowly dragged his cock gently back and forth. admiring the sight of his base sliding in and out of your soft folds. he wanted this sweet moment to last. the look of your sleeping body being lit by the lined morning sun seeping through his window blinds. but the pleasure was just so addicting, he couldn't maintain his slow intimate pace. especially with your walls gripping him. he started to quicken up the pace, if his load pathetic whimpers weren't enough to wake you up, it was the feeling he was giving you now.

your eyes start to slightly flutter open, in your slumber, you feel a warm sensation in your core. but when you awaken and see your boyfriend looking lustfully down at you, your foggy brain starts to melt.

"d-donnie, what are you- nghh --doing?"

"shhh don't worry angel, just focus on how good you feel right now. can you do that for me? you look so beautiful right now." he says leaving trails of kisses on your boobs.

pleasure overwhelmed you as your eyes widened with lust. you felt on cloud nine yet you had just woken up.

donnies thrusts got harder as chased his release, hitting that perfect spot in your gummy walls, causing your back to arch off the matress, which earned a moan from Donny's lips.

"Donnie- oh fuck, you feel so good."

you weren't fulling awake yet and still groggy. your mouth leaving a string of whines as you neared your climax, you could never get used to how your boyfriend's thick cock stretched you out in the most familiar and delicious way possible.

"fuck baby I'm so close, come with me sweetheart." donnie paused massaging and pinching your nipples, and brought his hand down to rub your clit in gentle circles, causing you to knit your eyebrows together and roll your eyes in the back of your head. the pleasure causing you to short circuit.

your release hit you like a freight train. your body twitched from your shoulder blades, down your spine, and through your shaking thighs. you moaned loudly as your orgasm washed over you causing you to moan loudly.

donnie, completely loosing any regard for your pleasure in the focus of chasing his own. his thrusts were hard and spractatic. pulling out and snapping his hips to shove himself fully back in.

his face was always so pretty like this, pupils blown and messy bed hair a mess in pure bliss. his cock twitched inside you and ropes of cum split out filling your cervix. as he gave his last thrusts, a white ring of both your and his cum juicing out of the tight entrance.

he pulled out with a heavy sigh, sad but satisfied to finally be leaving you. he pulled your panties back on so as to not spill and plopped back onto the bed.

you were completely fucked out, even through having only been awake for a short while. he looked at you and kissed your temple causing you to grin.

"I cant belive you fucked me when I was asleep, you're such a perv darko."

donnie looked down shamefully "I'm sorry baby, it wont happen again."

"its okay" you say crawling into his arms and kissing his neck. "it was hot." you whisper in his ear.

donnies face turned red "wanna go for another?" he said full of hope.

"nice try donnie." starting to get sleepy again from being woken from your slumber aswell as from donnies dick breaking you open. "next time." and with that you both drift off to sleep in each others arms, contentment overruling you and you both dream of each others future.

[drenix004]

𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄

Soshiro Hoshina x Fem!Oc!

CHAPTER ONE

MASTERLIST | AO | PR | CH.1| CH.2 | CH.3

English is not my mother tongue, so there may be spelling errors. An apology for that in advance :D

A groan of pain escaped her lips as she felt a tug on her hair.

"You're going to make me bald," she complained.

"Sorry, I'm almost done."

"You said that half an hour ago," Ana, the youngest of the quadruplets, huffed as she watched the eldest combing their sister's hair from her seat by the window. "You've changed her hairstyle three times; even I can feel the pain in my scalp."

"This is the final one," Hinata rolled her eyes at the youngest's impatience. Ana was the most impatient of the four. "And get down from that window; you could fall and break something, at best." She gave her a reproachful look before finishing the last decorative clip in the second quadruplet's hair.

"Alright, alright!" Ana climbed down from the window frame. When Hinata stepped aside and saw her sister's reflection in the mirror, she was speechless.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

"Pretty? More like a Christmas tree."

A vein appeared on the eldest's forehead.

"What do you mean, a Christmas tree?!" Hinata pinched Ana's cheeks, sparking a quarrel between the two.

Meanwhile, Liana admired her reflection in the mirror, appreciating the beautiful hairstyle for which she had endured all the pulling and tugging.

Never, as far as she could remember, had she or her sisters been dressed so meticulously and specially for a day like today.

"Can I leave two front strands loose?" Her question halted the argument behind her.

"Hmm? Of course." Hinata approached and carefully released two front strands, curling them with her fingers.

"Thanks." Liana rose from the chair, where she had been seated until then, and carefully smoothed out the expensive kimono her grandmother had given her. She didn't want the matriarch to notice any wrinkles.

"You still haven't made up with Lilia, have you?" Lilian, the third quadruplet, spoke from the eldest's bed. She had been silent since they started styling their sister's hair.

Hinata smiled awkwardly as she began putting away the items she had used on her vanity, feeling the younger ones' eyes on her.

"It's late; we shouldn't make Grandma angry." She changed the subject while ushering her sisters out of her room.

Lilian dropped the topic for now. It had been two weeks since the argument between Lilia and Hinata, and the eldest's decision not to respond spoke volumes.

"This kimono itches," Liana commented as she walked through the halls, followed by her sisters. "Is all this protocol really necessary? Grandma hardly let me sleep."

"You're meeting your fiancé; it's necessary to know manners and etiquette."

"I'm going to be a hunter, not a future heir," Liana protested.

"If you're that frivolous with your fiancé, you'll scare him away," Lilian mocked.

"Let her, that way I'll have a chance," Ana chimed in.

"What if he's ugly?"

"Enough, both of you," Hinata interrupted just as they reached the entrance of the house. "Grandmother," she greeted. The three younger ones bowed respectfully.

Naomi didn't return the greeting; she merely examined Liana's appearance from head to toe, searching for any imperfections.

"Get in," she said before entering the luxurious vehicle through the right door, which the family chauffeur held open.

Liana followed, but not before hearing Hinata's whispered wish of good luck.

The vehicle started its journey, and the enormous traditional house grew smaller as they moved forward.

Liana sat straight, hands clasped on her lap, watching people pass by with boredom. She rarely left the house, so her little world was confined to it.

Even so, people didn't catch her attention due to her limited interaction with them; she preferred quiet, nature-surrounded places.

"It's needless to say that I expect no mistakes, and I hope the etiquette training I gave you bears fruit."

"You'll see results," Liana responded without looking at her. Unconsciously, she clenched her feet, feeling the pain from the blisters on her soles—a vivid memory of her grandmother's etiquette lessons each time she made a mistake.

"I hope so."

"Among the four… why me?" she decided to ask, turning away from the window to look directly at her grandmother.

"You're the most suitable," her biting tone ended the conversation.

✥---------------✥---------------✥---------------✥---------------✥

That her father had arranged a marriage was not a real surprise; what was surprising was that the one engaged was him and not his brother Soichiro, being the successor.

His brother, of course, had mocked him, saying a bunch of nonsense until their father silenced him.

He felt a great curiosity knowing his fiancée belonged to the Nakano clan.

His father had told him they were a clan of military nobility, descendants of samurais. But what he really wanted to see was the albinism that only the members had.

In the portraits, and from what was said about them, they were depicted as white demons with red eyes and a cold gaze.

"This marriage is necessary, Soshiro; it will help the family. The exchange of knowledge is crucial for survival in these times." Soshiro listened attentively to his father, kneeling in front of him. It was only minutes before the guests arrived. "Marriages sometimes don't start with love; as long as you get along with her, that's enough, son."

"Is it true they have red eyes like demons?" he dared to ask, like any curious child his age.

"They do, resembling blood. But don't ask unless she decides to speak about it first. Above all, respect." His father stood as a servant knocked before entering, announcing their guests' arrival. "It's time."

They both left and walked down the impeccably polished wooden halls, whose reflections gleamed under the soft evening light. Soshiro noticed that the garden had also been meticulously arranged. The main garden featured a beautiful bonsai, surrounded by perfectly traced geometric shapes in the sand. The finishing touch was provided by the stones, strategically placed to create an almost zen aesthetic balance.

The shrubs and plants adorning the house had been watered and pruned with care. Every small detail had been covered, ordered, and cleaned by his father's strict orders. The air smelled of wet earth and fresh flowers, a mix that brought tranquility.

Upon reaching the room, they sat on the cushions arranged on the tatami. In front of them were two more cushions, prepared with equal care. The silence in the room was only interrupted by the whisper of the wind against the paper doors.

His father gave an order, and one of the servants slid open a paper door. Soshiro first noticed the older woman who entered; her hair as white as snow and her red eyes reminded him of a winter rabbit, an intriguing and disconcerting sight. But it was his fiancée's appearance that truly caught his attention, making him widen his eyes.

The girl was pretty, no doubt. But his surprise lay not in her beauty but in her unexpected appearance. She wasn't albino like her grandmother. Her hair was a shade of pink similar to cherry blossom flowers. When the girl looked at him, Soshiro was captivated by her deep, serene red eyes, framed by thick lashes the same color as her hair.

Her cold gaze contrasted with her delicate and pretty appearance, and her foreign features gave her an ethereal, almost unreal beauty.

"Son, this is Naomi Nakano, leader of the Nakano clan," his father's introduction abruptly pulled him out of his reverie. Soshiro closed his eyes briefly and bowed respectfully, as custom dictated.

"Pleasure to meet you, Nakano-sama. I am Soshiro Hoshina, thank you for taking the time to come despite your busy schedule."

"The pleasure is mine," Naomi replied, bowing as well, followed by the young girl. "This is Liana Nakano, my granddaughter and your fiancée."

Liana also bowed respectfully to Soshiro.

"Son, why don't you show her around the house? After all, she'll be coming here often for training with you," his father encouraged. Behind his words, he also implied that he wanted him out of the way for a conversation with the clan matriarch that didn't require his presence.

Soshiro nodded, standing and waiting for Liana to do the same.

"Liana."

Her name, pronounced by her grandmother, was a direct order for her to do the same, which she did. Soshiro felt an atmosphere of control that internally displeased him, but he said and expressed nothing.

[forgetmyreality]

My King:

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!wife!reader:

Word count: 1018

Warning: Smut, p in v, breeding, slight choking

Summary: Tangled in the throws of passion with your husband, you let something slip.

A/N English isn’t my first language

My King:

“AhhHHH…Aemond” you whispered into his ear as he thrust into you after he removed his fingers from warming you up. You were perched on his desk, legs wide open giving him easy access to your most precious area.

He grabbed his cock, lining it up with your entrance, gentler stroking himself. Your juices that was still on his fingers acting as a lube so his palm slid smoothly.

Finally fully sheathed he began his movements. His large hands grasping your hips for leverage. The fucking was slow, deep and passionate. Aemond wasn’t always the best at showing you his feelings through words, so he would through his actions. Writing little poems on a note beside your pillow to find when you woke if he had to leave early. The gifts of things he purchased because they reminded him of you (not that you ever left his mind)

This being on of those times, with each jerk of his strong hips he pumped his love into you.

“You feel so good wife” he whispered into your ear as he nibbled on the sweet spot on your neck. The spot only he knew about. The spot that sent such pleasure to your core. “Wish I could stay buried in your cunt forever”

Even though the both of you just started your coupling, Aemond’s words pushed you so close to your release. One of his hands moved from its spot on your hip to your lower back just above your tailbone to keep his leverage as the other hand moved between your bodies to the sensitive little nub that made your toes curl. Aemond made slow circular movements, caring more about your pleasure then his

“I would let you” breathing out. Hands grabbing at his long beautiful hair. Just needing to be closer to him. “I will let you use my cunt forever, it’s yours as is all of me”

“Just as I am all yours, my darling wife” he groaned out after a most pleasurable thrust hit him. His lips moving to the top of your left breast.

“My king”

He paused but stayed sheathed in your warmth

“My King” you repeated.

He pulled his head back from the crook of your neck to look you in the eye. Curious as to where that came from but he remained silent. Aemond’s cock somehow grew even harder at the words.

“Now fuck me like the king you are” you demanded looking deep into his Violet eye.

He leaned forwards and slightly to the side so he could reach behind you and took his arm and slid the contents of his desk on the floor. The sound of papers flying, glass shattering and the rest of the contents fall filled the room.

Aemond harshly pulled himself out of you, you moaned at the loss of him inside, feeling so empty but that didn’t last long when grabbed your hip and pulled which caused you to roll over. You yelped at the sudden movement. Tits placed on the cold desk as he moved his hand to the middle of your shoulder blades to hold you down.

And in one swift movement he entered your cunt again causing him to groan at the new angle. His hips moved with powerful vigor, the soft slow movements were thrown out the window and what remained was angry passion and you loved it.

“King…. Fuck that sounded good coming from your dirty mouth” he said between thrusts of his hips. The sounds of his balls slapping against you filled the room, only being overshadowed by the moans he ripped from you.

He leaned forwards so his chest rested on your back and his hand slithered around your neck squeezing slightly. His mouth, now right next to your ear he uttered “that would make you my queen… a good queen would keep her king’s cock nice and warm like this” his movements slowed before they became more erratic as he approached his peak. Determined to see you there the hand that wasn’t around your neck moved to its place back between your legs.

A quick few passes over you sensitive cunt pushed you over the edge, your juices flowing down his thighs.

“What a good queen you are” you could almost hear the smirk on his face. “So good, I should give you some princes and princesses” his pace quickened rapidly chasing his release. “Would you like that, my queen, to grow my heir”?

“Yes! Yes please” the pace ripped another orgasm from you and the tightening of your walls milked his cock. He pumped a few extra times to make sure his cum would stick in your womb. He pulled out only to plug your hole with his fingers so nothing would be wasted.

Finally he removed his fingers and picked you up bridal style and brought you to the bathroom where the bath was already filled and warmed from before he needed to be in you and took you on his desk. He placed you inside the tub and sat down behind you so your back was to his chest.

He could see you were tired and started to wash you. Gentle caress of the washing sponge grazed your sensitive body

“I meant what I said”

“Mhmm, your so soft” he said changing the subject

“You’d make a great king”

“I know” he placed a kiss on your jaw, and let the sponge drop into the water so he could squeeze you breast and sneak his other hand to your pubic bone.

“You are great at distracting me ya know” you could feel his smirk that was pressed against your neck.

“It is my favourite pastime”

“You may not be the king yet but you will always be the king to my heart, MY king” you placed your hand on his.

“And will always be my queen”

[gepardstitties]

Frozen in Time

(oneshot, Gepard x y/n)

Summary: Gepard rescues you from the eternal freeze and you wake up in his apartment???

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

cw: implied sui attempt, a little bit of spice

❆ ❆ ❆

It's cold. Bitterly cold. The glacial wind whips at your face, the snow blinding you. You've never faced the eternal freeze without your uniform before. You now understand just how much of a difference that uniform makes. The cold seeps into body, making it more and more difficult to move. You keep pushing on. You need to get away from... from what happened. You'd rather be frozen solid and numb then have to deal with this pain alone.

Suddenly you feel the cold on your face, but not like before. You seem to be completely submerged in the snow. Did you... fall? You feel your vision leaving you, your body going numb. You hear faint voices approaching in the distance.

"Captain! Over here! There's somebody buried in the snow!"

"Is that- is that y/n!?"

The incredulous voice of the Captain is the last thing you hear before all your senses fade to black.

❆ ❆ ❆

You're eyes flutter open gently, momentarily blinded by the warm light of the room. You scan your surroundings. Where am I? The apartment is neat and organized, and the faint smell of vanilla wafts through the air. The window is slightly cracked, allowing you to hear the bustling sounds of the Administrative District at night.

Suddenly, the door across the room opens, releasing a cloud of steam. From within the steam, a broad figure emerges. You're struck by fear. What is this person going to do to you?? He comes closer and his features become more apparent. Soft, tousled blond hair, slightly damp from the shower. Towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets dripping down his bare chest and outlining the contour of his defined abs. And his eyes- those deep pools of sky blue, staring down at you with surprise and concern. C- Captain Gepard???

"Oh, you're awake!" He flushes awkwardly, "My apologies, let me go get some clothes on!"

He rushes out of your sight and into what you assume to be his bedroom. The reality of your situation finally sinks in. One moment you were freezing to death in a snowbank, and the next you were face to face with a dripping wet, SHIRTLESS Captain Gepard Landau. Thank Qlipoth the frostbite didn't kill you.

He emerges from the bedroom, a soft t-shirt hanging off his muscular frame. You've never seen him dressed so casually before. Mind you, you've never even seen him off duty before. He crosses the room to sit next to you on the couch. You move to sit up, but he presses his hand to your chest, gently keeping you from moving.

"Don't move! You still have frostbite! You were out in that cold for a really long time..."

You look away, feeling a pang of guilt for worrying your Captain.

"Captain I'm... I'm sorry for worrying you that way. I know you have more pressing issues to deal with."

"You don't need to feel guilty, y/n. Protecting people is never a waste of time. And you don't need to call me captain here," he smiles, "call me Gepard."

"Ok Ca- I mean, Gepard!"

He laughs warmly. "That's more like it," he chuckles. "Are you warm enough in those clothes? Do you need a blanket?"

You look down at yourself and freeze. Soft cotton t-shirt, warm sweatpants- THESE AREN'T YOUR CLOTHES. A furious blush spreads across your cheeks, no, your whole entire body.

"Is something the matter?"

"D- did you... change me??"

"Well I couldn't just leave you there in those sopping wet clothes. I tried my best not to look, I promise." Now he starts to blush too. "I'll uhh... I'll go make you some tea!"

Gepard gets up awkwardly and disappears into the kitchen. You're left alone with your thoughts. Alone in that cold, cold blizzard. Trying desperately to escape the memories.

Those memories...

A single tear escapes your eye and soon you have no control over yourself. Tears stream down your cheeks and your breath catches in your throat. This is why you ran into the Eternal Freeze. To escape these unbearable feelings, or maybe just to not feel anything at all, or maybe even-

Gepard returns with your tea. He freezes in the doorway. "Y/n!" As if by instinct, he rushes over to your side and sweeps you into his arms. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

You can't even answer through the tears, so you just keep crying. He holds you tight, waiting until you're ready to talk. His presence is sturdy and calming. He smells warm, like vanilla and something you can't quite put your finger on. You relax into his chest and manage a small "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize," Gepard soothes, "all that matters to me is your safety. You don't have to talk about it if you don't feel comfortable, but I hope one day you can trust me enough to confide in me for matters of this sort."

"Why do you care so much? I'm just a low level recruit..."

He pulls you closer into his chest, resting his head on yours. "I've been noticing you since the very first day of your training, y/n. You're strong. Even if you don't realize. You make everyone around you feel safe. All I want is to do the same for you."

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes again.

"G- Gepard..."

"Shh," Gepard says gently. "You're safe here. No matter what. I promise."

Here in Gepard's arms, everything seems to stand still. Or maybe...

You're frozen in time.

❆ ❆ ❆

a/n: This is my first fic, I really hope you like it! Gepard is so precious I love him sm udehgpiuahfvjbarfkbvgad

[spade-riddles]

Submission: Death/Dying/Mortality & The Jack-O-Lantern of it all.

The first 🎃 was sent on May 13, 2023.

#4. 🎃 “Speaking of, I love Halloween, don’t you? I’m already counting the days until October.”

#11. 🎃 “Imagine this. It is 3 am and Halloween is over"

All Saints Day, while exact origins are uncertain, was originally most commonly celebrated in May (like, a LONG time ago. ~300-600 A.D). Specifically…MAY 13. The night before All Saints Day was called “All-Hallows Eve”, which is what we now know as Halloween. (I acknowledge that is through the Christianity lens, as I know there this is a holiday with pagan roots as well). 

This is a celebration dedicated to remember the dead. I believe the use of the pumpkin/jack-o-lantern and the references to this celebration were easter eggs for the direction of TS11, before we even KNEW a new album was in the works. Furthermore, someone sent in a post identifying May 13 as the first documented date of JK & KK, which was also linked to the original spade riddles about MAY. 

Now that it has been a few days since the release of TTPD, I’m shocked to see just how many references there are to the concept of death, dying, endings, resurrection, etc. Here is an incomplete list of all of the references to this theme throughout the TTPD rollout and release:

TN easter egg

“We hereby conduct this post-mortem” - AKA….after death. This was ultimately revealed to be lyrics from “How Did It End?”

Track 4 - Down Bad

“I might just die, it would make no difference.”

Track 5 - So Long, London

“My white knuckle dying grip holding tight to your quiet resentment.”

“I died on the altar waiting for the proof.”

Track 9 - Guilty As Sin

“One slip I’m falling back into the hedge maze, but what a way to die.”

Track 10 - Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

“If you wanted me dead you should’ve just said. Nothing makes me feel more alive.”

Track 12 - loml

“Are they second hand embarrassed that I can’t get out of bed, cause something counterfeits dead?”

“And I’ll still see it until I die, You’re the loss of my life.”

Track 14 - The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

“Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?”

“I would’ve died for your sins, Instead, I just died inside.”

Track 16 - Clara Bow

“I’m not trying to exaggerate but I think I might die if it happened, die if it happened to me”

Track 17 - The Black Dog

“Old habits die screaming.”

“Now I wanna sell my house and set fire to all my clothes, and hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons, Even if I die screaming, And I hope you hear it.”

Track 19 - The Albatross:

“She’s the death you chose”

Track 21 - How Did It End:

“We hereby conduct this post-mortem”

“Say it once again with feeling, How the death rattle breathing, Silenced as the soul was leaving, The deflation of our dreaming, Leaving me bereft and reeling. My beloved ghost and me, Sitting in a tree,D-Y-I-N-G”

Track 23 - I Hate It Here

“I dreamed about it in the dark, the night I felt like I might die”

Track 25 - I Look In People’s Windows

“I had died the tiniest death.”

And finally…resurrection (note: I am not a religious person, I’m writing about this from a literature/contextual perspective).

Track 9 - Guilty as Sin:

What if I roll the stone away? They’re gonna crucify me anyway. What if the way you hold me is actually what’s holy? If long suffering propriety is what they want from me, they don’t know how you’ve haunted me so stunningly. I choose you and me, religiously

propriety (noun) - 1: the quality or state of being proper or suitable, 2: conformity to what is socially acceptable in conduct or speech, fear or offending against conventional rules of behavior especially between the sexes.

🫚 - 2/5/2024

Frost untouched, Conformity wins fights.

This 🫚 message seems to convey the message that conforming to what what society and the media, her fans, etc expect of her and will tolerate from her, is the only way she could gain enough traction to move forward. But in Guilty as Sin, she finally asks the questions “what happens if I roll away the stone?” Rolling away the stone, in a biblical sense, would reveal an empty tomb. An empty tomb was EVIDENCE that Jesus had risen from the dead.

So my thought is, what does rolling away the stone mean for Taylor? What are the implications of her asking, “What if I just give them all the evidence revealing my truth? They are going to judge me no matter what, so I might as well. If they want me to suffer my entire life by conforming to societal standards, they don’t know how impossible of an ask that is.”In Summary, 🫚 & 🎃 have absolutely proven themselves credible in foreshadowing the themes of this album and overarching story. And I’m sure as we continue to decipher their messages, we are going to find so much more.

[imaginesforallkindoflove]

For Vaultknight nation ✨️🙌 sorry fort shortness I am writing something bigger

(They're cutiespapooties)

“What is that?”

That was Maximus’s first question as he glanced at a nearby and nearly destroyed store. All of the windows had been smashed, and the front door was torn open. Without a doubt, some people tried to get inside, as an attempt to get shelter or in hope to find something to destroy. It was dangerous too, as it threatened to fall over. But Maximus was attracted by it, by the still bright yellow letters. He could read the shop’s name: The Gamer’s Den. He found it odd. Turning to Lucy with a smile, he called her over. Knowing she would be as interested as he was, she would love to explore that one building.

Ever since they had parted ways with their teams, if you could call it that, Maximus and Lucy’s relationship had blossomed. Of course, they stayed in contact with Vault 4 and Lucy’s vault, now run over by the fierce Stephanie Harper. It had been hard for Maximus at the beginning. It was relatively new for the former Brotherhood member. All he had known his whole life was bullying and discipline. He had suffered, he had bled, he had grown. But Lucy changed his life forever. God, he loved her silly words, her innocence about the world they were living in. And he admired her bravery.

“Is that… a game store? Oh Maximus look!” She pointed to a RobCo promotional sign with an excited face. “Oh jolly, Norm would have loved to see this! Let’s try and find some of those games!”

“Sure.” He smiled back at her as he followed her inside.

“They were supposed to release those when the bombs dropped.” Lucy whispered as she caught a box behind the counter, a bit opened. Maximus knelt down beside her and started to rummage through the packaged games. They looked brand new despite the dust on them.

“I feel kind of bad for them.” Maximus admitted. He had noticed the skeletons around the city and inside the shop as well. “They must have believed they would be safe there.” His voice was barely audible.

Lucy hummed as she tried to find interesting games for her brother. She always had felt awful about the skeletons, she… tried to pretend they didn't exist. But how could she not? Those skeletons had been people, with hopes, dreams, problems on their own. She couldn’t shake the image of that family when she left her vault. Entering that home had not been a good decision and seeing that Vault Tec had sold those “Plan D” pills… How did the parents feel about giving them to their children? They wanted to spare them, giving them a quick death, and pretend nothing was happening. What a sad way to end your life.

Maximus noticed how gloom Lucy looked. He shouldn't have spoken about the skeletons… He was used to it, but not the vault dweller. Maximus decided to cheer her up. With a smile, he approached her and kissed her cheek.

“Don't think too much about it, Lu. You weren't the one who dropped the bombs.”

“You're right.” She sighed as she picked up some games and put them in her bag. “Let’s go back to the vault and give those to Norm. He will be happy to see you again. He likes you.”

“Really? Because I feel that each time I come with you, he stares at me like he wants me dead.”

“Oh that's just how Norm looks at people.”

[bi-bats]

TRICK OR TREAT !!!!!!!!!!! =D

!! HAPPY HALLOWEEENNNNNNN LEOOOOOOOO

I can't NOT give you a jaytimkon snippet for Halloween. I know what you're looking for in the candy bowl 😂 SOOOOO here's the beginning of the next chapter of Bad Days!! I really want to get it posted soon but I have to write smut for it and that always takes me forever to do 😂😂😂

Anyways, I won't delay any longer, here's your treat!!

~ ✨ ~

Kon hovers an inch above the fire escape, hesitating. He’s already been here for three minutes, trying to work up the nerve to knock. 

But he’s just being a bother, isn’t he? Jason doesn’t want him here. He’s fine with having him around sometimes, sure, but Tim is always there. 

It’s Jason and Tim, and Kon. 

Just because they get along, had like, one actual real conversation and they all took a nap on his couch? That doesn’t mean that he wants to let Kon mope around his apartment.

Even though Kon kinda wants to see him.

He should leave. It’s ridiculously late anyways, so ridiculously late that it’s actually ridiculously early, and Jason’s probably falling asleep, probably has his mouth hanging just a tiny bit open and his head nuzzled into his pillow the way he nuzzled into Kon and his heart does a soft little squeeze in his chest and why is he still here he’s just been floating out here like an idiot he needs to leave—

The blinds on the other end of the window he’s staring at pull up, and Jason looks at him through the glass, unnaturally bright green eyes dancing with something amused. 

Jason’s thick, calloused fingers pop the lock on the window and slide it open, and Kon’s stomach goes tight.

“You gonna hang out there until the sun comes up?” 

A smirk begins to crawl across Jason’s lips as he leans his palms on the windowsill.

Kon feels his face go warm as his eyes drop down at the fire escape. He floats down far enough to toe at the metal, rubbing at his arm.

“Nah, man, sorry. I was just— looking for Tim, but he’s not here, so. Yeah, it’s cool, I’ll see you—”

“Kon.”

Kon’s eyes flicker up and snag on the frown on Jason’s lips. 

“You’ve been out here for the last five minutes. You okay?”

Kon opens his mouth to say Yeah, dude, I’m fine, don’t sweat it, I’ll see you later, but nothing makes it out. He ends up just sort of floating there, saying nothing, for a solid five seconds before he clamps his mouth shut. 

Then he floats up a few feet, ready to just fly off because seriously, what the fuck is he doing there? 

And then Jason’s hand wraps around his ankle, warm and steady. 

“Come inside,” he says, his tone a low, steady rumble. 

Kon hesitates, letting Jason hold him there, before he gives in to the lull of the request. 

“Okay,” he says, and his voice is quiet and contained in a way he tries not to be in front of anyone.

Jason doesn’t release him, holding his leg like the string of a balloon as he tugs him into the apartment. 

He only lets go to close the window, and Kon lets himself float down until he’s hovering just above the ground, not quite putting his feet down. 

The apartment is clean except for a few guns on the counter and some dishes in the sink. The couch is laid out into the futon, the blanket they all slept under draped across it like Jason was sitting there the whole time Kon was outside, a book open and face down next to the slightly sunken spot. 

It smells like the lemon cleaning spray that Alfred uses at the manor, and soy sauce and onions and pork from whatever Jason has on the stove, and the scent of the cologne Jason uses, warm and sweet and spicy, and at the bottom of all of it, it smells like Jason himself, that warm human smell that Kon doesn’t realize he’s looking for until he finds it.

“What are you doing up?” Jason asks, walking to the sink and turning on the tap.

“What are you doing up?” Kon asks back, still hovering in the space between Jason’s couch and the little wooden dining table he has set up in the corner.

The question didn’t come out as confrontationally as he thinks it does, but he still blushes. 

God, what’s wrong with him?

“Sorry, I’m — that was rude.” Kon shifts his weight from one foot to the other in the air.

Jason gives him a shrug. “S’alright, I get it. Bad day?”

“Yeah,” Kon mumbles.

Somehow, the look that Jason turns and gives him makes him feel even more self-conscious than he already does.

“Dads, huh?” Jason asks, raising an eyebrow.

Kon clenches his jaw a little, so he doesn’t scowl. 

“You hungry?” Jason asks. 

Kon’s jaw loosens. 

First, the answer to that question has never been no, and the smell of sweet and salty Asian barbecue pork isn’t making him less hungry. 

But also, he thought Jason was going to ask what happened, and then he’d have to explain when he doesn’t even really have a right to be upset.

“Yeah, I could eat.”

Jason nods and turns, shutting the tap and silencing the rush of water before he grabs a dishtowel and wipes his hands. 

He glances back at Kon, then drops his eyes to the inch of space between his feet and the ground. Jason grins a little, something amused glittering in the bright green of his eyes.

“The floor isn’t lava, you know.”

Kon hesitates for a moment before lowering down slowly, letting his feet graze the floor. 

“Take a seat, I’ll grab a couple of plates.”

Kon walks to the couch, touching his feet to the hardwood on every step without allowing the ground to bear his weight. He lets himself settle on the couch where Jason was sitting so he can watch him move around the kitchen. A rush of steam plumes out of the steamer basket when he opens the lid, his feet make soft noises as his socks pad against the wood.

He tucks his knees up a little, not quite all the way against his chest, but enough to make room for Jason to sit down across from him. 

Jason places the steamer basket on the couch and hands Kon a plate, then drops three buns on it. 

“If I’d known you were coming I would’ve made some classic comfort food.” 

Kon snorts humorlessly, picking up a bun. It’s a little bouncy under his fingers, and he already knows it’s going to be fluffy and delicious before he even bites into it. 

He doesn’t think he wants to eat anything that reminds him of Ma’s kitchen right now anyways.

“Don’t sweat it, I’m already interrupting your—morning,” Kon decides after a glance at the clock on the stove.

“I wasn’t busy,” Jason says, tearing off a chunk of the bun in his hands to let the inside cool. Steam pours out of it in a puff, carrying the smell of the spices.

“Thanks,” Kon says, biting into his bun without waiting. He was right, it’s fucking delicious. The pork is moist and tender and the dough didn’t get soggy at all, and he makes a pleased noise as he rolls it over his tongue. 

“That’s a nice benefit of your genes, huh?” Jason says, blowing on his food and eyeing Kon’s lips.

Kon shrugs. He doesn’t really want to think about his genetics right now. 

“So, where do I aim?” Jason asks. 

Kon’s eyebrows furrow as he tilts his head at Jason.

“Shoulder? Head? I can steal some kryptonite bullets from B in the morning.”

Kon pauses chewing for a second, looking at the amusement in Jason’s eyes before he swallows his food. 

“Are you giving me the Clark is an Asshole special?”

Jason grins, crooked and wide and a little dangerous, and Kon’s stomach does a flip.

[tracybirds]

"snoozeville" with Alan? (although that's normal for him, so if you're not sure what to do with that, I don't mind if you pick someone else instead)

Thank you for the prompt and for your patience :D Alas, Alan's pov for this one wasn't quite working, but I hope you enjoy this alternative :) (now off to snoozeville myself!)

snoozeville: [character] falls asleep somewhere that isn’t their bed.

---

Scott groaned, shoving away the reconnaissance reports as he scrubbed at his eyes. The dim light of the tablets formed an oasis in the inky dark and the villa was silent but for the faint crash of waves against the cliff. The night was clear and calm and he padded over to the windows to gaze out at the rippling reflection of the moon above. The stars twinkled as he picked out constellations, the instinct from his scouting days as present as ever. He winced as he spied Orion in the east, its steady rise enough to tell him how late the hour had become.

He yawned, turning off the tablet screen and making his way up to his room by the light of his communicator.

The habit of checking in on his family hadn’t always been as compulsive as it was now, but Scott didn’t think it did him any harm. It was needless reassurance perhaps, but at each door as he listened to soft breathing and the murmurs of dreams, he could feel his own heartbeat starting to slow.

Gordon’s room was closest to the lounge, with John’s opposite, to compensate for their sunrise and nocturnal activities respectively, so as not to disrupt the heavier sleeper in the family.

Scott nudged the door open, suppressing a smile to see Gordon sprawled across the bed and hugging a pillow with one arm. The aquarium light through the water gave the room an eerie glow like a underwater grotto. This was as silent and still as Scott ever saw his brother and he took a moment to enjoy the peace.

He backed out of the room quietly and turned to John’s room. He laid a hand on the solid oak door to ground himself, knowing John wasn’t there and resisting the urge to check all the same. A small part of Scott felt guilty not including him in the nightly ritual even when he was absent, but John loathed any perceived invasion of his privacy and it wasn’t worth the inevitable argument when EOS tattled on him. So he compromised, hand on the door, and called up Thunderbird Five.

“You’re late tonight,” observed EOS. “He’s already asleep.”

Scott grimaced, remembering the long, arduous evening he’d left behind.

“Tell him I’m sorry,” whispered Scott. “I lost track of time.”

“He worries.”

“Ditto, then.”

EOS said nothing and Scott sighed.

“I’ll catch him tomorrow, I promise. He’s really sleeping?”

“Three hours and seventeen minutes. He has entered his third sleep cycle tonight.”

“Good,” said Scott softly. “He needs it.”

“So do you, Scott Tracy.”

“Goodnight, EOS.”

He shut down the call without waiting for a response.

Alan’s room was dim and dark, carved into the side of the mountain with no natural light except from that which was funnelled down through the rocks as a skylight. These provided a link to the outside world, the sky and stars that he loved, and a much needed release from his endless video games.

Scott peeked in, hardly noticing the empty bed. It has been a long time since he’d given up on wrestling his youngest brother into bed each night and Alan genuinely seemed to prefer the floor. Scott wrinkled his nose at the musty smell, making a mental note to ask Alan to do a spring clean of the place. There was no sound, not even Alan’s usual quiet snuffling, and Scott frowned, stepping forward into the room fully.

“Allie?” he called softly, picking his way across the floor where gaming gear lay abandoned and dirty clothes were strewn wildly. The moonlight shone through the skylights, illuminating the empty space where Alan normally slept.

“Alan?”

Scott swore to himself, his heart rate spiking as he hurried into Virgil’s room.

“Virgil,” he hissed, “Virgil, wake up.”

“Whaa-?” mumbled his brother, one hand already groping for his comm as he struggled upright. “Is there an emergency?”

“Alan’s gone,” said Scott. “He’s not in his room.”

Virgil blinked blearily at Scott.

“Oh,” he said. “Alan’s in your bed.”

Scott froze.

“He’s what?”

“Yeah, I guess he wasn’t feeling well.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

Virgil shrugged. “You looked busy. Don’t worry I took a look at him. Just needs rest now.”

Scott felt the words slice into him, although he knew Virgil was merely stating fact, not placing blame.

“Thanks, Virg,” he said, swallowing down the guilt that stuck in his throat. “Get some sleep, I’ll look after him.”

Virgil grunted, asleep again before his head touched the pillow and snoring lightly as Scott turned out the light.

He crept towards his own room, not bothering to turn on the lights. Everything was organised with military precision. The only anomaly was Alan, and Scott felt carefully for him before climbing into bed.

Alan stirred beside him, curling into Scott’s chest as he wrapped him in a gentle hug.

“Hey, sprout,” said Scott. “Not feeling so good, huh?”

Alan shook his head silently.

“What type of hurt are we dealing with?”

“Throat,” whispered Alan. “Head. Everywhere.”

Scott held him close, humming as he thought.

“Virgil said he gave you something? When was that?”

Alan shrugged.

“I can get you something else,” began Scott, but Alan shook his head once more.

“Please,” he croaked. “Just stay. And sleep.”

Scott thought he could do that.

[feel free to send me a prompt plus a character!]

(yes I still have a fair few to write but they're so fun!!)

[gayphob1a]

Don't Blame Steve

TW: Smut whoops

“Hands!”

“Yes, Chef!” Steve yells, running as fast as he dares to the sous without being reprimanded for creating a hazard. The saucier he had been stationed with shoots him a warning glare, and he knows after this rush he’ll have his ass handed to him on one of the maitre d’s silver platters for abandoning his position, but he’s been given explicit instructions. When the sous calls, he is to run, not walk. He can take the wrath of a measly saucier if it means his chef de cuisine won’t be involved in this particular dispute. 

The man is horrifying, a dark void that pulls everyone in with his initial charisma, only to snap in an instant and leave you feeling like an empty shell of your former self. He runs his kitchen with an iron fist. Hopper himself would cower in Timothy’s presence. Not even swinging a bat into the flowering maw of a demogorgon could hold up to the terror he instills. The sous, though better, is no walk in the park either. She seems like a sweet woman at first, Rosie, but if her call for help goes unheeded there’s no telling what she may use as a weapon. Steve thought, based on this fact alone, that they may even get along the first time he saw her throw a metal spoon across the kitchen in a fit of rage, but this idea was quickly thrown out the window when he narrowly avoided an egg timer hitting him in the head with enough force he very well may have been on the receiving end of another concussion. And at the hands of a 54 year old woman no less. 

Steve comes skidding to a halt at Rosie’s side, close enough to smell the bourbon leaking from her pores and he desperately hopes she’s just horribly hungover. The last time she showed up drunk he went home with burns burgeoning on third degree. Why Timothy never picks up on this, or chooses to ignore it, he doesn’t understand — considering he once came in and was immediately reprimanded for his untied shoelace. 

“I need you on mise. Running low on shallots and cilantro for garnish.”

Steve tries not to roll his eyes, but well, he’s never been the best at keeping a handle on his facial expressions, and Rosie must pick up on some slight twitch in his expression or the exasperated sigh in his “yes, chef.”

“What? Do you think you have better things to be doing? We’re in the weeds and I’m running low on fucking garnishes. Maybe if you were half decent at staging I would have had everything I needed before we were getting fucked in the ass.”

“No, chef. I’m sorry, I’m on it.”

“Good. I don’t miss twice, kid.”

Steve spends the rest of the evening rush by Rosie’s side, dicing in silence like a well-trained dog. He almost misses the call for closing, overstimulated and exhausted both physically and emotionally. All through his closing duties, he’s berated by Sam, the saucier he abandoned firing dishes on his own. He almost doesn’t think he’ll make it through the night, but like always, he does, and drives home on autopilot, hardly registering the traffic as he listens to one of Eddie’s heavy metal tapes to release some of the tension thrumming in his veins. Since culinary school, he’s developed more of a taste for Eddie’s music, finding comfort in the thrumming baselines and heavy drums that make his teeth rattle with how loud it blares through the speakers.

He trudges up the stairs to their apartment, his every muscle alighting in pain. His head is pounding, and he tries to remember the last time he drank water, but days are starting to blur together and he’s not sure he even has today. Still, none of that can stop the smile that erupts over Steve’s features when he sees Eddie waiting for him with dinner set out on the table, despite it being 10 o'clock at night. 

“Hey baby. Rough day?” And Steve just melts into the way Eddie can read him in an instant, falling into his arms with a heavy sigh. He nods silently and inhales Eddie’s scent. He’s just showered and he smells like sandalwood, Steve’s favorite scent. It reminds him of the fact that Eddie changed the bodywash he uses when he discovered that tidbit of information. Eddie isn’t even a particularly huge fan of sandalwood. He doesn’t hate it or anything, it just wasn’t really on his radar until Steve said something, and now he may even love it for the way it makes Steve nestle into his neck and take in deep breaths, sighing at the way it mingles on his skin.

Eddie is no chef and Steve knows that. He doesn’t expect perfection — in fact, after nearly 11 hours of perfection, he prefers a little chaos and junk food. Eddie always delivers, plating up a simple turkey sandwich and potato chips with a vase of flowers and candlelight. 

“I love you,” Steve sighs, settling into his seat which Eddie pushes in for him, leaving a kiss on the top of his head. 

“I love you too. And I saved you plenty of hot water for a bath when you’re done.”

Steve tucks into his sandwich, eating like he’s been starving in a desert for months. Eddie watches with pure adoration on his face, eating much slower and stopping Steve every couple bites to remind him to drink the ice water he put out. After the first half (Eddie cut his sandwich into triangles. However juvenile, Steve has always found it easier to eat them this way and Eddie finds it adorable), Steve is ready to talk. He regails the evening and the vicious humbling he received after closing in as much detail as he can muster, but frankly the day starts to slip away as soon as he gets home. Maybe it’s the repeated trauma, but his brain has a way of compartmentalizing in a matter of hours. There’s just one complaint that never seems to go away.

“And I’m not even getting paid for any of this!”

Eddie gave up asking if working in kitchens was really worth it after the first week. Steve’s answer was always the same. Despite the mental and physical toll, his goals remained clear. He was going to get through this stupid stage and get a real job in a kitchen until he could save up enough money to one day open his own place dedicated to all the recipes that made him fall in love with cooking in the first place, everything the kids loved when he experimented in the kitchen for them.

Eddie has to drag Steve out of his seat to the bathroom when they finish. Steve’s body aches so bad he could fall asleep at the table. It wouldn’t be the first time and Eddie isn’t letting that happen again, lest he be charged with Steve’s complaints of sore everything in the morning. He draws the bath and puts in epsom salt for the pain and lavender scented bubble bath because it eases the knot in Steve’s mind that has his shoulders permanently pressed to his ears. He helps Steve over the ledge of the tub and gently lowers him into the steaming water. It’s the perfect temperature, nearly scalding just the way Steve likes so he can enjoy the water’s warm embrace as long as possible. They remain quiet as Eddie massages Steve’s legs, working the knots out of his calves and running his thumbs up and down the arches of his feet. Steve lets out an occasional contented sigh, relishing in the fact that Eddie enjoys pampering him just as much as he needs it after a day like today. 

The few unpredictable strands of Eddie’s hair that can never be contained by a bun, no matter how neat, are starting to form loose ringlets. Steve reaches out to wind one around his fingers, moves his hand to his boyfriend’s steam warmed cheeks, and draws him in for a delightfully slow kiss. Eddie’s hands travel up Steve’s legs to his thighs, raising them slightly from the porcelain of the tub so he can run his fingers over his taught hamstrings like the frets of his guitar. He plays Steve nearly as well, no, better, and Steve sings his praises into Eddie’s lips.

“Feeling better?” Eddie asks, his forehead pressed to Steve’s, their breath intermingling in heavy puffs between them. 

“Much.” Steve replies. He closes his eyes and focuses on the sensation of Eddie’s fingers all over him. His firm, deliberate strokes graze higher up Steve’s thighs, ghosting between his legs and Steve chokes back a whimper. The bubbles hide the way he’s been steadily growing harder, but Eddie’s hands reveal all. He’s not always in the mood after work, but the princess treatment, as Eddie likes to call it, makes his heart swell… amongst other things.

Steve tries to stand, but the bath is still warm and Eddie’s hands hold him in place. “Just relax. Let me take care of you sweetheart.”

“I want to touch you,” Steve whines. 

“You will, but we can take it slow tonight, right?”

And Steve’s mind is foggy, sure, a combination of the long hours and Eddie’s expert touch, but he doesn’t think he’s that foggy until the words just kind of slip out of him. “Yes, chef,” he moans. 

A hand flies up to clasp over his mouth and his eyes go wide. Eddie is silent, watching like a hawk, his hand still and gripping onto Steve’s thigh in a vice grip. “I– I don’t… I’m so sorry. That just came out. Fuck.”

“Woah woah, hold on there big boy. It’s okay. Look, you don’t have to, I know you had a long day, but maybe just… say it again?”

“Y-yes chef.” Steve tries it out, wondering if it will feel foreign in his mouth, but it doesn’t. It feels natural, like an extension of himself, bearing himself raw to Eddie in a rare way he never has before. He wants to feel Eddie prodding at this part of him, taking him apart piece by piece like he has to every other aspect of his soul until now.

“Jesus christ. How does anyone get anything done in that kitchen with you around?”

“You say that every day.”

“Yeah, but now I mean it. You’re walking around all night saying ‘yes chef’ like an adorable little slut. I wouldn’t be able to think straight.” Eddie splashes Steve with the velocity at which he moves his hand to his dick, gripping tight enough to make Steve moan. His head falls back against the tub, the ends of his hair grazing the bubbly warm water. The contrast of cold porcelain against hot skin makes him realize just how hard his whole body must be flushing, damp from the water and sweat mixing on his skin. His hands find the sides of the tub and hold on for dear life as Eddie’s hand pumps and twists up the length of his shaft. He can feel Eddie’s eyes on him, staring, taking in every expression and breathy noise he releases. 

“Just relax, baby. I’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me.”

“That’s right. Good boy.”

Eddie’s hand speeds up, sloshing water up all around Steve’s chest. Heat pools in his stomach and Steve feels his balls draw up, nearing the edge in record time from the praise.

“Wait,” he says, dropping a hand down to still Eddie’s wrist.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, stopping instantly, concern lacing his voice. 

“‘M okay. I don’t want to cum yet. Want to fuck you.”

Eddie hums. “I thought I was taking care of you?”

“You can take care of me while I fuck you. Ride me into the mattress.”

“Fuck, Stevie. Let’s go.” Eddie helps Steve out of the tub, drying him just enough that he’s not dripping into the carpet. Steve’s skin is red hot, the heat bubbling over into Eddie’s chest as they collide in a sloppy kiss, hardly breaking apart as they stumble to the bedroom. 

Eddie pushes Steve down onto the bed and hovers over him, admiring. He’s hard and aching, leaking against his stomach and he pulls Eddie into him, crashing their lips back together so hard their teeth clack against one another. Eddie is still fully dressed and that just won’t do. Steve’s hands roam Eddie’s body, feeling and squeezing until he reaches the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head. Eddie has new tattoos all over his chest, including Steve’s bat, and he loves to kiss over it, sucking bruises into the outline until it’s puffy and sticking out, raised against his milky white skin. Eddie undoes his belt hastily, pulling his pants and underwear off his hips until they fall to the ground with a clank of his belt buckle against the floor. 

“Lay back, I want you inside me.”

Steve groans. “You need to prep?”

“What do you think I do all day when you’re gone baby?”

Steve reaches around between Eddie's cheeks and sure enough he’s loose and pliant, ready to take Steve’s considerable girth. Steve twitches pathetically, precum spurting out of his tip all over the happy trail leading down to his pubes, thinking about Eddie laid out in their bed playing with himself, moaning wildly alone while he waits for Steve to trudge up the stairs to their little apartment with no promise he’ll even be fucked at all. 

“You ready for me?” Eddie asks.

“Yes chef.”

“Shit you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“I may have some idea.” Steve smirks, his eyes tracing over Eddie’s frame to his throbbing erection.

“Steve.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.” Eddie straddles Steve’s hips and grabs his cock, lining himself up to sink down                       in one swift movement. 

The room is filled with the sound of their moans, their scents mingling together in a heady musk. Eddie’s hands find themselves on Steve’s chest, squeezing his pecks, a juxtaposition of soft skin and hard muscles sprinkled with thick hair. He bounces up and down at a ruthless pace, grinding his hips down with a little twist each time he sinks to the hilt. Steve falls apart under him, his face burying in the pillow beneath him, catching the cries and spit that pool on his tongue. He wants to plant his feet, drive his hips up and pound back relentlessly, drag more of those wanton moans from Eddie’s throat, but he’s so exhausted, the pleasure only adding to the led in his bones, so he lets Eddie take what he needs, let’s him dedicate his heart to Steve’s pleasure. He’s going to come already after being driven to the edge not five minutes earlier, but he needs to stave it off, hold back until he can be painted with Eddie’s cum. 

But Eddie knows him all too well. Knows every sound, knows the meaning of every pleasured grimace on his face. “Don’t wait for me honey. I want to make you feel good.”

“Can I…”

“Cum inside me baby. Want to feel you fall apart while I milk it out of you.”

Those words are all he needs, coming in thick ropes that paint Eddie’s walls. Steve is sensitive, crying out Eddie’s name as he keeps riding the last of Steve’s hard on, chasing his own pleasure. 

“Come on, Chef.” Steve wraps a hand around Eddie’s dick, stroking him hard and fast. “Need to see you cum on the fly, please.”

“Fuckkkk,” Eddie moans as he cums all over Steve’s chest. He falls boneless into Steve’s open arms. Steve wraps his arms around his neck and rubs a gentle hand up and down his back, kissing the hair matted with sweat against his forehead. 

“We need another bath.” Steve giggles.

“I’ll get a wash cloth. We can shower in the morning,” Eddie sighs, squeezing Steve back and letting his affection pour out in droves. He lifts himself off of Steve and feels his spend leaking out and making a mess. “But maybe we sleep on the couch tonight? I’m not changing the sheets.”

Eddie scurries off to the bathroom so he doesn’t drip all over the carpet and returns a couple minutes later to towel Steve off. He picks Steve up, throwing him over his shoulder to carry him to the living room, neither of them being bothered to even put on boxers. Eddie puts on a movie and they drift to sleep in each other’s arms, a tangle of limbs and shared body heat so they can both fit on the small couch. The next morning they shower together as promised before Steve has to leave for the restaurant. All day, with every call of ‘Yes, chef!’ he can’t help but think of Eddie and smile to himself. He doesn’t think working in a kitchen will ever be the same again.

[punkranger]

High Waters

Part 2 of this

Antoine is working on a task Hollow Ground set him on, something more personal than he had bargained for, as well as more difficult.

What to expect: Retribution spoilers and Revelations hypotheses, kidnapping and intimidation, violence in the form of police brutality

You remember that face. It stared back at you in the opaque glass windows of the lab as they put needles in your arms and talked over your head about numbers and values and other things you didn't understand. Head shaved for easy maintenance and skin paper-thin and pale – locked up inside all day for testing and training, too new to go out on missions. Even the bruises are the same, in your memory at least. You were always one step away from not making it during training. Still, no leeway was given to you despite the fact you lacked the boosts in strength and endurance that the others had. You just had to learn to keep up anyway, or you wouldn't be here now.

Shaking your head you look away from the picture, checking the name one more time to be sure. The last name is erased, but the first name is the one you were given, and there's no doubt about it that this is the person you are looking for. 

Dead, long ago. Same as you.

You flip the folder open, read the list of charges: vandalism, theft, assault… All too familiar to you, but there's something distancing about these formal terms that also make them seem more serious. You look back at their age – you were only a year older when you killed a person for the first time, and two years after that you were free, seeing Los Diablos for the first time. 

Shaking your head, you close the folder. It doesn't matter now, what matters is that you finish this so you can go back to important matters, present matters, and most importantly your matters. 

You look at the man tied up in a chair beside the table the folder is on and take a step towards him. He flinches as your armored boot falls on the concrete and looks up at you while tremors travel over his whole body like he's been electrified. 

"Where is the rest?" You wave the folder in his face, it's lacking any details of what happened after the arrest.

"I-I-I don't- I d-don't know! I just archive them! N-no one else is supposed to be able to remove anything without my knowledge, b-but there's no rec-cord of anyone taking it. There's not even any record of it even existing in-n the first place!" He sounds nearly hysterical and you feel a bit bad, but you're in a hurry and you don't have time for coddling civilians. 

"But there was something?"

He nods. 

"And his body disappeared?"

"How-?"

"Just a guess. Now, what about his family?"

"I don't know!" He moans, miserable, probably thinks you're going to kill him. Idiot. "I-I mean this was two decades ago, I don't remember, I assume they were contacted at some point after his arrest, but as you can see his name is gone now so I guess whoever was in charge of the case gave them some excuse and swept it all under the rug."

"Who was this, there should be record of that right?" You realize you've stepped closer, practically leaning over him, because he recoils as much as he can in his bonds. Leaning back, you blame the helmet and vocal distorters on his reaction. It's not like you care about this, it's just a stupid job Hollow Ground is making you do. 

He watches you warily for a moment, then licks his lips and says hesitantly, "I could look it up if you want…"

Unspoken is the request to release him. You nod, cutting the ropes. It's not like he could get away from you, you just didn't want to accidentally break his arm or something if he tried to run. You doubt he understands the distinction to appreciate it. 

He stands up hesitantly and you step back, letting him go over to the computer. You've already checked for any ways he could alert security, finding none. Supposedly people don't break into the archives often enough to warrant the LDPD assigning even a small part of their admittedly tiny budget for more security than the cameras you've already broken. 

Still, you keep an eye on what he's doing over his shoulder in case he sends an email for help or something. You snort at the thought and he jumps and turns around as your vocal distorters turn it into a growl.

"I'm working as fast as I can, I promise!" 

"Yes, yes, carry on. No funny business, though." You wave your hand at him to continue and he reluctantly turns his back to you again.

After a while the flickering of the screen slows down as he scrolls slower, before opening a tab.

"Here…" he trails off, then clicks a link. "Albert Ronalds, sergeant. Although…"

"What?" 

"He won't be much use to you, he's dead."

"Of course he is", you sigh and would have run a hand over your face if you hadn't been wearing a helmet. "How?"

"Died on duty, same year." He seems to have calmed down, his voice now more thoughtful than anxious, perhaps doing something familiar made him forget why he's doing it. 

"Still, it's weird", he continues, "apparently it was a traffic accident. No one else was hurt and his was the only vehicle involved."

Fuck. Fucking Hollow Ground. Why is he sending you on this wild goose chase decades after the person you're looking for died, and after he had already destroyed what little evidence you might have found? 

"Was it looked into?" You ask, but you already know the answer.

"No, or if it was it didn't go anywhere." Yeah, you know how it is. 

Well, there are other people who look into these things and now you have two names and dates to take to them. You leave the archivist with some incentive to not report this incident and head back to your improvised entrance in the floor. The sewers lose you quickly in their labyrinthine embrace. 

A few days later you've spent some time getting the word out to your contact that you're looking for information. Some got a bit cagey when they found out the LDPD were involved, but considering the incident happened a decade ago they were easily convinced it would have no repercussions. At least not from the police. 

You think about Hollow Ground. Vengefulness is of course befitting a crime lord, and you suppose at the time there were no loose ends other than the sergeant. Then you came along and suddenly there was something left to that business, to his sibling. 

You haven't dared look into his mind any more since that time, he's been more guarded, but you wonder how he sees you. An asset, in some way at least, but does he disregard the fact that you look like him or is he planning on using that somehow? The last meeting was weird, he wanted something from you, but what? Proof that you were there to infiltrate his organization as his dead brother? Sounds unlikely, or he would have already known what you looked like. Anyway, you've definitely proven you're not that person, or trying to be. You're not a person after all. Does he know about that? 

Scoffing, you get up to pace. All this sitting around and waiting is not doing you any good. You're in desperate need of some action. 

You wish you could talk to Ortega or Daniel. 

Shit. 

There's another thought you don't need. They're not on your side anymore, or rather the thin facade of your relationship has crashed and burned. Daniel may have helped you escape but he'd never help you with work related to Hollow Ground. And Ortega… 

You look around, suddenly paranoid. If he'd show up anytime it would be now, and he would not be happy with you to say the least. You wouldn't have minded seeing his stupid face, though. Maybe. 

Perhaps it's better this way, to not see the anger, the disappointment. It was bad enough in the car and when you were stuck in bed. You doubt things have changed. 

You rub a hand over your face, remembering other times when you've done that. Kinder, softer hands taking yours, brushing a thumb over your cheek. Warmth like the sun making you want to lean in. Kisses that leave you breathless, but floating light as air. 

Why are you never allowed to keep anything? Why are you always left alone and empty? 

Your jaw is clenched tight and you feel like you can't breathe for a moment. Digging your nails in your palms you try to focus on breathing. In. Pause. Out. 

Repeat.

Your jaw relents with a crack. Brush away the sting in your eyes. 

Someone's coming. Finally.

Doing this as yourself is a little awkward, but you make it work, making people see someone else is easy enough by now. You wouldn't want anyone to remember any resemblance to the person in the files. Going as Eden would have been safer, but that is no longer an option. You don't really want to involve your crew in this either, the less they have to do with Hollow Ground the better, so this really is the only option.

Not that you mind. Hollow Ground was right about one thing: you are interested in this information. You're not sure what, if anything, you could gain from it, but you do know you don't want to miss out on any of it. Because in some way you feel connected to this person – it could have been you, and you're not sure if you feel sorry or jealous. He may have died young, but at least he got to live as a real person, with a family who at least cared enough to try to look for him. 

You shake your head, focusing instead on your contact. They should have something, or else they wouldn't have called for this meeting.

Indeed, they produce a small parcel.

"Got a video you might find useful," they say without preamble, "unfortunately we weren't able to save everything, but some parts are clear enough. This is gonna cost you, though, considering who's involved…"

It must be the Special Directive then. You consider for a moment if you want to mention Hollow Ground to put the bill on him, which would only be fair considering he put you up to this. On the other hand you're not sure you want to tie yourself that closely to him by having your association known. 

"Fine, but this had better be useful then." Perhaps you can find someone more proficient who can glean more from it later, but you'd rather get your money's worth now. After all there's so many other things you'd rather spend it on, so many other things you'd rather do, every moment, every resource not spent towards the life you want, the life you deserve, feels like death. Why should you give anything in exchange? Haven't you given enough away? You could just take it. Take what is owed you. Take like they took from you. 

You reign yourself in, barely. Can't afford to lose this contact, there aren’t that many you can go to that are both competent and not working for someone you've made your enemy. Concealing a shudder, you take the parcel and hand over the money. It still feels like pulling teeth. Sometimes you wonder if you should talk to someone, these thoughts are starting  to become more of an impediment to attaining your goals.

Later, at your base you've set yourself up at your computer, a cigarette trailing a lazy pattern of smoke towards the ceiling. You look at your hands, eerily gray from the blue light of the screen and wonder why you're hesitating now. 

This shouldn't matter to you. It's just a random person. So what if you might share DNA? You know plenty of people who have nothing to do with their family. And it's not like it would make you any more real, knowing about your unwilling donor.  You don't bother hiding the grimace from the empty screen in front of you. Yeah, that thought doesn't make you feel better, you have to fight to not rub at your arms in disgust. How many more were sacrificed to create you? 

A lot. 

Many of whom you killed yourself. It was that, or be recycled. They would have done the same, if they had been good enough. You're not going to feel sorry for winning. For surviving. 

You turn on the video. 

It takes you a second to recognise what’s happening, the footage is grainy and keeps glitching, and there’s just a mass of black-clad bodies on the screen. LDPD officers. They’ve gathered around something, someone, kicking, screaming – mostly insults from what you can hear. You’ve been there. Are there. On the floor, above the one on the floor… You shake your head and keep watching. After a while the mass disperses, like piranha after a meal. Leaving a mess behind, a single officer dragging the body away. Swallowing bile, you rewind, pause, zoom in on faces. The only important ones are the last officer and the person on the floor. The latter you recognise, even below the blood and bruises. It’s definitely the one you’re looking for. But the officer’s face is obscured. 

Swearing in frustration, you look for the parcel and shake out the notes you saw in it when you took out the tape.

“Except for the video, I have also found an audio recording related to the same incident, just outside the facilities. I can't include the recording itself, but here is a transcript. 

[Heavy breathing, dragging noises – a/n based on the context it must be recorded through the microphone of the officer who dragged the body away]

[Door opening, more dragging, then door slamming shut]

[Sounds of a motor running, a car door shutting]

Unknown: Quickly now. 

Officer: Yes, sir. 

U: Put him in the back. Then go back inside, we have arranged another transport for you later today. Go to [audio cuts off here]”

You stare at the paper for a moment. Then you slam a fist into the table with a curse. This is useless! If you could have listened to the recording you might have recognised at least one of their voices, but now… all you know is that someone took the body, but you have no proof of who or where, even if your suspicions are stronger than ever.

Sighing, you put your head in your hands, resisting the temptation to pull at your hair. There's no way Hollow Ground will accept this little information, because even if you can connect the threads that lead to the Special Directive there’s no actual proof here. You rub your temples, there has to be something more you can scavenge from this old carcass of a case.

The sergeant in charge led nowhere, it’s likely he’d had a meeting in person with someone from the Farm who then made sure to erase this single trail. 

The person you’re looking into is also dead, the video is more than you expected to get, but still not enough. 

Even after watching the video ten times or more you can find no more clues about the fake officer who took his body, or the person who picked it up. They were too careful, had planned too well.

There is something, though. You sit up, the sense of despair suddenly dispersing. If they planned this, that means they might have had their eyes on this person for a while, maybe even arranged for the arrest, which means they might have left traces somewhere else. Even if it’s not enough on its own, these things might add up into enough pieces to at least point suspicions in a certain direction.

And Hollow Ground was right about one thing: this is of interest to you. If you play your cards right and make him interested as well… maybe you’ll have an ally, or at least an enemy of your enemy. Is that the best way to go about this? That would mean continuing working with him. For him. That thought chafes, you value your independence highly. 

But you value your freedom even more. 

If the Farm wasn’t a constant looming threat you would be free to act as you wished, and right now Hollow Ground is in the best position to help you. Probably the only one who would help you right now, as long as you make sure to drive home that he’d also benefit from it. 

Either way, you still have this task to finish, you can always decide later if continuing this alliance is a good idea. So, for now, you will need to set some people on some very old tracks and hope something turns up.

[tangledbea]

I was just thinking about Wish and all the blatant references in it. I remember watching it in theaters and at first I thought "Okay cute, the friends are the dwarves, that citizen wants long hair, funny homage, Asha's looking at the stars like Tiana, that's nice..." then it all went downhill to "Just. Stop." by the climax. Especially the Asha/Fairy Godmother theory: as a POC I find that very offensive. Then I realized... Tangled was the 50th DAC movie, and it also had lots of references. (1)

There were all the hidden items in the tower, Pinocchio in the Snuggly Duckling, and the books in the library referencing other Disney movie covers. Not to mention the New Dream scenes that were similar to other DP couples, like the boat (Ariel/Eric), the dying love confession (Belle/Adam) and the whole princess + thief premise (Aladdin/Jasmine). And yet, those easter eggs didn't stop Tangled from being its own unique film. Same goes for Encanto, the 60th movie, and it referenced others, too (2) I think both Encanto and Tangled can still hold up as classic, rewatchable movies despite the anniversary celebrationz because the writers/directors/general crew put the references in the background. They were fun to find out about, but you don't need to know about them to still enjoy it. Wish, on the other hand... I feel like you would have to literally watch all the DAC movies and then some (Mary Poppins) before it even begins to hold up to the standards of the previous 'celebration' films (3) And even then, the story relies on the callbacks to get you to enjoy it. If I stripped Wish of every single Easter egg it had, I'd be left with barely a shell. Meanwhile, if I did the same to Tangled, the result would be pretty much the exact same movie. TLDR: Tangled is a much better anniversary movie than Wish, and that's a fact. So those are my thoughts, thanks so much for reading all this, I appreciate it! :D (4)

The thing is, the other movies you mentioned (Tangled and Encanto) were markers of "how many animated movies they've released" milestones, while Wish was 100 years of the Disney company. It's not the same kind of milestone at all, because it was marking time rather than progress. Not that this is excusing Wish of its disappointing story, but expressing the difference between the movies and the studio's approach to them. Tangled and Encanto (which, by the way, is my second favorite Disney movie from recent years) weren't written to be the 50th movie and the 60th movie. They were written to be their own things and happened to fall in line with the 50th and 60th release. In fact, some numbers had to be fudged a little in order to make Tangled line up with the 50th release, and Encanto was the tenth one after Tangled. Disney didn't even expect Encanto to do well, and were blown out of the water with surprise when it became a smash hit. Where as Wish was "crafted" (I use the word loosely) to be the 100 year celebration of the company.

Every time I find out more about earlier concepts of the film that they opted not to use (the Star being a prince, the king and queen being a power couple villain duo) I get very frustrated and angry about what we could have had. They had some really solid, interesting concepts in there, and they threw it all out the window in order to cram as many references as they could into it. Asha has seven friends (for example), to be the seven dwarfs, but their characters aren't developed at all. They had to tell us what the deal was with color coordination, alliterative names and gimmicks that lined them up with the dwarfs instead of focusing on them at all and making it clear through that who they were supposed to be. Just, "Get it? There's seven of them and this one wears glasses and Asha calls her 'doc' and this one's always sleepy and this one's always sneezing and this one's kind of dopey and this one's grumpy, get it?!?!?!"

I like Alan "I went to Julliard" Tudyk, but not only does he not need to be in every single Disney movie these days, they really didn't have to make Valentino, you know, a thing. "Get it? This is the origin of talking Disney animals, get it?!?!?!?!?!" And they really gave him way too much screen time. I'm often not a fan of the comedy relief animal sidekick as it is (there are some exceptions - some I really like and some I'm neutral to), but boy howdy did they overplay Valentino and make me actively dislike him.

The interesting thing is, I'm not a fan of Raya and the Last Dragon. I don't hate it, but I'm not a fan. I gave it a shot, I watched it, but it left no impression on me. It felt very... Millennial check-listed. POCs, found family, no overt romance but if it's there it's LGBTQ, dragons (cause who doesn't like dragons?), etc. Raya is fine. But for me, it's forgettable. I've only watched it the one time, I barely remember what happens in it, and I have a lot of trouble remembering the characters' names.

But Wish? Wish, I think about often. I have never been so disappointed in a Disney movie as I am with Wish, because Wish has the bare bones potential to be something great. And instead, it's that. What Disney should have done for its 100 year anniversary was make a movie that was finely crafted to show everything they've learned about animation in the past 100 years. I made an observation on a different blog that, when to you take a step back, King Magnifico is a stand-in for corporate Disney, and the whole movie is the crew railing against the corporation stripping the creativity from its workers and not valuing art, even though it’s in the art business. They just want everyone to love them, because everyone always has. Magnifico wants to hoard the wishes the way that corporate Disney wants to hoard talent, and the citizens willingly give up their talent and work because they believe something good will eventually be done with it. It feels to me like the climax of the movie is the artists and animators fighting the good fight against their corporate overlords the same way that actors and writers were striking for so much of 2023. It felt like a battle for the soul of the movie. But although the heroes of the movie win in the end, it was actually corporate who won, because the movie was stripped of all of its heart and soul in order to cram in more references. The artists did what they could, but they still had to follow orders if they wanted the movie to get made.

Oh, and as a side note, you can't just make a mortal human be a literal fairy by giving her a magic stick. That's not how that works.

Anyway, for my money, Once Upon a Studio is a much better homage to 100 years of Disney than Wish ever will be. Anyway, sorry for this incredibly long-winded rant.

[elsaqueenofstress]

some djats fans are very very insufferable when it comes to the whole "unreliable narrator" aspect of the story. an unreliable narrator is a character who lacks complete credibility or accuracy in their retelling of the story, which is what you get in the book. however, it's not because Everyone Is Lying All The Time On Purpose: it's because they all have literally different perspectives on each moment. warren and graham are convinced that "the six" sounds like "the sex" because it's what they felt at the time, but billy and karen disagree. daisy and billy think that the aurora cover is gorgeous and iconic because it spotlights them, while everyone else rolls their eyes at how predictable it is. warren still believes, forty years later, that karen was hooking up with one of the roadies because graham and karen's relationship was a secret, so his stories are sometimes completely false. graham can't view karen's choice to get an abortion as hers, and emphasizes his own betrayal over the feelings she expressed to him because they hurt too much. things like that!

"unreliable narration" doesn't just mean lying all the time, and it gets a little lame to watch people (most of whom are d/b shippers) claim that's the case. the book's opening lines aren't "they could have been making this shit up!" – they're "some [interviewees] were more forthcoming than others...on matters both big and small, sometimes accounts of the same events differ. the truth often lies, unclaimed, in the middle." there were probably details that characters left out on purpose, but why would everyone, especially after having not spoken in years, have agreed to completely lie about everything? billy tells his grown, adult daughter about cheating on her mother repeatedly, about missing her birth during his addiction, about the deep attraction he felt for daisy. people are so desperate for their ship to have been physically canon that they disregard these details and claim that he was just protecting julia's feelings (again, she's like forty at this point??) or that he and daisy agreed to leave out their apparently torrid affair (which especially falls apart after tjr released the bonus pages, where camila explicitly tells daisy "don't try to sugarcoat anything on my behalf" and daisy promises to do so). it does a disservice to whatever shreds of nuance or subtlety the book had, all traces of which the show decided to throw out the window in favor of cw-level drama and clunky character arcs

anyway the show's reasoning that "this is what really happened!!!" technically doesn't even hold up bc they changed too many random details lmao. like no matter how strong whatever they were smoking during the seventies was, i don't think it was enough for them to mass hallucinate the twins and pete, collectively forget what month they played chicago stadium, and all pretend like graham and karen didn't tell them about their relationship...? loved the casting loved some of the songs loved simone's plot but that was Not a good show methinks

[psychogirlfriendandsupervillain]

Other Man's Widow - Chapter 2

Female!Reader x Whitey Winn (Both young adults)

Modernish!AU (it's kinda 1950-60s coded?), inspired by the lyrics of Carrie Underwood's Church Bells and Hoizer's Dinner and Diatribes (Church Bells is the backflashes, Dinner and Diatribes is the vibe of the hot questioning room before the rain).

Warnings: Abuse, domestic abuse, murder, religious trauma(?).

Summary: The young deputy gets sent to comfort a young widow.

A/N: We get to see more of the other Godless characters :D.

Your tentative hands meet the edges of the cup. It is no longer burning to the touch as you lift it slowly to your lips. The air is damp and still your tongue feels dry. The young man across from you watches you take a sip with soft but attentive dark eyes. You push down the discomfort of being observed, hiding it in your handkerchief. 

“How did he seem these last few days? Was he” Deputy Winn pauses, moving his pen in circles in the air and lifting his eyes up, looking for the right expression. “worried about anything?”

He’s sweet, trying hard to not involve you in anything you didn’t know before. His movements, while indicative of his youth and a wandering mind, are reminiscent of how one handles a bird that has flown in through an open window into the kitchen. Your arm itches and you brush a hand over the knit to soothe it. 

“I don’t know about worried, John never tells me about his work. But the last week or so” You grip the handkerchief between your hands again “oh I don’t know.”

“Now any little thing could be important.” Deputy Winn makes a gesture with his hand, as if to soothe your worries.

“He’s been absentminded.” You confide, releasing a sigh. “The phone rang one night and the call seemed to agitate him.” A frown ghosts over your face.

“And when was this?” He takes up the pen again. 

“Tuesday. I’d made shepard’s pie.”

“Any idea what it was about?” Whitey really hates to put her through this. Her face is veiled in held back emotion, flickers showing only in passing, shoulders move with even breaths. The shadows cast by the blinds make her seem to have lost days of sleep. Whitey wishes he could say something to ease your pain, but he knows that isn’t possible. All he can do is focus on his job, get the facts straight for McNue and the others, and maybe he can get you some closure.

You look up from your hands. “Work, he said.”

“Father.” The soft spoken word was loud in the empty hall. Reverend Griffin looked up from the fountain of holy water which he had dipped his hands.

“My child.” His face lit up with joy, eyes crinkling hinting at the smile hidden by his white beard. He waves a large hand. “Come in, you’re always welcome in God’s house.” 

You slipped out from the shadows by the entrance under the organ loft, head lowered with the brim of your hat shutting out against the light shining in through the tall windows. Reverend Griffin’s arm circled around your back, herding you towards the front pew. Your shoes clicked against the stone floor, too loud, like you were taking up too much space. The floral fabric whispers against your legs as you sit down with him, hat in your hands.

“Father, I need advice.” You spoke quietly. “I feel as though I am lacking. I try to be a good wife to my John but my efforts fall short.” With effort you stopped your hands from picking at the seam of your dress. The reverend’s hands came to rest on top of yours, his body leaning forward and you lifted your gaze to his, keeping the side of your face towards him.

“My child, marriage is holy, sanctioned by the Lord himself. There will be trying times, as in all parts of His creation, but the bond between you and your husband is sacred. You will find the way.” His eyes were genuine, but his words stung your eyes and burn your right cheek. You blinked a few times and cleared your throat, returning the squeeze to his hand.

“Thank you, Father.”

“Just down the corridor and to the left.” The young man holds open the door for you. Your dress barely brushes past him and you step out into the hall with a quiet thanks. 

On your way past the barred in front desk you note the spot of bright colour and meet eyes with Mary-Agnes, who is pausing her writing to tuck back an escaped strand of blond hair. The woman had shown you into the room with a firm but kind hand when the police car had dropped you off at the station. She told you that someone would be right with you, and if you had needed anything, you were just to call for Maggie, she’d told you in a warm tone that left no room for protests. You give a small smile to her and she returns a reassuring one. Behind her you see Miss Temple searching in an archive cabinet for some paper. Turning the corner you reach the restroom and close the door behind you. It was a wonder the station had put Maggie on reception desk work, when she had eyes that would pierce your soul if you had been around her longer.

You finish your business and after washing your hands you run the tap as cold as it will go. The water will only provide temporary relief, as you dab wet tissue at your neck. Taking a deep breath you look in the mirror, squeezing the edges of the porcelain sink.

You quietly slipped into the back pew on Sunday morning, the veil on your hat low over your brow. Reverend Goode shifted further in on the bench and you give him a nod in thanks. He wore his white clergy cloak, overseeing the baptism of the Gunners’ little bundle of joy later in the day. Baptisms never had been Reverend Griffin’s self appointed duties. 

As the very man begun his sermon from the front of the room you couldn’t help the venomous glare that shot from under your cover. He had spoken of love on your wedding day. When you came to him, he spoke of marriage being a holy union. On this day he stood up there today preaching about care, and fidelity, when last night you were being beaten so hard you hit your head on the leg of a kitchen stool. That was his friend that did that.

Reverend Goode must have caught your stare because he turned towards you, and even in the shade of the organ loft you could see he saw. As all rose to join a hymn you moved to leave but the soft touch of his fingers against your arm stops you. You turned, face lowered, and the shame in his eyes when you finally met them almost matches the one you feel. The makeup once again felt unnatural on your face, the skin burned where the marks were. He held out his hand, carefully, hopefully, and you took it, held it tight as you joined the hymn.

You did not have to tell him. He knew. As he sat with you after the sermon, he held your hand and didn’t say a word as you both stared at the cross together. 

“What do I do?” You asked, knowing he’d have no answers. Reverend Griffin was the leader of this congregation, and Roy could be out in the blink of an eye if he spoke poorly of the Reverend’s friend. You didn’t want that to happen to him. The town would suffer a great loss if this kind man moved away.

He squeezed your hand, and looking at him in the corner of your eye you could see cracks form in him, as if the reverend was struggling with his faith in the system he was in. Then he took a deep breath and met your eyes.

“Have faith in the Lord, my child.” His voice was grave, eyes urging you to forgive him for his own weakness but to trust his words. “His will be done.”

You nodded. “I will.”

[paigenoelchas-blog]

Feels Like Home

Chapter 21

MC's POV:

He turns back toward me and then back toward the door. Finally standing still, his hands continue to run through his hair. He is in shock, but I don't know if there is anger intermixed with it.

I feel the tears beginning to run down my cheeks. If I lose him now, after all of the running and chasing, both from dangerous situations and from each other, I don't know what I would do. I begin to rub my hands together. I haven't been this nervous in a long time.

If it had been any other person, I would have kept my mouth shut and never have told the full truth. Jake would have no way of knowing that I had deceived him, but I simply had to tell him the truth. I can't have anything between us. He deserves nothing but everything that I could give him.

The tears are freely falling now, but I wouldn't let him know. I was silent and he was distracted. I watch the muscles on the back tense and release. I thought about how handsome he was, but how his kindness overshadowed that. If there is anyone who would forgive this it would be him. It was the only chance that I had to hold on to. It was the last little bit of hope.

After few minutes passed, he remained unaware that I was so upset. It was the first time since we met that I have felt separate from him and the first time that he appeared unaware of my feelings. Even when we weren't speaking, he found ways to show me that he cared about me and made sure that I felt his love. I wasn't so sure right now. My hope is dwindling.

Jake's POV:

How could I have missed this? I can't believe it. She was looking for me? All of this the that I thought my feelings for her came first, but she had sought me out? How did I get so fortunate that she could be in my life and that she actively tried to be ? How did I get so fortunate that she would allow me to be in her vicinity and breathe in her air? She is a phenomenal woman. She is everything, And she told me the whole truth when she did not have to.

I run my fingers through my hair, trying to figure it all out. I am distracted at the thought of how, once again, fate intervened in our love. More little things had to happen to lead to this one big picture. I was going to be grateful for it and not question the why. Surely she can't still be afraid of our future. I am convinced that it has to be.

I did have one question. How did I not remember her? How could I have not been enraptured by those beautiful eyes....

WAIT!!

I do remember her, I pace around the room, suddenly aware of how enamored I was of her at the time. I had not forgotten. I remember how her beauty struck me at the moment. In fact, I almost answered her question.

I am so surprised by this turn of events. I can not believe there was no inkling of this. I remember now thinking about the girl, but then I met Mahri and all other women were out of the window. She was all that I wanted. I had tunnel vision. I had no idea that the two women were one and the same.

We have some things to talk about, this sneaky woman and I. I am even more proud of her and even more impressed by who she was.

She needed coffee and we needed to talk.

MC's POV:

He is in the kitchen. I hear noise, but I don't follow him, knowing that I must trust that he will speak when he feels like it. At least he was far away from the front door. That meant something, right?

I pull my knees to my chest and grab a blanket. I have to do something to comfort myself while I wait for him to speak. The blanket allows me to keep my tears to myself. I bury my head into it, pulling the blanket up to my nose. I hear a clank of something being set on the table and feel the couch dip next to me. He doesn't speak, instead, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a hug. I began to cry harder, this time I can't hide it.

For a few minutes we stay that way. He won't release me, just keeps letting me know that he is there and he isn't leaving. The relief that my heart felt, did nothing to stop my tears. It is a truly profound thing when hope is fulfilled.

He loosens his arms from around me and pulls the blanket down from my face. Then, he takes his fingers and wipes away my tears. His touch immediately brings comfort. "Beautiful girl, what is going on? Why are you crying?" He bends his face down until our eyes meet.

"Jake," I whisper, " I thought I would never... I thought you would never...." I couldn't finish.

"Oh, my love, you took my silence for anger or for a change in my feelings?" His expression is sympathetic and carries a little guilt.

I nod, it was a little bit of both.

He places his hadn't on my chin and holds my face so I can't look away. "I promise you that I will never stop loving you." He kisses my cheeks, " I will never leave you," he kisses my eyelids, "I will always want you in my life," He places his hands on my cheeks, "Nothing will ever keep me away."

He pulls me closer to him on to the couch and into his lap. "I am sorry for the confusion. I was shocked. I have quite underestimated your abilities. It seems that you are always one step ahead of me."

He pulls the blanket off of me. I can't figure out why, then he slides me up between his legs and places the blanket over both of us. HIs arms return around my waist as I melt into him.

"So, you aren't finished with me yet? Our romance isn't over? You have forgiven me?" I asked, my tone was pleading with him.

'If I have my way..." he pauses and his lips linger long against my ear. I can smell the rain that has dried on his jacket and the musk of the shampoo that he uses. HIs breathe is warm. Every once in a while it lands on my skin, sending shivers down my spine. I almost forget that he is speaking. It is as if I am in another world. "...our romance will never end, our love will only continue to grow. As far as forgiving you, I have nothing to forgive. I did not tell you everything at first and yet you trusted me. Even after I kept part of myself until we met, you treated me with nothing but love and respect. In fact, most of the secrets that you kept were for self preservation rather than deceit. Those friends that now trust you with everything would have never believed that you were innocent had you told them the truth at the start."

I continue to lean against him. I don't have the words to explain how happy I am that I can still be in his arms.

"I am the most shocked," he continues, "that I didn't remember you were a reporter, I can't believe that I would forget anything about you. Then a memory flashed through my mind... You were wearing your hair pulled back with a yellow ribbon you had this pad of paper that should have been studious for a reporter, but yours had a taco on it and the phrase, 'Let's taco bout it'.

I shake my head in embarrassment afraid that he thinks of me as childish.

"I loved that you didn't take yourself too seriously. I thought you were beautiful. I left abruptly because I was afraid that I would tell you too much. There was only one other person I ever felt that way about, only one other person that I worried about divulging too much information to."

"Oh yeah," I ask and turn around to face him. My eyes don't leave his and his arms only loosen slightly. He refuses to let go. I refuse to let him. "Who was this other person?" I mock jealousy, but I really want to know.

He smiles slightly, "It was this amazing woman that I met online who kept asking me a bunch of questions even when I asked her to stop. She begged me to at least tell me her name. I couldn't say no to her. I think her name was Mahri." He chuckles and I punch him in the arm.

I lean back in his arms and they tighten around me again. I feel soft kisses on my cheek. Happy to just be there, we sit in a comfortable silence for a while.

"You know, I am processing something else," he says after a bit, "If you hadn't followed me and talked to Hannah that day, we never would have met. I never would have known what this feeling is. I am very grateful that you are such a good reporter to follow up on a lead."

"I was following up on you, not a lead. I am so glad that I did."

He spun me around so he could look me in the eyes. Though I missed the warmth of his arms, I could feel the fire in his gaze.

He grabs me quickly and leans me on the couch, his body hovers over mine, his dark eyes roam my body. I have never seen him quite like this before.

His legs straddle my body as his face moves closer to mine. He takes one hand and adjusts my hips that I was squarely underneath him. He doesn't move, this time keeping his eyes locked with mine and my hips locked between his legs.

He lowers his face and devours my lips. His free hand roams my body while his other bears his weight. As his fingers slip under my shirt, I moan, which seems to spur him on. His kisses grow deeper and his hands become more aggressive, not that I am complaining. I am in heaven. My body feels electrified as his hand brushes the underside of my breast. His mouth explores every inch of mine, he is aggressive and unrelenting I see his eyes and they are the darkest navy blue that I have ever seen. His mouth moves down my neck slowly leaving a mark on the nape of y neck. He begins to kiss my collar bone, making me shake.

Suddenly, he stops. Panting and out of breath, I whimper, "What is going on? What is the matter?"

"I won't be able to stop if we carry much longer and I want to carry on, trust me, but I promised that I would take it slow. Fate brought us together, but I can tear us apart if I am not careful."

He sits up in the couch and I follow suit, putting a little space between the two of us. My head is still spinning form that make out session we just experienced. He reaches for my hand, grabs it and interlocks our fingers.

I can tell he is frustrated with himself. "I just can't seem to control myself around you anymore."

"Who says you have to? What is wrong with what we were doing?" I respond.

Jake's POV:

Just last week, she asked me to move slow. This is not slow. I will not lose her because of a moment of passion, be that a passion that I can barely control, a passion that I desire to explore.

"Nothing at all is wrong with kissing you or touching you or holding you. You and Betty, the two women that I trust the most told me to take it slow. I can't afford to scare you off. My feelings have already increased for you. Everyday, every time that I find out one new thing about you, I love you more. I can't lose you because of a lack of self control. All of this is important but it pales in comparison to the living moments day in and day out, it pales in comparison to hearing you tell the thoughts of your beautiful mind to me, it pales in comparison to learning the things your heart feels."

I try to explain it all to her. I don't want her to think there is a world in which I don't want her with every fiber in my soul. I just can't forget how hard it was when I thought that I had lost her. That week when we were apart was miserable and I realize that life without her would be unbearable.

She doesn't let go of my hand. I think she understands.

"I need you in my life, Mahri. I will wait as long as I need to. When that time comes, we will both know it is right."

"I am not afraid anymore, for what it is worth. I have no more secrets. I know that we are true."

I smile, that is good to hear. I am glad that she trusts that we will work.

"Nevertheless," I say and move my arm back around her shoulder now that I have regained my composure. She leans he head against my chest. I love having her close. "I don't think we should rush. We are young and have lots of time. I want us to be absolutely sure that it is the right timing."

She sighs, "Whatever you say."

"Are you pouting?" I ask. She is, though she won't admit it.

"No!" she says. I knew it. She is stubborn. It is cute. " I'm just a bit...."

"disappointed?" I finish for her. She nods. "Me too. Trust me, it may have to be you that stays strong next time."

She nods and I see her yawn.

"It is late, I should go." I say and start to sit up, she climbs up in my lap and keeps me in my spot.

"Not yet. I have one more thing to discuss with you. Jessy called today." she says and starts playing with the hair that falls over my ear. "She wants us to meet her and Dan tomorrow. He has something to say. What are your plans?"

I don't want to deal with this, but Daniel is important to her. Jessica is wonderful and I know we have to get this out of the way. She loves them and they will be part of her life, part of ours. Daniel was protecting her, well, he thought he was and how could I hold a grudge for that?

"My plans, now, are meeting with Daniel and Jessica so we can sort this out. I don't want this issue coming between you and your friends."

"Our friends, eventhough it may not seem that way right now. I will let JESSY know that we will be there." She emphasizes Jessy because I refuse to call her anything other than Jessica. It irritates her which made me smile and makes me want to keep doing it.

"We should get some sleep, then," I say kissing her on the top of her head. She takes my hand and kisses the back of each of my fingers. It makes me shiver.

"Jake, please stay tonight, nothing has to happen. Just sleep. It has been a long day and I want to be near you."He voice is sweet and syrupy, irresistible.

I don't want to refuse her. The truth is I always want to be near her.

"Are you sure?" I ask, raising one eyebrow.

She nods.

I sigh, feigning disinterest, She looks up and sees I am kidding. She punches me in the chest. Again with the punches. She was cute when she was feisty. As sweet as our love can be, as deep as my feelings for her run, the flirting is one of my favorite things

"Ow," I grab my arm and pretend that she hurt me.

She laughs and meets my eyes.

"I would love to sleep with you in my arms, but you are going to have to keep your hands to yourself. Do you think you can manage?" I ask.

"I will do my best not to jump your bones," she chuckles. Standing up, Mahri grabs my hand and pulls me up off of the couch.

"Follow me." She pulls me into her room. It is soft and inviting, full of creams and roses. Everything in here seems warm and beautiful mimicking the way she feels to me. Her bed is huge and the linens are crisp, a down comforter and some fuzzy blankets cover the bed.

"Stay right there." She says and runs to what I assume is her closet. I can hear her rummaging around. She emerges and hands me a box wrapped in Christmas wrap. "I bought this for you last Christmas. I wasn't sure when I would meet you, but I wanted to be prepared. I thought you might want these since you are sleeping over.

I tear open the package and find the ugliest pajamas given to me by the most beautiful woman with the biggest heart. They are pajamas with green and white Santas saying "Ho Ho Ho." I love them with my whole heart because they meant she thought of me.

She chuckles. "You think they are ugly."

"No, I think they are..."

"Jake, they are supposed to be ugly, that is what makes them funny." she giggles.

I laugh, relieved that I wasn't supposed to love them.

"I have a matching set," her eyes twinkle.

"Let's wear them," I say as she runs to the bathroom to change.

She walks out of the bathroom as I was changing my shirt. She catches her breath when she looks at me. I instantly feel embarrassed. I don't know what is so appealing besides scars and tattoos that I can't get rid of. But I do love that I have that effect on her.

"You are going to have to put on a shirt if you want me to keep my hands off." She says as I pull my pajama top over my head.

"Hang on a second," She takes a selfie of us in our matching pajamas.

"Show that to no one." I say, completely serious.

"Yes, sir. Maybe just Jessy," she winks.

"Nope. No one. Though I am glad that we have it so we can remember this moment when we are old and gray." I say.

I am pleased at the the thought of a life spent together.

She wraps her arms around my waist and I wrap my arms around her, my chin resting on her head. It still amazes me that she fits just right. I am in awe every time I realize how our lives fit so well.

"You ready?" she asks.

We climb into bed, She rolls over and puts her head on my chest, resting her leg on mine. My arm is wrapped around her holding her tight and playing with loose tendrils of her hair. I love the weight of her head on my chest and the warmth of her breath on my skin as we lay there. I listen to her sweet intake an expulsion of air that will soon turn into a snore that to me sounds like beautiful music. I smell vanilla and lavender as she drifts off to sweet sleep.

Laying there for a while, I think about my life and how I have done nothing to deserve any of this. In truth, she is too wonderful of me ever deserve her. I think of a future that is bright and full. We still have a few dragons to slay, but we can face it together. I have no doubt that we will be as happy as any two people have ever been. My smile deepens as I slowly fall asleep. I know that I am right where I want to be.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

White Flag-ish

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing

The Empyrean was on their side, were that not the case, Adam and his makers would have taken the ship back over in a matter of minutes, but instead they found the empyrean unresponsive to their commands while simultaneously eager to follow along with her more human crew.

The bridge stations had stopped working, unless the construct running it made a decision.Down around the rest of the ship, the makers were unable to access the weapons systems or the equipment. One thing after another kept going wrong for Adham, who now stood in the middle of the mess with a look of incredulity slowly growing into permanency on his face.

Out the bridge doors, down the short hall and into the main atrium of the ship, the SE soldiers now gathered, geared up in their new model SE armor, waiting for instructions. I'm the Ship’s hangers, pilots were setting about preparing their fighters for battle, but looking out the front viewscreen, Adam noted, among the corrupted Void ships, plenty of regular vessels as well, running on warp energy rather than recycled void energy.

It seemed as if the constructs would be on both sides of this conflict.

Adam turned to look at Adham, where he stood floundering and ineffectual on the bridge floor. He floated a little lower, releasing control of the Empyrean to her own devices for the moment being.

“I didn’t want to have to do this, but you were being unreasonable and I wasn’t about to sit back on the sidelines and watch. I want us to work together, I really do, but I need you to understand that I am not yours to order around. I am not your child, I am not your responsibility. Any actions I take here are my own, and as well informed as they can be. I realize I may not have had a few million years to think about it, but  to me a few years is time enough to decide that there is no power in this universe that can stop me from protecting my children, do you understand that.”

The two men stood at odds.

The first man, and just some guy.

Adham was the perfect representation of what the architect had wanted when he built a human construct. Ageless, placeless, and entirely ambiguous in all ways, Adham looked at Adam, and with a long, deep sigh, he stepped back, “This is an argument i will not win.”

“No.”

“But I maintain my control over my men.” He glanced around at the ship, “I defer to your piloting skills as the Empyrean seems to trust you.”

A little spark of warmth spilled through Adam’s chest.

Having the Empyrean was like going to a friend’s party with a bunch of other people, but the dog still chooses to come sit with you. It was that feeling but about a million more times potent.

He was glad that the Empyrean trusted him because in return he planned to trust her.

It wasn’t an agreement they could entirely hash out in the moment as, just then, the comms specialist rose to her feet and turned to look at Adam, “Sir, we have an incoming communication from the central enemy ship.”

Adam squinted out the window at the large mass of black metal and jutting edges. Orange light flared along the seams in her body. When the orange light burned iit burned dirty, and had they been in atmosphere, Adam might have imagined thick black smoke billowing out from the engines.

“Sir, It's kazna.”

Adam felt the line of his mouth twitch in distaste, but he motioned sunny forward.

She nodded, stepping up the ramp and onto the command platform with him. If he was going to verbally toe to toe with the black general, than he was going to use his greatest weapons as an advantage.

The Saint of Anin, who knew Kazna almost better than anyone else in the universe.

“Patch her through.”

The holo blinked once and then went dim. At first he thought they were still waiting for it to load, until his vision readjusted and he realized that the room they looked onto was just incredibly dark. It was the general’s eyes he saw first, glowing and golden peering out from the black dimness as shadows swirled around her.

It had been some time since he had seen her in person. In fact, the last time he had seen her, she had been busy running a spear through his chest, but it seemed that, since then, her power had only grown. The shadows were deeper, blacker, but also thicker as they rolled over and around her body like so much sentient curling smoke.

Adam retracted the helmet of his SE armor back into his suit. He wanted her to be able to see the disdain on his face while he spoke to her. Maybe it was petty perhaps, but either way it certainly made him feel better to know that she could see how muh he hated her.

“Human” She said by way of greeting not bothering to lift the disdain from her voice.

He raised his chin, “Drev.” 

If she was going to play that game, than so was he.

“You have entered the territory of Apollyon. Leave now, and this does not have to break into conflict. Our business here is none of your concern.”

Adam snorted, raising an eyebrow in incredulity, “You plan to blow up the universe, kill everything in it, and unmake our souls, forgive me if I have a hard time trying to figure out how that isn’t my business.”

Kazna crossed her arms, beside her, her massive three pronged trident glittered in the half dark.

“You could return home, to your family,  spend what time you have left with them instead of embarking on this fruitless adventure.”

He shook his head, “That's not how this works Kazna. Given the option between going home right now and spending the next few days with my kids before they never exist again, and beating your ass, getting rid of apollyon and then returning home to my kids to watch them grow old, fall in love, have kids of their own before I eventually die and become one of the Makers….. Well to me there really isn’t much of a choice.”

The general sighed and shook her head slowly.

She was silent for a long moment before turning to look at Sunny who floated, quietly bristling next to Adam, Do you let thai human speak for you? Or has he finally succeeded in turning you into his obedient breeder.” Adam bristled, fists clenching,  Immediately ready to reach through the holo and strangle Kazna, but Sunny raised a hand.

“I stand beside my battle partner of my own free will, and with all the power of my soul…. Can you say the same,”

As it seemed, that little barb struck a nerve, and Kazna snarled, her golden eyes flaring in the half dark, ‘I would be perfectly content in allowing thai conversation to end here, and to begin the battle that lies ahead, but Apollyon is more reasonable than I and he wishes to discuss terms on neutral ground.”

Adam crossed his arms, “How does a creature that exists outside of time and space understand the customs of a truce.”

Kazna raised her hands, “it's simple, this filthy universe has forced him to take on a shape and a coherent consciousness. He has watched your kind for long enough to understand. He wishes to send a delegation to meet with the architect’s emissaries to discuss terms, see if we can’t come to a decision that is beneficial to us all.

Adham laughed, finally putting aside his annoyance at Adam and coming to join them, “Apollyon doesn’t make compromises, he will look to bully us into his position and make it seem like it was our idea.”

Kazna shrugged, “I do not yet know his offer, but you will never know unless you accept the invitation.”

“He must agree to come under the flag of truce or no deal.” Adham said white robes billowing lightly around him as he spoke.

“Those terms are acceptable.”

“How many.” Adam asked, “How many delegates can we bring.”

“You get enough to fit in your small shuttle and we shall do the same. There is a derelict ship that lies in no man's land between our two armies. It used to be a black hole research facility…..”

Adam felt his skin go a little cold, slightly clammy despite the moisture wicking suit that he wore,  That couldn’t be the same research station he was thinking of. He had been there before some time back, and the station had been home to thousands of human researchers and military members supporting research for the black hole.

Kazna saw the look on his face, and hummed with a tone of black amusement, “yes, it is one and the same.””

“How did…. How did we not know?” How had they not heard about the loss of an entire space station, and the thousands of people on board. Shouldn’t someone have said something, if not the families of those who had been stationed there.

How could they have missed it?

Kazna chuckling grew, “The station was taken over during hunt’s presidency towards the end during the invasion of earth. All support for the research stations around the galaxy were cut off, and then subsequently lost in the bureaucratic shuffle. WIth no one in charge of taking care of them, there was no one for the families to go to to ask about their missing loved ones.” She tilted her head back the other way, unnervingly slow, like a cat contemplating an injured bird, “Apollyon enjoyed toying with their minds, perfecting the art.”

If Adam had the ability to ask a genie for a superpower in that moment, he would have wished to be able to kill someone telepathically, but even so all of his efforts were fruitless.

“We will meet on the derelict.”

“How do we know you're not springing a trap there.” Adam shot back, “Seems hardly like neutral ground, a dead space station on apollyon controlled territory. Perhaps it isn’t a derelict, and everyone there is simply a zombie, and the moment we step on you will turn them on us.”

Kazna rolled the haft of her spear between her hands, “Oh I assure you, no one is alive, and I am sure your ships bio scans will detect the same thing.”

“Traps then.”

Kazna shook her head, “There are no traps, he really does wish to speak.”

“Funny how I don’t believe you.”

“Funny how you have no other options if you want to have this conversation.” She said

Behind her orange light pulsed dimly with anticipation, casting her face into silhouette..”

“Will you accept these terms?”

Adam thought about it for a moment and then took a deep breath, “Fine, but if you try any funny business, I am going to have lord Avex blast that place to Kingdom Come, The little bastard is bloodthirsty, he won’t even feel bad.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

And then the comms went dead.