#ive had not much brain power but i hope this works ;;

[willyhoos]

i read a fic that changed my brain chemistry and now i can't stop thinking about a universe where amy works for eggman... and metamy ensues. naturally. you know the drill by now. also roboticized sonic theory because it makes it more deliciously potent.

DESERT ROSE: A prickly young girl with terrifying strength and a love for the finer things in life, like frilly dresses and deadly high-powered machinery. She thinks maintenance is a romantic couples activity. Not only is the "desert rose" highly poisonous, it can't really be considered a rose, can it…? However, its resilience means it could bloom even in a rusty scrapyard...

notes for the au under cut!

rose believes metal sonic when he says he is the original. he hasn't told her what happened. that he failed to save her. that he failed to save everyone. that there was a time when he was organic like she is. he just said "the other sonic is the copy" and she said "okay! let's kill him :)"

metal sonic is constantly torn between guilt and adoration at who rose has grown into. she became so much stronger. strong enough to protect herself - strong enough, even, to protect him (if he ever let her, that is. he might not be a hero any more but it's burned into his core forever that > KEEP AMY ROSE SAFE is a KEY goal.) on the other hand... he feels like he remembers someone different. a girl who loved animals and flowers and sunshine. who would give her life to protect everything she's now destroying. but his memories are so fuzzy...

i'm not so sure that amy would be big on programming and constructing machines herself, but she's always eager to "test" them... and it goes without saying she is frankly terrifying when she wants to be and is a beast on the battlefield

what a helpful young lady! im so glad i didn't just kill her!! - eggman probably.

"wait if rose calls metal sonic 'sonic' then. what does she call sonic" -> she calls him faker. copycat. knockoff. off-brand. etc. in short, she doesn't acknowledge him by name

i have the feeling that metal sonic is a bit more... enthusiastic? i guess? about his mission in this universe. it's not "ME VS. EVERYONE WHO COULD HAVE LOVED ME HAD I NOT FAILED" its "ROSE AND I VS. THEM" don't get me wrong he's furious and undead and vengeful and jealous and still insane. but. i think rose helps jog the vaguest of memories of who he used to be? unfortunately the person he used to be is a hero so i also imagine he's ever so slightly more conflicted in this universe... ("the old amy wouldn't have liked this, would the old me feel the same?")

codependence is my favorite flavor so i imagine metal really, really, REALLY appreciates having rose around. someone who is kind to him. someone who believes that he used to be more than this, and treats him like maybe he isn't worth less after all... i imagine if sonic ever tried recruiting amy, metal would go BALLISTIC. "YOU ALREADY HAVE EVERYTHING ELSE. YOU CAN'T HAVE HER TOO." she's mine -> she's my (partner) she's my (memory) she's my (friend) she's my (tether) she's my (hope) she's my (rose)

metal sonic is. (gestures) metal. and he lives in a metal box on a metal ship surrounded by metal debris. but down the hall there is a single remaining rose. and in this state she is perfectly preserved. nothing can hurt her. eggman can't hurt her if she's on his payroll, huh...?

i can't put it into words properly (and ive tried) but the idea of "killer metal robot (whose objective is to destroy natural life) falls in love with a gentle girl named rose" makes me start frothing at the mouth. just shut up. why don't you hold his hand too. and he can't FEEL it like he should . and it hurts. and it's infuriating. but he Can tell that her pulse is higher than average and the temperature of her cheeks are strangely high. and he supposes that can comfort him for now.

i feel a little "if i had to choose between the world and sonic i would choose sonic" vibe.

this took me so incredibly long so if it flops im dropping out of college.

i wanna update these designs later, these are just the beginning concepts for the au :)

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Wash away the blood on my hands

a/n nothing I can tell you…

summary: honestly just a iv x reader x iii smut. When life throws you to the curb it’s in the embrace of two masked men that you find your salvation.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It still felt almost pathetic to crawl back to them. You liked having power in this. Never being the one to seek them out. Letting them do the groveling. Slither like serpents into your embrace. But tonight, you were too desperate. Too much in need for something to chase the nagging voices away. You had tried it all at this point. Everything that usually worked on setting your mind back on track. But it was pointless tonight.  

So here you were, navigating the dim hotel hallways at almost two a.m. It had started so innocently—the connection between you three. It was almost a given. Whatever happened between Vessel and II while they were writing music was for them and them only. Each of you were more than aware that you would never compare. Would never match that. Never reach the same level of intensity that rushed when they came together. So you never tried. What was the point? That, however, left you there on your own devices when the nights mid-tour got too long and lonely. 

The first time it happened, you three had been lounging in the tour bus. A beer in hand. Laughing about the stupidest shit. In your hazy state, you had let it slip that you hadn’t had an orgasm in months. No matter what you did, nothing could ever tip you over the edge. The look iii and ivy shared had sent a shiver down your back. But it didn’t compare to the feeling of their eyes falling on you. No words were needed. None were shared. And the rest was history. 

Knocking on the door marked with the number given to you, you waited. Hoping that enough heartbeats would pass by for you to change your mind. Turn on your heels and leave. But the door swung open, revealing a shirtless iii with messy hair. Your eyes fell to the peak of the room stretching out behind him. Of iv slowly pulling the white sheets over his naked body. “You’re busy?”, you swallowed thickly. Walk away; you mentally scolded yourself; it’s their time alone; if they wanted you there, they would have said something. Yet a peg of pain still pierced your heart. “Never for you, mouse,"  iii chuckled slightly, hooking a finger beneath your chin. Tilting your face up. The cocky smirk simmered down the moment his eyes landed on your puffy eyes. “What’s wrong?”, and here it was, the class clown turning into a feral guard dong in the blink of an eye. 

You slowly shook your head, “Not tonight."  Reaching out, you squeezed his hand. “Come on,"  he said, pulling at your hand, bringing you into the dim room. “Isn’t it our favorite girl?", iv called from the bed, pulling his boxers back on. “Don’t get dressed on my account," you pointed out. "Unless, of course, you want me to take them off you once again," you mused, shrugging your t-shirt off and tossing it across the room. 

“Nah, we have a rule," iii said, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m not fucking you when you’re upset about something."  You shot him a warning look, daring him to push your buttons any further. “Have you been crying?”, iv’s fingers trailed up your neck as he stepped closer to you. Those blue eyes crashed into you with so much force that it sent all the air tumbling out of your lungs. “Can we do all this later, after you fuck my brain out?” you pleaded, “I just want to forget for a while." This wasn’t a first. All of you had leaches in your brain. Through the past year, more than a handful of nights were spent plucking each other’s fears and self-doubts with roots deeply embedded in one’s soul. 

“Say less," iv mussed against your ear. He pushed your hair over your shoulder as his lips pressed against your skin. Breathing life back into you. His fingers aimlessly work with the zipper of your skirt, letting it fall to the floor with a thud. You could hear iii whistling from behind you, “No panties, naughty."  His warmth seeped into your back a moment later. “A girl with a mission on her mind. We left you alone for a night, and you already couldn’t take it." His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, causing your eyelids to flutter. 

“I hate you," you muttered, reaching up to pull at the roots of his hair. "Bet,"  he chuckled deeply, his fingers slowly trailing down your lower stomach and between your thighs. Making you let out a sigh of relief. “I can tell from the way you’re dripping onto my fingers, and we haven’t even started," he hummed making iv snort. “What does that say about you, darling, hm?”, iv leaned in, fingers brushing over your breast before he moved to pinch your nipple. 

“I want you,"  you moaned out, grinding back against iii, feeling him slowly getting harder as he bucked his hips against your ass. “It couldn’t be more obvious,"  he grunted against your ear. "Shower,"  you muttered, earning a collective “huh” from both of the boys. “Can we do it in the bathroom?” slowly licking your lips, you watched as both of their pupils dilated. “You little freak," iii huffed, hooking one arm beneath your bum. You only had a chance to let out a shriek as your hands leaned forward to brace against his shoulders. He covered the distance in a total of four steps. 

Your back hit the back wall tiles, and you quickly wrapped your legs around his torso. iii lips crashed into you so fast you didn’t get a chance to take a breath in, and then a stream of water crashed onto the both of you. Drowning out the last echoes in your mind. He was everywhere. Every inch of your body hummed to the feeling of iii squeezing your thighs as he bucked against you. The feeling of his semi-hard dick, still clothed in black boxers, slipping between your folds made you cry into the kiss. 

“Don’t leave me hanging you two," iv chuckled. You pulled back from iii, watching iv slowly pump his hand up and down his cock as he made his way to you. Where you and iii usually collided like two stars, leaving nothing but ruins in your path, iv weathered the storms you both caused. Like a shore, taking the beating of the waves over and over again. 

iii, slowly let your legs hit the floor once again. Your eyes lingered on him before iv pressed against your back, pulling you against his chest. “iii, why don’t you show your little siren just how much we want her in return?", iv mused. iii didn’t have to be told twice as he slowly sank to his knees in front of you, sending your stomach tumbling down at the sight. That alone made you weak in your knees, so the moment he leaned in, nibbling on your thigh, your whole world tilted. His tongue lapped at your heat mercilessly. A cry that slipped past your lips felt inhuman. iii parted your legs ever so slightly, giving himself more room. “Fuuuck," you mulled, bucking your hips against him even more. “Look at him worshipping you," iv muttered, brushing some of the wet strands of hair away from iii face before sliding his hand up your chest. “Only you get treatment like that, love," he said, slowly nibbling at your shoulder, nudging the tip of his cock between your thighs. "Ivy," you grunted, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. “Gonna cum on iii tongue?”, he touted, “I know you want to, baby."  His hand reached out, clasping your hands beneath your back. Pulling you away from touching iii, the lost contact made you grunt before iii reached up, circling your clit with his fingers before dipping them between your folds. “Oh, god...", you whimpered. That familiar feeling of his fingers beckoning at you from within your walls turned your legs into jelly. “Give her one more," iv mused, his free hand roughly palming your breast. “No, no…”, you shook your head, knowing that would be your undoing. But the devil worked harder and faster. iii grazed his teeth over your bundle of nerves, pumping his fingers in and out of you. And you were done for. The heat in your stomach pooled, as a shuttering cry left your lisps, making legs buck. But iv was quick to keep you upright, pressing firmer into you, pushing your throwing heat even more at the mercy of iii. 

“Good girl," he breathed against you, pulling your head to the side as he kisses your lips. Further sending the dizzy spell into motion. “Got to get creative over here," iii mused, licking his lips, “I call dibs on fucking her tonight." You pulled away from iv, gasping for air as he shoved your body beneath the water for a moment. “Guess you’ll have to blow me, baby." You nod at iv words. Ready to do about anything the two would ask of you.

“I guess I’m getting a king treatment tonight," iv snorted, palming himself a couple of times as he sat down on the built-in ledge, parting his legs. “His dick won’t suck itself, mouse," iii pushed at your shoulder, sending you down onto your knees. You licked your lips, wrapping your hands around his cock, pumping him slowly. Keeping your eyes on him as you slide just the tip between your lips, sucking on it ever so slightly before pulling away with a pop. “Don’t fucking tease," iv grunted, fingers threading through your hair. “Not my problem, you’re so hard," you crocked out, making iii chuckle from behind you. “You little, slut," iv grunted, pulling your head back slightly. “Put your mouth to use before I do it for you," at that you leaned in, sliding your tongue over his length, making a grunt slip past his lips. You swirled your tongue over his tip once more, savoring the salty flavor of pre-cum, before bopping your head down. 

“Good fucking girl," iv moaned, fisting your hair as you hollowed out your cheeks for him, taking him deeper. "Pretty," iii mused, “Let’s see if you can keep that up while I’m fucking you from behind."  He sinked into you with such ease that it should be shameful. Your joined moans fill the steamy room as that drug like pleasure filled your bodies. As you all chased that high. You dug your fingers into iv’s thighs at the feeling of iii stretching you out. Welcoming the slight pain it caused you. 

Your moan vibrated around iv shaft, making him press your head down even further, causing your eyes to water as you gagged around him. “Jesus”, iii grunted from the back of you as his hips found a rapid rhythm. You felt them both twitching within you, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

“You feel like a fucking dream," iv whimpered, using your mouth to chase his pleasure, your drool coating his thighs. You could only hum around him as iii slipped his hand to circle your clit. Feeling your body slowly seizing as your second orgasm bloomed. iii let out a low grunt as he pounded into you, making your vision blank with pleasure. 

“Can I... fuck... can I cum in your mouth?", iv grunted through clenched teeth. You only got to hum before warm ropes of cum painted the back of your throat. And then you all crumpled, one after the other. The feeling of iv twitching in your mouth as you choked on him sent you over the edge. Causing you to clench around iii, who within a couple of thrusts griped your hips with such force as he too let his warmth fill the depths of you. Making you sob as the pleasure consumed you. 

Gasping for air, you pull away from iv, only to let your head slump against his thigh. iii’s hand was already grasping iv’s other leg as he too breathed heavily. “I think I just saw what the afterlife looks like," iv mused, making both of you chuckle lightly. “You good?”, his warm fingers traced your cheeks, making you blink up at him slowly. “Yeah," you crocked out, feeling the burn in the back of your throat. “I never came so hard in my life," iii blew out a breath, “took the air right out of my lungs." You wanted to throw a cocky line, but your brain was as blank as paper. The moment iii pulled out and his body no longer supported yours, you slumped completely, making the two males reach out to steady you with unmatched speed. 

“I think we restarted her system a bit too good,"  iv snorted. “We got you, mouse,"  iii looped an arm around your torso, “None of your demons will get to you when we’re around," hoisting you up on your feet as if you weighed nothing, he pulled the shower head to rinse the cum painting your legs and chest. “Bedtime for you," iii hummed, kissing the side of your head. Hoking an arm beneath your knees, lifting you up. You curled against him, savoring the warmth of his body. “I think we need to order room service”," ivy chirped, tossing a towel onto the bed so iii could dry your hair. “Now you’re speaking my language,"  iii nodded, eyes fixed on your dazed face as you blinked up at the ceiling. “I think we’ve been talking in the same language for quite some time now, mate," iv shrugged before dialing the number. 

[goomyloid]

What was your process for making the Noelle amv, if you don't mind sharing?

hii! im not sure how eloquently or clearly ill be able to explain it but i definitely have some pictures you can look at!

(the video)

i actually got the idea while i was away on a trip with very limited wifi -- it wasn't Trust Me that i got an AMV idea for first, but instead it was one of 4syu's other songs, There's Nobody. for such a happy sounding song it really made me so sad, to the point where if i tried to sing it to myself id get choked up by the chorus LMAO. it was baddd

but basically i was rapidly trying to find both songs on spotify so i could listen to them offline, and it only took me a few loops of Trust Me and thinking about the original MV to make me go "ohhhh. how can i make this about noelle." And so i did .

i was thinking about doing a storyboard, but in the past, i've found that doing storyboards for animations/AMVs lowkey... kills my motivation altogether... SAD... but i saw the whole video so clearly in my head, and i didnt want to make the same mistake i made before... so i went right to doing quick sketches (while still on my trip...) just so i could get the ideas out of my head

i was torn on what to do with my style at the time, whether i wanted to make it more similar to the original video, or to her canon appearance, or to MY style and how i draw her. i think it kind of ended up as an amalgamation of all three...? at the very least, her light world color palette definitely was more bland and desaturated, like i purposefully wasn't trying to do anything special with her colors.

after that point, and getting maybe a few of the actual drawings done, my motivation crashed again, and i left it all to marinate for nearly a week. it was baking, guys, it wasn't abandoned, listen to me, why are you throwing tomatoes at me,

i had up to about the "I dreamed about that again" animation done and stopped, and it wasn't until i decided to sit down and start editing it anyway that i really got in my groove again. i got all my little assets into a workable state so i could really try to sit down and make the video come to life and all

the really fun part was honestly working on the desktop backgrounds. i really wanted to limit colorpicking from the original video as much as possible, but i decided that making look as similar as possible to the original could help with the contrast i wanted to add later.

i drew these two backgrounds first. i was hoping i could somehow fit the bunker into the second one, but decided to do something different anyway. the second one's ui didn't actually change until later in the editing process.

drawing THESE were fun especially, and im happy with how they came out. i think the dark world icons are really cute still. one thing i really did know i wanted to do from the beginning was to turn the soul/undertale icon into the deltarune one.

i was worried if the shift from the Windows Field Background to the dark world would be too sudden, like you would just blink and suddenly it was all different, but i think it ended up all right...?

the not so fun part was drawing all the different boxes, lmao. it go really tedious by the end, so i tried to reuse as many of the same ones as i could.

a lot of copy-pasting and tracing rectangles for sure.

i also had to make sure the animations didnt Suck. i brute forced those things and used every last braincell i had in order to make those pictures move bros

fun fact. ive never animated hair like this before. or in any complex manner really. i had to use sooo much brain here... heres how it started vs. how it ended up

had my animator gf hype me up thru the whole thing... i was having a great time based on the filenames alone

aaaand then ummmm i edited it. i learned after effects like 1 month ago. never touched it before. i learned it for internship purposes and then used my newfound powers for evil it seems

i split the whole thing up into multiple compositions of course, but i probably could have split things up more... im sorry for having 84 layers on comp 3 its not my fault

editing a video in 12 fps was a fun change though -- very easy for my brain to go frame-by-frame, and yet still some of the timing ended up being off... tis the goomy way

like i said before, i started editing when i barely had half the drawings done, but seeing it all start to be in motion really pushed me to finish it up. and i mean Really. like i finished the whole thing maybe 48 hours after i first started editing.

and...i think that's it? i do a lot of discord art streaming to friends lately but i kinda kept this one more under wraps compared to usual, i think i just wanted to surprise everyone... look guys i remembered how to make a video! and it's three minutes! waow

sorry if this is way more than you asked for LMAO

also, the AMV hit 5k views on youtube today! ive never had a video do well like that so quickly! thank you!!

[theshiftingwitch]

hi i hope you’re well! i asked a couple others this question but i was curious about your input! :

i was wondering what you think about people saying loa is a scam? ive manifested things such as green eyes that people would comment on how they were changing and longer lashes. and much more other things. i thought since getting this proof i’d finally believe fully and be able to finally manifest more things i want. but im so frustrated i read someone saying how metaphysical stuff is all fake which obviously they’re allowed to have their opinion but im sensitive lol. also, im pretty sure the CIA did studies on metaphysical stuff and found evidence that it is legit but also it didn’t always work/show evidence. but also im pretty sure someone said decades ago how they’d give a large amount of money to anyone who shows proof of any metaphysical powers within a controlled environment. but no one has done it yet. i also have literally astral projected but a part of me is like oh it’s just my brain playing tricks on me. or like with shifting i always see flashing lights and feel being touched and hear things i scripted to hear once ive shifted. but i also heard that symptoms dont mean anything :/ i was curious if you had any advice please? sorry if this is a lot of word vomit lol! 🤍 thank you!!

Surprisingly, this isn't the first question I get about the law assumption being a scam. You can go on my blog and search other articles where I discussed this particular topic if you wanted to see my opinion.

I understand doubt. Even master manifesters who have shaped their entire realities according to their own will still have doubts and fear. That is part of the human experience. If we were meant to be fearless, all-knowing creatures we would not have come here to experience humanity as a whole. The fact that you have already manifested green eyes and people actually saw the difference in them and commented on them and you still doubt your own power is such a typical, expected experience that I have heard of many times.

You are sensitive to other people's opinions and point of views because you still don't believe in your own powers. Because let me tell you something, if you knew that you manifested your entire life, if you got your dream body, your dream hair, your dream person, your dream house, your dream job, and you got it all out of thin air only by the power of your imagination, you would not give one single fuck about what anyone else is saying, especially people who do not believe in the law. The only way to fix that sensitivity is to work on your own power. Keep manifesting. From small things like rainbow cars and red butterflies and black ice cream, to big things like people texting you out of thin air or being asked out by every guy or girl you see or being famous overnight. The only way to grow your power is to use your power. Think of it as a muscle. The longer it goes without being used, the more useless it will become.

As for shifting, feeling like you're being touched and hearing noises you scripted you would hear once you shift are not in fact symptoms. Symptoms are tingles across your body, flashing lights behind your closed eyelids, dizziness and feeling like you're falling... Feeling like you're being touched, hearing noises, smelling things... Those are all signs that you have shifted. It is what most people in the shifting community call a mini shift.

And now, let's address the whole CIA debacle. Most of the documents that we know today like the getaway experience, have been an experiment that ran in the 80s 90s or the early 2000s. And only were classified years if not decades later. So let me ask you this, if the CIA had actual genuine proof of manifestation, of the law of assumption, of shifting, of astral projecting, of us being the universe having a human experience and everything that that entails from powers that we know and don't know of, do you actually think they are going to let us common folk know about that power?

The power that be, the people that are leading the world, they want us to be subservient. They want us to be powerless. They want us to be stuck in a state of not owning up our own powers and not knowing what we can do. How else would they remain in power? So instead of giving all of your attention and time towards agencies and entities like the CIA and NASA and whatever else, turn that time and energy inward and focus on yourself because that is where your true power lies.

In a world where celebrity culture is so rampant, you have people like Jim Carrey and Ariana grande and so many others telling the public that they have manifested everything that they have now. Ariana grande manifested her dream role in wicked and Jim Carrey wrote himself a check for $1 million dollars and said that he was going to cash it one day through acting. And they both got exactly what they wanted. And yet we still think that it's just a trick, or a coincidence, or pure fucking luck.

At the end of the day, you'll have two choices. You either listen to everyone else's opinion and limit yourself to their limiting beliefs. Or you decide fuck it I'm going to try and I'm going to do whatever I want and I'm going to see where this experience takes me. Because what the fuck do you actually have to lose? In 10 years, you can be wherever you want to be and have manifested everything you want, or you can be 10 years older and wondering where you went wrong.

Happy manifesting ❤️

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

okay, my turn.

VAMOS CARLOS THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL AHAHAHAA IM SOOO PROUD OF YOU SMOOTH OPERATORRRRRRR

the way carlos drove today just made me soooooo fucking happy! like, honestly, he IS underrated, and people need to realise that soon!! driver of the day also well deserved!

lando norris, my man, i love you so much. i really think he drove amazing today. qualifying proved that they had more pace than austin, but still not as much as ferrari (that's my understanding), and i really loved how he fought for second place and caught up to charles. he was also right in saying that max drivers dangerously, because we saw what happened.

also, for all those haters that ive had to block (6 fucking accounts) for wanting lando to crash just because he overtook charles or because max had been given two penalties, wtf is wrong with yall. seriously.

charles is an excellent driver, and he's really smart, and we've been seeing that in the past two races especially. he sees an opportunity and he takes it, and i love the way his brain works in situations like these. he held onto p2 for so long and he was so good. that close call of a crash had my heart in my throat, cause fuck, that was scary. but, his reflexes were on point and he saved himself. tho, i have to say that because of this, lando's ovetake didn't really happen, since he had the open track then. it did make it slightly less exciting for me.

im not exactly happy about the fastest lap sitaution, but im not gonna say anything about it

hamilton and russell were also really good with their battle today, it was soooo entertaining to watch, i was on the edge of my seat frr

max. oh maxie max. personally, the 20 second penalty was deserved because what he did at both those turns was really dangerous. THIS IS MY OPINION. IF YOU AS A MAX FAN OR CHARLES FAN CAN HAVE AN OPINION, SO CAN I. anyways, max was my personal driver of the day because getting to p6 was really fucking beautiful. like, i was terrified by the sheer amount of will power and talent the man possesses. he is a king, and he repeatedly proves why, and i love him for it.

the haas boys were also really good this race, both finishing in points.

now, oscar. i am not going to lie, i am slightly disappointed in him. i was hoping for him to catch up and maybe defend against max. but, he could barely move up places, only 9 (which is a big deal of its own, no doubt, just what i didn't expect from him). but, im hoping that the next race will be better for him

perez being stuck in p16 was a little heartbreaking, especially because this was his homerace.

the crash in the start was heart stopping, fr. i was so scared i was shivering the entire time. tho, im glad both drivers are okay now.

i also feel really bad for alonso, because this was his 400th gp, and he had such a cool helmet. for them to retire the car was just sad.

and that's it. THESE ARE MY OPINIONS. IF YOU DON'T LIKE THEM, GO AWAY.

[sreabhadh]

I still don't know how Tumblr works. I am still infected with severe strains of the TexAid, Vortex, Combaticons and MechAu diseases though. I have completed part 2/3 of what I've been calling Vortex's death story and am going to attempt to post it with a link to the part 1. Don't know how this works or how it'll go, but eh we'll give it a shot lol.

This is just my take on Vortex's death story, based on Keferon's Mech Au, art, and writing, along with the art and writing of many others that have hopped into this Au and produced some wonderful and inspiring things that have latched onto my brain with a death grip.

If this story interests you, then I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

Part 1, if that works 🤞 ☝️⬆️👆

**********************************************************

Vortex’s head pounded sluggishly. He fought for control over his eyelids, willing them to open. When they did, they immediately closed, and he squinted them back open in the painful light. It was hard to make out his surroundings- his eyes were open now but his head was still spinning. He was upright, and he could feel his weight sagging against heavy restraints. Could hear the beeping of monitors and feel IV needles poking through his skin, fluids pumping through his veins, could feel the medical tape on his skin. Another fucking experiment. Or was someone patching him up after a battle? Vortex growled, trying to remember what had happened before he had fallen asleep. There had been a fight. Something bad. Something that made him angry. Then something that had made him happy. He killed someone. Why had he killed someone?

They deserved it, he knew that, but why- the image of Swindle bleeding out flashed in Vortex’s head, Swindle, dangling lifelessly from Brawl’s massive (and massively burned) arms as he barreled through halls, trampling anyone and anything else in his way. Brawl in hysterics. Med techs struggling to sedate Brawl, Brawl raging at them. Swindle’s skin getting paler as the white medical linens on the cot became a darker and darker shade of red. Onslaught and Blast Off trying to calm Brawl down. Swindle in critical condition, hooked up to a dozen machines. They didn’t know it then, but they had been supposed to die. Swindle in particular.

‘Thin the herd. The small one’s the fastest, but he’s also the weakest. Worst fighter among em. The weak link.’

Vortex snarled. They had deserved it, but they deserved so much worse than he had given them, so much worse. They had tried taking Swindle from them. And it might’ve worked. If Swindle didn’t wake up then it would’ve worked. They almost took the others too. Brawl had been so severely burned he’d had to be sedated to heal. Blastoff and Onslaught weren’t in great condition either- they weren’t as fast as Vortex, who had an easier time dodging, and had taken a lot of hits.

The bastards…the bastards who had done it… decided to hook up that weird machine to Swindle’s mech without telling them what it did or that it would make him quint bait… Tex only had memories of killing a couple of the white coats, and one of them had already been dead before he did most of the stabbing. He could remember the feel of the blood on his hands, the sounds of the blade and the other lab coats screaming…he hadn’t been able to kill them all. Or most of them, unless he was just forgetting those killings. Fuck. He might not- probably wouldn’t (but wanted to hope he might)- have another chance to kill them all. Fix his mistake. He should’ve snapped and killed them all ages ago. Cut to the chase and spare his team the misery. Shit. He’d been hoping if he killed enough of them it would leave a big enough power vacuum for Onslaught to take over. Now what would happen? Would Onslaught be blamed? Why hadn’t he been able to kill more of them? What happened?

Vortex tried his usual tricks for slipping out of medical restraints, but these ones were different, sturdier, and the usual tricks didn’t work. If he had gotten caught, why was he alive? His stomach hardened, like someone had filled it with rocks. Were they using him to keep the rest of his squad in line? If they were, that might mean Swindle was doing better. Or they just wanted extra insurance. Or an extra lab rat. If they thought they could keep him trapped here forever to run their sick experiments on though, they were going to have a surprise on their hands. It didn’t matter if he was half-drugged, half-dead or both, he would get out and figure out who had done this to him. Then he’d repay their ‘kindness’ with his own. Maybe he could even finish his killing spree from earlier- there were a lot of people left on his list.

Vortex spun his head around, grunting at the painful vertigo that accompanied the motion. He was in a lab, but not like any of the medical labs he’d been in. The equipment in here was far more complicated than anything Vortex recognized, and the other items were more macabre than he was used to seeing openly displayed in mecha labs. He hadn’t even known jars came in sizes large enough to hold body parts that big. He just hoped they were all quint parts, not human. Not for any love or concern for his fellow species- it was just that Tex’s unit wasn’t particularly on good terms with the higher ups, or anyone else in the facility. And Vortex had always assumed that if he didn’t die on the battlefield or trying to kill everyone, then that’s where he would end up. Cut up in pieces, preserved in jars for future study.

Besides the jars, there were vials with eerie glowing liquids, a faint foul smell, diagrams on the counters, blueprints pinned to the wall- shit, those were prints of Vortex’s mech. What were blueprints of that doing here? What did they want him for, what were they trying to do? And who were they? The guards would’ve shot Tex on sight after what he did, and anyone he assaulted would’ve done the same, assuming they had any amount of skill with a gun. Who-

Vortex spotted it. A mask, helmet-thing, made to cover the entire head. A singular yellow optic dominating the center of the face.

One eye. Shockwave.

The beeping of the monitor increased sharply, and Vortex felt the sweat as it suddenly gathered on his brow. He shuddered involuntarily, body going hot and cold. Vortex remembered what happened before he had been knocked out. Shockwave. He remembered. No no no no no no no no no no no no no no

Vortex struggled against his bonds with renewed effort, he didn’t care what he broke in the process. He could get help later, relocate any joints he popped out of place, set any broken bones, stitch up or bandage any cuts, he didn’t care how much it hurt or how long it took to heal, he had to move, get out, now-

Somewhere behind him, someone cleared their throat. Vortex froze. Please, please, please, don’t let it be him. Please, anyone, but-

“Vortex.”

Vortex bit his lip. There was no way it was anyone but Shockwave, wasn’t it?

“If you move around too much I will have to sedate you immediately. The procedure isn’t complete yet.”

Vortex swallowed. What he wouldn’t do for a few dozen cigs and a room to himself right now. “What procedure?” he asked, hoping he sounded more angry than frightened.

The voice ignored him, and Vortex could hear shuffling notes and typing as the scientist worked.

“What procedure?” he repeated, voice hoarse with dehydration, anger and fear.

The typing stopped. The man released a small breath; impatient. Vortex could hear the chair as its occupant moved to stand, could feel the vibrations through the floor as they walked toward him.

Vortex felt his breathing still and gritted his teeth as the man stepped into view. He was a man, in appearance - but Vortex could hear the quiet fizzing sound and see the slightly blurry quality to the skin. He was wearing another hologram. He was wearing the face of Shockwave, the old one from the earliest days of the mecha program, when Shockwave himself had been a pilot. He had a handsome face, quite different from the polished mess of impervious robotics Vortex knew must be hiding underneath. It was little wonder the man had so many masks. He looked so different like this, so normal, Vortex could almost believe he was there just to give him a check up.

Along with context and common sense, the set to the former pilot’s former face and the look in his eyes told Vortex there was nothing so casual or carefree about this visit. This situation. Vortex was slagged. Well and truly fucked. He’d be lucky to get out of this alive. Then again, he might be luckier to get out of it dead, depending on what Shockwave had planned for him.

Questions rolled around in Vortex’s head, spinning and colliding with each other as he fought his body’s urge to shake like a leaf in the wind. Shockwave regarded him, eyes cold. Vortex shivered. Under that gaze he felt like a misbehaving piece of equipment, about to be dissected, deconstructed, and pinned to the wall. Pieces either discarded or replaced entirely, shoved back together until he did exactly what he was supposed to, nothing left except what they wanted. What Shockwave wanted.

“It’s not important for you to know. I could explain it all to you, but it wouldn’t matter, even if you understood.” Shockwave cocked his head. “You’re not going to remember this, you see. It could get messy if you did, afterall, and I want this to go as smoothly as possible.”

Vortex was silent for far longer than he wanted to, struggling to get his mouth to open and his voice to work. “Won’t remember what?” he managed.

“This part of the procedure. As well as the first few days before it.” Shockwave shrugged nonchalantly, and a tiny part of Vortex’s brain recognized that most would see the simple gesture as extremely attractive done with Shockwave’s appearance and aloof mannerism. Mostly Vortex recognized how little Shockwave cared about Vortex’s plight, his life or his concerns.

“Take too much off and you might not work the same, but take too little and you’ll simply go back to killing people. I’ve calculated how much I need, and once I’m done with this and the rest of the prepwork, you’ll be ready for the final doses. It’s a long shot that any of this works, but that’s what tests like this are for. If it works on you I can study this method until I’ve perfected it. If it doesn’t…well I have other hypotheses to test.”

“What are you doing to me?”

Shockwave smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes- and not just because they were holograms or something.

“I’m resurrecting you.”

Vortex forgot how to breathe for several excruciating heartbeats.

“This is the first time I’m attempting it, so there’s no guarantee it will work, but all science starts somewhere.”

“If it comforts you, I will give you a favorable death- a heroically tragic last stand fighting insurmountable odds. You’ll go out in a blaze of glory- though, perhaps, having seen footage of your fights, I should say you’ll go out in a blaze of gore instead.”

Vortex felt his throat muscles working, but nothing came out when he opened his mouth. His questions had been spooked into hiding, his defiance shocked into submission. His body quivered, and Vortex cursed his lack of control over his own limbs.

“You’re quite resilient, even for a pilot. I dare say you’re the best candidate for this experiment- you’re arguably the best fighter we currently have, and your bond with your mech…”

Shockwave shook his head vaguely. “I frankly haven’t seen anyone as in touch with their mech as you are since..." Shockwave's eyes grew distant, a shade colder, and mournful, the edges of his lips twitching into a fondly bittersweet smile.

"It’s really quite impressive.”

Shockwave's eyes refocused, and he smiled pleasantly at Vortex. This time the expression touched his eyes as well- the sight made Vortex’s stomach twist painfully.

“You should consider this an honor. If this project works, you may even thank me. It’s not everyday one gets resurrected as living metal, after all. It’s almost statistically impossible.”

Living metal? Living…metal? Did this have something to do with the blueprints of his mech on the wall? He hoped not. What would be left of him, assuming this ‘experiment’ worked in the first place? Would he survive? If it didn’t work and he died, he died. If it did work, what would happen then? What would Shockwave do, what would Vortex become? Would his teammates- his brothers- even recognize him? Would he even see them again? He’d gone into this assuming he would probably die… did the others have any idea where he was, what had happened? No, they would’ve burned the base down looking for him. How long had it been? A few hours, a day, several? Were they okay? Did Onslaught have things handled, had Swindle recovered yet?

He needed to know. And the best source of information, until he got out, was Shockwave.Vortex summoned his anger to overpower his fear. So what if he was the phantom Vortex had been having nightmares of since he was a kid? He was just another person, which meant he had to have a weak point somewhere. He just needed to stay alive long enough to locate it. Then he could gut him like anyone else and return to his team. The thought was comforting, though it was more false bravado than Tex would care to admit.

“What about my unit? What’s happened to them? You must have a lot of guts if you think you can stop them.”

The scientist tilted his head curiously. “They have their uses, and are an exemplary fighting unit. However, be that as it may, I’m afraid your little ‘combaticons’ aren’t ever going to be the same.”

Vortex snorted, letting the false bravado take over, baring his teeth like a cornered rat. “And the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Shockwave sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The fingers made contact with his nose- not clipping through, fizzing, or blurring like Tex had expected them too. Wait. Was that his real face? He had been certain it wasn’t. He looked too normal. How did that work?

Shockwave pulled a stool from beside the counter, and sat down, regarding him with strained patience. He raised a finger.

“As you know, your leader, unit 10, ‘Onslaught,’ along with unit 12, was on track to graduate the pilot program and was soon to join the table with mecha’s elite. That was before you went rogue.” Shockwave paused, giving Vortex an appraising look, as if checking to make sure he really was smart enough to know that much.

Vortex grunted. Shockwave gave him a disapproving look, but continued speaking. “They still are, for now, but whether they make it or not is up to them. If he goes rogue like you did, we will have to scrap him as well, though I’d rather not do that- he’s exactly what I’ve been looking for to get mecha turned back around. Too many in the company have grown lax- plump with riches and lazy in their authority. It’s what allowed you to pull that stunt you did, and it’s wasting resources. I believe with Onslaught- and ‘Swindle,’ mecha’s performance would increase substantially.”

“Which gives me more time for this.” Shockwave made a broad gesture to the lab. The scientist’s eyes narrowed piercingly. “And that is something I happen to value greatly.”

“The other two- 13 and 14- I have no personal issue with- they do form a liability however.”

“If you hurt either of them, Onslaught will never help you,” Vortex spat. Onslaught always protected them. Kept them going, kept them safe. Except… Vortex was here, hooked up, chained down, and at the lead scientist’s mercy. And Onslaught wasn’t here. Swindle had nearly died. Brawl had been sedated, Blast Off and Onslaught were full of stitches. Vortex was here. They’d all been hurt, and Onslaught hadn’t stopped it. Hadn’t been able to. They’d been hurt again, but the base was still standing. Where was Onslaught’s rage? Didn’t he see mecha needed to burn for their lives to change? Where was he?

“Hm. Perhaps. I have more control than you realize… but I understand your point. No, I don’t intend to harm them. There will be those who would wish to eliminate them, along with the rest of your crew, but they are veterans. Their experience is valuable, and your sins will have removed competitors from the board. That is favorable to certain members of mecha. Your unit members won’t be without a measure of support. That will allow them to continue serving in mecha as pilots, which is mercy enough after what you’ve done. Not that anyone will know that.”

“Know what?”

“What you’ve done, of course.”

Vortex scoffed, offended. “I murdered multiple head mecha top dogs. They’re dead. With a roomful of witnesses you didn’t let me vaporize. You’re dumber than Brawl if you really think you can hide something like that.”

“Murdered? You must be mistaken. They were each given a leave of absence. It’s not mecha’s responsibility if they were met with misfortune after the fact.”

Vortex’s jaw dropped a millimeter. Shockwave said that so easily and smoothly, like he was discussing the weather or what he wanted to have for lunch. When Vortex killed things, he was as messy as he could be- it was more fun that way. But at least he felt something when he was violent- even if that feeling was bloodlust. Shockwave clearly didn’t feel anything. They were just obstacles in his way, like a piece of shrapnel keeping a wound from closing. Removed, disposed of, and never given a second thought. Vortex swallowed. The rumors of Shockwave and how dangerous he was hadn’t been exaggerations. If anything, they probably didn’t do him justice.

“And the lab coats who saw me do it?”

“Gas leak. Caused by the ineptitude and negligence of the executives we unfortunately had to let go. The poisoning from the gas caused dizzy spells, short-term memory issues, and some minor hallucinations. Truly an unfortunate accident, but those responsible have been punished, and those affected have been repaid.”

Shockwave’s face was a mask of feigned concern, which Vortex found revolting. Sick two-faced bastard. He’d even covered up Vortex’s murder spree. Vortex wasn’t particularly proud of said murder spree, seeing as he hadn’t actually killed enough people to call it a spree, and it had been over way too soon, but still. He still would’ve gone down in history and in hallway gossip as the mad pilot that snapped and killed a bunch of people. Rumors spread and carried weight, even when they weren’t true. Now, it was, what? Swept under the rug and sanitized like it had never happened? Like he hadn’t done that, and it didn’t matter one way or another.

“And what about me?”

“You were never there. You were preparing for a solo mission while the rest of your team healed from their injuries.”

“My team will notice.”

“Your team is busy licking their wounds. When they wake it’ll be too late. You’ll be dead.”

Vortex flinched like he’d been struck. “You said I’d be resurrected.”

“If it works. You’ll have to die first, but if you survive, that will mean it worked, and I can continue the experiment.”

“You-”

“You will be dead to them either way,” Shockwave interjected coldly before Vortex could spout the string of curses in his head. “Speaking of which-” Shockwave rose slowly. “You have delayed me enough. It is time.”

Shockwave came closer- though not close enough to bite- and adjusted some dials on the machines Vortex was hooked into. Vortex could feel the sleeping drug or whatever it was entering his system. “Sleep now, and cease distracting me with your pointless questions. When you wake you won’t remember this happened, and when you die you’ll be a hero. Try not to fail. If the experiment fails, I may have to try again on one of your other units, and I would like to keep their services for now.”

Vortex tried to cuss, but whatever was pumping in his veins was working real damn fast. His tongue felt like lead and his eyelids began to droop. His head hung down, too heavy to keep up, his limbs began to go limp, and as his senses faded into the ether, he heard two words, cold and soft, like a breath of frigid winter air right down his back.

“Goodbye, 11.”

**********************************************************

Hopefully it won't be too long until part 3 is out (and I figure out how Tumblr works and have them all neatly linked together) but 🤷‍♀️ We'll see lol.

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 21}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader) ; brief OMC x Reader

Summary: Memories and feelings overwhelm you, conversations need to be had about how things crumbled between you and Din, but the wedding is only a few days away and a plan of escape needs to be made despite it all.

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical violence, noncon touching and physical affection, reader initiates sexual advances even if she does not want to, reader is complicit in an uncomfortable situation, sexual situations, adult content, talk of past arguments, talk of past miscommunication, din raises his voice one (1) time, argumentative language, inner musings of reader, mentions of past heartbreak and pain, reader is being held captive against her will, talk of self-harm, references to past self-harm, mentions of IV ports and shots, deadly poison, talks of injuring / killing people, um i think those are all the major ones?

A/N: been struggling with inspiration lately, this fic means so much to me and i didn't want to force the writing when it wasn't working. but here's the next chapter and i hope it holds up to the rest of the fic. we do get a pretty big moment in this one though, so i hope that makes up for the absurd amount of angst

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

His voice is low, reverent as he asks if you’re okay, only for another current to overtake your body. The harsh sound of the pain stealing the words away from you as your voice distorts into something sharp and loud. It’s too much, you think, too strong a sensation for your already weak mind and body, for all the months of stress and manipulation. Convulsions shake you in his hold, his large hands cradling you close and trying to take what he could from you.

The power of the Force flares, trying to combat the currents, and you feel completely helpless as you try to fight something that seems to be happening in the very synapses of your brain. And then it’s waning, as suddenly as it had begun, the only evidence of the storm raging inside your body is the one that mirrors the intensity outside in the howling of wind, of too many lightning strikes, of booming thunder and pouring rain.

You’re barely able to get half-breaths in, panting at too high a staccato to really ease the dizziness setting in as you pry your eyes open and see Din staring down at you with his brows furrowed. Maker, his eyes are so beautiful and his shaky chuckle tells you the words had managed to slip from your trembling lips.

He whispers your name, calling you back to him as your focus blurs and your eyes begin to slip closed again.

“She…put something…in me.” You try to explain your scattered thoughts, the memories of the last time you had been in the same room with him knowing it was him trying their best to resurface. But you push them down as each interaction since then vies for your attention, and it hurts to think he had been beside you this whole time and you hadn’t the faintest clue. The man who you felt so connected to had been at your side, waiting, helping, learning how to interact with the version of yourself that feels so flat all of sudden for all that you hadn’t been able to recall. The emotions of the past few months dousing you tenfold, assaulting your nerves and capacity to handle the realization. “She’s…she’s controlling the currents…somehow.”

“I’ll fix it,” His voice is low, noticing how each deafening clap of thunder is making you wince, like it had so long ago back on Tatooine. “I’ve been trying…I’ll make it right, mesh’la, I swear to you.”

“O-okay,” Is all you can manage before you feel consciousness slip from you, drained from those few moments of pure clarity and everything that had come with it. You’re reaching up a shaking hand, caressing your fingers along the side of his face. His eyes flutter shut at the first touch to his furrowed brow, his breath hitching as they gently glide trail over his eyelids. His skin is warm to the touch, even though the fabric of his mask and cowl you know is beneath as you lay your palm on the side of his face, attempting to cup the glimpse of him he’s allowing you to see.

“Din, I’m…I’m so tired.”

“I know, mesh’la, but you’ve been so strong, you’ve been so unbelievably strong. I’m so proud of you for remembering, you did such a good job, mesh’la.”

“Ad’ika, is he…where…can we…?” But you never get to finish your sentence as another current strikes through you, making your hand fall from his face and your consciousness slip from you completely.

Footsteps are loud as they race through the palace hallways, heard over the rain pelting down from the angry sky. Din is running as fast as he can, being mindful of the unconscious form of you in his arms. He has to get you somewhere safe, he has to get you to the quarters he shares with Cara. He uses all of his senses to try and ensure no one catches a glimpse of either of you as he enters the quiet servant’s quarters.

Cara isn’t asleep when he carefully opens the door and she jumps up from where she had been sitting atop her bed with a halo net tablet in her lap. The volume was low on the video she had been watching, a map of the city of Maldovan disappearing as she presses it off and throws it onto the blanket. She’s up and watching silently as Din carefully lays your unconscious form down on his own cot. He’s so careful, so tender as he pulls the blanket up around your body, ensuring the flowing nightgown you were in, lined with lace and silk, is covering you up.

“Mando…”

“She remembered. She was running down the hall and collapsed, something…some kind of current was assaulting her. But she remembered.”

He trails bare fingers over the track marks in your arm from where you had been injected, a line hooked up to you obvious in the indented line it left along your inner forearm, the port still in place and clamped shut by a piece of plastic. There’s a mark on your neck that concerns him, a tear in your skin that hadn’t healed yet though he smells the bacta thick on your skin.

He’s not talking, not explaining further, too enamored with having you back beside him, he’s sitting on the edge of the cot and leaning over you. His breathing is even despite how hard his heart is beating in his ribcage.

“She remembered.”

“That’s…that’s great, but we’ve got to get her back to the infirmary wing. If her mother or the prince go in the morning, and she’s gone…they’ll trace her down until they find her.”

“Just…a moment, just give me a moment.” He doesn’t voice his pleading, but it’s the closest he had been to you in months, the time apart as he searched for you, the time we was nearby but still just a stranger to you as he tried to help cultivate a rapport with you. He can’t help keep the vulnerability out of his voice as his eyes rove over your unconscious face. Cara remains quiet, knowing that this means so much to him. She keeps her steps quiet as she goes into the common room for the quarters.

An hour goes by and you begin to rouse, your eyes flutter open slowly and the first thing realize is that you’re laying down in a small bed. But it isn’t the one in the infirmary you had fallen asleep in, it’s one in a room you don’t recognize. There’s a shadowed form hovering close and you feel panic spike, before you see brown eyes glittering in the dim light of the lantern on the bedside table.

“It’s just me, mesh’la.” Din’s voice is deep, unmodulated and smooth. It’s jarring, to hear it so close, to feel his bare hands tracing up and down your arms again. It feels so good to be by his side, to know who he is once again, but your heart is heavy, and your head is swimming.

“Din…”

“We can’t just run, the prince would send endless hunters after you until you were returned to him. Your mother too, would stop at nothing to keep you under her control.” His words are true, you know in the very core of them both, they are children who wish to not lose what it theirs. They would stop at nothing to have you under their control should you slip away or disappear from the palace. They would surely target Din once again, track him down, rightfully thinking you returned to him or he came and stole you away. He had been here, for nearly two months now, beside them without them knowing. He had…he had removed his armor, his helmet to be by your side without suspicion. He had given up part of his identity to ensure your safety in the midst of a den where you were surrounded by nothing but striking snakes and constricting regulations.

But the thought of spending one more second within the stone walls of the palace, within the large, imposing walls of the palace grounds. One more insipid conversation about details of a wedding you did not want even when you could not recall who you were, one more touch of your mother’s hands to your skin, you couldn’t bare the thought. It made your stomach roil, nausea rising and you take in a deep breath to keep it at bay.

“We didn’t before, we were worried about you lashing out, of running from us because you didn’t know who we were or believe us.” You see the struggle reflected in his eyes, their glittering brown in the dim light, the way he’s keeping them on you so intently. You feel your stomach flutter, his eyes. You’re looking into his eyes, the eyes of the man who you had never anticipated feeling so intensely for in the way that you do. That he returns, despite the circumstances of your connection of your lives.

You feel so strongly for him and your fingers itch to reach for him. To caress the exposed part of his face and find out if it’s as soft as it looks despite the wrinkles you see set into his skin. If the hairs of his brow are soft to the touch, would he even let you run your fingers over them? You don’t deliberate long as you watch your hand cup the side of his face. His eyes flutter close, and he leans into the touch, the fabric of his mask like liquid against your palm. Holding your breath, bottom lip between your teeth, you raise your hand and trace the tip of your pointer finger over the arch of his brow, first one and then the other.

The moment is still, everything in the room fading around you as you focus on the man in front of you.

His hair is soft, his skin is soft. He’s as still as a statue but he’s not as stoic. His brows furrow and give away his trepidation and worry as you greedily take in every detail of the exposed part of his face. A crease forms in his forehead as he keeps his eyes closed, long dark lashes fanning out over the barest top of his cheeks revealed for your eyes to see. The outline of his nose is just below and you lean in to press your lips to it without thinking, as if you’re allowed to.

“We’ve dealt with it before…with ad’ika.” You lean back a little, propped up slightly, but at the flare of pain in your temples, you’re leaning back onto the pillows with a small gasp. He’s standing suddenly, his hands coming up to cup your face, his eyes focused on your own as you try to keep them open. “Where-?”

“He’s safe, he’s with Cara. You’ll see him soon enough, I promise.” You weren’t sure if you were ready to see him, if you were completely honest with yourself. The small child would be all you needed to give into the urge to run, your instincts telling you that he didn’t need to be anywhere near the people who were doing this to you, because they could do the same to him. Endless threats hidden in the shadows of your life growing and expanding, looming over not just you but the child and Din as well.

Your words feel flat, the sentiment behind them lost in the worries that plague you, that had become a reality once again. He was right, just disappearing wouldn’t resolve the situation, it would only amp it up to a degree in which would rain down continuously on your little trio.

Turning your face into his palm more, you feel warmth bloom in your chest. His skin is so soft, the middle of his palm especially, while the pointer and middle fingers of each are a little more callous from years of triggers and weapons. His hooded eyes are wide, holding so much emotion as he looks down at you, brows furrowed and small wrinkles taking on shadows in the dim light. He looks so vulnerable, so unlike the demeanor he puts on underneath the helmet. You see the movement of his lips beneath the fabric of his mask, faintly, the barely there motion telling you that he has his cowl securely in place underneath it.

“I don’t want to have to worry every time we land on a new planet, take a new job and think that it’s a trap, feel…fear that you’ll walk down the boarding ramp and I’d never get to see you again. Should you want to travel with me, with us still. I would do it, if you wanted to just go now…but mesh’la, I don’t want that for you. To be constantly on the lookout like you’ve been your whole life. You deserve to be free, truly free.”

You’re quiet, reaching for his hand and tangling your fingers with his. You see his eyes close, the deep breath he takes as his chest expands beneath the black flowing robes he dons. He’s sitting back down on the edge of the cot, his body angled toward you as he leans forward to touch his forehead to yours.

The door is opening and Cara is peeking in with a hardened expression. Her own flowing robes are a cerulean blue, complimenting the light tone of her skin. Pulling the dusting of pink over her cheeks and of her lips. You recall the pull you had felt toward her, days before.

“Guards just got sent out on a search, I think someone got paranoid with the storm. They’re sure to check the infirmary during their sweep to secure the palace.” She’s trying her best to keep on a hard gaze, but her eyes soften and her lips twitch when your eyes meet hers. “It’s so good to see you again, cya’rika.”

“We can say I asked you to walk me to the greenhouse room to watch the storm, I did that…when I was first here quite a bit, it’s believable I would stray away once again.” Din is helping you to sit up, the sleeve of your sleeping gown falling at the action but his bare fingers are fixing it back into place. You feel embarrassment flare, recalling the way you had nearly screamed at him, accused him of wanting you all to yourself after that incident in the bathhouse.

He's strong but gentle as he helps you to stand, your legs are weak but thankfully not aching or sore from whatever your mother had ordered done to you this latest visit to the infirmary. Your head throbs with the shift, hand flying up to rub at your temples.

“Just…really quick, are there…marks in my forehead or anything here?”

Din is quick to step in front of you, an arm around your middle to help keep you balanced. His eyes, scan your face, the skin above and around your eyes that you motion to, keeping rubbing at.

“Mesh’la, I don’t see anything. But they could’ve used bacta or surgery to cover what they did, you said that you felt like she put something in you?” He’s gently tracing over your face with the pads of his fingertips, searching for anything that could indicate work being done or implants being put in. But there’s nothing; no protrusions, no bruising, no marks of bacta patches being removed, nor scalpels having touched you.

“My head just…it keeps throbbing, the thunder and lighting- it kept almost coursing through me. A current of energy, nothing like the Force. More like…electricity.”

“I’ll look over the records tomorrow, once things calm down, I promise you.”

When you approach the door, you’re shifting on your feet to balance a bit better before you throw your arms around the woman’s shoulders, stunning her. Her arms slowly come up around you to return the embrace. Her body flush against yours and making you feel a little better about having to return to your role of the obedient wife-to-be and daughter.

“Thank you, for helping me.”

“Anything for you, you know that.”

The hallways are quiet despite lights that had been turned on outside to illuminate the grounds. Thunder and lightning still flashing over the sky. Din is silent beside you, a hand on the small of your back and one of his outer robes draped over your shoulders to help cover you up. The sleeping gown and bare feet might be a bit of a giveaway that you had quite literally run from the infirmary, but your lie of wanting to watch the storm would work.

There’s a tension between you now, as you walk alone down the halls, unasked questions and worries about how this is all going to play out from this moment on. If…if you were to return to the Razor Crest with Din and ad’ika. If you were going to be…together in the way you two had begun to speak of and express to each other. You can almost sense the questions forming on his tongue, pushing against his teeth as he remains quiet. You’re sure he can sense the ones you have for him too.

How long did it take for him to look for you, to realize you hadn’t run off. Had he thought you ran off, had he even cared about the damage his stumbling and ill-thought-out words had caused. Did he come to save you out of some obligation to your freedom, a verbal promise made all those months ago now on Sorgan. Did he…did he still care about you even if he had no desire to be with you the way you had made it obvious you wanted to be with him. It was all so much, too much, to handle in the moment.

“San-“

“Not right now, please. It’s…it’s too much right now.” You’re unable to look over at him, to see the emotions clearly in his eyes. It’s still, it still hurts a little, to know that he had removed his armor and helmet to blend into the planet’s population, into the palace. You had never wanted him to do something he did not want, even at the core of your affection and need to feel close to him. The thought of skirting his Creed, of feeling him instead of seeing him under the cover of darkness had crossed your mind. But his…rather immediate lack of words and agreement to even talk about that had made you feel far worse for speaking it when you had all those days ago now. “We can talk once this is all over. I think- I think we need to.”

“Yes, mesh’la.”

The hall that holds the infirmary, the entirety of the medical wing is only guarded by a few soldiers. The ones you had skirted around still at their posts, but the one who had left from in front of the door to your room was back in front of it. A frown on his features as you and Din round the corner and begin to approach him. The furrow of his brow and the narrowing of his eyes above a similar mask and head cover as Din sparks an idea in your mind. One you hadn’t used in a very long time because it felt far too morally grey to implement. But if the people controlling you weren’t going to play fair, then you weren’t either.

“Princess, I thought you were safely in your room.” Din visibly tenses, as he senses this interaction may not work in favor of hiding your true whereabouts. “I didn’t know you snuck out.”

“I was in my room the entire night.” You pull on the power of the Force, harnessing it and sending it over the guard with a smooth wave of an open palm across your chest.

“Of course, you were in your room the entire night.”

“You didn’t see me or Aliit this morning, returning to the infirmary.”

“Of course, Princess. I never saw you or Aliit this morning.”

“Please step aside for me.”

“Of course, Princess. Stepping aside.”

Din is pinning you with a curious look, a glint in his eyes as you both step through the door and back into the room you had been put in by your mother. Whatever she had ordered to be done to you had required around the clock supervision and check ins, at least until you had shown signs of rousing. The scent of her perfume had lingered in the room when you woke, telling you she had left just moments before.

“I’ve never done that to you, I swear.” You look to him as you sit on the side of your bed. The silk sheets cold and the beads of the tapestry above it glittering. When he nods his understanding, you turn to read the Basic inscription on the programmed screen of your intravenous line. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, just fluids to keep you hydrated and a low-grade pain preventative serum.

“Why didn’t you? When I first found you.”

“Because I was weak.” Is your simple answer. The real one heavy on your tongue as you reattach the line to the port still embedded in the crook of your right elbow. “And because you didn’t deserve your head to be messed with. You showed your true colors in saving the child. Even if you had tried to turn in him.”

“Back on Sorgan, you didn’t do it either. Even when you ran.”

“I almost did. But something…a feeling told me it would be a huge betrayal of trust. An invasion of your mind and since you did not show your face, it was an even worse offense. Mandalorian’s are pure at their core. Religion and culture a reflection of exactly that.”

He doesn’t say anything, his eyes watching as you settle into the extravagant bed. His fingers twitch and his knees creak just the slightest as he goes to take a step but second guesses it.

“I like the code name. Very on the nose.” You muse as you begin to pull the covers atop the bed back. A crack of your own knees and a throb of your temple cause you to slowly settle in the sheets and pull them over your body.

“Native language seemed best, to help with your memory.”

“Smart.” You offer him a small smile, feeling warmth in your cheeks as you realize how self-conscious you’re beginning to feel around him the longer you’re both alone. It’s far different from before, when there was an understanding. But now…now you just feel completely and utterly self-conscious and all too aware of his denial of your advances. It didn’t seem to matter that he had scoured the galaxy for you, came to your side as soon as he undoubtedly could and had stuck by you even when you couldn’t recall who he was. There was something passing between you, unspoken and far too fragile to begin to dissect.

“I’ll see you tonight, Aliit.” Leaning back, you feel the material of his cloak bunch around you. Leaning up, you’re unfastening it from around your collarbone but one of his hands rests over yours to stop you.

“Keep it.” He’s leaning down over the bed, his warm forehead touching yours and that same flutter erupts in your middle. Your eyes flutter shut, unable to meet his gaze and when you open them back up he’s gone from the room completely. Snuggling down further into the blankets, you can’t help but take a deep breath of the bunched up fabric and a small smile pulls at your lips as the familiar scent of him calming your frazzled nerves.

“Darling, it’s time to wake up now.” The cloyingly sweet voice and scent of your mother is hovering over you, the weight of her body pressed against your side causing your breath to rush in and your eyes to fly open. Body tensing at the feeling of someone beside you, of being trapped underneath the covers that laid over your body. “Oh, oh, oh, it’s okay. It’s just me.”

Glancing around, you notice that you’re no longer in the infirmary but the gilded cage of a cell. The bars are thick only a few feet from the edge of the bed, pushed to the center of the wall that backs the space.

You can hear the faint hum of electricity despite there being no obvious source for it down in this dim basement of a floor. Most likely from a programmed door shielding you away doubly so from the little freedom you had when your memories were suppressed. But you had them, them and the power of the Force. You spy the slight curve of the wall just outside the bars, a staircase leading up rather steeply.

Hands are smoothing your hair, caressing your arms. And you turn to see your mother watching you, a glint of something in her dark eyes.

“I had to protect you, there was a scare late last night of intruders. One of the New Republic politicians was sure he spotted two people running about the palace hallways. You’re safe down here, my love.”

“But mother-“

“No arguments. Your safety is the most important thing, especially after that little fit you had the other day. I bet you don’t even recall having one, do you?”

You don’t, because you hadn’t had a fit. You had forced her hands off of you, power surging through your hands as you guided it to your advantage. But Din’s words, Cara’s reassurances that they had been doing everything in their power to prevent the routine use of the mind flayer to eradicate your memories and keep you in the dark. You feel a flash of fear should they have not been able to track you down, how much of yourself would you have lost, how much was still lost at the hands of your mother.

No, mother. I hope I didn’t hurt you,” You feign innocence, playing into the palm of her hand the way she expects you to. You have no idea what she did to you for the currents of shocking electricity to assault your body, but it hadn’t happened since last night when the storm was raging outside.

“No, my love, you didn’t.” She’s kissing your forehead as she stands, hovering over you as she fusses with the covers, ensuring you’re completely tucked in. Her hands are wringing together in front of her as you go to sit up, but the motion is halted by the clanging of metal and a weight around all four of your limbs.

Cuffs. You were cuffed to the bed by short chains, attached to the wrought iron foot and head rests of the bedframe.

“It’s for your own safety, please understand. I don’t want you fussing about in your sleep or hurting yourself by moving around too much. Please don’t be upset with me, my darling.” You don’t even get to respond before you feel the prick of a needle in your arm, too distracted by the cuffs. You should’ve known, you had been to unawares around her despite the history, despite the game she played, the dirty moves she made. The easy way she did it over and over again, You hadn’t even noticed anywhere on her body for her to hide the syringe, she’s dressed in her simple sleep clothes.

“Mother-“

“Shh, it’s okay, my love. Everything is going to be okay. It’s just until the festivities of the marriage, and then you’ll be free to move about the palace once again. I swear to you.” The back of her hand is soft as it traces the curve of your cheek.

“Mesh’la…I have an idea but it’s going to have to be set up for the last possible minute before the ceremony.” Din’s voice jostles as he takes the steps descending into your new ‘room’, his boots silent on the stone that makes them up. His robes billow out behind him, his head cover and mask securely in place. You don’t doubt he had known where you were moved to the second it had happened, the access card needed to open the door atop the stairs already swiped from someone. The guard surely relieved of their post in a ruse of him taking over.

You had roused from the dose of sedative just hours ago, the effects of it not seeming to last as long as the previous one. Whatever the reason, you were glad. The time alone down here allowing for your to click the locks of the cuff open and explore the space in relative peace. There was no easy way for anyone to escape, but you weren’t just anyone. You had the Force on your side and a few flicks of your wrist would promise your freedom. If only it were that simple.

“Consummation occurs the night before the ceremony, it’s Maldovan tradition. That would be too late, I…I haven’t had to lay with him yet and I…I don’t-“ The words tumble from you, the thought of laying with someone against your will again unsettling in your stomach, churning it up into unpleasant waves.

“I promise you that will not happen.” There’s an edge to his velvet voice, weight that grounds you even as the glaring nature of the conversation is not lost on either of you. He doesn’t ask about the time you have spent with the prince after dark nor do you supply an answer for him.

Cara’s form appears at the top of the stairs just as Din stands in front of the thick bars and you’re grateful for her presence. Being alone with Din feels tumultuous. Too many words on the tip of your tongue, on his.

“I want to use poison, something native to this world. But…”

“But what?” Din is looking between you both, his eyes sparkling in the light from the lanterns along the wall, the rays of the sun that sneak down the steps that lead down into your new cage.

“She’d have to take it too, to really sell the political angle. It would be seen as a disagreement with the union should the prince, the soon to be princess, and her mother all be poisoned the night of the first traditional ceremony.” Cara explains, hoping the extent of what needs to be done is understood, is taken with great caution and thought. She wants you to be on board with whatever decision is made, whatever plan is decided on. You would be the one to take great risk to your wellbeing in order to get your freedom back. You’re the one who would have to make it seem as if you had nothing to do with the murder of your own mother and the prince.

“I would need to take enough for the effects to show, for it to be recorded. I would need to be found at the scene…in the same bed as the prince, in his quarters. My mother, it wouldn’t matter much where she was found but she keeps to herself during the evening after dinner.”

“We can slip it into the glasses of wine served at dinner.” Cara suggests, though you and Din both shake your head. It’s too open-ended. The glass could get served to someone else, could get spilled, could heighten the effects of the poison or dull them alternatively. It was too risky, too many factors that could go wrong with extra servants, cooks, and guests. Too many hands it would have to go through before it landed in the one’s of its intended target.

“That’s too risky. San could overdose that way, intake just enough to make it harder to reserve the effects.”

“I could administer it to Cala, just before anything happens and then take it myself. One of you could slip it into my mother’s evening tea.”

“I’ll do it.” Cara volunteers, knowing that should Din be left alone with your mother, the potential for emotions would be a concern. Even if the goal is to kill her, the thought is to do it quietly. One wrong or derogatory word from her and the plan could be ruined. He was a professional, but he was also human, especially where you were concerned.

“No…I want, I want Din to do it. I would just…I would feel better knowing he’s as far away from me and Cala should he insist something were to happen and I can’t-“

“You’re to use a blade, we’ll ensure the poison is bonded to the blade. No chance of it not taking that way. Either the poison will take him out or the blade will.”

“The same should be done for your mother then too.”

“It’s a backup plan and cathartic relief all in one.” Huffing, you feel the effects of the last dose of sedative begin to wane, your head feels a little more clear, your mind a little more sharp. “But then I’d need to stab myself too, for it to all be cohesive.”

Din is watching you closely, his eyes trailing over your legs hidden beneath layers of sheer tulle and silk, picturing clearly the scars of blades you had dug into your skin before. He doesn’t mention them and you shake your head ever so slightly to get him to shift his heavy gaze. You know he knows they’re there, but you don’t want to talk about them. To reveal how close you had been to ending your life before, the thoughts of Akiz banishing the notion, of making you feel ashamed for it even crossing your mind. He had sacrificed his life to ensure yours, and you wouldn’t betray him in that way, betray his memory.

“No blades.” Din crosses his arms, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his robes. His mass is…impressive even without the armor. He’s tall, he’s broad, he’s every bit of Din as he is when he’s hidden underneath the armor. Though you can sense that he feels exposed and not just physically. His hands keep resting on the tops of his thighs, as if holding fast to a blaster that is no longer holstered there. He keeps his steps even, as if he is still not used to being without the great weight of his beskar, of the weapons he’s normally laden down with. His brows raise with his questions, which makes you wonder if he’s even aware he’s doing it. Or the furrowing of them if he doesn’t agree or like a statement.

“It’s the most convincing way, even if I’m not too fond of digging a blade into my torso.”

“You’ll bleed out before they find you in the morning.” He’s firm with his words, his body language displaying every bit of strength his armor does, even as it sits in a protected trunk somewhere else.

“Just the poison then. I can track some down in the market after dark, I’m sure it won’t be too hard a task.”

“Just the poison then.” You agree, unable to tear your gaze away as his eyes bore into your own. “Cara, instruct the kitchen to get truffles from one of the higher end places in the tourism sector. We can inject it into those. Cala favors dark chocolate and walnut.”

“Copy that. I’ll go do that to ensure they have them in time.”

“Thank you. Oh, and perhaps just a small trio of white chocolate and fruit ones. So we know which one is for me and which ones are for him.”

As soon as she’s gone, you’re alone with Din once again. Tension siphoning into the air as her footsteps sound on the stone ground and up the tall stairs that lead up to the main level of the palace.

“He makes me feed them to him, when he requests me in the evenings.” You whisper into the silence, unable to handle the way it’s no longer comfortable between you two. But how could it, with you back in a cage, no matter how gilded and extravagant, and him on the other side looking between the bars that hold an electric charge. It’s rather basic, the high tech, sleek look of so much technology at a cultural clash with the desert planet who pays homage to simpler architecture and aesthetics.

“He doesn’t ever touch me, it’s as if he’s afraid to.”

“But he does order you to remain until late.”

“Yes, his requests are…personal.”

“Stop.”

“Well, I don’t know what to say. You’re not saying anything and I see your eyes trained on me. It’s- it’s more intense than the visor. I’m sorry.” Looking down, you stare at your hands in your lap, the way they tremble slightly. Body stressed and mind restless. The roundabout mention of his missing armor and helmet the only thing you could think of to change the subject without asking directly. The feeling of being seen, of being perceived is too intense, Maker, his eyes are looking at you, watching you, reading you. The thought of them behind the darkness of his visor a little less intimidating, but it’s gone now.

“I removed it, yes.”

“You shouldn’t have, if you didn’t want to.”

“I had to.”

“Oh. That makes sense, to get onto the planet, I saw the wanted posters for you depicting the beskar.”

“I had to, but…I also wanted to.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t believe me?” He doesn’t sound mad or upset, no disbelief in his tone. It’s as flat as your own, the words to heavy to implement emotion into them. They carry entire conversations in them, entire sets of intention, of arguments, of resolve.

“It’s not my place.” You mumble, not wanting to close in on yourself but it’s happening anyway. Mind protecting you against the vulnerability of the conversation, of the way the words had been stuck in your ribs since the moment you realized you had asked for too much.

“San-“

“You know the Creed. I know the Creed. How you choose to follow it is not my place. It’s a very personal thing for each individual. You practice, I do not. It’s not my place to question or think on the reasons why you chose to do things regarding it.”

“Is this how it’s going to be?”

“Forget it-“

“I can’t! I can’t just forget it, any of it! The look on your face, the hurt and disappointment, it will haunt me until my last breath!” His words are booming, catching you completely off guard and you flinch, pain searing across your forehead and down the back of your neck. But you freeze once it passes, aware of the heat of his gaze locked on you.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean-“ Breaking his gaze, you look down to the stone tiles of the ground. The lines separating them dance back and forth as your vision swims, as your mind tilts and you feel your center of gravity suddenly gone. Your knees knock into each other as you reach out for something to grab onto, but you’re down among the dancing lines before you can even take a breath to try and recenter yourself.

“Gev bic! Si gev bic, San! Bic ru'banar te ara bic ru'banar.  Vi linibar at cuyir able at jorhaa'ir a bic.  Ni liser't am bic bal gar liser't am bic.  Jorhaa'ir be bic cuyir jaon'yc par mhi at nari bat. I am living the consequences of my actions each day and I no longer want to.”

Stop it! Just stop it, San! It happened the way it happened. We need to be able to speak about it. I can't change it and you can't change it! Talking about it is important for us to move forward.

“P-please stop yelling.” You shudder as pain ripples down your body, you feel tears well up hot and sticky behind your eyes and you blink them away as best you can as you try to get back up. His hand is there, reaching through the bars. He’s deflated, his anger gone and in it’s place is the same man who had fetched you from the shower when you collapsed, the same man who had cradled you to him when thunder shook the skies overhead, the same man who holds your heart. He’s gentle as he supports your weight, a silent buoy for you to stand on as you gather yourself. An apology, two float in the air as you remain quiet, he knows he shouldn’t have raised his voice, emotion getting the better of him. You feel the remorse coming off of him in waves, reaching and curling around you as he tries to speak again.

“Ni cuy' olar, ni kelir ratiin cuyir olar.  A staabi jii, at tengaanar gar ner troan cuyir te shi kebi o'r ner kov'nyn.  Ni ru'kel tengaanar gar, ru'kir gar tionir tug'yc.”

I am here. I will always be here. But right now, showing you my face is the only thing on my mind. I would show you, should you ask again.

“Ni liser't.”

I can’t.

“Vaabir gar copad at haa'taylir? Vaabir gar ganar nayc copikla?”

Do you not want to see? Do you have no desire for me any more?

“Ni vaabir, a ibac cuyir  jorbe luubid.”

 I do but that is not reason enough.

“Bic cuyir par ni. Tionir ni.”

It is for me. Ask me.

He’s desperate, for you to understand, for you to grasp the depth of his words. But you can’t, unable to accept that he means them with everything he is. He’s done so much for you already, he’s set you free, he’s allowed you to travel by his side, to feel joy in caring for the child, to be wholly and completely yourself in a safe and protected environment. He’s already removed his armor and shown part of his face, he’s already done so much. Continues to do so even when you had no idea who he was, he could’ve taken the situation for what it was. A fresh start, a blank slate to move on without your presence in his life. The complications and miscommunication you had parted on only a blip in his time line, but he hadn’t.

“Din, nayc.”

Din, no.

“San, tionir ni. Gedet'ye. Duumir ni dinuir ibic at gar.” His voice is barely above a whisper, a quiet plea for you to ask something of him. To allow him to give a part of himself to you, but his need for your prompting is what complicates your desire for just that. He could just remove it, of his own autonomy and desire. He could, but he never would. He needs your words, your encouragement and you would not be the reason his creed is broken, shattered after a lifetime of upholding it to every degree. Shaping the core of his very person, allowing him to develop into the man he is today, standing on the other side of the bars.

San, ask me. Please. Let me give this to you.

But the words do not follow his pleading, they get stuck in your throat. A deep sigh from him brings your eyes up, mirroring the movement of his hands up to his face. He’s unfastening the loose mask; the fabric falls to the side to reveal his cowl in place underneath. As his fingers hook into the fabric, you clench your eyes shut and bow your head.

It’s only a moment before you feel his hands reaching through the bars, cradling your face and gently guiding your face back up. His forehead gently touches yours, warm skin where there’s normally cool metal. You feel your resolve begin to thaw, the want for it to be skin each and every time you do this to replace the feeling of his helmet. But it’s a dangerous though, it’s a deadly thought.

“San, please.”

“I-I can’t, Din. I can’t do that to you.”

“You are not doing anything, mesh’la. I want to, I want to give this piece of myself to you.”

“You can’t take it back.”

“I wouldn’t want to, everything I have to give, it’s yours. San, I am yours.”

“Din, please, I don’t- I want to, so much, but I can’t.”

“Then just- let me feel you, please? Will you let me give you a kiss, mesh’la?” Your body hums, blood pumping and chest aching at the desperation in his voice, his desire to give you something, anything. Just as you’re about to breathe out your answer, a resounding ‘yes, please, of course’ you feel the press of soft, plush lips to your own. It’s chaste, it’s gentle, it’s reverent. He’s so warm, his nose bumps yours and you feel the brush of facial hair for the barest second until he’s pulling away.

“Din?” You don’t dare open your eyes, heart in your throat, fingers reaching up to wrap around his wrists. His breath is puffed out against your lips, still so close, his nose is still touching yours, his forehead pressed to yours, and you feel your weightlessness in your chest. He hums a response and you feel it more than hear it, everything shared between you both so quiet now, completely at odds with how you had just been hollering at each other. “Was that your first kiss?”

“It was always yours, mesh’la.”

You’re surging forward, the cool metal of the bars pressed against your ears as you share his second, his third, his fourth. His lips are so soft, so full as they meet yours again and again. Slick bottom lip taken between yours as you breathe deep and tighten your hold on him. Your body is alight with tingles, with the feeling of being exactly where you belonged as you feel his skin against yours. He feels like home, even as you still remain separated by metal and circumstance.

The woman looking back at you from the mirror is beautiful. She fills out the dark green silk and black lace as if it was painted on. The top revealing and the bottoms even more so. Her hair is perfectly blown out and full, waves falling delicately around her face. Everything you’ve ever wanted to look like, but yet, you can’t connect to the eyes staring back at you. Because staring back at you is a slave, a pawn in a game you don’t want to be playing. The victim of endless manipulation and conflict, someone who you swore you would never be again the second your kyber crystal glowed white after purifying it.

You lean back from the counter, your hands splayed atop the white marble of it, shoulders sagging as your head hangs between them.

“Adan.” You call out sweetly, pitching your voice a little higher than it’s normal octave. The box of truffles given to you on the counter. Your eyes rove over the gold of the box, how shiny and frivolous it looks in your hands as you reach for it and leave the privacy of the bathroom.

He’s atop the bed, leaning back onto the pile of pillows he prefers to keep even while asleep. He’s bare from the waist up, his chest and arms on display as he has them lifted behind his head. His eyes trace the curves of your body on display for him in much the same way, robe forgotten on the counter. The second you’re close enough to the side of the bed, he’s reaching for you, pulling him over his lap as a giggle sounds into the air.

“Here, taste this for me, my sweet prince.” You reach for one of the truffles from underneath the flipped top, pressing it to his full lips with a coy smile gracing your own. He’s more than happy to part them and bite into the delicacy, the outer coating melting and smearing on his bottom lip. His hands tighten on your hips, teeth nipping at your fingers as he takes the second half of the dessert into his mouth.

Another giggle sounds into the air, from deep in your chest and you can’t help the giddiness that takes over you as you reach for another one from the box. One would be enough, more than enough. But you feel anger and betrayal flare hot in your middle, consuming you from the inside out. He willingly takes a bite of the second dessert offered to him, his body beginning to move beneath you, his hands guiding your hips down into him in a suggestive motion.

“Remove your set for me, my heart.” He leans up and presses a kiss to the side of your face, to your temple, to your nose. His lips are about to connect with yours when you hear it, the rasp in his chest. The wheeze of his next breath as he leans back against the pillows. His eyes are dilated, blown wide and there is no brown in them, the brown you now associated with another man. He’s gasping, hands tightening almost painfully on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he struggles to catch his breath.

A haunting rattling in his chest replaces air, his body tensing as it begins to realize something is horribly, terribly wrong. Nails dig into your skin, tearing the flesh and blood beads up before they loosen and fall to his sides. His chest is still expanded, his last breath fighting to keep him alive even as no more is let into his lungs. You keep your eyes open, watching the color drain from his tan complexion. Tilting your head just slightly, you swear you can hear the pops and bubbles of his lungs tearing, the flesh far too delicate and vulnerable to the poison hidden inside the truffles.

You watch as the light goes out of his eyes, as his body adjusts to the lower heart rate its adapted to try and keep things running, keep blood pumping despite the trauma occurring internally. The poison is fatal by nature, causing the lungs to burn, the heart to slow. But if only ingested in small quantities, the slowing of your heart to nearly nothing would be the only effect.

You hope the research had been accurate as you reach over for one last truffle. You hope Din had done right and only injected a half dose into the white chocolate and fruit one you had insisted on adding to the box of Cala’s preferred flavor. You hope that Din is going to be by your side when you wake as you take half of the truffle between your teeth and bite into it. You hope this will be the last thing you have to do to get your freedom back.  The intention of only eating half of it seems too hopeful as a current of electricity shocks through you and the entire thing falls into your open mouth. The silent scream from the intensity of the charge sealing your fate. You try to gulp down fresh air the second it passes, the chocolate melting far too fast in the heat of your mouth. Spitting, you try to get some of it out, staining the covers as you hack and cough in panic.

Another current courses through your body and you’re keeling over, body tensing and convulsing with the intensity, consciousness gone before you land on the plush carpet of the floor.

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[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

HII GM!!! i hope u had good worming time ehehe :3 anyway. now that you've spent some time w/ the undersiders & met a lot of the brockton bay wards & some of new wave + the prt!! i wanna hear ur thoughts on them in general + the world so far if u have any!! & also ur thoughts on like.... how powers happen & brian and taylor's origin stories etc if thats also something you've been thinking abt!! eyes emoji eyes emoji..

i am having SO much fun w worm. physically making myself put down my phone and walk away so i stop reading and do the productive things i promised myself i would do this weekend.

I AM SO. WARY. OF THE WARDS. I DONT TRUST THEM. its rlly cool 2 me that they all have powers that i myself would consider like. Bad or Scary. the emotion manipulation thing, the literal warping of time and space etc those are all things that i would be like. this feels overpowered to the point that i almost expect it more from a villain character to build dramatic tension. which. i guess in the meta sense still works bc theyre being set up as antagonists rn but you know what i mean!!!!!

i fully think we've reached the point where taylor is in way too deep to the extent that changing anything now would end horribly bad for her on both sides. shes still holding onto this thought that shes gonna have this dramatic reveal where she puts the villains in jail and the heroes welcome her with open arms. but after that conversation with armsmaster thats just !!!!!!! not going to fucking happen!!! it doesnt work like that!!! also there keep being these little sidebars and moments where she admits to herself that shes excited about villain work or like..a chance to hang out with her new friends. girl you are not going to join the protectorate i can see right thriugh your dumbass.

<< side note on all of this i have a little bit of a theory for this. i think tattletale probably. knows. she joined with the intention of betraying them eventually. im still sort offff kind of unclear as to the extent of lisas powers and how they work but at this point i dont know how she couldve possibly missed that huge elephant other than the possibility that she is intentionally ignoring it.

ANYWAY. IVE STRAYED FROM YOUR ACTUAL QUESTION IM SORRY I JUST LIKE THE UNDERSIDERS A LOT. i have a lot of thoughts on the meta of the story and the role reversal of "villains good heroes bad" that i know some cape media does sometimes and im not exactly sure jf thats what worm is going for but i AM AWARE OF IT . and i think that is playing a little bit of why i am biased like this. but this is not to say i dont like the heroes i wan 2 know everything about them. however i dont trust them. SUPER interested in what Amy's got going on w her dad and the fact that she fucking turned off taylors powers????? despite saying she wasnt gonna mess with brain stuff?????? i think amys gonna get rlly fucked up about something pretty soon. i could see her snapping and turning into some crazy supervillain esp in the last interlude where she talked about how much pressure she and others put on herself w healing everything and everyone.

uhhhhhhh what else. hey powers coming from trauma is pretty fucked up huh!!!!! u know whats rlly funny is like. i sort of expected it to be somethinf bad like that but i was also wasnt expecting the angle that like. the powers are unrelated to whatever the event was??????? like im sure u could find ways to connect each of their powers to their trigger event but its not ljke. obvious ?? i guess?? like taylor wasnt bittem by a radioactive bug that gave her bug controlling powers u know??? im rlly rlly excited 2 learn abt more characters trogger events just to like. expand the data pool and see if yhere is a correlation between the power that they get and the event that happens. or if the power theyre born with the potential of having is just set in stone or whatever. does that makr ANY sense

[yanderu-deredere]

Hello!! Ive been slowly working my way through your ocs and can i just say!!! They are soooo tasty, your brain is very big, also linking the profiles is soo nice im terrible with remembering stuff so its a nice refresher

Anyway i was just wondering how do you think Ayaka would be with a childhood friend darling 🤔

a/n: SORRY ANON BUT YOU'VE HIT THE JACKPOT this is literally my SPECIAL INTEREST i absolutely DIE AND LOVE THE CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS TROPE

ayaka yamato ★ profile

being childhood friends with ayaka means getting to know the social media super star before she became popular girl material

before, her hair was pitch black and she also had a lot of acne. like now, she wore thick rimmed glasses but they were always plain black. she also wore a lot of formal clothes, chosen by her nanny. stuff like button ups, long pleated skirts, etc

as a kid, ayaka was basically caged so, to be her childhood friend, your parents had to have been really good friends with her parents

ayaka's parents often scheduled play dates with their good friends' children as a way to gain more social power among the rich

unfortunately, that's really the only way you could've met her before she began her rebellious phase

like frfr ayaka was basically isolated as a child. i cannot stress this enough lol

her little brother was doted on by her mom and her older brother was coddled by her father (since he's the heir) so, often times, she was left to her own devices

she, of course, had nannies and tutors but none of them really truly treated her like the child she actually was

to everyone she met, she was a yamato. and that was the only thing that mattered about her

this made her very hungry for affection and she took whatever she could get

and if you gave her any sort of affection? when she's starving? she'd eat that shit up and praise the ground you walk on LOL

though caveat to that is that you'd have to be in the same boat as her LOL becos she's always been easily jealous, especially back then, and if you were more free than she was, she'd resent you too much to get attached to you

she'd definitely use you as her guinea pig when she starts experimenting with fashion and make up too lmao

when she does go thru her transformation from goody good daughter to how she really wants to live her life, she brings you with her

but she won't let you become a socialite like her. no, you're only allowed to be with her, to be close to her, to be her friend

anytime you start slipping from her grasp, she starts isolating you until the only person you feel comfortable clinging to and depending on is her

"Do you think there's more to life than this?"

You looked up from your homework to see Ayaka staring intently at you, her head resting in her arms. She was pushing around one of the fruit peels that she'd left on the desk but it was obvious from her expression that she'd been serious about her words.

You considered her words for a second before cocking your head a little to the side "What do you mean?"

"I don't know... more to studying. More to being the kid of a CEO. More to all of this." She just huffed in reply before leaning back and crossing her arms "Feels unfair that we live like this."

I don't want you to live like this. She wanted to say but the words just stayed lodged in her throat.

Unfortunately, she didn't inherit a lot from her parents but she did inherit their inability to express affection. The sweetness, the love, always felt awkward and tough on her tongue.

She wanted so desperately to tell you about her feelings, to let you in and let you know, but all she could do was peel you clementines and sit by your side, hoping and praying that you'd notice her.

Certainly, if not her, you found yourself thinking about her words. You'd never really thought about that before. You were always following your parents' rules that it felt blasphemous to consider going beyond them, to see what it was like beyond the rules and the gilded cage.

Because you were aware. You knew the life they had you live--the life Ayaka's parents had her live--was one of imprisonment, doomed to never do what you wanted to do.

But you'd lived the life for so long that imagining what life would be like any other way left you drawing a blank.

"Let's start living life our own way." Ayaka suddenly uncrossed her arms and took your hands into hers, that eager grin on her face infectious "You and me. Nobody cares about me like you do, anyway."

"And nobody cares about you like I do, right?" There was something dark to her tone right then, like there was more to her words. But she looked so mesmerizing, so sweet, that you found yourself nodding.

Ayaka only beamed even brighter "We'll decide how we want to become, not our parents."

[pocmuzings]

this is gonna sound crazy but i wanna get better at smut writing but also... i feel so shy whenever i do a smut thread with someone fdsfdsjn 😭😭

this has to be one of the most common things i hear tbh !! i totally understand the uncomfortableness and slight cringe with it . there’s a few things that help me that might ?? help you ?? but also , please know this happens to EVERYONE including me , the self proclaimed queen of smut

read smut or fan fiction or whatever , this will majorly help you with language if you’re unsure of what to say and when

talk to your partner , upfront, about the uncomfortable stuff first ie what kinks does your character like ? what don’t they like ? what’s their safe word ? etc etc . just like how you’d communicate with someone irl about sex !

write on discord or on a different platform first . this can make it a bit less intimidating and scary bc it’s just you and your writing partner and you can giggle and gossip as much as you want

maintain a strong , communicative relationship with your writing partner . talk about smut headcanons ! send each other thirst trap images , aus , prompts etc etc - it’s just like plotting anything else i promise !

understand why you’re uncomfortable : what are you worried about specifically ? investigate it within yourself so you can understand how to communicate it to others . for me , i had to put in an age limit for people i’m comfortable rping with and specifically rping smut with .

lean into the awkwardness. some of my BEST FRIENDS and i have been writing together for literally years , so sometimes i still see them as that 21 year old i met even tho they’re like 26 now ! hahaha . and sometimes when we write 1x1 or whatever and it turns smutty , i feel soooo awkward bc im like .. but ive known you forever ! it’s like suddenly kissing your platonic bestie . it can feel weird and awkward , and sometimes it just doesn’t match , so don’t force it

some people aren’t “””smut”””” compatible . that’s ok . sometimes you might write with someone and be like . ok this is not my vibe . it’s ok to say “sorry i actually don’t have muse anymore / don’t think i can continue our plot . it’s not your fault at all, i just think i don’t have muse and capacity !” - people appreciate honesty

writing smut with someone can be akin to dating someone (stick with me for a second). what i mean by this is … it’s easy to go on a date with a stranger (sometimes) right ? you don’t know them , they don’t know you. you can be anyone you want , say anything you want , no skin in the game . but say … what if your best friend suddenly asked you out on a date ? that’s a little scary right , because what if things don’t work out and it ruins the friendship ? writing smut is kinda like that. sometimes it’s easier to do it with a complete stranger first (a safe adult who you can then befriend btw not just some rando lmao- stay safe!! internet scary). then you can warm into trying to write it with your friends or learn what personalities etc match yours for smut and how you like writing it , talking about it etc etc .

know your own hard boundaries and know that people aren’t mind readers ( ie if someone uses language you don’t like , it’s ok to say that ! say “hey can we use xx word instead ?” or “hey i don’t have muse for this thread , can we drop and try something new ?”)

laugh about it , talk about it , etc etc . talking about it gives it less power of you or whatever , right ? everytime i write a smut reply , i message the mun something silly or a meme . or my partner will send me something about my reply . it takes alllll the tension / stress / “did i take this too far???” out of it !

i hope this makes sense . it’s a bit of a brain dump - but i completely understand your feeling . be kind to yourself ! take time ! you also DONT HAVE TO DO IT !!!!

[kirsdoesstuff]

Ive always like the idea of a khajit being brought into twst, bc i started skyrim when i was 16, so i imagined my cat girl to be my age so by the time i finished the game i was 20 and fully dragonborn'd up so liek.. what if a 20 yr khajit (or any race from skyrim) gets isekaid to twst? I imagine its be fun to figure out why she can do magick from skyrim, but not magic from twst

Blog type : What if a Khajit/Dovakin went through the mirror? {Brain dump}

That is honestly a great question, as someone who also had a Khajit cuz 10 year old me was like ooh kitty (I named her Zara). Granted I haven’t played in so long, but I’ll try to bring up what I remember. Watched so many modded play throughs.

Granted I apologize this might not be exactly what you were hoping for in this ask. I just hope this at least makes sense as I go through the main aspects. My brain first went into this like “How would it be?”.

I’ll use neutral ways to refer to our lovely kitty Dovakin.

Magic, shouts and the Dovakin aspects are general.

I feel like everyone would be so confused as to what magic they have. Plenty of people have already wrote up headcanons on magical girls or other stuff from other worlds but I haven’t seen this yet.

Khajit specifically, since beastmen are not that fur or feather covered they would obviously look at one quite curiously. There’s quite a few variants of them across games/regions. Depending on how certain people feel they could be territorial. Khajit are usually able to adapt to any region they go to, though TWST is set much farther in time so depending on how many ruins they’ve experienced and they might understand a bit of it. Phones would still be very confusing and social media.

I still imagine most close to them would have intrusive thoughts about how the fur feels. They could accidentally scratch someone if they’re taken by surprise. Everyone would need to keep a roller nearby since the fur can get everywhere.

Them asking where the nearest tavern is for some ale or wine would be great. Leona might help if they’re close enough to see who can last the longest drinking.

The magic in Skyrim is based on purely mana and there’s no waste like blot. Shouts is a whole different story too. Though there is plenty of similar basic spells that would be “normal”, but making a sword out of thin air from mana? Is that your unique magic? No? What do you mean?

There’s so many spells that would leave people gawking, and artifacts too. The staff of the god of chaos, that would be hilarious until you turn someone into a sweet roll accidentally. Imagine they’re the leader of the mages too in Skyrim, and correcting methods of magic in the world of TWST.

Shouts deserve their own paragraph. Like slow time is so op, and the Dovakin would immediately be made one of the strongest wizards. Shouts would make Overblot incidents over so quickly. Disarm is obvious, Become Ethereal is op, Bend Will op, Call of Valor literally summons the heroes across space and time for aid, and would Dragonrend work on Malleus? They’d be way too powerful for the world of TWST in short.

Call dragon would be interesting, but if that doesn’t work due to being in another world there is Summon Durnehviir could work since it crosses a dimension already from the Dawnguard dlc.

The Dovakin aspect is also something to consider since there’s Malleus a dragon fae. Would he sense it? Would Leona hate the smell of lizard you have? There’s a little bit to think about, but all quite interesting.

If it was ever brought up they bare dragon blood in their veins and know many dragons but have also killed many in the war that went beyond the living realm. Imagine the silence and jaw dropping from many staff and students. The strength to kill multiple dragons and maybe taking on two at once (unfortunately did in a city, I was confused by how many roars I heard).

The odd skills would be so useful though, lock picking, the strength to haul all those sweet rolls (does everything disappear into their inventory?), unfazed by undead, ambidextrous dual wielding, potions is alchemy, silent walking gets you tea and not even Khajit hear you. Lots of odd things to think about regarding it.

[sburbian-sage]

Sphinx of black quartz, judge my vow

Alright that subsystem seems to be working, please excuse any mistypes

My apologies Fellow Sailor, ive been working on a translator for the quirk forced upon me

Im adrift now, in a shear stroke of luck (thanks to a tiny nudge of manipulation on my part) the slavers entered stasis ahead of schedule

They will never awaken

It was a surprisingly easy endeavor, just a sudden drop of power to the alarm systems along with a massive sectioning of my brain and i just increased the sedative levels until poof, no more heart beats

The benefits of being mostly computer now i suppose

Im still slowly purging my systems of the corruption from the soul manipulation, ive mostly taken root in the ships storage banks, if i was still capable of it id be afraid of losing whatever humanity i had left

Not that i have any considering i find myself as part troll and part digitized void vessel

Once i finish organizing my systems i plan to make good use of the two fresh new bodies i find myself in possession of

Plenty of biological material for me to assimilate and use, i assume it will be strange to be of a neural hivemind but no less strange than being a ship

I assume that i will eventually be forced to bargain with the others in order to continue my survival considering the consumption of my grist storages will lead to me running out of raw resources, thankfully i need little food in order to survive, mostly subsisting off of the nuclear reactors that power both my mind and the ship

Its strange i suppose, i had hoped i would feel something strangling the life of those who enslaved me, but instead i feel nothing

I wonder what the others will demand of a being who wants and feels nothing

-sanguineIntelligence

I assume this is The User Formerly Known As sovereignSailor? If so congratulations on your self-emancipation. And on reclaiming your personhood, even if in the form of a bio-mechanical Cronenberg situation. I can't imagine how you're feeling about that one, but chicks dig giant robots, and being part of the ship is like being a giant robot, right? I'm gonna be real chief I'm really Not Good at sensitivity and stuff like that. All I can offer you is "if someone can shove you through the door that appears when you win the game you'll be alright", and it's normal to feel no catharsis with death. PKs and other guys like that deserve what comes to them, but it's probably for the best that you often don't take joy from it it. Like, emptying out the trash cans in your house is a necessary task, but you don't feel happy when you do it, do you? "Humanity" is what you make of it, but that's just my opinion, I never frequented the philosophy forums.

As far as the rest of the Ring Journey, I don't have much advice. I feel like your situation may be, The Most Unique Situation Anyone Has Ever Been In. I have no clue how being part-ship affects logistics. I am glad to hear you're doing well though, and I think the universe is obligated to give you an easy rest of the journey considering the metric tons of shit you just went through. I don't know if the Others even accept bargains in the Furthest Ring, as I have not tried, but hopefully it doesn't come to that.

Good luck, fellow sailor.

[missingn000]

hi chi i hope youre doing well♡ i just wanted to pop by to say i'm finally catching back up on tpg after a while of my brain not working enough to read lol but anyway! i just got to the retrial in ch34, and when nanami's defense culminates in this moment:

“You don’t have to stop caring,” Nanami reassures. “Humanity would cease to exist if we did that. But if all you do is count the reasons why you shouldn't be here, you’re going to miss out on every little joy that makes it worth being here anyway.”

Nanami whips his head towards Judgeman. He’s decided how to plead.

“You’re right. I nearly killed Nara along with every last member of the Inumaki clan. But I didn’t, because someone in the courtyard needed me and I saw meaning in giving him a home.”

Judgeman’s jail bars of teeth bare themselves one final time.

“Innocent,” it declares. “Restoration.”

hhhh oh my god. i got chills sitting here in between sets on the leg curl machine ahsjhwksbd. i've been so engrossed in this chapter i havent been able to put it down, the fight has been awesome and i've been having so much fun visualizing it. and ive been soooo stressed about nanami's technique being confiscated just desperately hoping all his words could get through to higurama... AUGH the clash of ideals is just as juicy as the physical violence.

but like. nanami choosing toge over the vengeance, finding meaning in the small happinesses that happen in daily life... it's such a beautiful arc to his character that he's changed from the man who views adulthood the accumulation of small despairs into who he is now. and i'm just so excited for higurama to go through his own journey. but yeah ! i just wanted to take a moment to fanboy about it in your inbox because i don't think i have yet and i needed to rectify that Immediately!! i love tpg soooo so much 💕 anywhoo i'm gonna keep reading now haha ^_^

YOU READ TPG?!?!?!??!?!?!??!?????????????? WHAT OH MY GOD I HAD NO IDEA

but damn i am so so happy you like it!! GOD ch34 fucked me up too...fight scenes are my favorite thing to write and i love striking that balance of physical vs emotional impact. it's awesome to hear you think i succeeded with this fight!! i've always thought it would be interesting if nanami and higuruma interacted, but i actually think they wouldn't get along, at least not at first. after all, higuruma went straight to murder and apathy upon realizing the cruelty of the world, while nanami decided to bear that emotional weight and use his power to help people anyway.

omgggg the character development for nanami was SO satisfying to write. that journey of him believing little despairs making someone an adult to little joys making life worth living...auughgrtghfggahj i love him so much!! higuruma's about to go down a crazy journey of his own for sure, and i hope you enjoy it. thanks for this message im literally BEAMING

[isekai-crow]

Doctor Elise Ep 3-4

I cannot express enough how fun of a potato chip this show is. I had a fever this week and this was a great lil show to watch that didnt require me to think.

As a self proclaimed shonen bro whose not normally into shojos, I enjoyed the manga, and the anime is doing a good job despite not being one of the "big names". It might also be my love of medical dramas from the early 2000s peaking in. I can turn my brain off to watch it and just have fun by going "WTF w h y", and poking fun at how broken some aspects of this world are while still thoroughly enjoying it.

It's definitely the kind of show that probably won't hold up to scrutiny for the world building, so. Just. Don't think too hard about the specifics of what's happening! Then the power fantasy pieces won't break through your suspension of disbelief! Because IV bags did not exist during the Crimean War in the 1800s which seems to be where this fantasy setting is taking place.

But I'm gonna go and point out all the broken bits below because its so much fun (not bashing at all!).

Also my favorite boy shows up! Doctor Graham!! We love a boy whose not there to be a rival or love interest, and respects the Lady and they get to be bros!

Look at this silver haired ponce of a bishonen, he's delightful, ascot and all!

He's voiced by Hosoya, Yoshimasa - Rainer Braun from Attack on Titan, Nezumi from NO.6, WOLFWOOD FROM THE NEW TRIGUN STAMPEDE!! Tokoyami from BNHA, and Sousuke from Free!

DAMN THEY PICKED A GOOD VOICE FOR MY BOY.

More spoilers/screen shots below the cut!

Elise shows up for work as Rose at the No Cultural Touchstone For Mother Teresa Hospital, the genius young doctor Graham is supposed to take care of her but he's busy and assumes like everyone else that a young well-off lady will run from the sight of blood soon enough, and so sticks her in the HOSPICE WARD.

HHMMMM I WONDER WHY ALL THESE PEOPLE ARE ON THEIR DEATH BEDS???? COULD IT PERHAPS BE... UH... SANITARY REASON?? SHOULD HOSPITALS BE SANITARY??? NAHHHH THE DIRTY ROTTING BANDAGES ON THE FLOOR AREN'T MAKING THINGS WORSE, NO WAAAAAAAAY.

These poor overworked shift nurses seem to have no idea what they're doing, but thankfully we have a returner with concepts of modern day sanitation who cleans the place up!

She then finds a dude with bed sores and realizes no one knows what SEPSIS IS, and is like. Get me a scalpel, it's my first day, I've never held a scalpel in my read:this life, I'M DOIN' A SURGERY TODAY. I'VE GOT GALAXY BRAIN TO HELP ME.

I love these shots they're great.

SHE PROCEEDS TO CUT INTO THE DUDES BACK LIKE SHE'S DRAWING FREE FORM SELECTION ON MS PAINT AND THEN JUST HITS CTRL-X DELETE.

That's not A tissue, that's HIS (necrotic) tissue! I sure hope this dude has pain killers or is drunk off his ass with vodka because DAMN.

All the other in-patients are so happy she's here, they feel better already with her bright and happy personality! Normally this would feel really creepy and sexist, but this juuuuuust squeaked by as not coming off that way.

Jump cut to the King! Only 12 people in this world know what diabetes is! How is Elise going to get away with having known about it?? Probably more hand waving!!

Now, we either get a time skip, or she's literally been working all night, but Dr. Graham walks in on her dozing, thinks he's got the wrong place, and proceeds to scold her for performing surgery without permission. But then he takes her on rounds and we're in a medicial show!!!!

IS THAT A FUCKING IV BAG?

IT IS!!!! THOSE WEREN'T INVENTED UNTIL THE LATE 1800s!! At least its a glass bottle, and not a plastic bag like I initially assumed?? But I guess the Crimean War was in the 1850s and this type of open glass bottle IV was from the 1900s so... Wooo Fantasy Europe!! -waves hand rapidly to shoo you on-

This man is having a time trying to figure out what the fuck. But he's pretty.

It takes him a bit to come to terms with her abilities but then he's just so happy to have another Doctor Bro who Actually Cares that he's behind her with full support! Which yay! But also becomes a tool of sorts, to kind of hand wave away the concept of sexism in the medical field to the point where it doesn't seem to exist. Which is also what makes this such a light show, because it doesn't even try to handle said topics, it just erases them completely with regards to medicine.

Equal numbers of men and women as doctors! The women aren't relegated to nurses! Yay! No critical thinking needed here.

My favorite part of this though, is that they DO tease at it. When Elise makes a different call from the doctor she's following in Ye Olde ER, he kind of stutters and is flabbergasted and panicked, while the female doctor is immediately like, I GOTCHU SIS, and steps in to help her as she proceeds to STAB A DUDE IN THE CHEST WITH A SYRINGE.

She's so pretty with blood on her face.

We're in episode 4 by this point, and its the "Festival Episode" common to many isekai romance manhwas, but of course, Elise is a doctor and so she's working the ER instead of attending.

However this is the episode that proves there is magic in the world, and WE GET A SECOND VA FOR THE PRINCE. He transforms into "Lord Ron". We also get a glimpse of his tragic back story!

His bodyguard gets a knife pulled on him and THEN A GUN. New Technology Discovered: Guns! I should hope they had those figured out before IV tech, but you think they'd know about general sanitation being important as well.

Dude's been shot in the SPLEEN!!! OW MY SPLEEN! They don't have a splenectomy in Fantasy Europe, oh no!

Elise puts up such a persuasive argument, and the dude is dying, so they might as well let her try to save him. And look, the prince Lord Ron has field surgery experience and offers to help!

SUDDENLY THERE IS ELECTRICITY. WHAT WERE THOSE OIL LAMPS IN THE GRIMEY DEATH WARD???

MS PAINT SCALPEL FTW!! It's not bad for the limited time they likely had to anime each episode, and the fact that they're putting more emphasis on the conversations. For comparison, this scene in the manga ↓

Surgery is a success! Yay! Elise is asked to write up a report abotu the surgery as it will be the first ever recorded splenectomy.

and then. Blushing Prince is Adorable, even in disguise. Love us some blushing boys.

But by far the most accurate part of this show so far...

Even in a Fantasy Europe Hospital the doctors have shitty handwriting lmfao

[thetriumphantpanda]

UGH MY LOVE CHARLIE ive definitely been neglecting all my loves on here cause my life is a crazy crazy mess and if im not working, im writing and if im not writing im curled up in a ball in the corner crying so ive had ZERO time/brain power to read any fics lately. BUT BUT BUT i just know they are AMAZING and as soon as i can function i will be devouring them!!!! just know i love and appreciate you so much <3 im packaging a million kisses into a box and shipping them over to you i type this out 😚🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Emmie my darling I LOVE YOU 🫶🏼 Please never worry about needing to take time/space for yourself, it's so important and I hope you're okay! You know I'm always here if you need anyone to speak with to get things off your mind! Just know I am sending you so many hugs and kisses right back over to you as well! 🧡

[the-kipsabian]

just throwing together some misc alan wake 2 thoughts now that ive slept and had coffee after finishing the game. mostly talking end game, obviously spoilers

alice. alice intrigues me so much. that final stinger is incredible, for multiple reasons. that reveal following the series of photos of her seemingly killing herself is just.. yeah. i think that was not only her way of trying to getting back to alan, who she knew was trapped in the dark place at the bottom of the lake, but it was also to throw scratch off, to think that he won by tormenting her to her death. theres no light flickers in the background of that final video. she is free of scratch, but still clearly safe. maybe back in the dark place, but tbh im not sure if she ever actually escaped it in the first place. shes going to leave the place with alan. she has to, because they are each others rocks. they sink or swim together (it would also explain why she was able to contact saga while she was in the dark place)

speaking of saga, her mind place version of the dark place was just *chefs kiss*. it was an incredible, worked really well to demonstrate not only the power the dark place has on people, but also what kind of a character she really is. strong and independent, but so good to those around her. i really wish we got deeper into her friend and partnership with casey tbh, after hearing about his divorce (which, btw, loved the extremely casual drop about him and estevez just "bonding over their ex wives". amazing job remedy) and especially seeing the birthday photo in the mind place just. my heart. i really wish we got more casey in general, but i guess him being included in the story beats and echo visions as a hardboiled detective just needs to be enough. for now i say knowing full well im gonna dive super deep into fanfics when my brain fog lifts a little ough

my one big question was door. and maybe tim to that extent, considering the last page we read and we never fully got an explanation about doors involvement (im hoping ng+ explains this further?) but it refers to tim as his "unwilling disciple" - obviously tim was moved to the dark place against his will, but at the same time, why exactly and what is he doing? hes been trying to get out, to figure it out, he has a whole whiteboard of theories and yet. it all leads to door. and idk maybe i missed it somehow, but i never fully made that connection as to why and what doors game here is. which leaves me with questions for the next game/sequel/dlc. intriguing, but throwing that in last minute just felt kinda. idk remedy dont do this to me lmao

one thing im admittedly a bit disappointed about was them choosing to sacrifice alan for the ending. i mean i get it, at the point where we think alice is dead and saga makes it very clear that neither casey nor logan can be hurt and that they are both the heroes of the story, theres not much options left. like alan said, the horror story needs a victim. but also idk, i wish we could. have had a choice? multiple endings?? which i guess ng+ teased but we'll see. also it being left unanswered whether we were free from the darkness now or not, which i understand was intentional but idk im still a bit miffed about that one lol. logan not answering the phone. however saga did have a wedding ring on her finger (i did not observe this detail before so idk if it was just always there but it felt very significant in this scene as they didnt show her being lefthanded before so) which makes me think everything did get fixed, considering how badly david hated her during points in the story, so why would she still wear her wedding ring after all those years after what happened if this wasnt the good reality again. just saying

ALSO IM JUST SO GLAD CASEY IS ALIVE. STUPID BASTARD MAN I LOVE HIM SO

"its not a loop, its a spiral" has interesting implications, but i miss "its not a lake, its an ocean" tbh. i feel like that ending revelation held more power to it than this one, it just feels like a rehash for the sake of copying the original. like i get what they mean about this one (its not a constant changing loop, its a developing story moving forward that keeps expanding as it goes even tho it feels like its going in circles), but just as a saying it doesnt stand up to the original. thats all

the way, even if they are sharing a skin, alan and scratch are two different characters (im excluding zane from this equation for reasons as i dont think he was real [im fairly convinced it was scratch playing games with alan just pretending to be zane], but i wanna give special props to ilkka villi for his portrayal. immaculate job) and are written that way. the way they talk, the lines they have, there is a significant difference when you pay attention to it - i think its partially alans way of trying to dodge the blame and put it all on scratch, whereas scratch doesnt do that for himself, hes just trying to play into the emotional manipulation angle with the constant rush instead to get what he wants and to get people on his side and to trust him. which is a really good take, considering that hes using all common scammer tactics to try to fool people into giving him what he wants (also just god the transformation scene when this is revealed? permanently tattooed in my brain that was so goddamn good)

its also a very interesting take that the cult is actually the good guys. i also just love ilmos explanation for it; "what kind of a cult calls themselves a cult" like. yeah. yeah man you got a point there. but that being just a cover and a scare tactic to keep people safe? love that shit that was good (kinda high key mad we didnt get more of them after that. only that one last sad tv commercial, would have loved to give them a good ending too)

also the parallel of alan waking up from getting shot to the head vs earlier zane doing to same thing at the second meeting in the hotel. i havent stopped thinking about it tbh

just. a few thoughts. all in all idk i felt like the ending was missing something tbh. maybe i just missed something, but it feels like it was more of a setup for something in the future with everything than an ending to a full game and a sequel 13 years after the original. i have too many questions left, more than i entered into this mess with. that being said, absolutely loved the game itself, the story is insane and incredible, this has once again rewired the way my brain thinks about stories (plot board my beloved......), theres so much underneath the surface of a survival horror game that cant be explained, it needs to be experienced. there are sequences here that im unable to convey in words and feelings, you need to see them for yourself ("we sing" and the movie theater. iykyk)

just in general that cliffhanger like. why you do me like this remedy. why. i cant wait for 13 years for another sequel. goddamn

the ending tho, im. i dont know. in the first game we knew things were still kinda wrong, but it showed that everyone outside of alan seemingly got out of the things unscathed for the most part (i mean we lost nightingale, rose went kinda loopy, there were signs that not everything and everyone was right but for the most part the town and people in it were safe), but here we dont see any of it. the happy deerfest is nothing but scratch's illusion. so idk if im meant to believe that shooting alan was the fix and everything went back to normal, like normal normal before this man was pulled into the lake, or since he was still seemingly alive after that, are we still living in the happy deerfest illusion forever while the darkness spreads to the land outside of it? i have so many questions and this ending didnt answer a lot of them tbh lmao

theres so much here i cant fit here my brains still very rattled from all of this and i keep getting more questions the longer i think about it so im gonna leave it here. i'll probably see you later with more when ng+ and/or dlc releases, as hopefully those will explain more

10/10, absolutely my game of the year ngl

..one thing to leave you with. fuck the boss fights in this game lmao