#just because I know most of the available will be probably be shipping them I will also tag

[clearancecreedwatersurvival]

Hey uhhhhhh can I get some fic recs where post timeskip Sanji’s time on kamabakka leads to him having some actual character growth, unlearning some toxic masculinity and having a queer awakening or two?

[ruins-of-gods]

Something that I think Warhammer 40,000 storytellers miss sometimes is the sheer scale of their setting. I mean, don't get me wrong - I love the big, dramatic clashes, the characters you can buy in mini form and their convoluted, interwoven lore, the dramatic combats against unstoppable foes across a thousand ruined worlds. But that's the top of the setting, as it were - the most powerful beings in the universe, all fighting for supremacy. And at ground level, the level of the ordinary person, are so many other stories.

Did you know that a Lunar-class void cruiser has a crew of 95,000? Nearly a hundred thousand people, aboard a spaceship five kilometers long. A city, flying through outer space to wage war. Many of those people are proper trained soldiers, fresh from some academy or veterans of long, grueling campaigns, and many more are pressed into service, begrudgingly laying their lives at their Emperor's feet. But, unless the ship is currently actively involved in a really bloody campaign, most of those people were born aboard that ship. Most of their parents were born aboard it. And their grandparents. And their great-grandparents. Lineages stretching back centuries, so far that the original soldier who came aboard has been forgotten. A lot of those people probably know, on some level, that they're aboard a ship flying through space - but a lot of them probably don't, and I guarantee you almost none of them understand what that means. This ship is their world. To look out the window means madness so often that they avoid it - not that windows are readily available anyway. Most of them probably barely even understand that they're fighting. All they know is that when the readouts on their analog instruments display like so, when they hurry to obey the blared orders through the klaxon, the Emperor is pleased with them. They were born into that world. When they were children they did smaller tasks the adults couldn't. Their entire existence was winding metal corridors, laid out according to some archaic design, any logic that might dictate their layout long since degraded after millennia of ignorant maintenance, lit only by emergency lights that have long since become the default. They learned how to read an angle readout or how to relay an order perfectly the way another child might learn history or math. When they grew up, their service was flawless, born of pride and ignorance, and when they grew old and died, their legacy was remembered until it was forgotten. Many were killed in battle, but who cares? They gave their lives to the Emperor - a name whose meaning they don't understand, but whose importance they believe in wholeheartedly, all but synonymous with the commanding officers up above.

Sometimes, the klaxons sound a specific command, and every person on board who understands what it means feels a deep, awful dread as they run to their battle stations. They don't know what a warp jump is. They don't understand they're going from one place to another by the fastest way available. All they know is that, for a time, the ship dips into hell. The corridors go wrong. Things and people might not be where or what they were before. Daemons stalk the halls, and must be killed by any who can hold a lasgun. The overcrowded berths, the little nooks that families find for themselves - they are not private anymore. They are not safe. Things drift through the shift that do not care about the laws of physics, but that delight in killing and torturing human beings. Vast energies shake the ship and tear parts of it away - their home, their world, their existence, the biggest thing they can imagine, assaulted by something bigger. Is it the Emperor's punishment for failure? Is this what battle is? What's going on? They don't know, and no one who does can be bothered to tell them. The dread of those who have seen this before is even worse, because they don't know how long it will be. It might be just a few hours. It might be days, or weeks, or months, or years, or decades. It might be centuries, as the captain of the ship goes hunting daemons deep in the warp - the officers live that long, after all, and have little care for those who don't. There will be people born in hell, who spend their entire lives fighting from the day they can stand, and who die in hell, as old age and need catch up to them and they curl up in a corner to perish. To them, it isn't even hell. It's just the world. The world is death and pain and cruelty, an infinite metal box through which monsters stalk, and sometimes you must run to a battle station and do as you're ordered to do. And sometimes, as they reach forty or fifty or even a ripe old sixty, the ship drops out of the Warp, and, for the final years of their life, they are granted a life of relatively safe service better than anything they ever hoped to dream of.

Those are the kinds of stories I want to see more of. Super-soldiers fighting each other is cool, yes, but I want to see this universe explored. I want stories from the perspective of those that keep the Imperium going, or the aeldar, or the tyranids, or anyone, really. There's just so much potential in this setting. It deserves it.

[stu-dyingstudent]

Sakura Haruno fic recs: romance-centric

I, like many others, definitely enjoy a good romance every so often. All of these recs are going to have the romantic development of the characters as the forefront of the story, so just because the fic includes a ship doesn't mean it will go on the list. That means, many of them might feel more on the slice of life side of the spectrum, but that's not the case for all!!

There is going to be a mix of ships here so if you're interested in one in specific then use the search feature!

Started: 2024.08.28

Last Updated: 2024.12.19

note: feel free to check out my master list which has a bunch of Sakura Haruno fic recs (all organized)!

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To Build a Home - RedPowder || ao3 || E || kakasaku || canon divergence || ongoing

Sakura and Kakashi are assigned a mission that will change the path of their lives forever.

Kakashi and Sakura are forced to marry on orders from the village and I know that description sounds dumb, but trust me when I say this fic is gold. I've always had a hard time with kakasaku fics because I feel the whole teacher/student thing gets swept under the rug too easily, but that's not the case here. Their past relationship from team 7 is a glaring shadow over their marriage and the guilt over the whole situation weighs heavy on Kakashi. This mission isn't easy for either of them and it takes a lot of pull and tug to ensure things don't completely blow up. To Build a Home is probably one of my favorite takes on this ship as the portrayal feels realistic and the character feel accurate to themselves. Just give it a go!

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Approaching Sun - ANerdInAllHerGlory || ffn || T || sasusaku || blank period || ongoing

After 2 years, Sasuke returns to the village where friends anxiously await him. Still troubled by the mysteries of Kaguya and his personal guilt, Sasuke is split between friends and his journey. Troubled by rising casualties and international dependence on her abilities, Sakura is torn between her love for Sasuke and her duty to her village.

Approaching Sun is probably one of the most realistic depictions of Sasuke and Sakura's relationship that I have read. This takes place during the blank period and references the novels, so it feels like an actual possibility of what went down. As much as I love them, I have a hard time believing that their relationship was smooth sailing and so I think this is an interesting take.

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The Fool - thekatthatbarks || ao3 || T || shikasaku || blank period || complete

Ino kicked at a pebble on the ground, her arms folded across her chest. “How long?” Shikamaru sighed and pulled the cigarette away from his lips. “The war." It was a lie somewhat. He’d liked her since they were kids but had simply ignored the budding crush expecting it to fade over time. It hadn’t and by the time the war came around, he accepted he would always carry it despite his increasing efforts to drop it. He’d tried drowning it in the river, burning it in a fire, covering it up with something else. But it was all to no avail. It stuck with him, always apart of him. “Have you ever told anyone? Chouji? Her?” "No."

I actually really like Shikamaru and Sakura as a pairing (or just working together in general); however, I haven't read much of them. The Fool was a great post-war read where with some meddling (curtesy of Ino) we get to watch the progression of their relationship into something more than friends.

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Nightmare in Red - Sariasprincy || ao3 || M || itasaku || non-massacre AU || complete

Haruno Sakura used to think the eyes were the windows to the soul, but after witnessing the horrors of the Sharingan firsthand, she's convinced they are the doors. It was pure chance that led Sakura to the discovery of the disease eating through Uchiha Itachi's lungs and now that she's aware, she knows she cannot just turn a blind eye. But how is she to treat the very man who tortured her while at the same time keep her nightmares from consuming her? That she doesn't know, but she knows she has to try, even if it nearly kills her in the end.

Itachi unintentionally captures Sakura in his mangekyou after being rolled into the hospital for her to heal. While Sakura tries to work through the impacts of the genjutsu she continues to work with him in an effort to cure him of the disease infecting his body. I actually really liked how the whole thing played out. Itachi's sickness was sort of a mystery in the original series and so I found it rather interesting to see what was done in regards to it. Anyway, I love their interactions and Shisui is (like always) a great character as well.

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Blind - ObsidianSickle || ffn || sasusaku || T || canon divergent || complete

It was almost time, Orochimaru was going to take his body as a vessel. He hated being used...he refused to be used. With that thought, he took the kunai in his hand and slashed across his eyes.

I won't lie, Sakura is pretty weak in Blind and the whole thing is super cheesy, but it's still an enjoyable read.

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Ghosts - ElegiesforShiva || ffn || sausaku || M || blank period || incomplete

In love and loss, it often comes back to family, and Team 7 had always been fated, hadn't they? Deny it as she may, Sakura finds her heart strung to them with an uncanny reverence and the weight of their ghosts. Sakura-centric. Heavy, heavy angst. Slow burn Sasusaku. Canon pairings. Lots of friendship feels. Eventual (consensual) lemon.

Ghosts is a pretty dark read where basically everyone is suffering. Sasuke and Sakura in specific have an especially hard time coping with their individual struggles yet they find comfort in each other. Check TWs before going in

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Home is Where the Heart is - DeepPoeticGirl || ffn || sasusaku || T || blank period || complete

And with every moment together, they get just a little closer, a little more comfortable with each other. Fall a little more in love. Post-war. Pre-epilogue.

This fic is actually adorable! Taking place during the black period we get to see how Sasuke and Sakura's relationship slowly progresses. If you've always wondered what their travels were like then definitely check this one out.

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In Times of Peace - SouthSideStory || ffn || sasusaku || M || blank period || canon divergent || complete

The war is over, and like Konoha, Team 7 has rebuilt itself from the ground up. Everything has changed, but Sasuke and Sakura remain much the same. Eleven years, she thinks, is a long time to be in love.

Sakura and Sasuke have like a secret relationship going on. Also, Sakura as a jonin sensei is so good!! I really wish that someone from the original cast actually went down that route, but whatever.

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Labyrinthine - FM_White || ao3 || itasaku || M || canon divergence || complete

ItaSaku (Post Uchiha Massacre) AU: Some things are destined to be. It just takes a couple of tries to get there.ItaSaku. Light KakaSaku.

I actually really liked how this was done as team 7 is still a family, Sasuke didn't lose his mind, Itachi picked a much more respectable path imo, and the characters are all adults.

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Only a Crush by Gingersoup || ao3 || kakasaku || M || canon divergent || complete

It was supposed to be an easy, fun night out. She never intended to wake up in her sensei's bed, half-naked and with no memory of what happened the night before! As she tries to unravel the mystery of that night, something sinister is growing beyond the walls of the Leaf Village... and what was only a crush spirals wildly out of control.

Sakura is unwillingly thrust into the world of illegal drugs, trafficking, and sex all while coming to terms with her new feelings regarding her former sensei. I typically don't like kakasaku, but I think this work is done tastefully well. The characters are both adults and the immorality of the relationship is not ignored, so be prepared for a lot of "we can't," "this is wrong," etc.. Anyway, Sakura is an absolute powerhouse and I thoroughly enjoyed the relationship between all of the different characters and villages!

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Dreaming's End - thepiedsniper || ao3 || T || kakasaku || canon divergence || complete

Sakura didn't avoid the Infinite Tsukuyomi with the others, and all the events that happened afterward were simply the product of her dream-state. When Sakura finally wakes up from years spent in her personal "paradise," she must to learn how to start again. Kakashi is there to help her. ~*~ (TWs for genjutsu-related unreality)

Basically, imagine the entirety of Boruto was Sakura's dream in Infinite Tsukuyomi. When Sakura manages to breakout during the war she's left to deal with serious ramifications of the life she just lived. She finds herself constantly questioning what's real and Kakashi tries to help her through it.

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Mamihlapinatapai - FM_White || ao3 || E || itasaku || canon divergence || ongoing

Mamihlapinatapai・Yagan. (n.) a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something they both desire, but which neither wants to begin In which Sakura tries her hardest to raise one hell of a rambunctious baby by herself, Sasuke is searching for something unknown, and Itachi is the uncle.

In another life where Itachi doesn't end up dying and instead tries his best to help Sakura raise his niece in Sasuke's absence. It's my head canon that everyone came together to help with Sarada just like they did for Kuranai, and so Mamihlapinatapi satisfies that thought for me. I like how Sasuke was criticized in this since as much as I understand the necessity of what he's doing, I also find it completely unfair to his wife and daughter. Itachi and Sakura form a great bond and it's all very domestic and just super fluffy all around, which I love.

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Louder than Words - SouthSideStory || ao3 || T || sasusaku || non-massacre AU || complete

Sakura hasn’t uttered a single word since the day her family died, but Sasuke is determined to hear her, one way or another. (No Uchiha massacre AU.)

Sakura gets taken in by the Uchiha family after Fugaku finds her on a mission. She's been mute ever since, but that doesn't stop her and Sasuke from forming a close bond.

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Snake Bound - shefalls || ao3 || E || sasusaku || canon divergence || complete

"You... took me with you." "That's what I said." "To Orochimaru. You took me with you, to Orochimaru." Sasuke nodded curtly and shoved the medical kit a little more insistently into her hands. Sakura accepted, and prayed to every known god that Orochimaru would ignore her existence. She should've known the gods don't listen. Now only on AO3. Sequel up.

What if Sasuke took Sakura with him like she asked? Snake Bound explores that idea and it's honestly a very uncomfortable read. Their relationship is based off of the isolation and dependency their new situation puts them in. All they really have is each other and the new bond that brings is not a healthy one.

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Armour-Sleeved Single Hit - thatdamnuchiha || ao3 || T || madasaku || time travel AU || one-shot complete

Sasuke always told Sakura she was weak. Even after she trained with Tsunade for years he only had eyes for Naruto whom he considered strong. She would forever be invisible to him no matter how many mountains she toppled.Being a member of Team Seven despite Sasuke’s refusal to acknowledge her meant she got herself into her fair share of sticky situations. Getting stuck a hundred odd years in the past had to take the cake though.But she was just a weak little girl and compared to the shinobi of old she’d be ridiculously pathetic. Sasuke had said she was weak to him – a modern day shinobi who hadn’t been forced into battle after battle like they did in the Warring Clans Era. Obviously she’d be nothing more than a spec of dirt in the eyes of the Founders.

Sakura manages to find herself in founding-era Konoha! While trying to prove that medical ninja are capable fighters she unknowingly gains the affection of Madara Uchiha. After all, the Uchiha find beauty in strength. Super cute read!

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Always You - alex-halcyon || ffn || T || kakasaku || age swap AU || complete

[AU. Age-swap] Kakashi x Sakura. From academy days to the third shinobi war and beyond, Kakashi and Sakura grow up and fall in love.

Basically, Sakura takes Rin's place on the old team 7. The progression between the character is quite interesting as it definitely isn't smooth sailing for Kakashi and Sakura. However, even through everything they find themselves drifting towards each other. Pretty cute imo.

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interim - stannide || ao3 || T || sasusaku || blank period || one-shot complete

Sasuke lives with Sakura in the weeks after the war.

Interim is such a wholesome read where Sasuke and Sakura rekindle their former relationship. Super fluffy

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Hit Me With Your Best Shot - Tozette || ao3 || T || sasusaku || blank period || one-shot complete

Sasuke is actually eighteen the first time he looks at Sakura and realises abruptly that he wants her.

I think we all know by now that Sasuke has always been attracted to strength, power, so why not when it comes to romance? Essentially, one day on a mission, Sasuke discovers he has a strength kink. Watching him continuously get flustered throughout the fic because of his admiration towards Sakura's strength is so entertaining. Really fun read

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the problem with how time works - MurderMittens || ao3 || E || kakasaku || generation swap AU || complete

"I don't remember you being this uncomfortable when Kakashi was nine and had a crush on you," Ino pointed out neutrally. "You thought it was flattering before." She moved to pour more wine into their glasses as Sakura exhaled sharply out of her nostrils. "Obviously! It was fucking cute when he was a kid! But now he's..." she trailed off, gesticulating feebly. Ino, taking pity on her, finished the sentence: "Now he's a stone cold hottie who looks and sounds like he'd murder the ever-loving shit out of your vagina."

Sakura and Kakashi's generations swap place and boy is it entertaining. With Naruto as his sensei, of course Kakashi has met Sakura. Now that she's back in the village after years, Kakashi decides to try his best to win her over.

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on still water - summersirius || ao3 || T || shisaku || canon divergence || complete

and sometimes, there are days without rain. —shisui/sakura

I'm actually devastated that the author decided to not pursue the plot line after about chapter 15 (it was so good too), but On Still Water is great nonetheless. Some really cute Shisui x Sakura moments

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never let 'em know your next move - MirrorImage003 || ao3 || T || itasaku || non-massacre AU || one-shot complete

six times itachi is surprised by sakura, and the one time he's surprised by his mother.

Sort of drabble style moments between Itachi and Sakura and it's honestly adorable.

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Hatsukoi - sparklyfaerie || ao3 || sasusaku || gen || non-massacre AU || complete

Sasuke leans away as the girl turns to him, and his mother doesn't need to be any closer to guess as to the expression on his face. The girl's body language changes in an instant, and Mikoto recognizes the posture of a little girl in love. It's kind of adorable.

Probably one of the cutest sasusaku fics I have read as Hatsukoi follows them from genin to marriage! It's told in multiple perspectives and it's full of tooth rotting fluff. You get to watch the slow progression of their relationship over time and how they grow even closer in Naruto's absence. Definitely read is you want something light!

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(oh, you'll probably go to heaven) please don't hang your head & cry - SafelyCapricious || ao3 || T || itasaku || time travel AU || one-shot complete

There’s no such thing as a good death. But Sakura faces her death without any regrets. Her dying is keeping her precious people safe — and that’s all she can ask for. So she dies with a smile, taking thousands of enemies with her. She wakes up and falls off the branch she’s laying on.

More of a pre-ship than anything actually romantic, so maybe this isn't the best for this list lmao.

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Ghost - twilightdazzle || ffn || M || sasusaku || canon divergence || complete

Sakura is officially declared missing on a Wednesday morning. Wednesday, what a stupid day to go missing. Of course, Sakura is the only person he knows that is annoying enough to interrupt the middle of the week like this.

Sakura goes missing and this fic is basically Sasuke slowly losing his mind over it. Ghost is honestly pretty darn touching and feels true to Sasuke's character. Everyone is concerned for Sakura and that doesn't exclude him despite how nonchalant he makes himself seem.

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Send me some recs if you have any to share! I'm generally fine with any ship as long as the story is good :)

[stubz]

Injuries and a ship invasion, no one dies

"Why do they let humans take care of our younglings? If it hadn't been for the coalition then it would've been another century till they realize our existence. Their senses have dulled to the point where its laughable that they are the dominating species of their planet. And lets not forget the fact that they're at constant war with each other over the most stupidest things, color of skin, where one lives, who they love, what they believe, etc."

"Calis stop it! Your being a xenophobe. And while some of that is true you should know by now that the humans care deeply for our children."

"I am simply being concerned parent who worries for their young's safety and well-being...we are in a dangerous area right now, the middle of a war zone, and it would make me feel safer if we had some others at the care centre till reinforcements arrive."

"Trust me my brightest, the humans will do everything they can to ensure the safety of our Dali...and knowing them they'll likely surprise you and live up to their reputation."

"...fine, fine, I apologize, you are right. The humans have surprised me so far, what's one more?"

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..

...

....

"WHERE IS DALI?! WHERE IS MY YOUNGLING CAPTAIN!"

"Calis calm down! Your arm!"

"NO! YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME TO CALM DOWN WHEN ENEMY FORCES HAVE INVADED OUR SHIP AND NONE OF US CAN FIND OUR YOUNG!!"

"Calis, your hurt and so is your partner. Think of Gala, they need you right now."

"...Gala is hurt because they were looking for Dali. They got shot because they were heading to the centre...I have to find Dali. For Gala, Captain."

"I'm sure that Kim and Max are doing everything they can to keep them safe."

"With all do respect Captain, how could 2 unarmed humans survive what our force couldn't."

"...I don't know but its probably going to be one hell of a story we'll be telling for the ages. Now go get your arm treated. That's an order."

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..

...

....

"WE FOUND THEM!"

"CAPTAIN WE FOUND THE YOUNGLINGS!"

"WE NEED A CRANK AND SEND EVERY AVAILABLE MEDIC!"

"oh great stars please no...nonononono DALI!" the Delzah rushed forward, breaking through the search party, only to be stopped by their captain.

"Calis...you have to let them do their job. We, we just have to hope." he could not help the hitch in his breath. Hoping, praying, that his own child was okay underneath the wreckage that was once the youngling care centre.

They fight and thrash until eventually grief overtakes them. They collapse into the captain's arms wailing.

"...what hope do I have that my child is alive under all that rubble. Captain...the only hope I have is that they died quick and that they are with the stars now..."

"Oh Calis..." he sobs. He knows it. There was hardly a chance that anyone was still alive underneath there. Only the strongest younglings who were from a strong species may survive and his child was not one of those few. They were strong but his child was like him...a runt, the joke of the family. Too small, too weak, too soft. She was surely dead...why couldn't it have been him?

"MAPA!"

"PAPA!"

One by one, children emerge from an opening made in the rubble, and at the front of them was Dali and a small feline like child.

"my glorious star" flinging themself from the Captain Calis dragged themself to meet Dali who leaped into their Mapa's arms.

The captain was not too far behind, running to his daughter and cradling her close. Words were not exchanged but Calis could feel the vibrations coming from their purrs.

"See...I told you they would be waiting..."

last to emerge from the rubble was the humans, carried out on stretchers. Only one was conscious. Glass glittered from their skin, dirt and dust blended with vibrant red blood, staining their white bandages, and a rebar was poking out of the unconscious one's side.

"You...got everyone right?"

"Yes, human Max."

"Good...that's good..." and finally did they lose consciousness.

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..

...

....

"Apparently they covered the windows and hid the kids in the storage room, putting them to the farthest corner while they formed a human wall in front of the door.

When those quiznaking bastards couldn't break down the door they rigged the centre with explosives. Lucky for us the humans personally requested that the storage room be made durable for the equivalent of their disasters on earth so it held up decently well."

"But how did they get so injured?"

"Decently well, meaning the room wasn't completely stable. Eventually the walls started to give and the humans had to improvise by becoming the new pillars. They took shifts until they both had to hold up the weight for what the kids guess to be 3 hours...imagine holding up all of that weight until you were on your hands and knees with rebars, broken glass, and debris piercing into your body."

"...Gala said that Human Max nearly flatlined and Human Kim needed 2 liters of blood."

"You seem confused."

"...Humans are impressive but how did they do all of that? They were already injured and yet managed to hold up a collapsed ceiling for hours until help arrived, I thought they were completely average and even weaker than us."

"Apparently when their loved ones, especially children, are in danger they tap into their more primal instincts. Allowing them to withstand a shot to the side, a slab of concrete to the head, and hours of keeping a ceiling from collapsing until they know everyone is safe.

Heard a story of a human who died only after he saw his kids was safe from a fire."

"Looks like Gala was right. Humans have surprised me once again."

[ckret2]

Hey gang, time for Crowdsourced Brainstorming Time

for reasons, I've got to write Mabel and Bill watching (at least large chunks of) a full Color Critters episode, which means I need something more in-depth than the quick snips & summaries I've done for previous episodes, and I feel like brainstorming a kids' cartoon plot is the kind of thing where twenty brains are better than one.

The goal: episode plotlines that sounds like something you'd find in an 80s Care Bears or Rainbow Brite episode. We're going for "run-of-the-mill episode," not a plot you'd expect in a pilot or a finale or an exciting two-parter special event

the premise of the show: anthropomorphic animals are defending colors, which are magically tied to different concepts. Example: the color green and friendship: when friends are fighting it kills nearby green things and if green things are destroyed it negatively impacts nearby friendships. it's for kindergarteners and teaches simple life lessons that people in the 80s thought were a good idea.

And if you haven't lost interest in this post yet, I'm sticking the available characters under the read more

Good guys, the colors they're in charge of, and what that gives them power over:

Prisma the Rainbow Fairy - rainbows, white, light - she's basically just Rainbow Brite. Everyone else's boss. Unofficially the main character.

Glory the Unicorn - pink - no particular domain, just Prisma's second-in-command and bestie. A bit of a worrywart.

Leo Proud - Red - life, exercise, playing (especially active play like sports)

Teddy Tender - orange - health/healing, fun & enjoyable things (less active play like board games)

Sunny Cat - yellow - sunlight, self-confidence, personal strength/power/assertiveness. she and Leo are cousins

Love Bunny - Green - friendship, love, nature

Howell Wolf - Blue - creativity, storytelling, magic (he's a wizard, he's got a wizard hat). he's besties with Leo

Misty the Dolphin - indigo - serenity/harmony, cooperation. She can't travel most places due to being a dolphin and gets used in well-intended but dated episodes about accommodating your friends with disabilities.

some bird I haven't named yet, maybe a peacock - purple - spirit

Bad guys:

Duke of Smog - the Big Bad, floating cloud of purple-gray smog with red angry eyes. He only takes an active role for special occasions like the pilot episode and season finales; otherwise the other characters frequently reference him but he's rarely seen. Wants to destroy color and goodness. No Heart mixed with that one creep in the Rainbow Brite pilot two-parter, what was with that dude anyway, they built him up so much as a villain and then bam he doesn't even survive to be part of the actual show

Serpent Grey - the second-in-command and most frequently seen bad guy. snake that has a mane for some reason. Bosses around the rank-and-file bad guys, cowardly dumbass who thinks he's a courageous genius. Shreeky mixed with G1 Starscream if he wasn't trying to overthrow megatron. If this show actually existed in the real world and I had watched it at age 7 then Serpent would be my favorite character and I'd probably have shipped him with the Duke.

a big fuzzy tarantula I haven't named yet - well-meaning bumbling dumbass who doesn't seem to realize he's one of the bad guys and is just happy to be included. Think Lurky.

a bee I also haven't named yet - the most important thing to know about him is that in season 1 he was a bad guy but then a special interest group angrily wrote the TV station to say that bees are so important to nature and agriculture and it was shameful for a children's cartoon to teach kids that bees are bad guys and so in season 2 he inexplicably joined the good guys and it took half the season for them to air an episode showing he switched sides because the other bad guys were bullying him and the good guys were nice.

"Hey Puff how come you can describe the bad guys in so much more detail than the good guys even though they're much less important?" don't look at me

[radio-fmm]

You must live

What if Luffy and reader got out of Marineford with Ace?

Ace x reader

2.1k words, gn reader, SFW fluffy at the end

Depictions of war and injuries, happy ending!!! Idc idc, the most plot accurate thing I’ve ever written I guess if you haven’t catched up to marineford then don’t read, or do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I ain’t the boss of ya’

War

It had creeped up on you like a nightmare from which you cannot wake up, your heart thrumming in your chest as you repeat to yourself that nothing’s real, that it’ll past— But it doesn’t

You still remember how you got here, the fear after seeing Ace stomping out the deck just about to jump to his striker as he argued with your dad because you knew there was not stopping him, yet you plead

“Don’t do it” now you stood between his sizzling anger and the edge of the ship, arms immediately grabbing his as a cry for help

“I have to do this, you know I do… I can’t let that bastard step on my dad’s name” as you looked right into his gaze you could just feel there was something else, something he was trying to prove not to your dad, not to the crew or you but to himself— Like he had to be of use to deserve his place

“Then I’m going with you” never in your life you had spoken with such conviction; you run to the side of the deck to gather a backpack and quickly tossing some food that was left laying around before everyone had stopped to convince your stubborn lover and failed miserably

“NO!” in all your time with Ace you had never heard him raise his voice at you, but you gave it no mind, quickly scrabbling anything useful for the journey at your arms reach

“Yes” everyone stood frozen knowing better than to speak up, you and Ace were so painfully similar, stubbornness one of the qualities on that list

“I have to do this myself, I want you here where you’re safe” he tried to quickly reach for the backpack now all full and packed but to not avail since you were quicker to toss it on your shoulders and walked straight to his striker

“I can handle myself just fine. I am going because I want to, I am making that decision,”- the silence that followed your statement was seasoned with desperation from the man that was onto your toes -“If you think I’m letting you go by yourself you’re out of your mind Portgas”

His last name leaving your lips had him groaning, a warning to not question you since you had in fact already made your mind and there was not changing it— so stubborn

So you followed him, through the hot desserts of Alabasta, dangerous Marine base’s and infested seas; you would’ve followed him to the end of the world

Maybe that’s were you find yourself now— the love of your life chained about to be executed like his death had something to proof; his blood not one he choose but now being punished for it, the world had failed him even before he was born and it pains you that you didn’t know, that he didn’t tell you about all the self doubt, insecurities and regrets that blinded him, a lot of things now making sense as you recall some of his behavior even before you began to build your relationship— his search for a life worth living that now you and him wonder if he’ll ever get to taste. But you don’t hold it against him, how could you?

By your side stands his brother, a pirate you had met in your lovers journey that had doomed yourselves, a bright and brave pirate that now gives his life away for his big brother, even if there’s no more he can give he does. And you? The pain that aches your heart also aches your bones, one more hit and you’ll probably be gone but you don’t care, as Ace’s voice rattles trough the dead and screams of pain it gives you all the energy and all the will to continue

“Why is it now that my brother, my dad, the love of my life and my crew fight for me, is that I find myself wanting to live?”

His words are drowned by his tears and your own but you feel them to the core, clenching your fists as you make your way through the war unfolding. Marines, pirates and family all fight for the future, you? You just want Ace to live, then you’ll give yourself the luxury of thinking about the future— A future where he is in

You scream his name at the top of your lungs making his head jolt up looking for you from high above, even though a battle cry, your voice soothes him but it also terrifies him. He fears for your life, and if you may want to keep him in it now that you know his biggest secret— what do you think of him now?

His fears quickly fade as you scream once more

“YOU HAVE TO LIVE ACE”

He doesn’t deserve you- he thinks. You had stood by him through thick and thin. even now you could turn away from this war and start anew, yet you fight for him, body scarred, bullets and punches flying above your head but your eyes look for his, your voice chooses to call for his name and reassure him even amongst the chaos— He feels your love as it expands through his tired form, combusting

“I LOVE YOU ACE, WE ALL DO, THAT’S WHY YOU HAVE TO LIVE BECAUSE YOURE WORTH IT”

Luffy glances back at you, the widest smile you’ve ever seen painted on his features, he calls your name while one of his hands holds your shoulder in a tight grip as if trying to keep you on the here and now “We are getting Ace out of here I promise”

That is the last thing you hear before everything becomes a blur, but you hold the promise close because you know it was made with a honest and pure heart. The Marines desperate to win the war and execute your lover pounce over you like a wild animal thirsty for what they call justice, but this is just a masacre. You hold onto the idea that this may pass too, like everything does

Somehow you pull trough, how? You still can’t comprehend, probably out of your resilience alone. Helping Luffy up to uncuff Ace’s restraints knowing he’s the only one capable enough to set him free, and he lives up to his name shocking everyone as both brothers decent making the war hold its breath.

That’s when Ace finally can really see you, your face clear and your presence heavy in his heart— it’s like the first time he ever saw you, love is the only thing stirring around his stomach even in the middle of his own demise as you stand in front of him, there’s nothing more he wants than to kiss you senseless right now, cry as you hold him tight grateful you’re here

But this is not over

It might never be

Your feet move at the speed of light, Ace’s hand wrapped around yours in the tightest grip as if grounding him, while also keeping you safe and sound. You must’ve been thrilled, the love of your life free and by your side now, yet, this cruel world seemed to just hate him- forever cursed by the blood running through his veins

It dawns on you very quickly how getting out of this hell wouldn’t be easy, that you will have to leave people behind just to be free, and it pains you both to have to turn your backs on your captain, your dad. You see the distress trough Ace’s face as he escapes, his heart thrumming louder and louder but apparently not loud enough as he catches the voice of Akainu- one of the Marines admiral’s calling his dad weak, even as he dies for you all

He stops, so do you and as you turn to look for his gaze you catch that same glint that was the reason of this nightmare. Ace was angry, it bubbles on his being like it has done so many times before and you know there’s not changing the course of this— you feel hopeless

You stand terrified in the presence of the admiral, a ruthless man that kills in the name of justice but he’s no different to even the most evil criminals he has wiped from the seas. You are not a believer in any means, but you find yourself prying to anyone above that you’re not next on his list

Ace bites back, Akainu lures him as he continues to spit venom on the ones he loves, the symbol tattooed on Ace’s back nothing but reminding you of how far he can go- and he will now

Because he would never turn his back on the people he loves

It all happened so fast yet so slow; your lover hits the ground, red crimson puddle staining the hard floor as you panic. You turn to all directions as if looking for an answer, a miracle that would get you out of here alive

Then you see it, bright and burning at the heat of the sun— Akainu’s punch flies as it tries to burn Luffy like icarus.

The rubber boy that had flew too close to the sun trying to protect the person he loves most

And of course Ace is rushing to protect him

It’s selfish really, the way you’re only thinking about how to get yourself out of this. You want to run away from the war harmless, untouched; alongside the ones you love standing by your side with a future to think about the next morning. It fuels you; all the grief, pain and anger rises and you don’t know how or why— maybe it was the entity up above that heard your desperate pleas and pulled on the strings of destiny

But… You punch Ace

You punch him harder than you have ever punched before, launching both of your hurt bodies to the other side of the battlefield. Akainu’s fist wavers, enough to miss his actual target, his little brother who holds Ace’s life between his fingertips while it sets alight once again

Everything stills, even as you hit the floor hard, you must’ve passed out after all this torturous time fighting, but you hold onto the little sanity and energy you can

Ace is looking at you incredulous— a million emotions tug at him as he looks back between you and his brother. Is he relieved? Angry? Scared?. For a moment his strong morals crumble as his gaze meets yours; you’re tired, so so tired yet hopeful as you plead for him to change his ways eve if it is for just this once, because you’re a selfish bastard

You can’t really make up what he’s saying to you now, you don’t really care as you use all in you to muster

“You must live Ace”

Your body shuts down, limp crashing on Ace’s naked top half as he holds you desperately, both of you may still lay on the battlefield but you feel safe because you know he’ll listen to you— you know he’ll live

And he would never let you down

It’s cold, you can make out a continuous beep that follows the rhythm of your slow heartbeat. You try to adjust the uncomfortable position in which you lay on your back, but your body doesn’t respond not even your eyelids as you beg them to show you where you are— Were you dead? Safe? At the bottom of the sea?

Air slowly enters your lungs, allowing your tired body to settle, you open your eyes a little hesitant now, a gray metal ceiling greets you

Another breath gives you the courage to move, you don’t recognize any of the coroners that your eyes land on, the bed creeks making the cowboy hat by your bed that was still in the corner of your eye jolt up

There they were, those eyes you adored more than anything… and that you thought you’ll never see again. They are different now, puddled with grief yet softer

It was reliving how after your ears had ringed for so long, to listen to your name spoken so softly, so lovingly

“You’re here” Ace can’t even bring himself to touch you, afraid you may shatter and there was just so much he wanted to say, to do, yet he only thanks you

He sobs now, allowing his walls to fall right at your feet because who else could’ve done it if not you

Your scarred hands cup his freckled face tenderly “Ace… you lived”

What a silly thing to say, of course he lived

Why wouldn’t he live?

Masterlist

I just finished Marineford and omg I just had this looping in my mind, Ace is my favorite character I see a lot of myself in him. This was written in 3 sittings so I may consider writing a corrected/longer version of it if people are interested because I am a huge nerd and love writing takes on arcs and stuff. Anyway Portgas D Ace you would always be famous

[omagpies]

Hello again, here for a few random questions about the Roleswap AU (Cool you liked my drawing by the way, might post more at some point in the future if that's alright ^_^)

So, just asking because I'm curious about it ofc and from what I read on the Roleswap posts, you may have not discussed it sooooo...

So, we know from the posts, Swap!Jimmy crashed the ship like in canon while Swansea was off his shift and does his thing, and from the first post of the Role Swap AU showed Curly asking Anya if she crashed the ship, did anyone consider or try to blame Swansea for crashing the PE ship? Because he was there last (before Anya got cooked) that I assume everyone could account, so besides Anya, HE'D definitely be a 'main suspect'

(I have a idea/headcanon that Jimmy tried to point fingers at both Anya and Swansea (mainly Anya though because ofc he does, the prick) and tried to convince Curly and Daisuke that it was those two, with Curly not hearing most stuff he'd say about either of them and assume it was a system failure or malfunction though it does linger in the back of his mind which leads to him asking Anya if she was the one who did it (and for Daisuke, his opinion I'm not sure about so I'm leaving it blank) obviously this is just my ideas though and I'm asking you about it so I'll hush about this now lol

2. This one's about Anya and Curly and them on the idea of them returning and recovering back on Earth, I know right now in our world (along with Role Swap's, most likely) don't have a way to fully recover a person's vision after loss. However, I'm curious on both Anya and Curly's perspective on, if in their world's future, a proper method to recover a person's vision was discovered, one they had enough money and accessiblity for them to do so, do you think Anya and Curly would discuss or consider trying to have an operation to recover Anya's sight? Just a random thought that came to me at some point.

Alright, I'm done and need to be off now. I hope you have a good day, afternoon or evening!

the crash happened during Anya's shift, and Jimmy made sure to point allllll the fingers at her as the one who allegedly got to the cockpit right as she was steering the ship into the asteroid. Swansea knows her enough to know she wouldn't crash the ship maliciously, but he also knows her enough to know she's a klutz, so he's silently on the fence and observing and biding his time until he knows more. as for Daisuke, this is his first trip on the Tulpar as the mechanic and before that he's only done one haul on the Tulpar as an intern (in this au he goes on his intern trip a few years earlier than in canon, falls in love with engineering, and spends the interim years in trade school), so he doesn't know anyone but Swansea that well and follows his lead. this leaves Curly, who has reasons (however flawed) to trust Jimmy, but also cannot believe that Anya would do something like this.

i think they would investigate the idea at the very least if it ever became available, but they would probably find that it's too risky for Anya to undergo any major surgeries after everything her body has been through :"3

(more roleswap au)

[andy-wm]

AYS Behind the scenes: behind the paywall

Now that the Disney+ episodes are complete (sob), my attention is firmly fixed on my mailbox as I wait impatiently for the AYS photobook and QR code.

I was always going to buy the Jikook photobook, even though I doubt there will be much we haven't already seen in the episodes. But the inclusion of the QR code was the clincher.

I must admit, Hybe locking up the behind the scenes for AYS was not on my bingo sheet.

Making behind/additional clips available on Bangtan TV would have been more in line with their regular MO. We don't generally have to pay for what really amounts to outtakes.

Okay, yes, we have to pay for behind cuts of Run BTS, but the actual episodes are free. With everything else the behind clips are included when you buy the series (I'm thinking of BV, ITS, and concert boxed sets).

In fact I can't think of any other time a behind/ bonus clip hasn't been available to fans who pay for the main content.

Maybe it is because Hybe was only contracted to deliver 8 episodes to Disney+ and the price was fixed. Maybe they saw an easy way to make the series more profitable.

We know they will take any opportunity to lighten our wallets.

But I think there's more to it

Let's talk business:

If Hybe wanted to make money from this, having the sale point directly on Weverse would make more sense. That way anyone could buy it any time without having to buy the photobook as well. Even if they charged just a few $$ for these extra clips, the return could be substantial over time. Long tail products can be very lucrative and Hybe clearly knows this - they have heaps of old footage for sale on Weverse. Since they're hosting the content already, it makes sense to keep that 'buy now' button active and let the dollars trickle in.

So why reduce the potential pool of buyers? Why limit this to those who buy the photobook??

Well, let's consider who is going to buy the photobook?

Who is going to fork out US$28 plus postage for a keepsake of these two on their third honeymoon?

I doubt OT7 ARMYs would buy it. Even ARMYs who bias JM or JK - if they aren't part of the SGMB they probably don't want it either.

Solos sure as hell don't want it - they are probably wishing the whole thing never happened... sucks to be them haha

Who really wants to see these two living their best lives together?

We do!

And by we, I mean Jikook supporters.

People who want to see more of this:

and this

And this

We are the people who will buy this photobook (and probably never look at it more than once, let's be honest)

But let's get back to the topic at hand....

The photobook/behind combo seems like a chicken/egg situation to me.

Which came first - as a concept - the photobook or the behind clips?

Did they decide to offer a photobook, and then think of adding the extra footage to make it more appealing?

Or vice versa?

Did they decide to make the behind clips, and think of the photobook afterwards?

Hard to say, since behind clips have always been a thing and recently Hybe is putting out photobooks for everything.

But I think I have a fair idea

Consider the price point for this photobook - it's the same price as most of the others produced recently: +-US$28.

AYS photobook & behind is the same price as the Photo-Folios, Tae's Type 1 (magazine version) photobook, and the Beyond The Stage photobook

🗣 So they aren't charging any extra for the behind footage?

No, they aren't. They're basically giving it to the buyers of the photobook as a gift.

🗣 Could they be making money off it?

Yes, the could.

Long tail, remember?

Looking at the profit-making potential, it makes WAY more sense for Hybe to offer the behind footage on Weverse for a few meagre dollars and... wait for their ship to come in...

See what I did there? hahahhaha (laughing by myself)

They really aren't making any money off this!

how unlike Hybe...

So why go to the effort of setting up QR codes and putting it behind a paywall? It costs money to host content this way. They are in fact SPENDING money to bring us this footage.

Not only through the hosting costs there are also production costs to consider.

Wouldn't it make more sense to just freely share it with ARMY via Bangtan TV? Or not release it at all?

Yes, it would...

So there's only one logical answer...

Hybe has chosen to make the content available - but also make it just that little bit more difficult to access.

This whole exercise seems to be about releasing additional footage without releasing it to the general public. It's being shared specifically with those of us who support them.

Does that mean we'll see slightly more personal content?

Maybe it's a little more revealing of their undeniable bond and their hot chemistry...?

Whatever they contain, these behind clips are definitely for a limited audience - and purposefully so.

The only reason for it, that I can think of, is to safeguard Jimin and Jungkook from too much scrutiny and criticism - from within the fandom (unfortunately) and outside of it.

We will find out in a few days I guess.

In the meantime, I'm camped out by my mailbox

[saphronethaleph]

Task Failed Successfully

Senator Amidala closed the door to the Naboo senatorial office, and smiled.

“All right,” she said. “Knight Kenobi, Padawan Skywalker. I’m glad the two of you were available.”

“We are, of course, at the disposal of the Senate,” Obi-Wan said.

“And I can guess what the problem is,” Anakin added. “Can’t you, Master?”

“Of course, my young padawan,” Obi-Wan replied. “But what about if the Senator explains?”

“To put it simply, then,” the Senator said. “The Supreme Chancellor would like to know what in the galaxy the Kaminoans are talking about.”

Anakin blinked.

“You don’t know?” he asked. “He doesn’t know?”

“The Senate has some idea of some details, but at this point some or all of them could be incorrect,” Padme replied. “And the Chancellor wanted me to try and understand the specifics.”

“That… could be a problem,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Because the Council doesn’t have much idea either.”

“We were speaking with them for over an hour,” Anakin contributed. “Master is one of the better diplomats in the Jedi Order… we were actually told to try and find out who in the Senate might know what’s going on.”

Padme frowned, slightly. “You mean you were trying to find out if someone in the Senate had done this?” she asked. “But the army was ordered for the Jedi.”

“So we’ve been told,” Obi-Wan replied. “Obviously, it’s only been a few hours, but we haven’t been able to come to any conclusions – and, to put it bluntly, Senator, it could be that this army was ordered with the blame being placed on the Jedi in order to confuse the issue.”

Padme considered that.

“Possible, but I don’t think it’s likely,” she said. “Whoever ordered this army clearly had a reason behind what they were doing, we just don’t know what it is.”

“Which means we’re just going around in circles,” Anakin concluded.

“Perhaps, but simply hearing it from Padme has been useful,” Obi-Wan said. “I hope you’ll keep us informed if you learn anything?”

“Of course,” Padme smiled. “The two of you helped save my planet, Obi-Wan, Ani. You’re friends.”

“The Jedi Order teaches us to avoid attachment,” Anakin said, then grinned slightly. “But friends don’t count, right?”

“If friends did count, then I don’t think most of the Order would be very happy,” Obi-Wan replied.

“Yeah, true,” Anakin agreed. “I think Yoda still sends holocalls to his last padawan.”

“Is there something unusual about that?” Padme asked.

“It’s… more of Order business than anything,” Obi-Wan said. “My padawan really shouldn’t have passed on gossip like that. It’s not going to do him any good when it comes to whether he’ll be knighted.”

“Master,” Anakin complained. “You said I had nothing to worry about!”

“And you seem determined to prove me wrong,” Obi-Wan replied. “Perhaps you can prove me wrong about proving me wrong about that.”

Anakin’s lips moved.

“...okay?” he tried. “I’ll do my best, Master.”

“In that case, Anakin, I will have nothing to worry about,” Obi-Wan replied.

Padme smiled.

“So what are you going to do with the army, anyway?” she asked.

“That’s a very good question, but you should probably ask one of the members of the Council,” Obi-Wan replied.

“Master, everyone knows you’re going to be on the Council some time soon,” Anakin said.

“And I’m not one yet, and everyone doesn’t include me,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “But… really, that does depend on who and why there would be an order of over a million clones to fight for the Jedi. The only possibility I can think of is the Sith, but… why would the Sith order an army for the Jedi?”

“If it’s a Sith plot, do you have any chance of unravelling it?” Padme asked, worried. “You stopped whatever they were trying to do with Naboo.”

“Did we?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No, I mean you, specifically,” Padme replied. “And you, Anakin. The Droid Control Ship was key to whatever it was they were doing, and Obi-Wan killed a Sith.”

“And there’s been no sign of the other in a decade,” Obi-Wan said, thinking back to the Naboo crisis. “Though… now I come to think about that particular series of events, Senator, I do have to ask whether a specific member of the Senate was involved.”

“With the Sith?” Padme asked.

“There’s got to have been some Senators working with the Sith, back then,” Anakin pointed out.

“Perhaps, but that’s not what I mean,” Obi-Wan explained. “I mean the clone army. Because if there is anyone who could accidentally order an army, it is the junior Senator from Naboo.”

He turned, to direct something that was not quite a glare at Senator Binks. “Isn’t that right, Jar Jar?”

“Mesa not as bad as all dat,” Jar Jar protested. “Mesa been doing quite well for mesa self in the last ten years. Mesa has been takin’ classes on avoidin’ disaster and not bein’ clumsy.”

“Perhaps you have,” Obi-Wan said, relenting slightly. “But you must admit, Jar Jar, that certain events have given you a reputation it will take many years to live down yet.”

Jar Jar sighed.

“Mesa knows dat,” he admitted. “Theres-a all kinds of jokes about mesa. It seems like even when mesa floatin’ legislation, people makin’ jokes about waterfalls.”

Obi-Wan nodded, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I apologize, Jar Jar,” he said. “It’s easy for me to forget that you have to deal with that reputation all the time.”

“Yeah,” Jar Jar said.

“Speaking of which,” Anakin began. “Did anyone ever figure out how that happened? If they did, I missed it.”

“Mesa has said it over and over again,” Jar Jar protested. “Mesa was simply showin’ the bombad Chancellor-Elect the really pretty bits of Theed that mesa wasn’t sure that he’sa seen before, and mesa was wavin’ mesa hands around, and mesa… made a boopjak, big mistake.”

“The Chancellor-Elect fell three hundred and eighty metres,” Obi-Wan said. “Then he hit the ground, and exploded. It put something of a damper on the celebrations.”

“Jar Jar does know this,” Padme pointed out. “And he’s heard it over and over. He’s done his very best to put it behind him, and is as valued an ally of Chancellor Stonk as I am.”

“Hesa was a big supporter of rebuildin’ Naboo!” Jar Jar said, brightening as he rebounded in the way only he could. “Stonks even gone to the moon!”

“I heard about the colonization project of Ohma-D’un,” Anakin said, interested. “Do you think the terraforming equipment could be used to help make a planet less dry and sandy?”

He frowned. “Actually, Master… could we use the army for that? The only reason the Republic won’t do anything about Outer Rim slavery is that it would mean building an army, right?”

Padme looked interested, but frowned.

“We’d probably need to find where it came from, first,” she said. “But… I’ll definitely suggest it, Ani.”

She smiled. “Assuming the Senate gets any say in what to do with the army, of course.”

[nquesoxlies]

https://www.tumblr.com/nquesoxlies/780567152604463104/let-people-be-upset-about-their-favorite?source=share

tbh there's also something a loooot of ppl need to learn calling "setting realistic expectations." i personally wouldn't want eddie back without an on-screen conversation between him and CHRIS about what CHRIS wants, otherwise his entire plot in texas would feel kinda moot with a throwaway "yeah chris is fine with coming back to LA :)" since this plot was big enough for eddie to drop everything to go finally make things right with his son. i didn't expect for him to show up for the two-parter. meanwhile, everyone i saw who was momentarily disappointed bc no tommy was like "ah well, we know we're almost definitely getting him next episode bc of leaks" and went on to enjoy the episode as a whole

its genuinely fine to go "aw no eddie? :(" its Not fine to review bomb an episode and repeatedly bitch about the director not putting ur favorite man in the episode when it makes 0 sense for him to come back so quickly and without showing us that he IS still working on being a better dad to chris. hell, go write fanfic about it where eddie IS back instead of review bombing!!! that's probably a way more fun use of time than review bombing!!!

honestly, these fans make me dislike eddie more and more ngl which isn't even the actor or the writers faults at all. if he leaves the show then it's not going to impact me that much unless his ending is fully unsatisfying, and that'll be more of a "cmon, writers, you knew this was where this was going, do better." i have never watched the show only for eddie like these people have. came into the show expecting to love madney + henren and ended up very emotionally invested in bathena while enjoying buck and eddie as well. i'm on the same page as a lot of ppl who have been here longer than i have been: we love the entire show rather than just eddie. honestly, i think half of these people don't even like buck. i already know most of them don't give a shit about the rest of the show from insulting ravi over him distracting buck with tommy to turning josh into the "number 1 b*ddie cheerleader" to ignoring henren unless they can use them as a "gotcha!!! you don't actually care about queer rep!!!" like.

@ BoBs: do YOU? because every time there's queer rep that threatens ur fanon ship, u actively get homophobic about it down to, what, 600? of you PROUDLY admitting you would commit a hate crime to make your stupid ship canon--including both real men and fictional characters like josh and tommy in your "i'd hate crime for them teehee!" bullshit.

idk queso its just wild to me how often i also see the "eddie diaz pretty pretty princess who wants to paint his nails!!!" like. painting ur nails isnt gendered, the fuck? BoBs see anyone gender non-conforming and goes "wow, inherent sign of queerness, i am very smart :)" while feeding directly into toxic masculinity with the idea that if you don't adhere strictly to what's deemed masculine, then clearly you're queer. even if you say you're straight and know you're attracted to women and only women, you're gay because you (checks notes) have emotions and cry over your friends and did ballroom dancing when you were younger.

anyway if im being petty then i kinda hope that eddie leaves to focus fully on chris and making a life for the two of them in el paso and ravi takes his place on the team so that we get indian rep permanently on the show for a bit! i think he could bring some new life into the team (regardless of whether the show goes on for one season or more) and it'd be nice to see buck in a mentor position to him. plus i'd love to see his dynamic with the rest of the team <3 i am still available to play his love interest who is there for a single episode before being relegated to one-off mentions <3 /hj

Yes to alllllll of this, Annie!!!

What's ironic to me, based on something you mentioned, is the nail painting. They want sooooo hard for RG to actually be gay yet an actor who does paint his nails (for self-harm reasons) they call a slur and tell him to die.

Like???? Wtf are we doing???

(I know your ask is about the characters but that shit will always rub me the wrong way about Ryan stans)

[olderthannetfic]

So, you mentioned low standards of research in podcasts. I don't listen to podcasts or watch a lot of videos about fandom analysis, but I have seen error corrections happening in the wild for what I have listened to, so I can only imagine how annoying it is when you know your shit.

Do you have any resources that come to mind as things everyone who likes fandom should be comfortable with, or specific essays on uniquely important fandoms (such as Sherlock Holmes or Star Trek) that everyone should read? Obviously the OTW resources are up there; what else?

Aside from resources, do you think there are any skills that are especially vital for getting to the bottom of fandom trends? Interview skills are probably pretty high up there.

Any pitfalls you see a lot of young fans falling into?

(I do a lot of fandom history research. It is the thing that gives me joy in fandom; other people like shipping or AUs, I like my little mini-anthropology sandbox and watching how ideas spread. I'm not necessarily good at it, but it's fun!)

--

Well... it's the usual things.

For example, a lot of fans claim to love fandom stats, but the ones that get passed around come from like three people. The people doing those stats, including me, don't usually have a statistics background, which doesn't automatically make them bad, but it really seems like people are just trusting anything with a pie chart.

We've recently seen people discover that those year-end AO3 ship stats have a seriously weird methodology. They don't show the thing their fans are actually trying to find out. People were pissed. But most of the time, they don't even bother asking what the methodology is or trying to do anything themselves.

There's far too much sitting back and waiting for some BNF to spoon feed one publicly-available information.

--

The big failings aren't usually the math itself but, of course, not knowing what question to ask, so it pertains to history research, not just stats.

You'll see a lot of stuff on shipping that looks at AO3 because AO3 shipping numbers are easy to pull... But AO3 shipping numbers don't just happen to be easy to pull: that is both an effect and a cause that is directly related to AO3's content. Someone interested in meta shouldn't be asking "What do AO3's numbers show?" as their first question. They should be asking "Why is this metadata available or not available and what does that mean on a sociological level?"

--

Thing two is the eternal I Have Apparently Never Heard of Anime problem. A fuckton of people theorizing about fandom trends seem to know fucking nothing about whole massive sectors of fandom or treat them as afterthoughts. This is okay if you're writing a history of Media Fandom. It is criminally stupid if you're trying to talk about what makes a piece of media have fic when another doesn't, what kinds of websites make fandoms take off, etc. Those kinds of broad questions need a broad understanding of what's out there.

It's not anime-specific, and I'm not asking for a high degree of knowledge.

I have routinely had people tell me that best friend ships and mystery/crime as a genre aren't popular, and that's why AO3 has this or that pattern... Meanwhile, buddy cops are the bedrock of oldschool slash fandom and make up basically all of the longest-running Western m/m fandoms that aren't Star Trek. CSI slop tends to have legions of future canon het shippers, and they make plenty of fanworks. It's just that some of this is more visible on FFN or older places, not AO3.

I'm always seeing things like someone speculating about how this and that anime fandom thing or bit of mid-00s FFN community drama led to this other thing on AO3, not realizing that AO3 came out of LJ Western fandom slash culture. To them, FFN is so central that it must be the main reference point, not the bajillion and one archives AO3 founders ran or Usenet or mailing lists or LJ.

I once saw someone asking on twitter about where a prominent Ranma fic might have been posted in the mid-90s. People claiming "My professor is an authority!" came out of the woodwork in droves to blither about K/S zines and then LJ. Not only was this entirely wrong, but the right answer was blindingly obvious if you knew enough to interpret the google results. I can only assume that the person tweeting had never heard of Usenet and didn't recognize the acronym for the big anime fanfic group that literally everything like this was first posted to.

I'm talking people insisting that fandom only goes for white characters when it's very obvious that fandom goes for majority leads who are not othered. All the bawwing in the world about "People assume anime characters are white" won't get rid of The Untamed or Kpop thirsters or whatever.

I'm talking sweeping pronouncements about gender and fanfic writers where the person hasn't even heard of FIMFiction or SpaceBattles or Dark Lord Potter cheesefests.

I've been in fandom for a long time, but I wasn't in all these parts, and I wasn't around for 80s zines. You don't need deep knowledge until you pick a research topic. But it's shocking how little shallow, broad knowledge a lot of people have when they're writing their Theory Of All Of Fandom History.

--

People are stupid as shit about survivorship bias, and fandom history is no exception. They're also dumb in the opposite direction, assuming that the thing they like now has always existed in this exact form.

For example, someone got mad at Fanlore for supposedly not documenting the history of f/f zines. Others have searched and searched for the zines of their old show they got into last year and are bewildered to not find any. The reality is that Fanlore editors are attempting to document every Media Fandom zine and have combed through old adzines looking for any mention of anything. Because of the methods of distribution—because it was expensive—small fandoms often had no zines at all.

Femslash fandom doesn't seem to have gotten enough critical mass to do much until Xena. The internet has really democratized things, but even the early internet was still somewhat in that old mindset where only certain popular things have a fandom. I think Yuletide itself, which started in 2003, really helped spread the idea of rare-but-existing fandoms being a thing. FFN and perhaps some other multifandom archives like Media Miner played a huge role.

Nowadays, we think of fic as just how you respond to media, any media, even if there are only two fics for that one car commercial, but that isn't how people saw things in every era—or at least it's not how fandom infrastructure worked. A lot of the time, the big hosting spots were single-fandom archives, often with restrictive content rules. Finding somewhere to post a m/m/f OT3 fic used to be hard. Never mind early zines when photocopiers didn't even exist yet and you had to sell out your print run of 500 to make a go of it.

All good research starts with a lot of preliminary investigation to figure out what you're even trying to look for.

Actually bothering to look for fans talking about their own history or casually chatting with your interview subjects before the formal interview will put a person miles ahead of many of the cringeworthy fandom ~papers~ I've seen.

The biggest mistake people make is going "Okay, these numbers aren't perfect, but some numbers are better than no numbers".

Bullshit.

As soon as there's a pie chart of the false numbers, everyone's brain turns off and they never look at the chart subtitle, never mind the research notes.

Bad numbers are often worse than no numbers.

Look at the logic behind the methodology first. Look at the social context. Basic understanding of human nature and familiarizing oneself with the shape and hangout locations of a community will get you most of the way there before you sit down for a specific interview or try to collect any specific numbers.

--

None of this is a fandom thing. Research is research. It's just that most people think "research" means watching a tiktok that the algorithm likes and were never taught how to evaluate a source for reliability.

Evaluating sources is a skill. I had explicit lessons on it in school. Lots of people don't, and that sucks.

Honestly, watching the more thoughtful debunking content on non-fandom topics, like Miniminuteman's stuff on pseudo-archaeology or Dan Olson's... everything, is a good window into critical thinking, and that's most of what's missing from bad fandom history.

--

But more than any of that, more is more. Not the crap stats, but the narrower, more personal accounts, the interviews. The more fans who investigate their little corner that isn't the same old AO3 site-wide "Why is there so much m/m?" ship stats or the same canned "Everything comes from K/S" history, the better.

What I object to is not amateur efforts but efforts that pull from the same small pool of data or that just reblog a tiny handful of supposed authorities.

--

If people are going to read just one thing... hmm... go try to look up a history of rec.arts.anime.creative, not because I think it's the most important fandom history out there but because it's at the nexus of things a lot of current fandom history work miss.

[eatommo]

Hotshot [c.f.99]

CW: Poly!batchxreader, group sex, exhibitionism, oral sex (m&f recieving), double penetration, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, vaginal and anal creampie, multiple partners, cumshots, anal sex, ass eating, spanking, praise, authority kink, cucking? kinda?, implied recording of sex, mention of weapons, mentions of aftercare, overstimulation, post season 7 pre omega, dom/sub dynamics, allusions to subspace, slight degradation, shower sex, mutual pining lots of kissing, no clonecest, liberties for hunter's tattoo, reader has hair long enough to pull, reader gets picked up and carried, i probably missed something let me know!

A/N: 5.6k of pure smut, absolutely no plot here. All mistakes are mine, repost and let me know what/if you like <3

As you climb the steps to the Marauder, something about this mission feels different.  It's been months since you've been away from the boys, and almost as long since you cared.  

Since running away from the clutches of the empire and charming your way aboard the ship you've become an asset to the team even in just your companionship, but it was also nice to have someone around who wasn't a clone.  It made it that much easier to do recon, and also that much easier to infiltrate a group because your face wasn't spread across every corner of the Empire. 

However, the longer you stayed with them, the more you valued what made them different.  You learned who to go to for help with blaster trouble, and even learned to overlook Crosshair’s slights during your target practice.  You’ve also learned that Hunter was sensitive to flowers and strong scents and that he had the best-smelling soap aboard the ship (and never seemed to mind when you used it). Tech, on the other hand, was always great at making you feel included, but was always, always going to double-check anything you did to the ship ‘just in case.’ Echo might've been one of the most interesting people to talk to, during his work with the 501st and the glory days of working alongside some of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy he saw many planets and cultures that you had only dreamed about.   Wrecker, well, he was a big softy despite his talent for demolitions and overall penchant for violence, he was the first to volunteer to take you out and stretch your legs in a nearby city and to help you bring home rations (and a sweet treat or two) for the rest of the crew, and has even carried you home from cantina trips a time or two. 

They were closer than any other troop you'd seen, all depending and working so tightly and neatly together you'd think that adding you to the mix would complicate things but all you seemed to do was fit in like sand in the desert.   You fell into a routine, they'd leave you at the ship during more dangerous jobs, typically with Echo or Tech at your side to assist with any repairs as you kept the inside of the ship in order, and kept a close eye on any equipment and prepping rations and meals as they became available. 

After a stop on Batuu, in which you fought every urge to procure a Loth cat, instead letting Crosshair buy you a long thin vibroblade to appease you.  “I haven't given up by the way.” You shout over your shoulder, as you settle into your seat before the others.  

“I've thought so.” Tech, his voice more amused than anything.  “Let us not berate the woman so that she uses that thing on us, shall we? We are cleared for takeoff.” Wrecker chuckles at the idea of you brandishing the thin blade to any of them.  You could hold your own for sure, but you were no ARC trooper. 

You settle aboard, staying seated until you reach the upper atmosphere, locking your cloak away with your blade, settling back into the seat near the cockpit, and resting your head against the wall.   

“If you need rest, my bunk is open,”  Wrecker whispers his words and his voice contradicting each other.  He's gruff but his speech is soft like he's afraid to startle you, he's cleaning his blaster but leans forward to speak softly to you. “It's still the biggest bunk.” He smiles and with his helmet in his lap, you can see the intense scaring over the side of his head, and your fingers twitch at your side begging to caress it.

“I'm fine thank you.”  You beam at him surprised by the crack in your voice and not wanting to seem ungrateful for the gesture.  “I’m quite content out here.”  Wrecker blushes, as if embarrassed he even brought it up.  

You can hear the audible judgemental breath of Crosshair even from your position behind his back, as he examines his rifle, something amiss and there's a thick tension in the room you can't quite place.  Glancing around as they settle in for take-off, none of them seem to want to meet your eyes.  

“I didn't expect you all to get so shy, I thought maybe you were starting to warm up to me.”   You let your voice trail off, a hint of a tease that cuts into the thick tension in the air for a brief moment. Before Hunter sharply stands up and lets his feet carry him towards you.  

Last night’s mission for Rex was messier than any of you had expected and used up the last of your bacta supply.  Hence the trip to Batuu, and what you thought was a tense conversation about purpose or authority between the group.  You’d overheard something about keeping secrets when you’d greeted them at the ship’s ramp and the pinched nerve in Hunter’s jaw encouraged you to keep your mouth shut.  Since the tension between each of them has been as taught and dangerous as a tightrope.  As the long-haired clone approached you, you sat straighter, already apologizing for being difficult before he cut you off. 

Leaning down until he is practically whispering in your ear, "We are programmed to be professional first and foremost. And we are not always so shy."

Just sharing your space with him has your body reacting to him, vibrating in both fear and a sneaking feeling of arousal.  His breath is hot and you turn to look into his dark brown eyes, eyes you should be so familiar with. “I am not an officer, I do not bite, and there's no reason to be formal.” the sentence comes out as a squeak, and you try to hide embarrassment flashing through your cheeks. 

He smiles, his voice dips lower but is so soft you swear you can feel his words caress your skin, “Easy hotshot, we might like a woman who bites.”

Oh, oh wow. We.

In an instant, everything and all your feelings about them shift and change.  You spent the last few rotations convincing yourself it was normal to feel bubbly around them, they'd saved you, and they were providing for you.  This feeling, the unmistakable pull of longing and need in the pit of your belly, would complicate things.  

Hunter stands and departs the conversation with an ease you envy.  You take a deep breath and compose yourself just to look up and see the rest of the crew watching you, like a wounded animal, you catch just a glimmer of a blush in Echo’s face.  

Rex mentioned they were a tight-knit group he seemed shocked you fell in line with them, but hell you didn't expect this.  Each of them is in their thoughts as you glance around the ship.  Echo and Tech are busying themselves with the controls, but you can see Echo worrying his lip, and Tech turning his head to glance at you every few moments as if wondering what will happen first.  Or rather who?  

Crosshair stares at you, blankly like he's trying to read every line in your smile or every wrinkle in your clothes, your eyes click together and he smiles like a lothcat with a womprat in his teeth. “You're not intimidated by us?”  It's almost as if he's as shocked as the fact itself,   there's a cutting edge to the statement like you should be, and then a corner of his mouth turns up. “You like being here,” he tests the statement as if tasting the fact on his tongue, “with all of us.”

You smirk, doing your best to match the heat in his stare, “I am grateful. I've never felt so important or wanted,” you swallow thickly letting the heat in your body you know Hunter can sense, speak for itself,   “At least, not yet.” You shift in your seat glancing up at Hunter who is glaring hungrily at your chest as if he could hear your heart leap in your chest with every passing moment.  

 You glance up to the stars ahead of the ship, Tech looks like he's preparing the ship to jump to light speed.  The return mission, at its worst, should only take a few days and even less of that is travel, normally you're not one for long lightspeed trips but this time you wonder if it will be too short.

The way the crew looks at you makes your skin tingle, not sure if you’ve ever been paid this much attention before.  As the ship lurches into hyperspace, you let your head lull back to catch Hunter's attention, peering up towards his face as your chin hovers just a foot away from his codpiece.  

Doing your best to keep your breath even, a part of you wishes to stand and kiss him, but this time it’s your turn to feel shy.  You stand, brushing your chest across Hunter’s’ and waltzing over to lean against the control panel of the ship and the two quieter clones on this ship.

The moment Tech realizes you’re moving towards him his posture is stuck straight, but Echo only leans slightly towards you as you pass your hand over his shoulder.  Standing at the front of the ship has only allowed them all to stare at you, your heart skips a beat.  You see Hunter’s eye twitch, he is reading you like a book.

“Well,” you speak slowly and eloquently, playing into their curiosity, “How should we pass the time?”

“Come here.” the room's attention snaps to Crosshair, whose red-hot gaze is marring into your skin. Silence falls over the craft as Crosshair lifts a hand and gestures toward his empty waiting lap.   Slowly, Echo, Tech, and Wrecker turn again towards you but Hunter stays strong locked into some silent dialogue with his brother.  

You feel as if it is entirely dangerous to cross the space between the two. Yet your feet carry you without worry, and neither of them breaks until their vision is obstructed by your body. You turn facing the softened expression in Hunter’s eyes, and slowly lower yourself onto Crosshair's lap.  

Placing your hands on his knees to steady yourself, you lean back until your head is resting on his chest and his breath is hot against the shell of your ear. “Good girl.” 

His whispers send shivers down your spine and Hunter sinks to his knees in front of you, as Cross removes your shirt from over your head and the rest of the Batch descends upon you like wolves.  

As Hunter’s face presses against the softness of your hip, Tech's teeth graze your neck and Wrecker's hands smooth over your nipples, you're overwhelmed at their strength.  These are battle-hardened soldiers, Crosshair runs a calloused finger down your spine, and you're reminded how soft you are.  Your skin is plush and comforts all of Hunter’s senses as the boys proceed to lose themselves upon you, you're reminded of the comfort they provide for you, a safety net you never knew you craved and the appetite you never knew could become so hungry.  

Your canvas pants are ripped down the leg by Wrecker and Hunter’s combined efforts, the sound almost drowned out by a collection of panting wanton noises, and the scraps hit the floor out of sight.  

Hunter noses across the top of your panties, letting his breath fan over the sensitive skin of your pussy as you feel Cross shift his hips and push his hard cock into your ass.  All of them are in full armor, save for the helmets, yet you lie strewn out before them slick pooling in your panties as they take turns pulling pleasure from your body like they serve no higher purpose.  

It's Wrecker who pulls himself from his flight suit first, and you can't remember ever having such a physical reaction to something like this before.  You reach out on instinct, fingers not wrapping completely around his girth and teasing the pink tip until it begins to leak into your palm.  He towers over your head as whimpers and shudders wrack through his body as though he's never been touched.  

You catch a glimpse of Echo, standing slightly off to the side, watching with his pupils fully dilated as he follows the path of Hunter’s mouth on your skin his face flush with crimson.  Tilting your head back you turn towards Crosshair and give him a deep kiss, letting him lick into your mouth feverishly. Hunter’s fingers trace over your seam delicately over the thin fabric of your panties as they grow transparent with your desire.  

Wrecker’s cock is thick and heavy in your hand, and you clench wantingly around nothing, his hips brush into your hand with a tenderness you long to experience. Crosshair snakes a hand up your chest and cradles the thin skin over your throat, chasing Tech’s glancing kisses away,  but taking the opportunity to encourage you to grind your hips against his cock.  

In a few mere movements, the men surrounding you have altered your state of mind and each passing touch coaxes you further into submission.  Tech shifts and lets his breath ghost over your nipples, you turn your head and catch Hunter in a deep kiss noting how different he tastes and feels against you. You let your thumb swipe over the leaking tip of Wrecker's cock, and fight the urge to stuff your fingers in your mouth to taste.  

Hunter breaks the kiss and steps away, letting Echo take his place between your legs but not before using his dagger to cut the hip of your undergarments and stuffing them into one of his pant pockets.  

You blush at the obscenity of it all, but it quickly soothed away but the cool metal of Echo’s headpiece brushing over your thighs. Wordlessly Crosshair adjusts the seat so your pussy is presented to Echo, leaning more onto your back and looking up at the boys devouring your form. 

His mouth is hot, licking softly over your clit as you relax with Crosshair stroking the pulse point in your neck.  You’re slick with arousal and he doesn’t hesitate to lick it up teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. 

You writhe, letting yourself melt against him, fighting to stay concentrated enough to play with Wrecker’s balls tugging and rolling them beneath your fingers.  Eager to pleasure every one of them.  

Echo’s glove ghosts over your sex, teasing your entrance with a digit, the leather smoothly gliding over your skin. Hunter and Tech each take to stroking down your thighs and holding them in place, “Easy, meshla, we will take good care of you.” 

Your mind is swimming, when did this start? Tech steps a hair closer to your face, tilting your jaw up with his free hand, and slips a finger past your lips. You suck lightly, sure to match the pace at which you’re stroking Wrecker.  You get a praising hum, and Tech surprisingly is the second to drop his pants and pull himself free. Stroking himself to the rhythm of you teasing him with a curl of your tongue.    

It's the tangled moan of you around Tech’s fingers that breaks Crosshair, his pants unbearably tight and each little movement of your hips making him clench his jaw to stave the noises that die in his throat.  He lifts you to your feet, and removes his pants, letting himself spring free.  You have to admit you expected the armor to be harder to take off. 

You stand on unsteady feet, in an attempt to turn your head towards Crosshair, Hunter captures your chin in two fingers locking your eyes together.  “Echo.” A chuckle reverberates between them, all seemingly on board with whatever plan this could be. Echo slides flat onto his back looking up at you and the rest of the boys.  The realization is enough to make you shiver. Your pussy clenches, still empty, but a dripping mess sticks your thighs together.  Hunter’s eyes are burning through your resolve, there’s an intensity you’d come to respect that now sends a spike of fear through you.  “Sit.”

You go to protest but are quickly shut down and you look around at the men surrounding you eagerly but patiently waiting for you to follow his instructions.  Swallowing thickly over the lump in your throat, you sink to your knees and hover a few inches from Echo’s waiting mouth.  From your knees they tower above you, all but Hunter free from their confines.  You get a good look at the three cocks, all weeping and swollen pink across their tip, beautifully complimenting the darker-tanned skin of their shaft.  

Each of them was different, which only slightly surprises you, Wrecker being the thickest, but both Tech and Crosshair meet him in length.  You can feel each breath from Echo’s mouth, knowing you're probably close to dripping across his chin. You lower slowly, afraid to hurt him, until he licks the seam of your entrance savoring the hot flesh and you seek his tongue sitting on his face in earnest.  His mouth brings welcome waves of pleasure as he suckles on your clit.  

They pump themselves slowly, enjoying the view of your tits bouncing with each shiver.   You start to move your hips in small circles while reaching to palm over Crosshair’s balls and stroking up over his shaft squeezing a bead of precome from the tip.  You open your mouth and glance between them, expecting to see some kind of hierarchy emerge but they take a half step toward you together.  

You opt for taking Tech into your mouth, but only because he's in the middle, letting yourself drool around him as you suck on the thick knot of his cock head, before turning and spitting the excess saliva onto Crosshair’s cock coating it with slick to make your fist glide against him nice and quickly. Tightening around the base and working more of those beautiful precum drips from his leaking tip.  

You snap back to Tech’s cock, tasting the sweat of his skin, and the desire for your body grows with each passing second as he throbs needfully in your mouth.  

Echo is teasing your clit with calculated movements of his tongue, licking around it in sharp purposeful circles, and sucking on it every few passes.  Enough to make your brain fuzz up each time his lips seal around you as Tech nudges the back of your throat to earn a gag.  

You pull off him again, this time gathering the drool in your mouth to cover as much of Wrecker's cock as you physically can.  His cock is so heavy it sways low on his hips thick and so hard your body is already aching for the sting that will accompany the stretch.  You use the thick spit to pump him slower, allowing yourself a moment to admire what has to be the largest you'll ever get the chance to worship. 

The slick sounds are broken with an “Atta girl.”  in the shape of a deep growl from Wrecker’s chest.  He reaches and gathers some drool from your chin and brushes it over your lip and you open instinctively, just as Echo uses his tongue to prod at your entrance.  His praise is as wholesome as his affection for you.

Hunter has taken a seat across from the rest of you, watching as if analyzing each movement of your legs as they quiver from the ravenous pleasure and your throat tightens around the length of Crosshair's shaft.  His thin fingers find purchase at the back of your neck, urging you to sputter around him and the sick squelch just barely audible beneath your moans. 

Echo swiftly plunges two fingers into your pussy, crooking them and stroking deliciously at your g-spot and forcing you to pull yourself away from Crosshair to let your head drop as you fight for composure.  “Let yourself enjoy it little one.  It won’t be your last.” Cross takes the tip of his cock and taps the tip to your tongue.  

You swear, body humming and teetering on the edge before losing yourself to one hellishly explosive orgasm.  It shocks you, body shaking and toes curling against the cool floor as your body burns in the aftershocks Echo works you through it with some tentative kisses to your entrance, and he encourages you to sit up so he can slide out from under you. 

So much of the room is spinning you don’t notice Tech sitting in front of you until you’re kissing him.  His tongue finds yours in a syrupy sweet and methodical kiss as you fight to catch your breath.  Wrecker moves behind you, running his rough hands down your back and palming the flesh of your ass, striking it with a loud slap.  

Tech swallows your gasp, pinching your nipples and pulling them as Wrecker bends you at the waist until you’re scrambling to your hands and knees sucking Tech into your mouth with a compliant and satisfied hum.  

Hunter speaks up, “Turn around.” The trance is broken for the briefest of seconds, and you don't have time to think before they’re turning you so you’re faced with Wrecker’s huge cock and Tech teases your entrance with the tip of his cock.  The passive command that Hunter has over all of you gives you goosebumps, his authority even stronger than the ache they share for you. 

You sink to your elbows, propping your ass up on display and practically begging for Tech to fuck you, pushing back onto the head of his cock, all while blinking away tears as Wrecker’s size makes your jaw ache.  The larger man splays his hand across the back of your head, inciting your thick moans as you work as much of him as you can fit. 

Tech’s hips pitch forward and he’s splitting you open in one fluid deep thrust until your ass is nestled against his hips and he grunts at the eager squeeze of your sex around him. You work your hips in sync with your head the drag of his cock along your walls is unlike anything you’ve ever felt.  He shifts from both knees to one, allowing a deeper thrust to kiss your cervix with a hiss of pain-laced pleasure.  He sets a pace, hips meeting yours in synchronous harmony, and the three of you get lost in each other's pleasure.  

You’re briefly aware of Crosshair stroking himself above you and Hunter is still watching with bated breath as you service his brothers, wondering if you’ll let each of them have a turn or if they’ll need to give you a break.  

Tech snakes a hand around to press a firm thumb against your clit, and a rush of fluid hits the floor of the cargo space that permeates his senses. The sickly sweet smell of your release coats his tongue and he chokes the head of his cock through his clothes to stop him from cumming before he even gets to touch you.  

Your vision is white, and you’re vaguely aware of the spend running down your thighs.  When Tech pulls himself free with a grunt you feel the hot ropes of his cum on your back you whine, feeling ashamed that you long for him to finish inside of you.  You clench around nothing and sit up to look at Wrecker who brushes a hair out of your face.  You kiss him, softly at first, unsure of his comfort with the taste of his precome in your mouth, but he growls and lifts you by your waist, licking into your mouth as he helps you hover over his cock.  

You take advantage of the break, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking the weight off your knees in favor of straddling him. Even in his lap, you’re looking up at him.  Letting gravity do some of the work, you adjust to let him prod at your entrance and sink slowly onto him, the slick warmth of your pussy a welcome substitute for your pretty mouth. 

His chest rumbles beneath yours, groaning as your pussy flutters around him.  You kiss him through a grimace, “Take your time.” He whispers against your mouth, low enough you’re not sure the others hear him.  Heart swelling at the compassion, you let him slowly rock his hips against you, easing his way into your heat and keeping his hands splayed across your hips to support you.  

It’s a slow process, each inch accompanied by breathless and muffled moans followed by kisses and words of endearment.  “You can take it mesh’la.” You’re nearly there, body so in tune with his every word you nearly forgot your showmanship. 

Crosshair is to your right, one hand gripping the base of his cock as precome dribbles and hangs just out of reach from your eager tongue, muttering something in a language you don’t understand. 

You swear you can feel the throb of Wrecker inside of you, and he presses his mouth to your forehead as he pistons his hips slowly angling your body in a way so that he’s moving you along his shaft effortlessly. 

Breathless and spent, you let him.  Being filled by him is almost overwhelming, each push and pull feeling like he's going to split you in half.   He mumbles and groans into your hairline, speaking nonsense in between bitten-off praise.  When his fingers find your clit you all but cry, shaking your head in protest, “Please- I can't.” 

It's Hunter that answers your cries, “You can.” His voice hoarse with need and restraint, “Be a good girl.” Your brow furrows, in concentration, tossing your head back in near agony at the overstimulation. 

Wrecker leans forward and presses his mouth to the column of your throat sucking on the thin skin and leaving a pink welt in his wake.  You feel as if you could explode, not able to hear the sounds of your screams as you shudder and writhe under his touch, against his skin and your body falls slack with the overwhelming pleasure. 

He lifts his face and you catch a pleased smile, like a loth-wolf with its prey in its teeth.  As he throbs and fucks his spend deep into your core.  They all see the muted smile tug at the corner of your mouth as Wrecker cums inside you.  

He holds you for a moment, kissing over the reddish blemish on your throat and waiting for you to make eye contact with him before slipping free with a tangled whimper from both of you.  

Wrecker wraps your legs around him and stands on sturdy legs, you cling to him, resting your cheek on his shoulder hyperaware of the wetness between your thighs. He sets you on Hunter's lap, in your euphoria, he’s lost his pants and sits still in a pair of soft cotton underwear, stark black against his tanned abdomen.  It’s now that you notice his tattoo, so familiar with the portion on his face you never notice how the tattoo bleeds across the entire left side of his body.  

The lines are both clean and elegant, highlighting the rich flawless tone of his figure.  Gorgeously broad shoulders with rippling cords of muscles supporting your cheek as you rest your head lazily and admire him.  Placing a lingering and exhausted kiss to the stretch of skin between his shoulder and neck and relishing the warmth of him against your sweat-soaked skin, in the extra cold air of a ship in hyperspace.  

He runs his fingers through your hair, scratching lightly and working every line of tension out of you over a few minutes.  You distantly hear the sound of the fresher’s shower being turned on.  Crosshair is gone, and you fear a pang of regret and pity. 

 Your breath is coming easier by the time, Hunter carries you towards the sound of the water.  Crosshair meets you both under the water’s spray refreshing your senses and soothing the ache of your muscles. You get settled on your feet between them, legs feeling like they’re made of sand, Hunter’s body is pressed tightly to your back, anchoring and steadying you as you greet Crosshair with an inviting kiss. 

He welcomes your touch, all but overtaking your space completely as you get pressed between the two of them and lost to the feeling of their bodies against yours, Hunter nestled into the small of your back and Crosshair’s cock leaking and purple with need against your belly.

The steam only adds to the dreamlike quality of it all, tendrils wafting off the ground and highlighting the sight of your ass pressed against him.  Hunter doesn’t want to hurt you, but each passing second without fucking you is making him lose his sanity.  As if he might just sink into the floor with the weight of his need crushing him entirely.  

He nibbles at your earlobe, earning a low whine from your chest.  You tilt your head in invitation for his affection, kissing up the column of your neck and tasting the water on your skin tangled with the smell of his brothers.  He makes eye contact with Crosshair, and they communicate silently as they spin you around and switch roles.  

Hunter licking into your mouth and letting his hand run down to your hip and pull you to him.  Expecting the press of Crosshair to your back, you’re startled when you feel the graze of his teeth on your ass.  His palms run over the smooth skin, kneading the flesh and watching it move in response to his touch.  

Crosshair splays a hand on the small of your back, urging you to lean forward.  You glance over your shoulder as he spreads you open and licks a stripe across your asshole. The feeling sends a shiver down your spine, you hear a chuckle as he presses the pad of his thumb into you and watches you with a hungry stare. 

Hunter distracts you, kissing you slowly and running his hands soothingly down your back as Crosshair preps you to take him until he’s working two fingers in and out of you and sucking a bruise into your hip to match the one adorning your throat.  

You nibble on Hunter’s lip, and bury your hands into his hair, tugging at the root living for the whimpers you get out of him.  Crosshair kisses his way up your spine, standing straight, and this time you see them.  There’s a small nod of agreement and both of them turn their full attention to you, “You gonna let us fuck you cyar’ika?”

 Without hesitation, you nod.  You’re not able to explain, how you were able to wrap your arms around Hunter as he hoisted you up his waist and you sank down onto his length.  Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was the way he demanded your submission through the tone of his voice.  No, you thought, it was the way he sounded like he was begging you, he commanded your attention but the way he used his authority had you believing that you, and what he asked of you, was the most important thing in the galaxy.  You wanted nothing more than to give him everything he asked for and more. 

They give you a moment, Hunter biting his lip as your cunt squeezes him like you haven’t already come three times already.  You throw an arm around Crosshair’s neck opening your legs just enough for him to slot himself against you and slowly push into you with the cant of his hips.  

He goes incredibly slow, sawing his hips back and forth and relishing in the feeling of Hunter’s cock also nestled deep inside you making you impossibly tighter and the friction of your walls against him.  

It feels like too much, pain and pleasure mixing in an enchanting cocktail of stimulation, yet still the familiar tug of an orgasm stirs in your belly.  You suppress a sob at the idea of coming for a fourth time around the both of them.  They hush you, nuzzling against you and pressing righteous and thankful kisses to your skin, “Look at you, pretty girl.” Crosshair’s voice is so low and drawn out that it takes every last shred of your concentration to hear what he’s saying, “You look so good taking everything we give you.” 

The inflection acts like a highlight reel, your body remembering along with your brain the feeling of being the center of attention during your first orgasm.  The complexity of your second. The white-hot stretch of Wrecker using and worshipping your body filling you to the brim during the aftershocks of your third.  Hunter whispers against the shell of your ear, “Good girl.” Reading the signs of your body and feeling the crest of your orgasm build around him, and pulling you over the edge with his praise. 

He presses his forehead to yours as he follows close behind, senses overwhelmed and fighting the bend to his knees as they buckle with the intensity of his climax.

Crosshair pumps into you from behind, lifting one of your legs slightly and changing the angle so he can thrust deeper grinding into you, and urging you to lean more heavily on him to keep the three of you from collapsing as he stills and spills into you. 

The three of you pant in silence, ragged breath lost in the noise of the water hitting the metal floor of the fresher, you wordlessly separate.  The endorphins running through your bloodstream turn your muscles' pain into a blissful ache you never want to forget. 

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Return of the Inagrotten

This fic is also available on Wattpad or AO3, if you would prefer to read it elsewhere.

⸻

@heya-there-friends Here’s to another fic—since I remember you mentioned that you wanted to be tagged in the future. Cheers!

If anyone else would like to be tagged on my fics, just let me know!

Further, you might be surprised to know I’ve referenced this fic before, in this post and in this post, and that it is no longer a one-shot but two chapters long.

Additional fun fact: Some of the fic’s narration was probably slightly influenced by how I sometimes feel like I’m watching a surreal play, as a passive observer in front of other humans when they interact.

NO CONTENT WARNINGS: The violence is largely canon-typical.

And now, without further ado—I hope excessive eye contact and almost nothing entertain you.

Summary:

Rafal becomes what he hates most to “save” Rhian at a steep cost—himself.

Or

Rafal puts on a grand “production” for Vulcan.

⸻

CHAPTER I: Eclipses, Ellipses, and Lapses in Judgment:

Right as Vulcan and Rhian stepped into the shaded clearing from opposite sides, an inkblot-like portent appeared on the horizon. Neither of them noticed.

Rhian looked chary, eyes welling with tears that threatened to fall, as his substitute swaggered up to him. What had he agreed to? And why—why a Trial that could potentially endanger one of his charges. And all because he wouldn’t submit and roll over for a takeover by his once charming traitor.

And now, his Evers would see him risk losing everything to, to this—this impostor School Master, this great boor of a man whom he never should have trusted! And Rhian hadn’t even been granted the chance to parley much further with the vile opportunist the last time, due to Vulcan’s burgeoning popularity among Evil’s students.

But Good always wins, he told himself. Simple. His side would win. It had to. He’d known all along and always would. He’d seen Good win the last few tales.

But he had everything to lose, a darker voice of sharp-edged rationale joined the chorus in his head. His opponent had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

He did not feel any better. 

Swallowing bile and his pride, Rhian reached out to shake Vulcan’s hand when a tidal wave crashed onto the shores of Good, sloshing onto the lawn, dousing Rhian and everyone else, and forming a heavy fog.

Rhian dropped Vulcan’s hand like it had burnt him, and the two competitors froze as the fog began to subside, neither daring to move from where they were rooted in place.

Indeed, Rhian’s boots had already begun to sink into the grass, drowning in the muck. Muck! His white boots and swan-feather doublet would be soiled by muck!

He exhaled heavily. There was nothing he could do about it now.

The seawater chilled Rhian, dripping down from his collar, and his spine hurt, as if he had lost his balance and fallen—and yet, he didn’t feel afraid.

Vulcan on the other hand looked as if the living daylights had been knocked out of him, but shortly recovered.

Even the students backed up a bit, and some of the cowardly ones scattered away. Several remained and held their breaths, even the Nevers.

Rhian and Vulcan’s heads swung to the newly-arrived, amorphous… whatever-it-was, alien through the veil of fog.

It docked right before them, banging into the shoreline, as waves hauled it up and retreated, letting it skid further across the lawn, upturning sod and carving out a shallow trench.

It turned slightly, its long side facing everyone, and settled with a thud, halting just inches away from where Rhian and Vulcan watched.

It stood at an imposing height, a hulking block of pure onyx—upon closer inspection, a ship.

A ship that eclipsed them all with its broad starboard, its ever-darkening, looming shadow, that obliterated the sun, swallowed the students gathered around the warring pair, and eclipsed the clearing whole.

The ship stood still, as if watching for the School Master and his substitute’s next moves.

When no one moved, it lifted off the ground, levitating above the wet grass by about an ell.

Jaws dropped at the marvel, and more than a few students wondered if it would float higher or coast over their mute, little pates, and take off into the sky after this odd detour at the Schools as it surely had to be an unidentified flying object.

Instead, the ship righted itself, deftly rotating so its bow faced the clearing. It plunked down with half a hollow thump on the craggy, stone shore and half a squelch in the grass as it rocked and tipped forward marginally, mast angled, jutting out like a magician’s bow.

Cheeky, Rhian thought—assuming he were right in knowing what to expect from the vessel. Yet he still couldn’t stop his involuntary shaking.

It was the cold, wasn’t it? In response, his stomach lurched and roiled like the dark waters.

The ship boasted diaphanous, black sails and itself was rather solid-looking with an ebony hull, encrusted with sleek onyx and obsidian.

The clearing stood dead still, fragile. It was silent, except for the water lapping the shoreline with great, constant slaps. The only movement was the flapping of the sails, snapping, stiff against the cutting winds.

Would it leave? The students mused to themselves. Would it leave them be and return their daylight? Return them to delight in their sunshiny Ever picnics and resume their Never picket lines at the encampments?

No, it seemed.

Beyond them all, lighting split the sky, crisscrossing erratically, fracturing the silence like the shattering of glass—right on cue, as if orchestrated by a willing conductor.

Many students startled, already having anticipated the swell before a storm after such dreadful, broken silence.

Several more jumped and fled for their lives, hiking lengths on foot, as fast as mortally possible towards the cover of the treeline or Good.

They didn’t want to stay when everything fell to ruin, but Vulcan and Rhian remained firm despite the fog and the dark.

Rhian cringed. He couldn’t bear his own impotence. But he couldn’t do anything without assessing the threat at hand. Something or someone had changed the game.

Then, the last of the fog cleared, rolled away and swept to the side like the parting of theater curtains, as if creating an open channel for the bow of the great, anchored vessel.

The Inagrotten seemed to be commandeered by a boy nearly as alabaster-pale as his otherworldly crew.

Rhian squinted. He and Vulcan were forced to crane their necks up to meet the icy eyes of the visitor, unnerving eyes that skewered cleanly through Vulcan’s soul. Vulcan turned away, shaken, but did not flee.

Rafal? Or was he not—

Even in the supposed privacy of his own thoughts, Rhian faltered—his brother’s stare, it bore straight into him.

Yet Rafal looked as if he weren’t seeing. It was as if he were staring through, at the nothing beyond.

And after he’d been gone for so many months—it was approaching six months—Rhian knew. And—

He could only rub at his eyes and hope, hope that this sight, this apparition-like boy wasn’t a mirage, that this was his brother.

Rhian’s voice caught in his throat while Vulcan stared bemused at the Evil School Master, perhaps, a School Master no more.

He did… certainly, look as youthful as ever, Rhian assured himself. He had not aged. One less fear to harbor. They were still immortal. Probably.

But, the shadows carved into his face were deeper, like in his time apart from his twin, he’d seen a ghost or unspeakable, maritime horrors.

Yes—he seemed… rougher, somehow. He carried himself differently, standing there, at the bow, with a haunted look. His eyes seemed sunken, or perhaps it was the way the sun cast over him from above, the dark cast it produced, at his height far above the clearing, a clear-sighted gaze.

It was his usual hard-eyed countenance, the same as always… except not.

He was eerily still, more disarming than usual, creepier, Rhian dared think, as if he’d picked up the traits of his comrades, those creatures—from months at sea with them.

His movements, if any, were too languid, like his bodily systems had shut themselves down, constricted like ice. And he looked gaunt, veins and collarbone more prominent, and his face, angular, more so than ever, with those shadows lining his face, like he didn’t have a heart pumping blood left to speak of. Like he ran cold, colder than the rest, colder than ever, as a specter, a shade of his former self.

The iron stench of blood clung thick in the air, clung to Rafal’s strange, new garments.

Craning his neck even further upward at the barque, Rhian could’ve sworn his brother’s clothes smelt of blood, but he couldn’t see a trace of blood on them. Just, smears of—blue—a strange, deep, sapphire blue on his clothes, tinting spikes of his hair, a spray of the inky substance speckling his jawline and the side of his face, and streaks of blue on the… Night Crawlers, assembled in rough formation behind him.

By the Storian’s grace, were those real Night Crawlers? He’d never seen them outside of storybooks. It was like Rafal had dredged himself out of a storybook, out of the deep undersea, like a myth among myths.

Night Crawlers. Bad idea. Rhian winced and closed his eyes, starting to develop a migraine. Not Night Crawlers! Not Night Crawlers at Good!

Rhian would have concluded it was blood, but it couldn’t be, could it?

He opened his eyes in a flash. Yes, they were still there…

They flanked Rafal, falling behind him, like sentinels, even paler than their leader’s bloodless pallor, eyes ever-watching, roving, moving, momentarily eying him in his sodden doublet, spattered in muck, before sweeping from side to side, from person to person, as if in search for something more, or someone from the sparse crowd in particular.

All Rhian’s mind could grasp was the sensation of eyes, Vulcan’s glare, the Night Crawlers’—and his wet socks.

Then, finally, the last set of eyes flicked too-quickly over everyone in sight and once again settled on the restless pair below. Rafal’s.

But Rafal just as quickly lowered his gaze to a sash at his waist and then his black, cavalier boots.

Why yes! Rhian hadn’t noticed. His brother was shod with tall, new boots. It was a miracle in itself that Rafal wasn’t wearing the same, old boots as always. Albeit, these ones were rather scuffed and dripped blue ink.

Rafal tapped his foot impatiently, exhaled, as if waiting for something, then casually scraped one boot on the edge of the ebony deck, attempting to clean it off and dislodge a glop that had practically fused itself to Rafal’s sole.

Vulcan huffed and muttered, “Stupid snowman,” under his breath.

Rafal ignored the trespasser, and shook his booted foot tetchily until the indistinct gobbet of blue flew off his boot and smacked Vulcan in the bat tattoo, just missing the lout’s eye.

“Oops. Didn’t see you down there, peon,” Rafal breezed, blatantly lying. He swept his hand through his snow-white hair, cresting it with more of the blue from his hands without realizing it.

Rhian quelled his mysterious, rising sense of nausea. At what? The rich, blue stains that he thought should be laundered sooner rather than later?

If he hadn’t known any better, Rhian would’ve been sure that something smelt of rust, of blood. He had to be imagining things. He blinked at the Night Crawlers.

They stood motionless, stolid like statues.

Rhian frowned harder and realized that he had been frowning all along. And this new Rafal was slovenly! And blue!

Rhian glanced at the grisly gob sliding down Vulcan’s face as the man swatted at it blindly.

Squid ink, he decided, again, trying to set his nausea aside to no avail. Saliva coated his gullet. Rafal must have stepped on a squid. That was it. The substance was a squid with, with… ventricles. Ventricles? Wait.

The lurid, inky blob resembled some creature’s innards, Rhian reflected, sickened. Had Rafal—

About to burst from curiosity, Rhian started, “Wha—”

Rhian must’ve been addled. Rafal cut him off. “You must know, I have returned to reclaim my post,” he enunciated evenly, as if Vulcan were deaf or dumb, projecting his voice as if he were playing the lead role in a theater production.

Rhian shook his head vigorously, hand slicing the air at his neck, trying to signal to Rafal to stop talking in front of Vulcan!

Rafal paid his brother no heed and examined the blue underneath his ragged fingernails, having resumed tapping his foot on deck, stalling. He didn’t have a watch, but knew he had arrived on set early.

Even the birches stared at him accusingly as he looked out on everyone else.

Forget it.

Bah. Now he had to wait for everyone else to catch up, the blasted imbeciles. Nothing like—nevermind.

Vulcan fumed, his ears turning red, a pugnacious grimace crossing his face.

Right on schedule. Rafal nodded at him imperiously, eyes turned to slits, furtively glancing at the man’s ill-concealed pocket lump.

Placidly, Rafal rolled up his sleeves. He loathed this frilled tunic. It was too baggy, and therefore too impractical for his taste. How did the filthy, drunken idiots stumble around without catching themselves on their own cutlasses? The same critique went for the pantaloons—and the fussy sleeves easily soiled, but they were already soiled, so no matter. He could burn these ‘pirate’ clothes later and forget about the whole incident. Besides, his proceedings would be civilized, unlike those pests’ sorry excuse for discipline.

That was when the midday sun at last emerged and reached its summit. His next cue.

Finally. Rafal looked at it directly and smiled like a loon, frost-blue eyes glowing in the light.

Meanwhile, Rhian worried for his brother’s mental state as Vulcan grew more agitated. Why wasn’t he moving?

Rafal spared a glance at his incapacitated, seafaring crew. Unfortunate that they didn’t fare well under the sun. Now was not the time to lose composure—but it didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. Yet.

The Night Crawlers—all of them veiled in such a funereal way, decked in wide-brimmed hats—hissed, and others recoiled into their cloaks, blinded by the brilliance of Good’s lit glass castle.

Rafal observed Rhian’s feather-adorned clavicle rise up and down as he heaved great gulps of air, the fool practically navel-gazing, contemplating the blue-tinged muck of all things.

Coward, Rafal thought lightly, suppressing a sigh.

Rafal gave a subtle hand signal, dismissing the students, who responded to his gesture eagerly.

A few waved back gleefully like they had their heads screwed on the wrong way. Pah. Children.

They ran for their lives, no longer a captive audience. But he hadn’t truly done them a favor. He had other plans in store to sort out the bad, rotted-through apples later.

The others, the better-shielded Night Crawlers, clustered together, like a malignant pox, and grinned, revealing fanged-toothed smiles, stained blue, that gleamed like slivers of upended crescent moon.

They stared greedily at Vulcan.

Rafal shook his head slightly, not wanting to err, and kept his eyes fixed on Vulcan. Almost.

A few slumped, and the rest rearranged themselves idly, like predators evaluating prey.

Not yet.

⸻

CHAPTER II: Salutations, Immolations, and Confrontations:

Expectant, Rafal continued to peer down at them, his makeshift puppets, his brother and the enemy—as if he were sitting in an audience, awaiting a grand performance from the mezzanine.

Then, he took note of Vulcan, shaping up to be quite the aggressor, and his lip curled at the cur in disgust.

“Well. What is it that you are waiting for?” Rafal coaxed sibilantly. “Stage directions?”

Rhian turned back and discovered everyone but he and Vulcan had left the clearing. Not a single student in sight.

“Rhian, it’s your move. And the show must go on. How ever will you deal with this dastardly stranger? Or is he not a stranger at all?” Rafal mocked.

On cue, Rhian immediately flushed red. He had frozen in place, holding his right arm bent at his side the whole time, wrist hanging limp! His hand dropped to his side instantly. Rafal hadn’t known about the Trial agreement? And the handshake! Had he?

Rafal addressed his brother again. “What are you doing, Rhian? Something rash? Something you'll come to regret? I suppose it's almost prophetic that I returned when I did, or else, you'd let our School fall to ruins, wouldn't you?”

Vulcan inched forward to face Rafal, straining his neck, not that could’ve stepped any closer to the Inagrotten without plastering himself to the hull like a figurehead. “Hah! Cold, Evil Master back, Duckling?” he boomed. “What does Duckling do now? Evict Lord Vulcan?”

Rafal’s scowl deepened at the term of endearment. Duckling? What conversations had he not borne witness to? Forget it. He gritted his teeth, setting his jaw.

His head was already devolving into a cradle for a pulsing headache due to this Vulcan character slamming down on his last nerves like a guillotine. This was exactly why he hadn’t hired the man the first time.

He turned to Rhian. “You liked this numbskull?” he called out.

Rhian, who still seemed queasy, shrugged and gave a little, diffident smile.

‘Lord’ Vulcan sneered, maniacally whisked his hands around in the air, then feigned some sort of hideous mock-terror, all while his eyes rolled back into his skull so the whites showed.

It must be amateur hour, Rafal groused. What a poor man’s impression of a true Never. A pathetic final performance. And such low production value.

“Or, will brother save Duckling and Duckling’s fat cats?”

Fat cats?

Rafal quickly dismissed the aberrant image of Rhian with cats, and turned his back for just a moment.

Through rustling fabrics and veils, and low, slurred, susurrated murmurs that approximated speech, Rhian made out something like: “You’ll get your prize soon enough, after I deal with the trespasser and my brother. Just fall back, and I’ll do the talking as always.”

It was as if his brother meant to-to pacify these killers, these man-draining monsters.

But the Night Crawlers never posed the problem, Rafal well knew.

And, naturally, problems the first and the second were still watching him confer with his crew from below in the clearing.

The Night Crawlers shuffled around, rearranging themselves once more, skulking behind Rafal, chastened but petulant. Most slipped below deck, several adjusting their hats.

The intrepid few kept watch. One in particular, with his black-gloved hand, pulled out a silver pocket watch and flipped its face open before clapping it shut.

Rhian couldn’t puzzle out the strange sight. At least they weren’t swarming.

Just then, Rafal leapt down from the side of the ship and stalked over to face Vulcan, stopping at a spot a few yards away, looking blasé.

Not yet.

Vulcan shoved a hand into his pocket.

Not yet.

Vulcan made to attack, eyes probing Rafal, dagger gripped in hand.

Not yet.

Rhian’s eyes widened as he caught on. He opened his mouth, about to call out and warn his brother to move—

But Rafal, as if stone deaf, reached into the depths of his long, coal-black, wide-cuffed greatcoat, and tugged at something.

A collection of bone-dry matches that had once been wrapped up spilled out of his pocket onto the wet ground.

At last, he pulled out a white handkerchief, flecked with the barest hints of blue, and raised it skyward, dismissing his brother’s shouts, brushing off Rhian entirely.

With the handkerchief, a few more matches spilled out of his pocket, skittering into the path of Vulcan’s forthcoming advance.

Vulcan raised an eyebrow at the gesture.

Not yet.

The lowly cheat stepped forth to check the limits of Rafal’s surrender, or rather, his resistance to pain—completely insubordinate to the universal gesture Rafal had just executed. He wanted to test the so-called Evil School Master. School the coward himself.

Not yet.

Vulcan feinted once with the dagger.

Not yet.

Moored in place, Rafal did not move, did not flinch, his neutral expression unwavering and handkerchief tossed aside.

Twice.

Rhian gasped.

Not yet.

NO, Rafal mouthed to Rhian.

There. The viper slung the dagger, aiming for Rafal’s heart the third time.

Now.

The Good School Master valiantly intervened anyway… He took off and dove, but overcorrected, launching himself too far, and straight into a patch of muck to Rafal’s far right, the sludge blinding him.

Rafal, for his part and parcel, simply stepped aside, two paces to the left.

The dagger whizzed by.

Silence.

Then Vulcan roared with the vengeance of a thousand suns and thrust forward with the intent to clobber Rafal.

Hurry up, clod, Rafal carped.

Vulcan slipped on the wet grass, and careened forward, landing onto the scraggly bed of matches.

Rafal laughed and laughed until his stomach started to ache and flicked his wrist in Vulcan’s general direction, scorching him to death by white-hot incineration.

The kindling was meager but effectively fueled.

His proper pay-off! And Vulcan’s send-off! Good riddance! At last.

And all at half past twelve on the dot—praise Adela’s soul! He almost regretted killing her with questions.

Ashes cascaded to the ground, and blew off, carried away by a sorcery-induced wind.

Deceitful designs paired well with dishonorable foes.

Disoriented by the sound of the blast, the puissant odor of charred flesh, and his brother’s psychotic laughter, Rhian groped blindly and used Rafal’s fallen handkerchief to wipe at his eyes. What in the Woods—

Rhian blinked back acrid, grey tears.

Plumes of smoke, cinders still asmoulder, raining down from the sky, and the odd, new Rafal in pirate garb swam into Rhian’s vision—a Rafal curled in on himself, still convulsing with laughter, silent spasms racking his narrow frame, until he straightened up and inhaled deeply.

All that remained of Vulcan was one blackened, steaming tract of lawn.

Rafal sunk into a bow, arms outstretched behind him like a wide ‘V,’ like the wings of a tainted, blue swan, hair glinting brilliantly beneath the sun.

The Night Crawlers broke into rhythmless applause from their places.

And Rhian? Rhian gawped, sat in his puddle, almost catatonic with shock, spitting blades of grass, taking in the scorched clearing and… his brother, the actor.

That squid dye or whatever-it-was would never wash out, Rhian mourned without a second thought for his once-substitute.

The Evil School Master strolled further into the clearing, irreverently stepped over his would-be usurper’s spot, and strode past Rhian, greatcoat flagging. He left his Night Crawlers be on the Inagrotten, fixed his sleeves, and headed towards his School, towards Evil.

Dealing with everything else would be trifles.

He paused in his half victory lap, half impromptu inspection-to-be of student quarters, and glanced over his shoulder at Rhian—poor, feckless Rhian—still agape and paralyzed by shame and the prospect of his own mortality.

Rafal smirked. “Rhian? Now that our Schools, plural, it seems, are settled, why don’t we have a chat? You still have escapades to tell me about, to catch me up on what’s gone on while I was away, don’t you?”

Rhian gawked at Rafal vacantly.

Three…

Two…

One—

Rhian shook himself, wild, golden curls bobbing, and clambered to his feet.

His blue blur of a brother continued across the walkway to Evil.

Rhian gathered his wits about him and wisely decided not to mention the deadly Trial he’d been about to agree to. His soles suctioned up some of the muck and sod as he frantically chased after Rafal.

Before Evil’s raised portcullis, Rafal came to a dead halt, and looked back at Rhian sprinting across the clearing as it sank with the seawater. It’d have to be drained another day. A pity his brother couldn’t fly.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” He crossed the threshold and peered at Vulcan’s great hall. How garish. He’d have to alter all of it.

Rhian arrived, panting, doubled-over in front of Rafal.

Rafal waited for him to catch his breath. “Good.”

Righting himself, Rhian began to enter the dim antechamber, but Rafal held out a hand.

“Wipe your feet outside. I don’t want Vulcan underfoot,” he said pointedly. “And I don’t want his presence tracked anywhere near my castle, much less within it. Oh, and here’s a lesson: I take care against inviting strange men in.” He eyed Rhian’s now-drooping, feathered doublet. “Indeed, you’re rather strangely dressed, but today, I’ll make an exception. Just this once—knowing it won’t bring about ruin.”

Rhian sighed and obeyed.

Rafal hastened down the hall, and Rhian sped past his brother to face him.

“It’s not what you think! Vulcan was a temporary replacement—no, not a replacement!” Rhian rushed to correct himself. “No one could replace you! An inferior. An inferior figurehead—he occupied the position of Dean, originally! I never meant for him to campaign to become a School Master, but the students! It was them! The students were so taken with him that he snaked his way into their hearts and, and—” he rabbited on, “Or, Hell! It may be what you think, but I can explain!”

Rafal tilted his head, vaguely amused, and thought to himself that the situation was looking to be exactly what he thought had happened. He knew his brother well enough to guess that Rhian had succumbed to a misbegotten bout of infatuation. If not that, then Rhian had run afoul of the Rules in some way—that was for certain.

And Rafal knew better than even Rhian’s slip into old patterns from his taste of Seerdom. He’d had to wait around for Vulcan, to sufficiently irritate and thus, provoke him, so the cad struck first—all so Rhian wouldn’t blame him for an unlawful Attack.

That way, he’d just be parrying back—however disproportionately the man’s fate had turned out, it’d needed to be done. And besides, Rafal thought the scoundrel had deserved worse.

He also made a mental note to ask Rhian for the names of the Nevers who’d backed Vulcan, who’d favored a weak-willed imposter of a Never over him, those traitorous, little ingrates.

All the while, Rhian kept jabbering about strawberry salads, and Marialena, the conwoman, and bats.

Rafal shut his eyes and inhaled, trying to regain some semblance of sympathy for Rhian, but couldn’t take the prattling anymore. “Rhian.”

His brother jolted to attention, wide-eyed, like a scolded child.

Rafal sidestepped Rhian and continued down the hall, a purpose in his step. “I swear, not another word, or I swear I’ll sell you off to Bluebeard. At a discount,” Rafal deadpanned, a hint of mirth in his eyes.

Rhian gasped and spluttered, highly affronted. “N-No!”

Rafal bit back a smile and shook his head. “It’s that or a fair trade with the Night Crawlers for their services. Your pick. What will it be?”

“No,” Rhian held firm, glaring murderously at the back of his brother’s partly blue-clotted scalp.

Rafal swanned further down the hall. “Well—I doubted you’d assent to that. Proves you’ve got more than cats under that crown of yours. Fussy, fussy, in all your frippery, hmm? Regardless, if blue or piracy are what you’d want in a companion or savior, I suppose you’d best stay here, with the Night Crawlers and me,” he offered with mock-gallantry.

“JUST LISTEN TO ME!”

Rafal stopped abruptly on his course, and spun on his heels to face Rhian, wet boots screeching on the tiles, as if for mercy, his soles slapping down, echoing. “I already know most of what went on without me here.”

“Oh, really? For Storian’s sake! Why did I ever want you back?”

“Well, it’s what you once wanted, wasn’t it?” Rafal accused sharply. “You despaired when I left. And let’s just say: I’m never leaving you again, if this, this revolting disorder, is how you running the Schools by yourself is bound to turn out.”

“Fine! Good even!” Rhian agreed far too quickly with vestiges of vitriol. “That’s fair and absolutely fine with me! I’ll gladly put up with anything as long as you stay,” he vowed, attempting to appeal to Rafal’s Good side. He didn’t bother to consider that he’d presently rue the words he’d just spoken ere long.

Rafal grinned roguishly. He’d extracted all that he’d needed to proceed with his plans.

His pace became more brisk by the second as Rhian hurried to match his brother’s gait and racing mind. “Lovely. I suppose you won’t mind it if I make some changes. I’d thought I’d have a harder time convincing you, but it seems you won’t break your promise. That would be dishonorable. And Evil.”

Hostage to his word, Rhian swallowed his retort. Rafal would hold him to anything he said from here on out.

“Now, the first of the changes I plan to implement is a curriculum around discerning Good from Evil. With challenges. We’ll rank the classes from one through twenty. Disguises are far too prevalent these days, and I don’t trust you or your students to know any better. Besides, you are in need of remedial lessons.”

Rhian tried to interject, but Rafal held up a blue-stained hand to shut him down, and continued staunchly.

“Not only that—I require a moat. It’d be another line of defense against trespassers. Higher ground, too, of course. Also, a place to bury our dead.”

“What dead?”

“I don’t expect all the students to last long. The Evers almost expired under Vulcan’s reign, it seems to me, from the state of them, quivering like that, and the Nevers won’t last long under me. You can be sure now that some Nevers will perish—even once they’re out from under my regime—there are always failures in the tales, every now and then, no matter how well they’re trained. Ah, and let’s replace Humburg with fresh blood. I can imagine that dolt did nothing to stand against Vulcan, did he?”

Rhian’s eyes had grown wide now, and he was effectively silenced by shock.

“Also, I was thinking of a torture chamber,” Rafal added as if it were an afterthought.

His brother let out a questionable, strangled sound, but Rafal paid him and his antics no mind, and kept outlining his plans.

Rhian couldn’t expand his airways any further, but again, tried to steel himself, tried to marshal all his verve to contradict Rafal now. No, wait, what was he thinking? Opposing Rafal? He couldn’t! Not after Rafal promised to stay. Who knew if Evil upheld promises? Rhian himself certainly hadn’t, when he’d hired Vulcan against Rafal’s wishes that had been expressed long ago, and he was Good.

But before he ever got the chance to summon up the will to challenge Rafal, he lost his chance.

Rafal spoke up, “That should consolidate my power, don’t you think? It’s worked itself out neatly—the arrangement I have in mind. The Night Crawlers will be paid with the blood they’ll have drawn from our mutinous, young charges. No need to hire the Man-Wolves after all, at the high rates they’re demanding. It’ll all be self-contained, and we’ll spare fewer expenses in the long run.”

He continued on blithely as Rhian paled increasingly with every word, complexion turning bloodless.

Rhian swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat.

“And, remind me to replace that Marialena, won't you? I just know—ahem—suspect that she'll sow more chaos if we don't keep a close eye on her, and I'd rather get rid of the potential complication altogether. If we don't rid ourselves of her soon, she could cause a rift between us.”

No, Rhian thought tartly, lungs burning, the new Rafal was doing that all on his own.

“Fortunately, I’ve removed the other variables that could come between us,” Rafal assured himself, picking at the congealed, inky blue at his wrists. “And I know now: the best solution is the proactive one. We'll be far better off without her, trust me. All Seers are meddlers at their cores.”

Determined, Rafal nodded at his new vision for Evil and all that he had armed himself with for the future, and set his hands clasped behind him.

Rhian nodded along weakly, a thin smile gracing his lips, following several paces away from Rafal’s heels, like a puppet tangled in wire, almost running to match Rafal’s ever-accelerating pace.

SLOW DOWN, Rhian desperately wanted to shout. Slow down with all these ‘improvements.’ But he couldn’t get overly excited over these matters—Rafal might call him ‘hysterical.’

He locked his jaw, numbly. It could always be worse.

Then, at last, the twin School Masters reached Evil’s rear entrance, which looked out onto the seaside beyond.

Huffing and florid-faced, Rhian leaned on the doorframe and coughed—what sort of Storian-ordained exercise had his brother done at sea?

He was glad his brother was back. Really. He was grateful to be alive, grateful they were both alive. Yet, he still feared the worst for Rafal's students.

But that was a problem for another day. Best to just give up for now.

Rhian plodded down the polished, black-granite steps, onto the ashen sand after Rafal, who stood facing the shoreline of the Savage Sea, and then, finally took in Rafal’s new attire as a whole, during his first moment of calm in hours.

He really did resemble a swashbuckler. In fact, Rhian almost didn’t recognize his brother. Almost.

Gone were fine, scholarly, gold-trimmed robes of days past, the olden days—an open, militaristic coat in their stead.

Gone were the starched, white shirts—now replaced with a poet’s shirt, no, a pirate’s shirt, loose-fitting, with flaccid sleeves, laced-up with string.

Gone were the crisp, pressed suits and triple-mantled cloaks. The iron-creased trousers and slim, elegant boots had been banished, replaced by pantaloons, tucked into high, bucket-top boots.

And for the first time, Rhian found he didn’t want a pirate. Not this pirate, setting the ‘ship’ the Storian had entrusted them with on a warpath. This one was more like the warden of a brig besides—keeping him prisoner! He just wanted the old Rafal back. His brother, the School Master, his equal.

But the new Rafal… this was the new Rafal… he was here to stay.

Rhian tried to clear his head.

The Inagrotten was docked at shore, no longer blighting the clearing in front of Good. How considerate of Rafal.

See? The new Rafal wasn’t that bad.

Rhian ambled down to the shore, where Rafal had dropped down to kneel with a twig in hand, black greatcoat splayed over the pale sand, like a flag of oncoming death… or a penitent’s mourning robes.

After his ordeal, Rhian thought he deserved at least one proper question, and yet… what changed? seemed… too complicated. He didn’t want to pry, if anything had gone wrong while Rafal was gone. Perhaps—“Rafal, why are you dressed like a pir—”

The twig snapped. “Not a word, Rhian,” his brother choked out drily with warning in his voice. “My old clothes had blood on them, this was all the Night Crawlers had, and that’s all. End of story.”

Rhian needn’t know about his brother’s recently-acquired status as a Woods-wide felon. Rafal inhaled shakily and returned to leaning over his sand drawing.

Rhian watched, silenced for a moment. “But—”

Rafal sat back on his heels. “Rhian. Nevermind all that. I’ve had a thought. Look.”

Rhian stared down at the twin swans Rafal had etched in the wet sand.

A School crest. And he was part of it.

Was this proof? That the new Rafal still cared about him?

Yet something still needled at Rhian. Leave it be. No more detective work. Rafal’s trip is done. It’s over, he urged himself.

It was low tide though. The tide drew in and washed the sketch away, forever.

But Rafal didn’t care about the sketch. Another thing of his was ruined. Probably broken. For all his spectacle and pride about being early, he had probably been too late. Rafal frowned, hands cold as death, now flattened against the sand.

The tide receded again.

He didn’t say anything for a long while, staring out at the waters, washing in and out, his eyes unfocused, seeing nothing but blue.

Rhian placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “O Captain—” he baited.

Rafal’s voice revived itself. “Shut it.”

But he smiled nonetheless, truly, and slowly rose to his feet.

Rhian looped his arm through Rafal’s and Rafal locked hands with his brother. One more thing he wouldn’t be caught dead losing.

The Good School Master leaned into the Evil one’s side for support, and the Evil brother slackened for once, tension draining from his muscles.

For now, Rhian was just glad to have his twin back. Safe and in one piece.

That was all that mattered in the End.

Right?

⸻

Note:

I think this fic probably has the most “understory,” compared to all the others I’ve written. But you know more than Rhian does as a narrator here.

More accurately, this fic could likely have been entitled: "Rafal Is Essentially a Primo Uomo, Murdered Three (3!) People, and Treats Rhian Harshly > 70% of the Time." Yet, I wanted the title to sound serious in tone, so ideas such as these had to be scrapped.

If anyone wanted to know, I referenced this short poem: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45474/o-captain-my-captain

Of course, it cannot be taken literally or in its original historical context, but the captain being cold and dead fits Rafal having hardened more inside lately, and become more deadened/more like the probable undead, like the Night Crawlers themselves.

It’s some sort of “heroism” at a personal price, I suppose. Had to be done.

I’d love to play the audience (and respond to) to any feedback you have—any thoughts, feelings, reactions, or concrit you have.

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m always willing to elaborate!

Did anyone catch any of the other references I made? Anyone catch wind of my… implications?

I imagine that you’re probably wondering: What happened to James?

Rafal sealed the deal and allowed the Night Crawlers to kill James, but James’ death started off so harrowingly slowly that Rafal decided to intervene and “mercy-kill” him before the Night Crawlers got any further in their feasting. He couldn’t retract his orders. Not after he’d gone this far. Not after James was bleeding out beyond the point of no return. So he let it happen. All to get back to Rhian.

It’s the closest thing to a Face-Heel Turn Rafal could undergo, given that he’s already Evil/grey, I’d like to think, while not being completely amoral and having lost his mind.

Also, please be sure to correct me about anything, if I got anything wrong. I suspect I overly manipulated the setting to fit story purposes, if I did forget certain details.

⸻

Playlist:

“TICKING - SLOWED VERSION” - TIN

This one is like something emerging into your line of vision, gradually? At least the start of it conveys that. I thought it could mimic the beginning effects and the tension. Or slow, dawning horror.

“Darkness Falls” - UNSECRET, Cece And The Dark Hearts

Similar to the atmosphere.

“Natus Vincere” - Future Heroes

The title translates to “born to win.” Seems fated. Also, gives off a time-is-running-out and triumphant, overcome-it-all vibe.

“Future Heroine” - Ecca Vandal

Some lyrics, not all, fit, I thought. Admittedly, the tone doesn’t fit well.

“The Albatross” - Taylor Swift

These lines were particularly relevant (partly ironically with “angel”):

“Devils that you know / Raise worse hell than a stranger”

“Spread my wings like a parachute / I'm the albatross / I swept in at the rescue / The devil that you know / Looks now more like an angel”

“He’s a Pirate” - Klaus Badelt

“Haunted” - Taylor Swift

“i am not who i was" - Chance Peña

Potentially, some parts fit Rafal’s unwritten, internal monologue, to an extent.

“Behind the Sun” - Helgi Olegov

Strikes me as epilogue-esque music.

[fernsnailz]

FEB 2025 SHOP INFORMATION/FAQ

i've been getting a lot of questions about the next plans for my shop recently, so i'm gonna go ahead and answer a lot of them here as to update everyone. yay

edit: putting this shit under a readmore. shoulda done that in the first place lmfao 💀💥

WHEN IS YOUR SHOP REOPENING? March 21st at 1:00pm EST!

WILL YOU BE SELLING PHYSICAL COPIES OF BORN TO FAIL? yeah. they'll be on pre-order again. i'll have some b-grades available at a discount too.

ARE YOUR OTHER KEYCHAINS/STANDEES/PREVIOUS THINGS YOU HAD IN YOUR SHOP RETURNING? yes, i haven't retired anything. however, some things will be on pre-order again and other items may be pretty low stock. the band standees in particular are REALLY low, i think i only have one team dark one left.

WILL YOU BE SHIPPING TO MORE COUNTRIES BESIDES JUST THE US AND CANADA? no. i'm really sorry, i know this is something a lot of people want but i cannot expand shipping to more countries right now. i keep shipping limited to the US and Canada to keep the scale of my shop manageable, because my shop is technically a side gig i do on top of freelance storyboard work. additionally, i quite literally cannot offer international shipping to most countries through bigcartel (the service where i host my shop) without having to jump through a million hoops to collect and remit a number of different taxes + tariffs and comply with every country's requirements for international commerce.

the EU and UK are particularly difficult to ship to right now due to the EU's new GPSR (general product safety regulations) and the UK's VAT (value added tax) (which i would be responsible for collecting and remitting since i run an e-commerce site located out of the UK). the short explanation is that even though these are the two main locations people request i expand shipping to, i literally cannot feasibly ship to the EU or UK through my current shop without facing huge legal and tax obligations.

the best way for me to expand international shipping would be to sell stuff through a different shop hosting service that either does the complicated stuff for the seller or places tariff and tax responsibilities on the buyer, but please know that i honestly just do not have the ability or time to do that right now. i'm really sorry again, but i'm not going to be offering shipping to more countries right now.

ARE YOU GONNA HAVE NEW ITEMS? yes. i already have a few things i designed for my last convention that i have yet to sell on my shop, like some bluey and mouthwashing charms.

there's also a bunch of new robot related things i really want to design (transformers stuff, nge things, misc. other robot stuff), but i haven't finished them. this is the main reason why my shop isn't opening for at least another few weeks - i haven't had time to design my self-indulgent robot merch lol

HEY IS THE TARIFF WAR THAT THE US IS WAGING ON CANADA MEXICO AND CHINA GONNA AFFECT YOUR SHOP? yeahhhhhh probably. for those who don't know: i am based in the US, and our stupid idiot shit for brains country recently placed some absolutely insane tariffs on imports from Canada, Mexico, and China. this led to all three of those countries implementing their own tariffs on US imports and a "trade battle" breaking out.

the short rundown is that the US' tariffs on Canada and Mexico were put on hold for 30 days, but if this battle continues after that then it will affect anyone in Canada who orders from me. i'll likely still be able to offer shipping to Canada, but if the tariff battle continues then Canadian customers at my shop will be responsible for paying any tariffs Canada imposes on US goods. and since the 10% tariff the US placed on China is still in effect, i might have to raise the prices of my keychains and standees a little bit since that's where i get those from.

ARE YOU GONNA BE TABLING AT ANOTHER CONVENTION ANYTIME SOON? the next convention i have lined up is Animazement (Raleigh NC) in May! i'll be tabling in the artist alley there. hopefully i'll be tabling at a few other events later in 2025, but we'll have to wait and see.

that's all for now! if i get more shop related questions beyond this, i'll probably add them to this post.

[dreamwreaver]

Thank you for that post about that recent ship hate, I was about to send an ask on that too because it also quite set me off. Especially about the part where they said that Charlie was supposedly scared with manipulative Alastor in episode 7. Nothing about her was "scared" about Alastor, her body language showed nothing of the sort, she was most likely weirded out and frustrated but certainly not quivering in fear as he runs his hands all over her. She was definitely vulnerable to manipulation in her sad state but that didn't mean she was unaware she was making a very sketchy deal with a man she already knows is sketchy as well. She had no clear possible option for help against the army besides what Alastor offered so she understandably took that risky deal.

She is NOT clueless, she is NOT helpless and she is NOT scared. Know your own main character because those assumptions you make of her character would canonically strike a nerve with her. Don't be like the villains and the assholes in the show that underestimate her.

At the absolute angriest Charlie is annoyed that he's feeling her up while they have a crisis going on. Also... is it really manipulation if you say "hey, I have info you want but in order to get it you have to make a deal with me"?

Alastor didn't hide his intentions beyond what precisely he wants to use that favor for. And we already know he can't use it to directly harm someone. Now, if the favor he asks her for causes harm to someone in some roundabout way then that's one thing. But it wasn't as if Charlie had the time to hash out the exact specifications of this contractual arrangement with less than a month to secure an army and weapons and everything else. But again, let's take in that greater hellaverse lore for a second. Any deal struck with a deadly sin is everlastingly binding. No take backs. Imagine what happens if someone makes a deal with someone like Charlie?

Charlie has to be aware of that which is probably why she was so careful not to make a deal with him until there were literally no other options available to her. And she offered him her soul. Come on, do we really think Charlie wouldn't give up herself if it meant saving the people she is doing all of this for? She would happily sign a soul contract if it meant keeping the sinners safe. And yet... alastor doesn't take it. And yeah yeah, "starting small makes it easier to ask for big things later" but come on! How likely is it Alastor would get as golden of an opportunity for the soul of the antichrist as that one?

And if they wanna bring up manipulation; we're just gonna ignore the angel thing because of the fucking keychain? Three years of their shared life together Vaggie has been actively concealing not only that she was an exorcist angel, but that she was one of the best, probably second only to Lute. How many thousands of souls she utterly destroyed. Or what about how she treats Charlie? Saying she "loves" Charlie's theatrics only to turn around and get embarrassed anytime Charlie indulges in them out in public. She "believes" in Charlie's dream but doesn't do anything to interact with the actual residents and other staff. And when she realizes she left Charlie alone to be "preyed" upon by Alastor she immediately thinks Charlie couldn't handle herself. And then shames Charlie for making the deal,

"Charlie, please tell me you didn't," followed by a disappointed refrain of Charlie's name. Like she can't believe the girl she coddles at every turn would STILL be so "stupid" and "naive". Bitch you made a deal with him just to get a fucking commercial made. Let's think for a moment, a stupid commercial or the key to defeating the exorcists and saving Hell; which is the better thing to make a deal with the radio demon for?

The fact that Charlie can so easily believe that Vaggie would also know angels could be killed and deliberately not tell her is also very illustrative. Charlie has been raised by the ultimate manipulator. The embodiment of temptation. Even if she wants to trust in everyone, believes in people for what they say they are because she wants to see the best in people, Charlie knows not to take shit from other demons. Just because she chooses to trust people doesn't mean she's dumb or naive. And she STILL believed the person who shares her life, her body, her bed, would keep information like that from her?

Alastor's a bad man but he's never pretended to be otherwise. He's never lied about who he was or what he was about. Meanwhile; did you see the look of horror in Charlie's eyes when Adam told her the truth? The way she cowered as the shadow of who Vaggie "used" to be loomed over her?

But sure, keep going on about how "charlastor's toxic because Al's a manipulator" while shipping the ship that proclaims Lucifer values getting his dick wet over his daughter's safety and wellbeing. Because THATS healthy. Smfh

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

[On request, I wrote Tommy in the episode]

Tommy wasn't an EMT, and it looked like that was what was needed most after Athena had landed the plane. The woman whom he - how long had it been now? - had rescued from a sinking cruise ship. How did she always get herself into such absurd situations? In any case, he’d been on duty anyway when all available stations were called to the highway. Because an airplane was going to land there. The chances of this actually working were extremely slim in his opinion, but here they were, a quick triage and apparently hardly any seriously injured passengers later. 

There was orderly chaos, as always during a major operation, and Tommy was focused. So much so that he almost missed Evan running past him. The man half-turned as he ran, almost stumbled, caught himself again and stopped with his arms still flailing. 

“Tommy!”

It wasn't that big grin that made Tommy's heart beat faster, though it almost was – very blue eyes, tousled curls, those ultra-long legs, simply everything about the man was an eye-catcher. Evan in action was yet another special sight. He was brimming with adrenaline, radiating from within; he was exactly where he wanted to be, and that was extremely attractive. 

“She did it,” was all Tommy managed to say.

There were a lot of other things he could have said, of course, but most of them were inappropriate, and time was of the essence. The plane was smoking, it wasn't over yet. 

“She did,” Evan confirmed with that irresistible grin, with that gleam in his eyes that spoke of pride in someone he was very fond of. 

Tommy could only hope that one day he would be the cause for that gleam in Evan's eyes. Ever since he’d seen him smile for the first time, he’d wanted to be the one to turn his sweet pout into a smile. Even now, with all the commotion and smoldering danger still hanging over the people on the highway - not to mention the woman who was still in the cockpit - he couldn't help but cherish the warmth in his heart just by looking at Evan. He'd grown too soft, probably, but it wasn't a bad thing, that’s what life had told him. Life, and love. Though that was a word stored far back in his heart, at least for now. 

“I have to go, the cap... I mean Bobby…”

He was adorable, and this was not the time nor place to tell him, but Evan was Evan, he was a surprise box. He approached him, it almost looked like a leap; then he crushed his lips to Tommy's. It was the shortest and almost most violent kiss he had ever experienced, but that didn't matter. Tommy was so full of adrenaline himself, so close to saying it, but this time his mind would prevail over his heart because it was right. 

"Hurry up," he said, and Evan beamed again, turned and ran. 

Just before the plane, he turned around once more, grinned and waved briefly, then he disappeared from Tommy's field of vision. 

“Sweet, love at the workplace.”

Lucy - who shouldn't be here any more than he was, but couldn't help herself any more than he could - stood behind him, a mocking yet good-natured smile on her lips. 

“Heard you know your way around that,” Tommy grinned and left her standing there. 

A few hours later, the sun had already risen over LA, heralding another hot morning. Tommy lowered the blinds of his house to lock it out. He didn't mind sleeping during the day after a shift, but after this assignment it wasn't at all clear whether he’d be able to find rest soon. It wasn't every day that a plane landed on the highway. What you almost had to reckon with, however, were the numerous overstrained drivers who wedged into each other when the road was cleared, making it necessary to call out the emergency services again. 

Tommy was just thinking about whether he should have a coffee or just pull a pillow over his head when there was a knock. It was a frantic knock, urgent, and he sighed. What the hell…

“Gerrard is back,” Evan sputtered as soon as the door opened. The look on his face was... almost anxious. “He discharged himself from hospital and left us standing at attention at the end of shift.”

“What?” asked Tommy, slightly confused.

He opened the door wide, but Evan just stood there with a desperate look in his eyes.

“Tommy,” he said, and now Tommy was slightly worried. “You… you’ll never believe what he said.”

@supercalime