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cleo-fox · 9 months ago

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Conquer

Part 1 of 5

Series Masterlist

Summary: The king intends to take a bride.

You just never thought it would be you.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)

I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).

The king intends to take a bride.

At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.

You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.

You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.

The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.

Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.

But you don’t know any of that yet.

You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.

The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.

You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.

As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.

You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.

You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.

He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.

And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.

You swallow hard. No. Not him.

Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.

Fucking hell.

The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.

Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.

You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.

You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.

The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.

You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.

The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.

You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.

The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.

You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.

You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.

You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.

You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.

“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”

You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.

You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.

He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.

“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”

You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.

“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.

“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.

“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”

You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.

“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.

It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.

“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”

“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not.”

You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”

You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”

His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.

“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.

“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”

For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.

You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.

He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.

He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.

You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.

You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”

He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”

Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.

His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”

You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”

You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.

“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”

You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.

“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”

It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.

You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.

He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”

Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.

There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.

It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.

He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.

Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.

“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.

“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.

“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.

He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.

“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”

“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.

He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”

His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.

He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.

“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”

“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.

“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”

You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.

“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.

You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.

This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.

“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.

“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.

“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.

You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.

You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”

He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.

Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.

Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.

His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.

“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.

He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”

Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.

“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”

He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.

Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.

“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.

“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”

He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.

He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).

But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.

He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.

You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.

He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.

You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.

“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.

You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.

There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.

Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.

You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.

“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.

“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.

“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.

“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.

“Please fuck me.”

You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.

There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.

He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.

It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.

But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.

He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.

And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.

“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”

You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.

“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”

You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.

You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.

“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.

But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.

And again.

Fuck.

Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.

“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.

You whimper, your back arching.

“Give into it. Let me feel you.”

One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.

“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.

It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.

Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.

“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.

“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”

Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.

You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.

His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.

You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.

You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.

You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.

But also…it feels nice.

It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.

You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.

Be angry.

His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.

Be angry.

You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.

Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.

“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.

“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.

Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?

He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.

You scowl at the thought.

“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”

“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”

And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.

Next chapter

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson smut

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icyg4l · 7 months ago

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PAC: what should you put on your bucket list for the summer?

hello beautiful people! i am starting my summer 2024 series right now and i am so excited!!!! i wanted to bring something new to everyone so i am creating specialized playlists for each group. they consist of six songs i’ve channeled during your reading. i hope that the group you chose resonates. i also hope that you all book a reading with me! :)

without further ado, please select your pile.

top left-to-bottom right: (1-4)

PILE ONE:

this pile may be newly single or fresh to the dating scene as a whole. you seem introverted, maybe covid messed up your social skills? it’s time to bring some life back into you! i think the main message here is to be more open to exploration.

cards used: the tower, 10 of discs, king of swords, the star, queen of wands, the hanged man, princess of cups.

learn how to swim

flirt with a stranger at a festival/concert

ride as many amusement park rides as you can

go on a picnic date

join some type of organization, or maybe even create one!

be as comfortable in your skin as you can; even go skinny dipping or to a new beach (only if you’re of age though!!)

go to a metaphysical shop

go on a group/double date with your friends

PILE TWO:

i feel like you’re insecure and you’re trying to work on that. this is the best summer to do so. i feel like this pile gets easily embarrassed. spirit wants you to stop that lmao. i take it that you’re someone who’s probably a loner.

cards used: 9 of cups, queen of discs, ace of wands, 3 of cups, 8 of swords, 5 of wands

do as much shadow work as you can

take up a self-defense class/boxing class

jump off the diving board

conquer your fear of heights by bungee jumping or rock climbing

hypnosis therapy

wear your natural hair in different styles each day for a week (maybe longer 🙈)

embrace family traditions

spa day!

have/go to a bonfire

scrapbook!

PILE THREE:

these are my r&b loversss. i feel like you guys have some pipes on you lol. this pile is kind of goofy too. this pile has to be as free as possible. no relationships, no commitments of any kind (minus a job cause y’know the economy rn is 😔). but anyway, the point is to just relax.

cards used: 6 of discs, the devil, the magician, 2 of cups, wheel of fortune, the sun, princess of cups.

go to a skate park

host an event

meet a special someone at the bar

connect with an old friend

adopt a pet

create an alter ego for yourself and show up as that person

do a good deed for someone, pay it forward.

have a dance battle in public

obtain a FWB (be smart & use protection of course 🤫)

post on social media as much as possible

PILE FOUR:

i can tell this is the pile that likes to be organized. you like to have plans made out before the summer. that might not be the case this summer. focus on being a little more free and spontaneous. flexibility is key, babe. get out of freezeeeee mode.

cards used: 3 of cups, the hanged man, 5 of wands, queen of wands, king of swords, the star, knight of cups, ace of discs.

dye your hair red!

pass the bar exam (for those of you who are future lawyers)

receive a tarot reading from an in-person psychic

flirt a little at the grocery store

get dressed up to go to a department store/chain store

have a girls night in with ur girls!

build a fort!

change up your day-to-day makeup routine

record a song with your friends

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thewertsearch · 6 months ago

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AG: If any of my friends knew that, they would think I'm weak. […] EB: i guess i understand. i mean, i'm trying to, with the cultural difference and all. […] EB: like, trolls are more violent and angry, right? kind of like klingons or something, which is an angry race of alien savages from a human tv show. AG: We aren't savages, you dope!

Well, she's not wrong. Alternia was an empire, which is far worse than the 'savage' culture that John is imagining. Its violence wasn't wild - it was organized, and channeled into atrocities across the galaxy.

It's kind of funny that John's comparing them to the Klingons, actually. The only Star Trek series I've watched is The Next Generation, where they've allied with the Federation, and - as far as I can tell - stopped conquering planets entirely.

In other words, Alternia is a lot more violent than the Klingons I know.

EB: but i think that no matter what alien culture you are from, killing is still wrong! […] AG: This is where our cultures clash, I think. AG: It would 8e difficult to explain exactly how killing is viewed on our planet with all the nuance involved. AG: It just isn't the 8lack and white thing humans seem to think it is!

I'm sure Vriska has a million reasons why the life she's been forced into was totally fine. She needed those justifications in order to live with herself, but that doesn't make them valid...

AG: On my world, I would 8e completely vindic8ed for killing him! He is far lower on the hemospectrum than me. He managed to disrespect me time and time again, 8ut I kept letting him live! [...]

...and she's immediately proving my point.

I mean, the first justification she can think of is that bluebloods should be allowed to murder 'lesser' trolls, if disrespected. I'm sure her other 'nuanced' reasons to kill are similarly compelling.

AG: This was sort of like a test, and I'm afraid I might 8e failing.

Are you sure?

For the first time ever, you're actually considering the possibility that killing is wrong, and there are plenty of trolls who never even made it that far.

You're passing a test here.

AG: […] it was the first time I killed some8ody I cared a8out. EB: so… EB: you killed other people, that you didn't care about? AG: Yes. Sort of a lot, actually. […] EB: hm. how many? […] AG: Oh, it doesn't matter. Pro8a8ly many thousands. […] AG: God, I know how this sounds! 8ut I had to feed her. My lusus I mean. I've 8asically 8een playing this role as a slave in the food chain my whole life. […]

Yeah, you were coerced into those murders. Your FLARP killings were necessary for survival, and Doc Scratch manipulated you into killing your friends.

Tavros, however, was different. You have no lusus to feed on the Veil, and Scratch seems to have stopped whispering in your ear. Tavros was absolutely no threat to you - but for the first time ever, and without any external pressure, you chose to kill.

Are you proud of yourself?

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #3467 #s127

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celestesinsight · 5 months ago

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Kalki 2898AD Release Trailer - Bhairava Character Analysis!

There are many theories circulating about Bhairava's character and its importance in the movie. Here's my two cents regarding this. And to be honest, it isn't entirely my views too. It's what we came up when discussing in the Varadeva Discord Server.

First of all, there's a huge chance that Deepika's baby is red herring and Bhairava is the real Kalki. Ashwathama will realise this at the end of the movie and change his stance.

But my favourite theory is Bhairava being Lord Shiva. When Bhairava called himself the 'living legend in Kashi' in the Bujji & Bhairava series, it kind of stuck with me. Who's more legendary than Lord Shiva in Kashi? And the story goes that Shiva gave Kalki the divine weapon, the all-knowing talking parrot and the white horse. Bhairava have all the three; we saw the weapon in the first promo and Bujji's brain and body are the talking parrot and white horse equivalent. if Bhairava is Shiva, he's actually protecting the baby while pretending to hunt him for the Complex as well as testing Ashwathama's determination for redemption. In Mahabharata, Ashwathama was born after Dronacharya performed several years of severe penance to please Shiva as he wanted a son who possessed the strength and bravery of Shiva. So, it would make sense that Shiva aids him in his journey of redemption.

What if Bhairava is neither Kalki nor Shiva? Then what is his character doing in the movie?

"Despite the endless opportunities spanning over the generations, man fails to redeem himself and he never will."

I think this quote by Kamal Haasan's character, Kali is the key to Bhairava's significance in the movie, if he is not the titular character 'Kalki'.

There are many worlds in Hinduism, but our Puranas predominantly talk about the Swarga (abode of Devas), Prithvi (abode of humans) and Patal (abode of demons). There are also three worlds in the film: Complex, Shambala and Kashi. Unlike Puranas, where there were three races inhabiting the three worlds, in the film, the three worlds are inhabited by the humans only.

The Complex is the place where God is banned. They treat Supreme Yaskin as the God. They have conquered the world and taken all the resources for themselves. In appearance, the Complex gives the illusion of Swarga, but it actually embodies the demonic qualities of Patal.

Shambala is the place where they still believe in God and hope for his return to save them. They fight the Complex and their unjust actions. They are safe haven for anyone who wants to escape the hold of the Complex. In appearance, they are an underground society (Patal), but they are actually the forces of righteousness in the desolate world, fighting on the side of God and thus symbolises Devas of Swarga.

Then there is Kashi, the last surviving city. They are neutral. They are neither the evil conqueror nor the righteous warriors. They are humans who are trying to survive in an unfair world. They are not on anyone's side, but their own side. They represent the humans of Prithvi.

"In this world, there's only one side to be on. Your own side."

Bhairava and the bounty hunters of Kashi are the representation of the man in Kali's quote. They embody the qualities of selfishness, greed, and going to any extent to accomplish their goals, without caring about the consequences of their actions.

To be fair, Bhairava isn't doing anything wrong. He's trying to survive in a world which has lost all hopes. But he's so caught up in this mode of survival that he can't recognise this new hope for a better tomorrow, that Ashwathama and the people of Shambala are seeing in Sumati and her baby. All he sees the 5-star bounty that is his one shot at entering the Complex. He's not realising that he's fighting for the wrong side, that he's fighting to keep the old hierarchies intact that had made this world a hopeless place for him and others like him in the first place. He's helping the people who are the cause of all his problems under the illusion of becoming one of them.

Bhairava represents the man who is given numerous chances by the God, but he's so trapped in the Maya (worldly illusion) that he fails to recognise him and hence, is forever doomed to be trapped in the cycle of suffering.

Will Bhairava recognise the truth before it's too late? Or he will handover Sumati over to the Complex?

Bhairava's action would decide if the world is worth saving or not. If God should keep his promise and take birth to save all the humans? Or he should just let the humans rot in the hell, they have turned the Earth into.

The movie is not just about Ashwathama's redemption, but also the redemption of the mankind, represented by Bhairava.

As Kali said, humans have given numerous opportunities by the God to redeem themselves, but they have failed each time. Like Duryodhana failed when he refused to give even five villages to Pandavas, when Krishna asked, leading to his defeat in the Mahabharata war. Maybe that's why Ashwathama is having flashbacks of Mahabharata when fighting with Bhairava. He is seeing his past self in him. When he went against the Lord himself, blinded by his ambition and loyalty for Duryodhana.

Humanity is given another chance. Kali is sure we will fail this time too. It's up to Bhairava now, if humans fail again or they finally succeed in redeeming themselves this time.

#kalki2898ad #prabhas #deepika padukone #amitabh bachchan #kamal haasan #nag ashwin #bujji #bhairava #desiblr #desi tumblr #indian cinema #telugu movies

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nadas-dirthalen · 27 days ago

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I Saw Solas's Origin in an Achievement Icon and It Opened My Eyes on 15 Years of Lore

— PART FOUR: if you haven't read previous parts, do it now! —

[ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ] [ 10 ]

Welcome, friends and travelers! I wanted to get some thoughts recorded before Veilguard's release so I could see if I am right about an absolute BOATLOAD of theories I have.

In short: I saw the achievement list when it was released. I have seen the backstory hints for Solas included in said list. AND MY MIND WAS BLOWN.

You have been warned: THIS COLLECTION OF THEORIES INCLUDES SPOILERS FOR EVERY DRAGON AGE GAME AND ALL PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL UP TO AND INCLUDING OCTOBER 18, 2024.

Come sit down with me. Make a nice cup of tea (and hide it from Solas). We've got a lot of unpacking to do.

(this photo isn't the spoiler, I just like it.)

Today's Discussion: What the Chant of Light Confirms about Solas, Mythal, and the Evanuris at large.

Ohhhh boy. Here's where we're really getting into the, 'If you haven't read the previous parts, you NEED to go do that, otherwise what I'm about to say will make a lot less sense,' portion of this series. So seriously: the previous parts are linked above. Go look at those.

Caught up? Good.

Today, we're going to look at how closely the Chant of Light follows everything I just talked about with Titans, the Fade, spirits-as-thoughts, and Solas-as-lyrium-spirit. For this exercise, I'll mostly be drawing on material that I have access to (both volumes of World of Thedas, plus my knowledge from all three games) but supplementing with what the Dragon Age wiki has compiled, as well.

Rather than go through the Chant from beginning to end (as I simply lack the space here), I'm going to break it down into topics.

Our topics are as follows:

Who—and What—Is the Maker?

The Word "Forgotten" in the Chant

The Maker's First and Second Children

The Jealous First Children: Demons Seeking to Conquer the Earth

Archdemons and Titans

Yes, I Have to Talk About Shartan

Veilguard Predictions Based on the Chant of Light

Who—and What—Is the Maker?

For anyone who hasn't gone through the whole thing and read every verse, let me begin by saying: the Chant of Light is a story writ by many hands over the history of Thedas. Some of it is (allegedly) written or recorded from Andraste herself, but many verses are taken from outside sources—even adapted from other cultures' legends.

But overall, it is a story that the Andrastian faith believes in: one with approved verses that the Chantries teach all their faithful. The Chantry has been a brutal organization throughout Thedas's history, but I still find value in using the Chant to piece together different takes on Thedas's ancient lore. Whether the events happened as described is up for debate, but they are historically significant, and I would argue that they contain kernels of truth no matter if one believes in the prophecies from Andraste or not.

To properly discuss whether the Chant follows my theories, we first have to ask ourselves: what does the Chant suggest that the Maker is? To do this, we have to look closely at its creation story, and from the eyes of the one who supposedly witnessed him: the Canticle of Threnodies, and the Canticle of Andraste.

Right in Threnodies 1, it says this:

(4) From the waters of the Fade you made the world. As the Fade had been fluid, so was the world fixed.

Immediately, we can see that lyrium plays a major role in the Chant's creation story. If that's true, then the possibility exists that the Chant aligns at all with any of my prior theories. If that is the case, then the Chant of Light might aid us in predicting what's to come in Veilguard—especially with characters like Solas, so intertwined with Titan lore and lyrium.

From here, I went looking for additional references to the Maker, namely in Andraste 1.

(8) Lo! My eyes open'd, shining before me Greater than mountains, towering mighty, Hand all outstretch'd, stars glist'ning as jewels From rings 'pon His fingers and crown 'pon His brow.

The Wellspring of All said, "None now remember. Long have they turned to idols and tales Away from My Light, in darkness unbroken The last of My children, shrouded in night."

"World-making Glory," I cried out in sorrow, "How shall your children apology make?

Of course, we cannot forget one of the Chant quotes that Inquisition made famous!

(11) Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls. From these emerald waters doth life begin anew. Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you. In my arms lies Eternity.

Through all of these examples (and more that I simply do not have time or space to cite, with Veilguard so close), I can tentatively conclude: the Chant of Light is likely hinting to us that the Maker is a Titan.

But to test this theory, I wanted to go one step further. I wanted to see if the Chant of Light would suggest that the Maker is one of the Forgotten Ones.

The Word "Forgotten" in the Chant

To accomplish this next piece to the best degree possible, I actually moved the entire known Chant of Light into a google doc. Here's what I found when I looked for applicable mentions of forgot/forgotten.

(4) From the waters of the Fade you made the world. As the Fade had been fluid, so was the world fixed. (8) And so we burned. We raised nations, we waged wars, We dreamed up false gods, great demons Who could cross the Veil into the waking world, Turned our devotion upon them, and forgot you. —Threnodies 4.

We'll get to those "great demons" in a moment, but for now I want to draw attention to: "Turned our devotion upon them, and forgot you." That's one mention of the Maker being forgotten, in the first stanza we know from the Chant.

The Maker appears to Andraste (7) Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken There 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call. "Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing, An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown. You have forgotten, spear-maid of Alamarr. Within My creation, none are alone." — Andraste 1

This comes from the first stanza of the Canticle of Andraste, and describes the first time the Maker appeared to her. She is describing what she is seeing: "There 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call." She is evoking mountain imagery here, and even though she doesn't mention an abyss in this verse, it does come up elsewhere in the Chant (as we have seen).

That, and the Maker speaks to her: "You have forgotten, spear-maid of Alamarr. Within My creation, none are alone."

For one, we have a mention of forgotten, again. But perhaps even more crucially, we have this concept of "none are alone" within the Maker's creation. With everything I know now, I'm thinking of the concept of Isatunoll: the hive-mind feeling experienced by Dagna, Valta, and Harding.

(13) "World-making Glory," I cried out in sorrow, "How shall your children apology make? We have forgotten, in ignorance stumbling, Only a Light in this darken'd time breaks. Call to Your children, teach us Your greatness. What has been forgotten has not yet been lost." (14) Long was his silence, 'fore it was broken. "For you, song-weaver, once more I will try. To My children venture, carrying wisdom, If they but listen, I shall return." — Andraste 1

Another mention: Andraste addresses the Maker as "World-making Glory," which references the saying that Titans were the first Shapers of the world. Then, she says: "We have forgotten [...] Call to Your children [...] What has been forgotten has not yet been lost."

Again: references to the Maker as a being that was forgotten. Another reference to lyrium, in asking the Maker to call out to people. This reference is further enhanced with the Maker referring to Andraste as "song-weaver," suggesting that these songs are how she can speak to the Maker.

And to top it all off: "What has been forgotten has not yet been lost" is answered with, "If they but listen, I shall return."

Listen, for so long, made me think of commandments. Listening to the Maker's will. But now? Now I think we're supposed to think of listening to the Maker's song.

(3) I have heard the sound A song in the stillness, The echo of Your voice, Calling creation to wake from its slumber. (4) How can we know You? In the turning of the seasons, in life and death, In the empty space where our hearts Hunger for a forgotten face? — Trials 1

Just like Andraste has heard the song, the echo of the Maker's voice, calling creation to "wake from its slumber." It could not be more deliberate than that!

Another mention, also, of a "forgotten face."

To me, these mentions of forgotten affirm that the Maker is one of the Forgotten Ones, and is definitely a Titan. That tells me that, until I am proven otherwise, I can read the rest of the Chant of Light as though Maker-as-Titan is true, and can see what other developments stem from that initial truth.

Namely: What does the Chant say about spirits and people, in relation to the Titans?

The Maker's First and Second Children

To understand the (possible) creation of the spirits and the elvhen, we are back to the Canticle of Threnodies, stanza 5. The first of the Chant's Canticles, it's an introduction not just to the text, but to the world of Thedas as understood by Andrastians.

Again: it may not be a precise literal description of events, but I maintain that if the Chant of Light truly didn't matter, BioWare wouldn't have made it that long, or paid as much attention to cadence/meter as they did.

The crux of the earlier portion of this Canticle is that the Maker produced two sets of children, and the first eventually grew envious of the second (more on that later). For now, let's examine what is said of the creation of the Maker's first children.

(1) There was no word For heaven or for earth, for sea or sky. All that existed was silence.

I am going to interpret this one very liberally. It is not said that there were no heaven, earth, sea, or sky—but that there was no word for those things. That, I interpret to mean that there was no distinction between heaven and earth. Remember that, throughout codices from ancient elvhenan, "sky" often refers to the Fade, and "earth" often refers to the Titans' domain, the Abyss, or the waking world.

Either way: there was no Veil, and so there was no distinction between the Titans' domain and the Fade.

Then the Voice of the Maker rang out, The first Word, And His Word became all that might be: Dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities. And from it made his firstborn.

There are two things worth noting here:

the "Voice of the Maker" is something I interpret to mean the song of lyrium: the song of the Titan that the Maker is.

"Dream and idea, hope and fear/Endless possibilities" sounds a lot to me like the Maker is creating his first children with thoughts. Thoughts conveyed through the song of lyrium, maybe?

Originally, these "first children" famously showed no sense of ambition. They were given the Fade, but did not do anything with it. They only reflected what already existed. (Though I do want to note that this city apparently had lyrium for cobblestones.)

He called forth A city with towers of gold, streets with music for cobblestones, And banners which flew without wind. [...] But their songs Were the songs of the cobblestones. They shone with the golden light Reflected from the Maker's throne.

The Maker apparently realizes his mistake: only giving the spirits the Fade.

The realm I have given you Is formless, ever-changing.

But the solution to that mistake?

So the Maker turned from his firstborn And took from the Fade A measure of its living flesh And placed it apart from the Spirits, and spoke to it, saying: Here, I decree Opposition in all things: For earth, sky For winter, summer For darkness, Light. By My Will alone is Balance sundered And the world given new life.

The Maker took living flesh from the Fade. That's not the thoughts existing in the Fade; that's the lyrium from the Fade. To that living, now sentient lyrium, the Maker spoke, and declared opposition in all things.

Now sky and earth are separate things. The Veil is not yet created (we'll get there), but we have this concept of two opposing schools of magic, like earthbending and airbending (to forever keep with the A:tLA examples through this series).

So far, this is lining up with my previous theories. But, what, exactly, are the Maker's second children made of?

(5) And no longer was it formless, ever-changing, But held fast, immutable, With Words for heaven and for earth, sea and sky. At last did the Maker From the living world Make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth, With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities.

Now, the waking world is immutable, and there is opposition in magic. And from that opposition, the people are created. Not humans, but people. Their bodies are "immutable, as the substance of the earth" (meaning lyrium, I believe), "with souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear/Endless possibilities."

The exact same phrase: the Maker's thoughts are the souls of his second children, just as they were the first children's entire being. This proves that the people of Thedas have spirits for souls, but also that all spirits come from the Maker's thoughts.

When I tell you I almost choked, realizing that.

But I still want to ask the Chant of Light: in all this story, where do we find the Evanuris?

And the Chant has answered in full.

The Jealous First Children: Demons Seeking to Conquer the Earth

When I first read the Chant of Light, I had not pieced together that heaven and earth were synonymous with Fade and Abyss. Now that I have, I see the Evanuris plain as day in Threnodies 5.

(7) Now, with their Father's eye elsewhere, the firstborn At last created something new: Envy. They looked upon the living world and the favored Sons and daughters there, covetous of all they were. Within their hearts grew An intolerable hunger. Until, at last, some of the firstborn said: "Our Father has abandoned us for these lesser things. We have power over heaven. Let us rule over earth as well And become greater gods than our Father."

In the codices of the Trespasser DLC and the Temple of Mythal, there are constant references to the Evanuris wanting to tame or dominate the Titans, the "Void," or the "land." The ancient elves ask Elgar'nan to help them "tame the land." Mythal is praised for "striking down the pillars of the earth." The Evanuris, namely Mythal and Elgar'nan, carried on an endless war with the Forgotten Ones.

The Chant goes on.

(8) The demons appeared to the children of earth in dreams And named themselves gods, demanding fealty.

Remember part 2 of this series? Remember the Mythal lullaby from the Deep Roads portion of Trespasser? (I was lovingly informed about a small mistranslation, which I shall correct here.)

Ir sa tel'nal Mythal las ma theneras Ir san'a emma Him solas evanuris Da'durgen'lin Banal malas elgara Bellanaris, bellanaris. Isatunoll Mythal grants you dreams Lyrium within Becomes Solas evanuris Little stone boy Never granted (connection to many spirits) Forever, forever

Cole says, "He didn't want a body, but she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face."

It sounds exactly like the Chant describes: Mythal feeding dreams to Solas, only to bring him into a body he did not want, and apply vallaslin (a geas?) that he did not ask for.

Therefore? The Evanuris are the Maker's first children, as far as the Chant of Light is concerned.

But I've still got questions. Namely: What came next?

Archdemons and Titans

As for the Evanuris's eventual fate—being imprisoned at the same time as the Veil was created? They've employed interesting wording.

And a mighty voice cried out, Shaking the very foundations of heaven: "Ungrateful children! I gave you power To shape heaven itself, And you have made only poison. As you crave the earth, the earth shall be Your domain! Into the darkness I cast you! In tombs of immutable rock Shall you dwell for all time."

I question who this "mighty voice" belonged to. I do not believe Solas is the maker, but I do wonder: was Solas acting in conjunction with his Titan here? During the exact moment of the creation of the Veil, he still would have had access to his non-sundered Titan. Would he still have heard the song/call, and made the Veil at the Titan's behest?

Regardless: this piece of the Chant speaks about the imprisonment of the archdemons in the Abyss, the same domain as the Titans.

It goes on to specify what happened next:

(11) Those who had been cast down, The demons who would be gods, Began to whisper to men from their tombs within the earth. And the men of Tevinter heard and raised altars To the pretender-gods once more, And in return were given, in hushed whispers, The secrets of darkest magic.

This serves to confirm a theory that I'd held for a long time: that the Evanuris whispered to the priests of old Tevinter through their archdemons. Trapped in their fade-jail, they could not act themselves, but may have used their archdemons as puppets in order to convince the Magisters to come open the door to the Golden/Black City, that they might be released.

Overall? It sounds like the Chant of Light exactly confirms every one of my theories on the Titans, the Forgotten Ones, spirits-as-thoughts, the Evanuris, and the Archdemons. I may not have been able to examine the entire Chant here (can you imagine how long this post would be if I did?) but what I have presented so far exactly aligns with my theories from the last instalment.

Now, the question you're all here for...

Yes, I Have to Talk About Shartan

I know, I know. Shartan is one of the most widely debated figures in the Chant. And I'm sorry to say, I'm no more sure than the rest of you.

But I've never quite believed that Solas himself is Shartan. He says he slept for millennia after the creation of the Veil, after all. But I cannot deny all that we know of Shartan: that he freed elven slaves, that he held fast in his convictions, and that he is rumoured to have been Andraste's lover.

It seems damning, doesn't it? Surely someone so invested in freedom must be Solas, especially an ancient elf who looks so much like Solas himself.

But what if Shartan wasn't one person?

(3) My Maker, know my heart: Take from me a life of sorrow. Lift me from a world of pain. Judge me worthy of Your endless pride. — Transfigurations 12

We can guess that the Maker is a Titan. We know Solas came from a Titan. We can guess that Solas was still able to hear his Titan when the Veil was created. We also know that there were many lyrium coffins in the Deep Roads during the Descent DLC. The Maker's first children whispered to many stone-spirits just like Solas.

We also know the Forgotten Ones are named by their qualities, just like spirits and demons.

The Maker instructs Andraste to carry wisdom to the people, that he might return. Who is to say that the Maker is not the ultimate Wisdom/Pride aspect, and we just haven't seen it confirmed yet?

And if there are many wisdoms and prides that are tied to the Maker-Titan, then there is absolutely reason to believe that any of those lyrium-spirits-turned-corporeal elvhen could strongly resemble Solas not just in appearance, but in convictions.

Two elven translations point me to this conclusion, as well:

Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris: this is Fen'Harel's secret password for the spirits in Trespasser. I believe it loosely translates to, "I now promise knowledge. Freedom for we-Anaris." • This translation GREATLY interests me, because Anaris is the name of one of the Forgotten Ones. "We-Anaris" implies that there are many elvhen that come from Anaris, and these specifically may be the slaves Solas was trying to free.

Shar•tan: I believe, as with all the Evanuris, this name is actually a title. While I could not guess the meaning of the word "Shar," I do know that the word "tan" means "three." • I wonder if Shartan, therefore, is a collection of three people, potentially all from the same Titan as Solas. Anaris, maybe?

Veilguard Predictions Based on the Chant of Light

Whew! I have a lot of Veilguard predictions, but to keep this post from being tumblr-breakingly long, I'll keep this list to the ones that come strictly from the Chant of Light.

I believe we will find out more about the Chant of Light by not only being in Minrathous and knowing Neve, but by seeing the Chant's events referenced by the ancient elves and even in Solas's memories.

I believe we'll get, if not confirmation, at least a hint on whether Solas's Titan is the Maker.

I believe that, since Veilguard is all about prophecies coming true, that we will hear the "Voice of the Maker" ring out to us in Veilguard—likely through a Titan waking. • I'm going to bet that this is in or near Kal'Hirol, the thaig closest to Kirkwall, which is near where the red lyrium idol was found in DA2.

I believe we're going to find out more about the potential link between Andraste and Mythal (there are bajillions of theory posts out there about them; I didn't have time here!)

I believe we'll see an Archdemon's old prison and see how that (potentially) affected Titans and/or their hearts.

I believe we'll see someone who remembers being made out of lyrium—even if that someone is Solas.

---

As ever, if you got this far, thank you!! All your engagements on these continue to make my week.

Also: I am trying my hardest not to consume full-game-review spoilers! As these reviews go live tomorrow (10/28), you may see me not reading my notifications/replies, and appearing here only to continue posting my theories.

But if you feel like sticking around anyway, stay tuned for: The Evanuris Story So Far, As Best As I Can Guess It.

#dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #veilguard spoilers #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #datv spoilers #da:tv #da:v #da4 #da4 spoilers #dragon age theory #dragon age meta #da theory #da meta #solas #the chant of light #evanuris #mythal

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rawliverandgoronspice · 2 years ago

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THE GERUDO POST

(aka an attempt at a critique of how gerudos were handled in BotW and before)

Oh no. TOTK being right around the corner, it might finally be time for the Gerudo Post.

(aka half of the reason why I made a Zelda sideblog in the first place)

So I want to preface all of this by saying that, as you could probably tell already, I’ve always adored the gerudos. They have fascinated my small child brain when I was 7; then the obsession made its comeback when I was 14, and now, here we are, almost 28, and I’m still thinking about the gerudos. I think they might be among my favorite fictional cultures for their potential and their understated storyline. I guess growing up in a very Arabic neighborhood, coupled with being bi-culturally latinx (?? does Brazil count?? you tell me), also always made them feel like home to me –especially when I was very young and there was not a lot of cool female representation flying around that managed to involve fiercely independent PoC women, flaws and teeth included.

This whole weird-essay-thing tries to do two things. First: analyze the place gerudos have occupied in the series, their initial problematisms and their subtextual narrative arc during the Myth Era coupled with their relationship to Ganondorf. Second: tiptoe to Breath of the Wild and poke it with a stick to see what happens –and in doing that, explain why I believe a lot of their characterization was defanged in service of smoothing their past with the hylians instead of deepening the culture on its own terms, and why I’m a little apprehensive about what that might mean for TotK even though I adore seeing the best girls at it again.

Those are the uhh terms of service??

And now, we must go back to 1998.

OCARINA OF TIME ERA

There’s so many things about the gerudos that are noteworthy and rich, and they’ve made for a complex piece of Zelda lore ever since their introduction –and when I say complex, I don’t 100% mean it as praise. The very racially charged decisions made about their inclusion have been discussed at length by the fandom, especially when it comes to orientalist and Islamophobic tropes being deployed pretty thoughtlessly in Ocarina of Time (their sigil being literally a crescent moon and star originally, the parallels are pretty obviously there).

We’re talking about a band of amazon-like, big-nosed brown women from the desert ruled by a single Scary Evil Man born once every hundred years hellbent on conquering Hyrule who they apparently worship like a god, characterized primarily as thieves, decked in jewelry and orientalist-inspired harem/belly-dancing clothing, hostile to the white good guys of Hyrule (especially men), unblessed by the Goddesses and so deprived of elongated ears (this is true for OoT –we’ll come back to that), also known as a demon tribe with their deity straight-out described as evil-looking by Navi (on my way to cancel you on twitter Navi you watch out), and secretly led by evil twin witches who can turn into a single seductress and, as two mothers, raised their Scary Evil Guy king who happens to basically be the devil.

In so few words, gerudos are the future that liberals want.

It’s worth notice, also, that Ganondorf’s characterization in this game is… kind of relentlessly uncomfortable to play through, especially before the 7 year skip. The utter assumption of depraved and evil intents from every character surrounded by dialogue that does little to hide its biases in spite of having generally very little proof to back them up –even though, in the game’s context, every character is correct to call his eyes evil and the darkness of his skin a moral judgment in on itself. The scene where Zelda demands that we believe her conclusion that the sole and only brown guy in the entire kingdom is evil and will do harm, and the game straight out refuses to progress until we concede that her dreams are prophetic and that this man must be stopped at any cost even though she has no more proof than her discomfort… hits different on replay.

I’m restating all of this not to pretend I’m making a novel and thought-provoking point, but to bounce back on a tumblr post I saw a while back (that I can’t find anymore!! I’ll link it if I find it again) –and so express what it is that gripped me with the gerudos in spite of their pretty damning depiction… and actually maybe thanks to it.

There’s a surprising amount of texture to Ocarina of Time’s worldbuilding that exists folded within the things introduced and left hanging, or in its subtext –and whether on purpose or not, I believe it is why people keep coming back to this iteration of Hyrule.

What was that about the king of Hyrule unifying a war-torn country? Why did the gerudos break the bridge connecting them to the rest of the kingdom during the 7 year timeskip while still worshiping Ganondorf, and why are the carpenters trying to rebuild it against their apparent wishes? What was that about gerudos imprisoning hylian men trying to force entry into their lands? What was that about the secret death torture chambers right next to the Royal Family’s tomb and connected to the race of people who were, apparently, born to serve them?

Nothing? Oh okay… okay… okay….

The same can be said about this strange depiction of this hostile tribe, consistently described as wicked yet suddenly friendly once you prove you deserve their respect once you... defeat them, so you now have joined them? Ocarina of Time isn’t very consistent when it comes to characterizing them as their occupation (thieves) or as a proper culture, with a king and a strange system of rulership that seem to involve at least 5 people: Ganondorf, the Twinrova, Nabooru and the unnamed random woman who decides you’re now part of the gerudos because you slashed enough of them with your sword and hookshot, which, uhh ok.

They’re but a ragtag and negligible group when discussed next to gorons and zoras and hylians, but they also clearly have their own religion and at least a 400-hundred years old history (probably far longer than this) and hints of a written language of their own. I’m not sure the game itself knows what it wants them to be, beyond: intimidating and hot and cool, but also wicked and, because of Ganondorf and the way you barge in their forbidden fortress (heh) with the explicit intent to dismantle their king, in apparent need to be saved from themselves.

Speaking of rulership and the Spirit Temple, let’s have a quick tangent about Nabooru: I always found her characterization when meeting with Child Link pretty strange. I refuse to mention the promised reward, which feeds into everything orientalist mentioned above, but I always found her moral compass so extremely convoluted for someone coming from gerudo culture. Nabooru says that, despite being a cool thief herself, she resents Ganondorf for killing people as well as stealing from women and children. Stealing... from women. Nabooru. Why are you this pressed that he steals from women!!! This feels so out of place, that the only girl of that hostile culture that betrays her king and befriends you, is the one that upholds moral values that only a hylian could possibly hold.

Either way: the strange unquestioned contempt of the game for them as a culture, mixed with the occasional bouts of heart, friendliness and badassery, makes it hard not to consider their depiction as pretty biased in favor of the hylians finding them at once exotic, scary and exciting, and could hide a more complex reality you might only get one side of –especially when you know there were originally plans for Ganondorf’s character to be more gray and motivated than what the campy final version ended up being. To be blunt: even in the context of a game for children, and maybe because of that fact, it all reads like a reductionist and imperialist/colonialist reading of a more complex situation.

This might seem like A Lot coming from a game where the actual game writing can be this overall flimsy and simplistic due to the standards of the time (it’s rough, it's so rough). But I would have never dwelt on that thought about a little children’s game if not for the mainline entries that came soon after, because... ooo boy.

The sense you’re not getting the whole story was certainly not helped by the introduction of Wind Waker Ganondorf, and the chilling emptiness of Gerudo Desert in Twilight Princess.

AFTER THE TIMELINE SPLIT

(I’m skipping Majora’s Mask, not because I dislike them in the game or think they’re not worth talking about, but because it’s a parallel universe and they’re never even called gerudos and their reality seems extremely different from their sisters in Hyrule so I think it’s okay to call them tangential and not dive too deep in this particular depiction)

Here’s something I want to highlight about gerudos and how they were characterized before BotW came along: their absence. Not only their physical absence, the lack of any gerudo character that calls themselves gerudo, but their absence from the text itself.

It’s not that Wind Waker and Twilight Princess retroactively scratch them off existence: we can clearly see Nabooru’s stained glass art in WW as well as recognize them being mentioned in Ganondorf’s final boss soliloquy, and WELL there’s quite a lot to say about their imprint over the world of TP. They are there –or at least they... were there. But nobody ever talks about what happened.

In Wind Waker, there was the deluge. It’s assumed lots of people died then, and those who survived scattered across the Great Sea. Are they sealed under the waves? Have they drowned? Is Jolene, Linebeck’s ex-girlfriend in Phantom Hourglass, a distant relative of one of the rare survivors? It’s unclear, beyond the fact that Ganondorf is the only living gerudo we see in this entire branch of the Timeline split.

In Twilight Princess, the desert which bares their name is empty. The hylians never mention that it used to be the name of a tribe: they’re not even named when Ganondorf is introduced for the first time, reduced once again to a mere band of thieves. We learn his plans to steal the Triforce in OoT were foiled, and that he may have turned to war. Then he lost the war, and was executed in Arbiter’s Ground: a strange structure in the desert, a mixture between a temple, a prison and a coliseum. What looks like gerudo writing coexists with hylian symbols, which often look much fresher. This dungeon is the Shadow Temple of TP: a prison hosting the worst criminals the kingdom has ever known, now haunted and cursed. Besides the locations, the only character that vaguely look gerudo in the entire game besides Ganondorf is Telma, a character with pointed ears that never seems to identify as anything but a hylian. What happened? Who’s to say. Nobody ever says anything. Not even Ganondorf bothers to mention them the way he did in WW –and though the game’s story is quite focused on another exiled tribe seeking revenge and dominion over Hyrule as retribution, the parallel is never explicitly drawn. So who’s to say what happened there. Who’s to say.

And in A Link to the Past and the games forward? The only mention of other gerudo characters are Koume and Kotake, resurrecting their son in the Oracles games through their own sacrifice and failing to bring anything back but a monstrosity incapable of making conscious decisions. Granted, most games in that extremely weird Fallen Timeline predate OoT and therefore had yet to make gerudos up at all. Still: canonically, between the gap of OoT and ALLTP, whatever it may be, gerudos disappeared here as well.

I think there’s something subtle and a little heartbreaking about the fact that no matter what Ganondorf does, the gerudos always end up dying out. His yearning for Hyrule, its gentler wind and the Triforce blessing its lands always costs him the kingdom that he does have already.

Now, does he care? A lot of people would argue that he doesn’t, that he used them like pawns for his own ambition and saw them as servants more-so than sisters, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Nintendo’s official opinion, but… One very powerful thing about most of Ganondorf’s incarnations (focusing on the human ones) is that he never seems to reject his cultural heritage. They could have gone for him wearing more kingly hylian stuff given the whole underlying theme of envy and pride surrounding his character, but never once does he try to look more hylian, beyond the ear situation that seems to be tied to the Triforce of Power? Either way: he is gerudo. Several of his outfits reference his mothers, as well as general gerudo patterning and jewelry. His heritage is something he proudly displays, even hundred of years in the future when there is no one left to remember what it means but him. I think it’s a very potent piece of characterization, an arc that crosses over multiple game and says something pretty intense about this character’s fate and his inherent destructiveness over the things he touches –starting with the Triforce, all the way up to his very own body and mind. His mental breakdown by the end of Wind Waker, when the king of Hyrule himself forces him to give up on the thing he sacrificed everything for, takes a new kind of weight with the whole picture taken into account.

(not to excuse genocide or general egomania-fueled madness and violence, but one thing doesn’t mean the other isn’t also relevant)

Regardless of whether this is a tragedy for Ganondorf as their uhh complete failure of a king, honestly, it is undeniably a tragedy for the gerudos themselves: a once-in-a-lifetime joyful event turned into a never-ending nightmare from which there seems to be no escape, their legacy now condemned to fade to black, leaving nothing behind but a demon boar forever laying ruin upon the world.

One may say I’m taking on the bleakest explication for the gerudos’ absence when there could be others. It’s true! Perhaps the gerudos are just chilling off-screen, completely fine, not interested in whatever is happening in the kingdom nearby and their disaster child having yet another temper tantrum about not being the Goddesses’ favorite boy. It’s possible! But regardless, what little elements we do possess as players doesn’t seem to support this, even if it remains possible –and regardless of actual gerudo lives, gerudo culture is definitively a goner in every single timeline.

Even if they did survive... Hyrule still won its unification war.

(I won’t mention Skyward Sword as they are not really a thing there, except for a butterfly that seems to suggest the Gerudo Province was a thing before the gerudo people –I don’t know what to do with this honestly– and the whole Groose situation, which, I’m not sure what to make of either beyond the fact that he may have gotten cursed by opposing Demise? And then went on to start the gerudo tribe, which ended up being an all-women group for some reason? Maybe? It’s not confirmed? I feel like it’s more of a fun tidbit than a central piece of the gerudo puzzle, so I’ll leave it there like I would a cool rock I brought back from a walk and that I don’t know where to put in my house)

Then, Breath of the Wild happened and changed things.

BREATH OF THE WILD

(Additional short note, but: while I won’t mention Four Swords Adventure, since it’s a weird one that almost nobody has played and severely messes with the Timeline, we kind of see the beginnings of what is about to happen in Breath of the Wild in this game –gerudos coming back without much explanation, then distancing themselves from Ganondorf to become friends with hylians because he was too hungry for power and now they are nice and have good reputation because they are our friendsss)

I was actually so happy to learn gerudos were making a comeback in a mainline Zelda game, and this got me more excited about Breath of the Wild than basically anything else the game involved. And getting to explore the Desert once again, meeting this new batch of impossibly tall buff girls, getting more about their language and their culture, Riju and the rest of the little girls are adorable, the grandmas are so cool, the sand seals??? sign me the fuck up??? And above it all, hanging around Gerudo Town at night and feeling as warm and cozy as little me liked to imagine how freeing it would feel, to stay there and watch the desert behind the safety of their walls in OoT… This was great. I loved it.

It was a huge compensation for the criticism I’m about to make, but did leave me with… questions regarding how their culture was going to be handled moving forward.

I’ll start with something small yet deeply revelatory, then work my way from there.

So... gerudos’ ears are pointy now.

This is pretty significant. Lore-wise, it’s been said that the elongated ears of hylians are there so they can better hear the voices of the gods. It’s considered a sign of holiness in-universe. There's a bunch of really thoughtful analysis on tumblr over that whole Ganondorf ear situation, which is a mess but also very interesting, but the short answer is: I think the absence of pointy ears was a clear design choice to originally signify them as Less Good. Even when Ganondorf gets pointier ears, they never get as long as hylians’. Worth noting: not every non-gerudo character has pointy ears: gorons, zoras and ritos (among others) do not possess this trait, and there are even some humans that have regular rounded ears in the series –though they always seem to be of lesser relevance, if not downright peasants in Twilight Princess. Pointy ears always tended to implied a strict hierarchy in the series: basically, the more pointy, the more Protagonist you become.

(also their eyes becoming green instead of the traditional yellow/golden, which looks more wicked and demonic --and cooler also tbh)

The pointy ears imply two things. From within the game, this could be interpreted in two ways: either that gerudos… converted, for a lack of a better term, and are now considered holy through their worship of the Golden Goddesses and/or Hylia, or that their mingling with hylians through tens of thousands of years had them acquiring this trait out of sheer genetic override (though they have kept their mostly-women birth rates, their big nose, darker skin –for the most part– and red hair). Probably a healthy mixture of both. Design-wise, it signifies something quite simple to the player: they are on hylians’ side now. They are good guys. We can trust them, even if they still have a little spice in them. They aligned themselves with us and against Ganon in all of its manifestations (even if he’s but an angry ghastly pig being parasitic to everything it touches in this iteration). They are on the side of Good, definitively, and will fight evil by our side.

On that note, I think it’s worth bringing out another major change from their initial iteration, which is their overt friendship with Hyrule as a whole, and with the Royal Family in particular. Despite not allowing any voe inside their walls (we’ll come back to this), their relationship with hylians is pretty neat. They have booming trade roads, travel and meet with the rest of the cultures, and are fierce enemies with the Yiga clan, who are renowned for being huge Calamity Ganon supporters. The tables certainly have turned. I want to bring out, in particular, Urbosa’s friendship with the queen and her role as the cool aunt taking care of Zelda and protecting her from evil (to be noted: I am not familiar with Age of Calamity so if I’m mischaracterizing her in any way, please let me know). The gerudo sense of sisterhood has been extended to the royals they used to fight against. I would go on and say the cultures peacefully coexist, but I think that what we’re looking at here is a case of vassal behavior, just like we used to have from zoras (in the non-Fallen Timelines) and gorons. This is a huge departure from gerudos being openly rejecting of Hylian culture in their initial iteration, and something that is worth returning to later.

Okay. Now it’s time to mention the weird obsession BotW gerudos have with romance. I didn’t take notice of my issues with their writing until I realized how prevalent of a theme that was. Now, the reason given for gerudos to refuse entry to males (of every race) has much more to do with preventing young gerudos to make mistakes than anything else, and is actively being put into question by the younger generations –which would make sense. But the amount of NPCs that either lament their lack of match, talk about their husbands (because they marry now apparently) or are invested in romance, and a very limited understanding of romance at that (heterosexual, closed, etc), makes for much more of the population that I initially expected. There’s no mention of what’s going on with their males, if there are new males being born and either exiled or abandoned, or if Ganondorf being technically still alive have have cut them off male heirs. Either way: no more kings, only girlbosses chiefs.

To have the gerudos so interconnected with Hyrule, not only through trade but through extremely coded romance where they have to make themselves palatable to a future male partner and enforce fidelity, was… a choice. The extremely brief and skippable mention of gerudos sometimes going to Castle Town in search for boyfriends in OoT became half of their personality traits in this game. We went from a race that was fiercely independent and mocking of the unworthy men who tried to mingle with them, to… this. Now I’m not saying some of the sidequests aren’t cute, or that I didn’t like the wedding, or that the grandma near the abandoned statue of Hylia (so she was worshipped at some point) clocking us and talking about her love life wasn’t one of my favorite gerudo conversations. I’m saying that the vibes have definitively changed. For the better? I’m not sure.

I once stumbled upon an article that said that Breath of the Wild gerudos were a huge improvement compared to their original introduction, because they were no longer presented as evil and hostile thieves groveling at the boot of a single man, but as a full culture allied with the protagonist and actively involved in the story, while still getting their Cool Girl Badass moment (again can’t find it anymore, I’ll link it if I stumble upon it again). I see where this comes from, but I honestly can’t help but consider it a reading that assumes something pretty major (though through no fault of their own, as the games tend to hammer this down as hard as they can), and that being hylians as the unquestioned anchor of Good.

Which, in spite of what the games want me to believe, I… feel uncomfortable taking at face value.

To me, regarding how gerudos are being incorporated in that goodie narrative, this is kind of a case of surface-level feminism trumping over colonialist/imperialist concerns. It becomes more important to perform the aesthetics of being cool and friendly and independent than scratching at any deeper problem that would risk making people uncomfortable. This is kind of Green Skin Ganon all over again: oh wait, isn’t it a little icky to have the evil bad guy being brown while faced by the most aryan-looking ass heroes of all time? Okay, then let’s take the brown guy and make his skin green so we don’t have to feel bad anymore that the conflict has racial undertones!! Solved!! There’s nothing questionable about changing a PoC's features to make it more monstrous and less human, right?

To me, it’s kind of the coward option: instead of accepting the messy reality those initial choices created (and their interesting nuances if taken at face value), let’s just… rewrite the PoC culture’s history to make it feel less uncomfortable for the white heroes. In many ways, it is an extension of what hylians have always done: scrubbing the weird and messy things about the past and shoving them deep down into the spooky well and far into the desert prison and away in alternate hellish dimensions, and then make up a very simple story where they get to feel good about themselves –except this time, it’s the fabric of the games, the literal reality, bending backward to make it happen. Which, in my opinion, makes it much worse than before. Now, there’s no conversation. The fabric of reality is changing their own history so that there is nothing to discuss anymore. Ganondorf was always evil incarnate. He never had any point. It was always 100% his own fault, his own hubris, his own fated wickedness. He was always demonic (and green, very important –having a flashback to people on twitter accusing artists restoring the TotK green skin to the original brown of wanting to make Ganondorf black, and like….. how do I put it gently…..)

And, above all else: gerudo are to distance themselves from his legacy so they can stay in the club of the Good and Just and Holy.

Because here’s the messy thing: as much as I love seeing the gerudos again in Breath of the Wild and as much I love for them to have survived the Era of Myth (??? somehow ???), this… kind of changes Ganondorf’s character arc. No longer do we have the story of a king who wanted more, either for his people, for himself or both, and led his culture to its destruction in his search for absolute Power, while remaining ironically incapable of maintaining what little he already had. This starts from him kneeling to the king of Hyrule in OoT and leads to the deluge, Arbiter’s Ground, his own mothers dying for the sake of his failed resurrection. Breath of the Wild changes this: now, the gerudo were apparently fine without him? They apparently did their own thing and became suddenly and inexplicably disconnected from his actions? I know it’s kind of implied they side with hylians at the end of OoT, but it’s honestly never really explored why they would cheer for the death of their king while never seeming to resent him before except for Nabooru –there are mentions of brainwashing for those who resist him (as well as “other groups in the desert”, tho they are never mentioned again), but it’s hardly a proper plot point for the majority of the tribe, aaaand they still die by Wind Waker in the Adult Timeline, in spite of their potential alliegance…

(again, this shift towards submitting to Hyrule actually started with Four Swords Adventure, getting crisper with each iteration)

There used to be this polite blur regarding Ganondorf’s relationship to them, how much he used them and how much he acted in their name (with arguments for both sides), and I think this messy and debatable question mark was one of the most compelling aspects of his character. Gerudos rejecting their relationship at a near-cosmic, reality-bending level, removes a huge layer of complexity to both parties… all for the benefit of making hylians come out cleaner out of this whole exchange, their moral grayness barely a whisper in the distance.

I’ll kind of go on the record and say that I suspect the addition of Demise to the canon to serve a similar purpose (at least in part): if Ganondorf becomes but the manifestation of a demonic curse, and is no longer an extremely messy character brimming with agency and drive, forcing the heavens to reckon with said agency in a way he was never meant to access, born from a complex set of circumstances from which we clearly get only a limited and biased perspective, then it becomes extremely clear that he’s a Bad in a way that isn’t worth exploring further. Even if he does have some points, he is a Bad. It’s what matters most. Not to say I even hate what this angle can bring to the table or that I want him to become Good (I don’t –I’ll talk more about why I dislike most takes on him being a helpless victim to the curse), but once again, who benefits from adding another Unquestionned Baddie to the equation to rest upon? Not him, and not the gerudos, that’s for sure.

So. Why did I, me, personally, like the gerudos in the first place?

Beyond the inherent coolness factor of their culture and the fascinating mysteries of what is merely suggested, I think… I think I loved gerudos because we were obvious outsiders. Because their rejection of Hylian culture was so sharp and extreme, their value system so different, and their writing, their religion, their relationship to power and hierarchy and worth wanted nothing to do with hylians. They didn’t need hylians, beyond them having potential resources to steal. In fact, the threat of hylians influencing their culture was such that the entry to the Fortress was forbidden to everyone (I don’t think men were ever singled out, by the way, even though they are mocked relentlessly). I think there was something inherently hopeful about this semi-matriarchy resisting the outside world, and especially its notions of what girls were meant to be –it was 1998, and every other girl character in OoT, besides Impa and Sheik that?? is another can of worms entirely, is either helpless or someone to save. For them to reject this narrow vision of femininity was, in my opinion, much more radical than what we got in BotW. Less nuanced, more problematic perhaps? But also much more powerful. Gerudo Valley is home, not to a town, but a Fortress.

Hylians were worth being resisted.

In Breath of the Wild, their refusal to let men enter their town is kind of boiled down to a fading tradition over-focused on romance, a meek little game of chase. Their entire goal seems to be finding a hylian to settle down with. Say what you will about the single man and the many girls (never explored and completely open-ended in its implications, btw), but at least it wasn’t… that. At least it opened the way for different ways for people to exist and imagine culture and civilization, outside of the heterosexual couple, the christian-infused patriarchy and its trickling down implications. What I want to say is: let my girls tell hylians they ain’t shit!! That they aren’t the end all be all of reality! This is what made gerudos so compelling in the first place! Where is that bite now? Where is that self-definition?

It’s gone, because hylians need to be Good. So we tee-hee at the creep running laps around the town, we disguise ourselves to breach their trust and infiltrate their town (though there is nuance to be had there, gender be complicated etc), we watch them pine after shitty dudes and take classes to become the perfect approachable woman and make love soups with ?? strange ingredients honestly, and we witness them get very friendly with the Royal Family they used to conspire against, dying to protect the princess against the manifestation of their ancient king reduced to a raving puddle of Bad Boar.

Hyrule, unified against him.

TEARS OF THE KINGDOM

For posterity’s sake: this post was made before the game was released. I’ll probably update my thoughts on a separate thing later on.

I don’t think gerudos allying with the hylians and burying their own legends about Ganondorf as deeply underground as they can until it blows up in their face is a bad setup at all. It’s actually pretty juicy, and there’s a ton of fascinating stuff that could happen here –even some involving gerudos taking a firm stand against him while still reconnecting with their past and the choices they made once. This is my hope with the title of the game: Tears of the Kingdoms. Let’s examine them all, account for the damage, and decide how we move forward from there with the full knowledge of where we come from.

What I am afraid of (and I already made posts about that) is the scenario where gerudos rallying against Ganondorf, which I expect will forcefully try to take back his place as their king, is used for cheap feminist points that completely fail to examine, well. Everything mentioned above. Where reality bends itself out of the way of the Goddesses, and hylians’ responsibility in any of this mess, so that everything bad is 100% Ganon’s fault and so he must be cast aside and torn away from the Cool Gerudo Girls and this is 100% justified and deserved because we are Independent Women Who Take No Shit from No Men (unless they are the king of Hyrule or any random hylian they wish to marry apparently).

I’ll say this here because it’s been burning my mouth every time I see discourse about Ganondorf and the gerudo: gerudos declared him as their king. To make a really bad comparison that I dislike: he didn’t run around to assemble girls and make a cult around himself, he was born with the cult already formed around him (and it’s not a cult, it’s just a different mode of governance –hylians also revere the Royal Family like gods, don’t they?). This heavily changes the dynamics at play. Not to remove any agency from him to do a little invasion about it, but chances are the ancestors to BotW’s gerudos fully expected him to behave in this way, at least to a degree –in OoT you see very plainly that they value physical prowess, feats of thievery, witchcraft and general violence. It’s more complicated than him being a Bad and making the poor helpless women go along with the plan uwu –even taking the brainwashing into account, AND Koume and Kotake counting as gerudos too, even if they might not be not fully innocent in shaping the culture and the man himself. If manipulation and forced servitude is the explanation given, I’ll be genuinely mad –because, once more, all the nuance and messiness would be flattened for the sake of making Ganondorf Bad and the gerudo Good (= on hylians’ side).

It bears to be said: I think feminism stances that require, not to criticize (which is fair), but to fully dehumanize and bestialize men of color to make any sense are uhhh bad, and it's worth questionning who they end up serving in the end.

The flip side of this would be to make Ganondorf a poor little meow meow that was secretly controlled by the evil Demise all along, and... I’ll be real. I really don’t think it solves our problem at all. It might even make it worse.

My problem with how gerudos have been handled thus far, being mostly connected to how they behave in relation to hylians Good, is that they’ve been systematically defanged not to threaten the status quo as much as they used to. I think it’s pretty clear why I’m not a fan of Ganondorf being a mere victim of cosmic circumstances; I have a post that goes more in depth about this, but to simplify: my man has legitimate grievances. To make him a mere puppet to Evil Incarnate would, to me, be just another attempt to erase the despotism of the Goddesses, the unjust hierarchy of the world, what hylians have historically done to the races they were in conflict with (looking at the Yiga for the most recent example…)

I’m not saying his fight is clean or even legitimate, that he isn't driven by his own sense of self-importance above anything else, or that he should win (he has no plan beyond domination and victory, that's not a future). But I think there’s something really important about having someone being willing to fully consume himself and everything around him for the simple fact that someone should resist the order of the world. Even if that makes him a heartless, cruel, and egomaniac demon-pig. Even if there’s no Hyrule left to rule. Even if his own people despise him, or are long gone and forgotten.

Is it a little heart-wrenching? Uhh yes to me yes most definitively. This is why Wind Waker Ganondorf hits so hard, and remains (I think) his favorite entry in the series so far. But… I still find this fate of eternal resistance more resonant and empowered, and far less grim, than if Hyrule’s lore absorbs his hatred and rage, gives it to another entity that would be Badder (= more opposed to hylians and the goddesses), and scrubs it off anything icky and uncomfortable, rendering it completely domesticated and non-threatening to hylian domination; rubbed of his skin color, of his complexity, of his own emotions, even made... kind of sexy now, in the same way his sisters have been made before him? I am very, very afraid of him being turned from furious and an unapologetic subject in his own legend to a "redeemed" (according to whom??) and palatable object in somebody else’s, that you now end up having to… save from himself.

Again, I want to trust that Tears of the Kingdom can walk that line and preserve everything sharp and contrasting and profound and thrilling about this fascinating setup. I don’t expect a philosophy course, this is a game for children –but it doesn’t mean Nintendo didn’t do an astounding job with similar setups in the past. Again, I’ll invoke the Wind Waker conflict, but Twilight Princess did a lot of great things as well (Zant’s speech, if you can get past the weird stretches and stumping and NNHYAAAs, is pretty fantastic) –and the subtle writing of Majora’s Mask is also proof enough this series can be complex without being impermeable.

So this is where my hope lies. Not really with BotW’s writing, which, I’m sorry to say, but I found to be below what the series has done in the past (I have no problem with the setup and how the story is explored, I think it was a great idea, but wasn’t ever sold on the actual writing the way I may have been with previous titles –it felt… very tropey to me overall, with a couple of highlights). But Nintendo has shown to know how to write compelling stories for children that know where to sprinkle its darkness and how to preserve its hope, and this is this side I’m relying on for this delicate storyline moving forward.

And now? Now… I suppose we wait and see.

(thank you for reading my impossibly long essay what the actual hell, at least I got it all out of my system, see you in part 2 for when TotK comes out I suppose aaa)

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mrcompass · 2 months ago

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A critic of the Legendary Bladers concept.

The concept of the Legendary Blader is central to Beyblade: Metal Fury, playing a significant role in shaping the third part of the MFB series. Through this, new characters, themes, lore, and ideas were introduced. In this analysis, I will explore the Legendary Blader concept by focusing on three key points.

The star fragment and bey obsolescence

The Star Fragment is obviously a central element for the Legendary Bladers, as it is what sets them apart from other Bladers. The Star Fragment serves as a convenient excuse to evolve the Beys of pre-existing characters: Gingka, Kyoya, Ryuga, and later Kenta. Evolutions in the MFB anime are actually quite rare. Unlike the manga, characters don’t evolve their Beys through progress or special events. In fact, it’s more common for a character to change part of their Bey (like Chaoxin), and sometimes characters even change them entirely (like Zeo and Toby). However, the latter case was due to their need for a fresh start after being subjected to Hades Inc. Masamune received an evolved version of his Unicorno thanks to Coach Steel’s modifications, but he did this precisely because he learned Gingka’s Pegasus had evolved and wanted to become a Legendary Blader. Finally, Ryuga was able to evolve Lightning L-Drago into Meteo L-Drago by conquering the dark power.

This illustrates that in the Metal Saga, Beys are an essential part of a character’s identity, and they don’t often change them. Beys are considered partners and are too deeply intertwined with the supernatural and the characters themselves (after all, the characters�� designs are based on their Beys) to be modified on a whim. For example, it would be strange for Kyoya or Gingka to ask Madoka to modify their Beys, given the values they hold for them.

This is actually a disadvantage for MFB, as the goal of the anime is to sell Beyblades. As a result, whenever you introduce a prominent Beyblade that you really want to sell, you have to create a new character. This might cause issues with character development, considering the number of characters already in the show and the limited number of episodes.

This is where the Star Fragment is a genius move: it allows the Beys of previous characters to evolve into the new 4D system. This way, they can present the new system as special. Additionally, it was already established that Beys are made of meteorite material, so a fragment of the same thing powering the Beys seems logical.

This doesn’t mean the concept is perfect, though. The first problem is that it is reserved for only a select few, and the evolutions only apply to pre-existing characters. This actually limits the new system to a handful of people: the Legendary Bladers, the Nemesis Bladers, Ryuto, and Masamune. The second issue is that it clearly sets these characters apart from all the others. Even though some of the Fusion characters were outclassed by Gingka and his group, as demonstrated in Battle Bladers, there was still hope for them to come back stronger and remain relevant in the show. After all, Tsubasa and Yu maintained consistent roles in later seasons, and Tobio even returned during the Destroyer Dome.

But now that we have a group of Bladers certified as the "strongest in the world" thanks to the Star Fragment, the hope for other characters to shine, surpass the Legendary Bladers with their own skills, or even create tension in a match has been demolished. The proof is that no Legendary Blader has ever lost to a non-Legendary Blader, and no holder of a 4D Beyblade has lost to a Blader with a non-4D Bey. For example, Yuki was able to beat Cycnus, and Johannes was able to outplay Dashan.

This perfectly illustrates what I call "Bey obsolescence," which refers to a new kind of Bey or system eclipsing the others within the same generation. For example, in Fusion, characters with Beys using plastic fusion wheels played a relevant part, yet in Metal Masters, these Beys are reserved for background characters. This kind of Bey was used by Kenta’s friends, whom we don’t see anymore after Fusion, as well as Hikaru and Hyoma. The latter two were strong enough to defeat Kenta at one point and participate in Battle Bladers, but they are the only participants of that tournament who have given up competitive Beyblading.

Of course, there’s the factor of their trauma, but Tsubasa overcame the dark power, and they could have had their roles switched with others in Battle Bladers. However, it didn’t happen, and I think the explanation is that it was simply convenient to reduce the presence of two characters using an obsolete system to make more room for new Bladers and Beys. As conspiratorial as it might sound, if you look at any team in the World Championship, none of them—not even Team Desert Blaze—used plastic wheels. This obsolescence is real, as seen in Zero-G, where the generic Beys use the Ray and Spiral fusion wheels, which were once used by prominent characters.

I think Metal Fury is painfully aware of this and tries its best to counteract it, mainly by showing close fights, like Gingka vs. Kenta in Beyster Island or Kyoya vs. Yu. In a way, it works. It’s almost impressive how these characters can hold their own with their Metal Fusion Beyblades against Legendary Bladers.Another point the anime insists on is that Gingka and Kyoya needed to learn how to use their new 4D Beys. Before their defeats against Ryuga, they often relied on mode changes, much like Johannes and the rest of the Nemesis Bladers did. It’s notable that Johannes, Pluto, Hershel, and Cycnus don’t have a special move, and for the latter three, they don’t even have a Bey-beast or aura. These are characters who over-rely on their Beys’ abilities rather than fully utilizing their potential. This is presented as the “wrong way” to use a 4D Bey. It’s also noteworthy that Kyoya and Kenta created their special moves by defeating one of these Bladers. So, in a way, the anime tries to tell us that while it’s great to have a powerful new Bey, if you just rely on mode changes, you’re not going to get very far.

So, even though the Star Fragment is a great idea for changing the Bey system, it kind of limits the possibility of characters benefiting from it. Especially considering that only four characters received drastic evolutions. It also confirms the tendency to leave characters behind, depending on their beys. Nonetheless the series finale addresses this issue by having all the Bladers transfer their power to Gingka.

The Legendary Bladers and Character Development

The second point that needs huglight is the legendary blader themselves and how they perforemd as characters. This is not about critizing the choice of these charcters for the legendary blader postion but rather seeing if there is more to them than their title and if they are developped. Now characters developpment is all well and good but it is better if a charatcers is fleshed out so they can stand out more.

Gingka, Kyoya, Ryuga and Kenta

On the eleven people that received a star fragment only four were introduced in a previous season: Kyoya, Gingka and Ryuga and Kenta. All fo them were well established charcters and they all had their time to shine in the season. Kyoya had his little arc, Gingka put an end to Nemesis thanks to all the blader ijn the world and Ryuga and Kenta built a bond with each other. We actually saw more of Ryuga, how he trains and how he lives thanks to his tribulations. For Kenta this was the occasion to grow stronger but also distance himself from Gingka and the rest of the group, which allowed him to stand out more and gained independance. Bulding a relationship between Kenta and Ryuga was obviously surprising and welcomed. As the two had never really interacted with each other and are actually very different. We have Ryuga who was always strong and narcistic and Kenta who built slowly but surely his strenght and tries his best to help friends whenever he can. His journey with Ryuga is actually refreshing and unexpected. In my opinion it is the most succesfull things metal fury did. Reagarding their selections as legendary blader I think it what obvious they would be selected. Kyoya, Gingka and Ryuga are the strongest blader in the world with a lot of achievement to their credit like battle blader and tghe world championship. Kenta succeding to Ryuga as the lengadry blader of summer is a perfect consluon to his charcters journey not only in fury but in the whole series as well.

Yuki

Yuki was introduced very early in the season, being one of the first characters to appear in Metal Fury. Much like Kenta, Yuki starts off by being attacked, unable to defend himself until Gingka intervenes. They quickly become friends. After Kenta left the group, Yuki somewhat filled his role without replacing him. Yuki has elements that set him apart—he is determined, enjoys astronomy, and uses his passions to his advantage (like when he figured out how to open the door of Dynamis's temple). He is intelligent and loyal. However, his biggest weakness is his lack of confidence in himself as a Blader.

After he became a Legendary Blader, he participated in the Tag Team tournament alongside Gingka, and his confidence improved—a trend that continued over time. Overall, Yuki was a well-developed character; he had time to be properly fleshed out, and he actually grew during the season.

The main issue comes when it’s revealed that Yuki is a descendant of one of the Bladers who fought Nemesis in the past, which allowed him to gain the star fragment. Yuki’s reaction is one of pride and joy, as one might expect. However, for me, this was a missed opportunity for introspection. He’s supposed to be a clever and level-headed character, yet he never questions the influence of destiny on his life. Was he always destined to become friends with Gingka? Are his achievements only due to his ancestors? This could have led to Yuki affirming himself—not in opposition to his fate, but as his own person. This would have been a nice way to parallel Rago and Pluto, who mindlessly follow the prophecy of their own ancestor.

Aguma

Regarding the case of Aguma, I believe he also benefited from an earlier introduction compared to the other Legendary Bladers. He is also the first to join Nemesis, which sets him apart from the others. Aguma is part of the Beylin Fist, a rebel faction of the Beylin Temple. He wishes for his faction to get the recognition they deserve, which is why he allies himself with Johannes, who promised that in the "New World," the Beylin Fist would become the one and only school for Beyblade. This integrates Aguma and the rest of his clan into the world of MFB by using the pre-existing Beylin Temple.

Though Aguma does not develop a rivalry with Dashan, he does have an antagonistic relationship with Kyoya, which plays into Kyoya's solo arc. By being one of the antagonists during Metal Fury alongside Johannes, Aguma manages to stand on his own and gain some individuality. After his successive losses to Kyoya, King, and Tithi, as well as Pluto's betrayal, Aguma faces an internal crisis about what to do next: help the Legendary Bladers, do nothing, or side with Nemesis.

This moment of introspection could have been a positive turning point, if it hadn’t been interrupted in the worst way possible. Dynamis reveals that Aguma's ancestor sided with Hades in the past, before switching sides to join the Legendary Bladers after an encounter with Tithi's ancestor. Because of this, it feels like all of Aguma's choices have been dictated by fate, as he ends up replicating the same mistakes his ancestor did. This makes him seem more like a puppet of fate rather than a fully developed character.

King

King was introduced around the middle of the season. Like Yuki and Aguma, he participated in two tournaments, showcasing his performance to the viewers. The most important aspect of King is the friendship he built with Masamune. In my opinion, they complement each other very well, as seen during their battle against Hershel, and King quickly became a part of Team Dungeon.

Of course, King suffers from the same circumstances as the other Solar System Bladers, but what counteracts this is his genuine love for Beyblade, much like Masamune and Gingka. Additionally, his ancestry never got in the way of his actions or choices, and he didn’t seem to place much importance on it. Even if he wasn’t a Legendary Blader, he still had a unique Beyblade, Variares, that can spin in both directions, which already makes him stand out.

In summary, King is a very unique, iconic, and well-integrated character.

Dynamis

Dynamis first appeared in the arc just before the Beyster Island tournament, and he didn’t participate in it. Just like in the manga, he doesn’t have much screen time compared to the previous Legendary Bladers. I think this is due to the fact that his primary purpose is to deliver the lore behind the Legendary Bladers, making it harder to dissociate him from that role.

Later on, Dynamis gets possessed by a dark power, which might be an allusion to Tsubasa’s dark power arc. This is fitting since Zeus, represented by Dynamis's Beyblade Jupiter, has an eagle as its symbolic animal.

Dynamis’s main problem is that he doesn’t have any real meaningful relationships with other characters, making him feel more like a plot device.

Chris

Chris was also introduced fairly late in the season, but fortunately, he has a backstory. He suffered a similar situation to King, being ostracized and abandoned because of his strength, which alludes to the fact that Legendary Bladers in the manga aren’t allowed to participate in tournaments due to their overwhelming power. Unlike the other Bladers of the four seasons, Chris wasn’t introduced in previous seasons, nor did he have an impressive record before winning Beyster Island. He suffered from unfortunate circumstances that prevented him from going to the World Championship.

However, Chris brings with him an interesting concept—that of a mercenary Blader. This is relatively new to the series, and it seems to fit well in a world where Beyblade holds such a significant place. It’s almost strange that we didn’t see more variations of what a Blader can do outside of just fighting in tournaments. Unfortunately, this concept was introduced far too late to be fully explored, especially considering Chris seemingly gives up the mercenary way. After he lost to Gingka and sided with the Legendary Bladers, it appears Chris turned over a new leaf, but since this happened just before the final fight against Nemesis, we didn’t have enough time to appreciate his development.

Tithi

Tithi was the last Legendary Blader to be introduced. What’s original about his introduction is that, unlike the others, he isn’t found by Gingka but by Kyoya and Yu. From the start, we get a good sense of his personality—he’s a shy kid who just wants friends to play Beyblade with, a feeling Yu understands well. Their bonding was very sweet to watch and helped reintroduce Yu into the new season.

During battle, we see that Tithi has a joyful personality. He can be unpredictable and a little wild at times. Of course, who could forget him annoying Kyoya by calling him "Tatakyo/Yoyo"? Tithi later battled Aguma, which contributed to Aguma's doubts (along with Pluto’s betrayal).

Overall, I think Tithi was fleshed out well, but the problem is that he was introduced so late in the season that it feels like he was mercilessly thrown into the Nemesis crisis. Think about it—he was just a little kid minding his own business, finally finding a friend to play Beyblade with, and less than two days later, he’s forced to face this universe's version of Satan. However, his potential was clearly wasted, especially considering he stayed with Dynamis, with whom he had almost no interactions.

Rago

Rago is one of the main antagonists of Metal Fury, and he is also the only Legendary Blader to be truly evil. He appears in the latter part of the season, which seems at odds with how the anime presents him—as the ultimate villain Gingka and the rest must face. Rago is merely the man who wields Nemesis, nothing more and nothing less. He shares similarities with previous main Blader antagonists like Ryuga and Damian by being narcissistic, boastful, and insulting. However, Rago's issue is that he didn’t have the same buildup as Ryuga did in Metal Fusion. He feels like a character pulled from a catalog, especially considering that he appears alongside the Nemesis Bladers.

Though he endangered the entire world and kills Ryuga, there’s no progression to his evil actions. The problem is that we already know he wants to destroy the planet and end all life. In contrast, Ryuga's actions in Metal Fusion became increasingly unhinged, making us fear and anticipate his next move. However, Rago has something that sets him apart from other villains—he's not Gingka's villain but Ryuga's. There isn’t much of a parallel between Gingka and Rago. The Legendary Bladers of the Solar System, much like Rago, are bound by fate, while Ryuga is different.

Ryuga wanted to bury his past in the Dark Nebula, particularly the time he was possessed by L-Drago. Then, in Metal Fury, Doji returns alongside a new Blader who controls a seemingly unstoppable dark artifact that just absorbed L-Drago’s power. Ryuga feels insulted, but the main reason he fights Rago is because he sees himself—Metal Fusion Ryuga—in him and wants to destroy that part of himself. Additionally, Rago is a threat to his supremacy in the Beyblade world, so if Ryuga wants to live up to his title, he must either fight him or die trying.

Overall, I think Rago is a pretty solid antagonist. He serves his purpose, and while his fight with Ryuga meant more for the latter’s character, it allows Rago to be more integrated into the story.

Most of the new characters who became Legendary Bladers serve their purpose well; they are unique characters. Some are more integrated than others into the wider MFB canon. However, they all would have benefitted from more time to be fleshed out, particularly Dynamis and Chris. The new lore surrounding them adds more substance to the series, but at the same time, the over-reliance on it and on fate hurt some of these characters badly (like Yuki and Aguma). The main problem is that Metal Fury was 12 episodes shorter than the previous two seasons. With that amount of additional episodes, the new characters could have benefitted greatly from further development. In summary, this is a big waste of potential, and most of them don’t succeed at being more than just Legendary Bladers.

Gingka Hagane and the concept of fate.

The concept of fate and supernatural forces has always been present in Metal Fight Beyblade. In Metal Fusion, we had Ryutaro, who had visions about the future, while in Metal Masters, Julian and Damian used a vague concept of fate to justify their positions and why they should win. Despite this, Gingka was able to beat them all and even overcame fate. Ryutaro had a vision of an apocalyptic future, but after his losses to Gingka in Battle Bladers, he saw that a different path was possible. Madoka's computer predicted that Gingka had less than a 1% chance to win against L-Drago, yet he succeeded. Finally, let's not forget that King Hades' prophecy hadn’t fully realized itself because Gingka and the whole world defeated Nemesis. The point is that Gingka has a habit of triumphing over fate and preconceived ideas. For him, being a blader is about fighting with his heart, loving his Bey, and getting back up when he loses—it’s how he becomes powerful. Yet, in Metal Fury, some of the most powerful bladers are those who have special ancestors and a star fragment in their Bey. The reason the star fragment chooses those particular bladers is related to fate, as the attribution was tied to the prophecy and is known by Dynamis. This use of the concept of fate and predetermined power in Metal Fury fundamentally undermines the themes that were built in previous seasons of Metal Fight Beyblade. Gingka’s story in Metal Fusion and Metal Masters was about defying odds, challenging fate, and rising through sheer willpower and love for the sport.

The concept of the Legendary Blader brought some fresh elements to Metal Fury but ultimately constrained the series. While it introduced new characters and deeper lore, the overreliance on fate limited the potential for character growth and reduced the tension in battles. Characters like Yuki and Aguma were overshadowed by their predetermined roles, while others, like Dynamis and Chris, suffered from lack of development due to the shortened season. While there were positive developments, such as the evolving relationship between Ryuga and Kenta or the bond between King and Masamune, Metal Fury ultimately fell into the same trap as its predecessor by superficially handling an expanded cast. The season reflects a broader fatigue with the Metal Saga, struggling to balance the introduction of new elements with the need for meaningful character development.

#metal fight beyblade #mfb #gingka hagane #metal fury #kyoya tategami #ryuga beyblade #chris mfb #tithi beyblade #dynamis beyblade #kenta yumiya #yuki mizusawa #aguma beyblade #king beyblade #masamune kadoya

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lovelyatomicpeace · 1 month ago

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Insecurities

Some problems during the marriage

Hawkins was in the middle of his estate, the heat enveloped everything like a hug and the sounds of laughter mixed with the smell of barbecues. Steve and Y/N’s wedding had been a celebration of joy, where friends danced as if time didn’t matter, and the promises made mixed with toasts. The bright lights hanging outside their small house had created a magical atmosphere; everything seemed perfect.

The first months of marriage had been a whirlwind of emotions. The honeymoon, spent among the golden beaches of the French Riviera, had given Y/N the feeling of being in the world of fairy tales. The two abandoned themselves to days made of explorations, laughter and confessions under the stars. But it must be admitted that the weeks before the wedding with Steve, the excitement had been accompanied by a subtrail of frustration and anxiety. Preparations were progressing, but there was a shadow that stretched over every happy moment: Steve’s mother in whose words there was a sense of disapproval that seemed to weigh like a boulder on her heart.

The first meeting took place when both of Steve’s parents decided to visit Y/N’s house, where they would both settle down, to discuss the details of the wedding

“Y/N, can we talk for a moment?” He asked suddenly, interrupting Y/N’s thoughts.

Y/N nodded, moving to follow Steve’s mother into the bedroom, leaving father and son in the living room alone. Once the door was closed, the lady turned to her “I have to be honest with you, Y/N. I don’t think you’re the right person for Steve,” he began, his voice lowered. “He is a sensitive boy, he needs someone who knows how to manage a house, who can create a harmonious family environment. I’m not sure you can do it.”

Y/N felt the world collapse on her. “But...”

“It’s not that I don’t accept you, Y/N. But family is a serious commitment. There are responsibilities, dedication, and if you can’t guarantee certain things... then maybe you should rethink all this,” he continued pressing without letting you explain

“Steve deserves better. You’re not able to manage a house, but I think having a family is too much for you,” some simple words that, like shards of glass, had been fixed in his mind S/N tried to chase away those rumors, to live in the present, but sometimes doubts were insnaked like snakes in his thoughts. leaving the room once finished. After that day, Steve’s mother’s words rumbled in his mind like a mantra. She had never been that perfect girl, but she had always thought she could do it. But what would Steve have thought? What if his mother was right?

One morning, while Steve was getting ready to go to work, Y/N decided to show him that he was really trying to take his place as a wife. “Today I want to try to cook something for dinner,” he announces with a forced smile. Steve looked at her with those sweet eyes that had conquered her. “Do you need help?” He asked, but Y/N shook his head with determination, making a gesture with his hand to move him away.

“No, I want to do it alone!”

While he was leaving, Y/N ventured into the kitchen. It wasn’t exactly a place where he felt comfortable, but that day he wanted to try to turn his dreams of a family into reality. He decided to prepare a lemon chicken, a dish he had seen in an online cooking video.

Things didn’t go as he hoped. The chicken had become a nightmare mess: the marinade had been excessive, the lemon too sour. When Steve served him, his smile became a little forced, but he looked at her with affection. “Love, hats off to courage,” he said. His gentle laugh was mixed with the terror that he was taking possession of Y/N.

Thus began his series of attempts. One day, I decided to wash my clothes. It shouldn’t have been difficult. But the colors mixed, and the only result was a shocking pink Steve T-shirt that, before, was white. When he came home and found her crying in front of the washing machine, he just hugged her. “Don’t worry, Y/N. It’s just a dress. It’s remedied” But inside, Y/N feared that it wasn’t just a dress.

Each incident seemed to confirm the words of Steve’s mother. “Are you able to manage a future? A son? A house?” The sentences rumbled, igniting irrational anxieties. And Steve’s laughter, which made the situation all the lighter in his eyes, seemed to hurt her further. Was it just allowing him to be disappointed?

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. Every time T/N tried to prove to Steve how capable he was, he came home disappointed, with a heavy heart. His self-esteem was slowly crumbling, and the fear of not being up to it turned into an oppressive presence. That presence followed her to Hawkins, among friends and parties, like a tireless shadow.

One day, decided to organize a surprise dinner with friends for Steve’s birthday, with the intention of proving that she could be a good wife. He spent hours preparing an elaborate meal, but when his friends arrived, the kitchen was in a disastrous state. The steaks were burnt, and the dessert was a disaster. Yet, seeing Steve’s face light up with attention, it was impossible for her not to feel a little ridiculous and, at the same time, a little proud.

“You clearly put your heart into this,” he said, caressing her arm. Y/N couldn’t hide his smile.

“But don’t you understand? I’m not capable! I only did disasters,” replied the trembling voice.

With his hands on Y/N’s shoulder, Steve looks into her eyes, letting the silences speak. “It’s not the perfection I love about you. It’s your spontaneity, your ability to make us laugh even in the midst of chaos. You are part of that life I want to build, and you will do it well, even when you don’t feel it.”

It was at that moment that Y/N understood that failures did not define its value. Love wasn’t perfect, and neither was life as a couple. There was growth, pain and, above all, a lot of fertility. There were days when she would be tired, and days when the world would seem oppressive, but it was all part of being a family.

The kitchen remained a battlefield, but in their hearts, love grew, ready to embrace all the imperfections of life.

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feivelynart · 7 months ago

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Cosmic Horror out of Boredom

So I'm playing Stellaris and since the new dlc was about machines I thought I'd do a Driven Assimilator (think: Borg) playthrough again. To make it a bit harder on myself because I tend to extremely spiral completely out of control once I get the ball rolling with DA (and I hate managing a 200+ system empire), I decided to do a One Sector Challenge, meaning I can't settle or defend anything that isn't in a 4 jump radius from my Capital World. Claiming/Conquering is Ok, since that is unavoidable as DA when going on assimilation raids, though I won't build starbases or habitats, nor settle or occupy any planets outside of my core sector (Warfare only through nihilistic aquisition raiding bombardment).

So there is this pre-ftl civ just one jump outside my sector, that I haven't bothered with conquering/assimilating, since it is outside my designated area of expansion. I also just defeated the Grey Tempest and cleared the L-Cluster (which was not the cakewalk I was expecting since the midgame crises now scale along with the crisis strength setting, (finally, hooray!))

So I decided to grab the whole cluster along with the unoccupied gates, terraform the nanite worlds to the preference of the pre-ftls, sprinkle in some infrastructure and habitat complex hubs for good measure and wait until they reach FTL-travel to gift them the whole cluster, because I can't see it just sit there empty not being used since the AI empires are very much occupied in a War in Heaven right now, but I won't settle it myself for my self imposed limitations.

Ok, so now imagine: your planet just made the jump to FTL travel, the stars are yours to explore, the universe opened up, then there is that unknowable machine/cyborg hive-mind empire just chlling right outside of your system, or in fact they have watched you grow and develop for hundreds of years, and immediately make contact once the first FTL drive was a success. And they offer you this paradisic cluster of stars, with a dozen habitable planets made to the exact specification of your species. And then once it becomes known that there are is a whole galactic ommunity, you realize that your alien neighbors are usually regarded with suspicion or outright fear by other aliens, having brutally conquered other primitive planets like yours within their space, and emptied whole planets of other spacefaring nations on raids outside their territorry. And you can't shake the thought: Where is the catch? What are we to them? Cattle? Why do they need us to settle this start cluster?

One could probably write a series of novels on that idea.

#stellaris #2am thoughts

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alvinflavored · 6 months ago

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MADE TO CONQUER THE STARS ִֶָ

PROLOGUE— in an empire where the sun never set on it's dominions & the stars seemed to bow to it's might, a single figure stood to reshape destiny.

"you were born to inherit the stars."

the first born and heir to the throne, (name), in an empire that despised the very notion of a female ruler, bore the weight of an ancient prophecy on her shoulders. the gods had decreed that she alone would lead the empire to victory in an age-long war against it's rival empire and conquer the heavens.

despite the divine proclamation, her oath to the throne was fraught with obstacles. the imperial court and even her own siblings were a bastion of patriarchal tradition who conspired ceaselessly to cause her fall, with each nobleman convinced that a woman could never command their empire's might.

"how can a woman lead us?"

this all changes, however, when a knight enters her life. presented as a sword to protect (name), william was tall yet seemed weak, eyes that seemed to hold a thousand secrets. yet, as weeks turn into months, the lines between duty and desire began to blur.

the walls that the heir had built around herself crumble at her affection, but why is it so that for william, this soon became a torment? every smile, every secret and displays of affection drove a dagger deeper, and deeper into his soul. mysteries unfold, betrayal occurs, tears are shed, fury swallows.

"you—of all people—you do this to me."

and at the end of it all, the prophecy had come to pass — the stars were finally (name)'s to command, her throne besides the celestial titans guaranteed.

yet why does victory taste of ash and blood?

love in the end, is eclipsed by shadows of her destiny.

"i have been too late in my confession."

you fall to your knees. tears, blood & grime stain your face as you gather the fading man into your arms.

"i can see the stars, (name)."

you smile; yet your lips are quivering and pained. you must stay strong for this person. "yes. everything is fine now, my dear. get some rest for me."

"it has been a long time since i last saw the stars."

and as the twinkling lights of the empire came into view of the night sky, your's disappeared forever.

— inspired by 'THE TITAN'S CURSE'

#★ : alvinflavored #william james moriarty #william james moriarty x you #william james moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #★ : alv. mtcts series #made to conquer the stars series #mtcts series

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zara-renata · 1 month ago

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Even the rocks on the roadside - Sylus's POV | ao3 | part 1 | the Sylus series

Summary:

Sylus tries to get some paperwork done in his office while you sleep. He receives a call that turns his night upside down and makes him regret some strategic choices he's made up until this point in conquering your heart. This is Sylus's POV on 'Even the rocks on the roadside in the N109 Zone could tell'. This part is most understandable if you read mc's POV first.

Notes:

Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, Sylus's POV, second person POV Enemies-to-friends-to-lovers This story contains: pining, self-recrimination, angst, canon character death, grief, hurt/comfort from Sylus's POV, allusions to Sylus's lore that is just me taking shots in the dark because Infold is taking its sweet ass time providing us with his next myth memories. It could end up being completely wrong. Mentions of: fear of (domestic) violence, violence that occurs in game, mc with self-esteem issues, injury, boundary crossing typical of Sylus in game.

There was a time when Sylus wondered if he would ever have this again. A settled satisfaction, threaded through with an anticipatory challenge—a foundation that serves as a defensive bulwark against all of the enemies gathered against him, along with the challenging thrill of hanging over the edge of the ramparts, precision sniping to pick them off efficiently at the gates.

He’s waiting for you to wake up—you, the cornerstone in his foundation, you, the thrilling challenge dangling like a priceless jewel just out of his scope's reach. He has been adrift for years, amongst the stars. Behind enemy lines. Behind bars. Waiting to be called home again—to come in from the cold.

But now he’s finally home, and you’re in his bed, just down the hall. He has wanted you here again from the moment you sped away on your motorcycle after the auction, tires squealing under a spray of gravel, clearly relieved to be rid of him. But he knew he had to let you go, despite how it felt like you were pulling the marrow from his bones, the skin from his muscles as you went. Taking with you all of the parts of him that he needed to remain strong as he carved his way through the night between stars without you. He has felt… restless through the long hours and days and weeks ever since. Reports from the twins and Mephisto are never quite enough to calm him as you exist out there, away from him—his heart, walking around unprotected in a world full of horrors who are not him.

He knows you’re capable. He knows you’re smart, and can take care of yourself. But he has also collected enough puzzle pieces of the current you to know the cost of your strength now—and now, the compulsion to shelter you, to shield you from anything that could possibly hurt you, is a constant thrum under his skin.

He leans back in the leather chair as he sits behind his desk, shaking his head a little to rid himself of the memory of all those years without you, and the long stretches of worry when he’s not with you now that he’s found you again. Because his heart is here now. Just down the hall.

He is tempted to return to his bedroom right now. To slip into bed next to you and pull you close. But he wants to exploit this time to get through some work that needs to be settled sooner rather than later, so he can focus solely on you once you wake up. He’s having a hard time focusing right now though, with you finally, finally, right here. He hasn’t asked, before now, for you to come to him in his home. He has been trying to show you that he’s willing to go to any length to meet you where you are, emotionally, physically—exposing himself, time after time, to the harsh sunlight of Linkon City, to the risk of being recognized as he pulls up to your building, of running into your partner who despite his sleepy facade, helped you get into the N109 zone in the first place, and could possibly be aware of Sylus’s true identity. He will continue taking these risks, for as long as it takes, until you’re ready to come to him, to meet him in his world, and stay in the free moments you get from your calling.

Because it is clear to him now that your work as a hunter is a calling, and not just a job for you. He can’t think of your work as a hunter as simply work, because he now sees how intrinsically you have bound your work to your sense of self, thus creating an identity that justifies, in your mind, why anyone would value you. As if you, all by yourself, are insufficient.

A notion that he would like to disabuse you of sooner, rather than later. But for now, he must focus on his immediate work. He flicks his gaze to the open contract on his tablet, to the papers that need final checking and then signature. All of the things Aidan, his legal counsel, could and should be doing for him. But they were friends before Sylus hired him. And as a friend, Aidan insists that Sylus is aware of the details of everything he signs, that he makes a deliberate choice regarding his business and the risks he’s willing to take, in the event that Aidan isn’t there to advise him. Their world is dark, and dangerous, and people die so easily. Despite all of Aidan’s foppish vanity, he’s a good friend, and a good lawyer. Forcing Sylus to be aware of why Aidan gives the advice that he does is part of Aidan’s … care, as a friend. Sylus snorts and thinks that his retainer fee should be reduced proportionally for every minute he has to spend away from you because of legal paperwork.

With a snap of his fingers, the stack of papers twirls up into the air, caught in the tornado of his evol. He lets it swirl, enjoying the sound of paper fluttering. He considers letting the sheets spin fast enough for the paper to shred itself, which in his opinion is the only proper response to the insulting clauses that he will not be accepting contained on the pages. But Aidan will grumble about having to reprint the damn things, since the man inexplicably prefers redlining the drafts with a physical, old-fashioned fountain pen instead of doing everything digitally. Sylus sniffs. He and Aidan are friends, after all. The appreciation for fine, tangible things is something they share, in an era where everything comes and goes with the impermanence of data drifting through the air, lost when the cloud’s servers explode along with Sylus’s casually planted explosives. Speaking of fountain pens… he lifts one such sharp little writing utensil with his evol, and sends it sailing like a throwing knife through the paper tornado. It hits the wall opposite his desk with a satisfying thunk, and he lets the papers drift back to his desk, now with some of the pages neatly punctured. That will have to satisfy him, for now. He’s so bored, trying to focus on his work instead of you, when you’re lying warm and safe in his bed.

Instead of going to you like he wants, he exerts some measure of self control and glances down at your phone, fiddles with the little charm on a sturdy ribbon he added to it tonight. A kitty’s paw, for his kitten’s phone. It was silly, and cute, and when he saw it dangling in a boutique window one night on his way to a meeting in the N109 zone, he had gotten it for you on a whim. Adding the charm is not the only thing he has done with your phone, however, while you have been asleep tonight. Sylus is looking forward to seeing the look on your face, once you realize what he has orchestrated for you, because you refuse to do it for yourself. It’s always entertaining to watch you go through a whole spectrum of emotions when you discover one of his little plots—shock, disbelief, anger, frustration. Sometimes, when he’s very lucky, you’re amused. But in the end, always, acceptance. Sometimes the acceptance is resigned—at other times, it’s with a side of relief that he thinks you don’t even realize you feel, once he has removed all obstacles and objections for you, gently funneling you down the path he wants you to take. Because everything he does, he does for you. For your benefit. For your health. For your pleasure. He rather likes this win-win situation, because when you’re benefited, and healthy, and pleased, so is he. He has accepted much worse deals, in his long years of wheeling and dealing. But with all things involving you, he never has to settle, because you are the reward, in the end.

He doesn’t read back through the texts “you” have sent to your doctor, or your boss. He simply basks in the satisfaction of a successful ruse, and the anticipation of being able to help you heal from the open wound you’ve been curled around for months, and probably years. If that means he also gets to have more time with you, well. Who is he to not enjoy a perk of the task at hand?

He sets your phone back down, and gazes past the large snake’s tongue plant in a dark pot next to the window in his office. The night is cold, and dark. The skyscrapers in the distance glitter in the distance, malignant growths in the corrupted valley below his base. He can see the wind gusting by the periodic swirls of dust and pebbles that drift across the N109 zone’s bleak landscape. He’s glad he’s in here, warm in his office, and that you’re in there, warm in his bed, instead of either of you having to be out on this bleak autumn night. He hates this place. He has done his best to create a base and a home as a refuge within this tainted region, but it never quite blots out the desolation beyond its walls. Despite his distaste, it’s best this way. The view serves as a constant reminder of everything he has yet to accomplish. Everything he has yet to avenge. All the work that he must unwaveringly do, even as he tries to lure you deeper and deeper into his world before he breaks both of you out of it again.

He sighs, and is about to give up and check on you, just for a moment, to soothe this ache of distance, distance that is actually so short compared to how far he has been from you for years. But now that you’re here, so close, he has only a diminishing ability to bear even the shortest of space between you. He pauses when his own phone vibrates on his desk.

He considers not picking up so that he can see you faster, but sees that it’s Luke calling. He hits the speaker icon.

“Speak.”

“Uh, boss?” Luke’s voice comes through the speakers, and Sylus recognizes that tone of voice. The tone of voice that says, You’re not going to like what I have to say, but I promise it’s not my fault this time… Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose, preparing to tell Luke and Kieran to handle whatever it is, because he will not be taking one step further away from you tonight, even if his empire is on the verge of collapse.

“Who else, Luke?” he says. “Speak.”

“Do you know where your hunter is?”

Luke and Kieran may be many things, but they aren’t cruel. They like pranks, but the harmless kind. They have gone through too much, survived too much, having only each other to rely on, to turn Sylus’s feelings for you into fodder for a joke. Sylus stands, turning speaker mode off and bringing the phone to his ear. He strides towards the door as he speaks. “I left my kitten in my bed, asleep, while I went to take care of some paperwork in my office.” He pauses. “Is there a reason you’re asking me this?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure we just passed someone on the hillside road to base who looks, like, a scary amount like your hunter. With no shoes on. Or coat.”

Sylus doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t think. He ends the call, shoves the phone into his trousers, and begins to jog. He flings open the door to his bedroom, slamming his hand on the sensor next to the door. The room is immediately bathed in a soft, warm glow from the recessed lighting. He can see, even from here, that his bed, the bed he left you sleeping peacefully in, is empty.

Sylus doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t think. He turns, and begins to run.

***

Sylus has a sword in his chest, and this time he is the one who put it there.

He doesn’t know why you left without saying a word. He doesn’t know why you didn’t come find him when you woke up. He doesn’t know why you didn’t take your clothes, or your shoes, before you went. This not knowing is driving him insane. As he steers through the dark night in the Phantom MPV— not a tank, and not the cybertruck, he thinks with disdain, one of his assassin friends, Taé, accused it of being when she saw him roll up in it to a meeting right after it was delivered—the vehicle he had customized for you and for Noah to drive when you were visiting him in the N109 zone and he couldn’t be with you—his mind races, trying to identify what would have motivated you to flee his house in nothing more than a thin sweater and a pair of shorts.

He is not surprised that he didn’t hear you. You could be stealthy, and fast, especially on your bare feet. And the base’s security system is programmed to unlock every door and vault, every safe room and vehicle, for you through facial recognition. It is not programmed to keep you in or out. Not since those first three days, when he couldn’t bear for you to leave yet. When he needed you to expend all of your hate and fury on him, long enough for him to maneuver you into working with him in the future. As a result, he wasn’t alerted when you left tonight.

He is surprised, however, as his headlights carve through the dark night and suddenly illuminate Luke and Kieran’s Ferrari SF90 XX Stradale and broken glass glitters in the sudden illumination on the driver’s side of the car. He’s surprised at the look on your face, as you drop a large rock from your limp hand and it lands heavily on the roadside next to your feet. The look on your face that can only be described as pure, anguished fear.

Sylus feels the expression on your face like a sword through his heart. You’re looking at him through the windshield of the Phantom like he is the culmination of all of your nightmares, personified.

You didn’t even look this scared as he was strangling you, which feels like a whole lifetime ago now for him. You’ve come so far since then. You let him so near, since then. You’ve allowed him in your home, in your bed, in your arms, sharing the same breath. But now you’re looking at him like the monster he knows himself to be, but you can’t know. Not yet.

He yanks the emergency brake on the SUV and gets out, leaving the engine running. He strides over to the driver’s side of the Ferrari and leans down to see Kieran’s wide, dark eyes, and a bruise already forming around his neck, sharply contrasting against his light brown skin.

“You good?” Sylus asks.

“Yeah, boss. But I think your hunter is rather distressed,” he answers, his voice unusually gravelly, probably from how hard it looks like you had gripped his throat.

Sylus straightens, and takes a long look at Luke. He trusts that Kieran is okay when he says so. But Luke… having to stay still, while someone hurt his brother, even if it was unintentional—Sylus knows that it would have taken a monumental amount of self control on his part not to react to protect Kieran. Luke looks back at Sylus, mouth set in an uncharacteristically grim line. But he nods, almost imperceptibly. So Sylus gestures for him to get in the car, and he goes.

Sylus doesn’t look back as Kieran begins to pull away, turning all of his focus on you now. He watches as you close your eyes, and he watches the way you’re clenching your fists, the furrow of your brows, the way you’ve holding yourself just a little bit hunched, shoulders drawn up. As if you’re waiting for… He wants to shake his head, to rid himself of the thought. But you look like you’re ready to take a fist to the stomach, and in a rush—the kind of intuitive flood that has saved his life more than once, where all the contextual clues of a situation coalesce into utter certainty without him even being able to retrace how he came to the correct reading of the situation—Sylus realizes what you’re doing. What you’re waiting for.

There is a sword in his heart, and he is the one who put it there, this time.

Sylus bitterly hates to disappoint you, and he bitterly hates to keep you waiting, but what you’re expecting right now is not something he can ever give you in this life—not again. You will have to make do with his coat, and not the fist you’re expecting. He shrugs out of it and in a flourish has it wrapped around your shoulders. You’re shaking so hard. He wants to sweep you into his arms and carry you to the SUV, but he knows, just as he knows that you were waiting for violence from him, that if he touches you now, without asking, he may break whatever tenuous thread is keeping you in place right now before him instead of careening away from him again.

He waits for you. He’s waited for you for lifetimes. He can wait a little longer for you to open your eyes and look at him.

Finally, you do. Sylus takes in the look of terror bleeding into confusion, your eyes so big, so bright under the red moon. He sees himself in them. He never wants to see anything else in them. But along with himself, he sees your confusion. How tired you are. How scared you are. He sees regret. None of these things are acceptable to him.

“If you wanted to go for a run, sweetheart, you could have just told me. We have a perfectly functional home gym, equipped with treadmills with big screens that make you feel like you’re running on a serene mountain path or along the beach. There’s no need to endure the desolation of the N109 zone’s ‘scenery’ when you’re here with me but want to work out.”

You don’t respond to him. Not even the ghost of a smile. “What’s wrong? Crow’s got your tongue?” He tries to lift the corner of his mouth into a smile that he does not feel, in an attempt to draw you out of the shell you’ve retreated into. He can’t help himself—he lifts his hand, and touches the corner of your mouth. He’s immensely relieved when you don’t flinch.

But your face. Your eyes. You watch him with the wariness of prey resigned to being torn apart, instead of killed cleanly. You watch him with the resignation of the condemned who knows that before the headsman’s axe, it will be the rack, who expects the laziness of the four horses when their flanks are slapped before the quartering.

Sylus hates it. There isn’t a word for it in the human tongue for how much he loathes the look on your face, in your eyes. He’d rather you put a sword through him again, than ever see that look on your face again.

You ask if he’s angry with you.

As if you could ever be capable of doing anything that truly makes him angry. He’ll carry this sword in his heart until the end of time and never be truly angry with the choices you made that led to it being lodged in his chest.

He needs to touch you. He needs to hold you. He asks you, again and again, but you won’t release him from the torture of this unmet need. It was easier to bear, when you weren’t right in front of him. Before, he could survive through endless years without you in his arms. But his tolerance for the feeling of being bereft, the emptiness of his hands and his arms, is approaching a breaking point, the closer he is to you. You’re so close, he can almost taste you. He just needs you to say yes.

You ask if he’s demanding your consent to hit you. To hurt you. To cause you pain.

He takes a deep, slow breath. He can scent you, even in the wind, even from this distance. Your smell, the loveliness of the sweat drying on your skin, the faint aroma of your shampoo still lingering in your hair. It helps. He is able to calm himself, a little, instead of tearing out his own heart and throwing it at your feet, which is what he wants to do as he realizes that you actually think he’d be cruel enough to demand that you give him permission to hurt you.

He tells you to ask your questions. But you don’t. He asks you why you don’t want to return to his home. You let out that same terrible laugh, the laugh from outside the arcade, when you were asking him why he wasn’t already used to being disappointed by you. The laugh he never wanted to hear from you, ever again.

And when you finally answer him, through chattering teeth, as your body shakes so hard it looks painful, that same realization floods through him again, along with the despair—the despair that he hasn’t felt since he realized that you had blamed him for your family’s death, the despair that he had pressed like a bruise and then resolved to discard because he was not giving up on you, not in any past life, and certainly not in this one—the despair courses through him like slow poison now.

He has been so arrogant. Congratulating himself on how swiftly he has been able to win you over. He interpreted your willingness to let him touch you, to come to your home, to sleep in your bed, as progress in building toward what he ultimately wants from you. You, in his arms. Your trusting heart, in his hands. Your soul, entwined with his until they’re indistinguishable. He had thought that because someone as closed off as you—someone who engages in so much self-protection—allowed him so close, that you were steadily coming to accept him, all of him, from the beginning through to tonight, as he laid you as carefully as possible in his big bed, as he ran his fingers along what he thought was your trusting face, peaceful in sleep before he left the room.

He’s made so many mistakes, from the very first moment he lifted you in the air with his evol and wrapped his hand around your throat.

He wills himself to stay still. He wills himself to refrain from using his evol to fling the SUV across the desolate landscape. He wills himself to keep his mouth shut, to keep the roar of self-recrimination and grief and rage at this life that has been so cruel to you, at all of his missteps as a result of not understanding how hurt you were before he ever found you again, from clawing its way out of his throat because you might think he’s furious with you, when it’s he and not you who put the sword in his heart this time.

As he stills, he studies you. Your bare, bloody feet. Your legs, goosebumps drifting up your skin to the flimsy shorts fluttering a little in the wind. Your arms, still hanging stiffly at your sides, as if you’re forcing yourself not to wrap them around yourself, forcing yourself to remain unprotected in the face of his rage. Your lovely face, with your teeth clicking so loudly it drowns out his own need to bellow into the night of this awful place.

It doesn’t matter what he wants, right now. He will do as he has always done in the face of setbacks. In the face of bad luck. Wrong time, wrong place, wrong play. He will re-calibrate, and he will fucking try again. He will tuck every puzzle piece he has collected of you in this life, and he will use it to do what matters. And what matters is what you need.

“Can I, please, touch you,” he begs. He will drop to his knees, if that’s what it takes.

But unlike all the other versions of you he has known, you don’t ask him to debase himself until you’re satisfied in the wake of his missteps. You just nod, a tiny little movement, and the relief flooding through him has him wanting to get on his knees simply out of gratitude for the benevolence of your heart in this life, a life that should have hardened you instead of leaving you with all of your tenderness exposed.

Finally, finally, he lifts your shivering body in his arms, and he carries you back to warmth. He convinces you to let him take you back to his home. The quiet resignation that he interpreted as acceptance, less than what? An hour ago? soaks your answer, which is just a nod against his chest. He hates it, now. But the nod of assent has to be enough for him, for now.

He takes you home. He carries you to his bedroom, the place where you woke up alone, in the dark, probably disoriented and afraid. The answers to the questions he had while driving to find you slam into him, each so much more obvious than the last. How could he have been so careless? Oh yes, Sylus the plans within plans man, the master strategist. He let the person dearest to him wake up alone, in the dark, in the place where he had imprisoned and tortured you.

You shake in his arms, the whole way. Wave after wave sweeping under your skin, no matter how tightly he holds you against himself.

Finally, he sets you on one of the vintage scroll benches in the bathroom. He gets the shower going, determined to warm you up as soon as possible. He’s going to punch through the wall if he has to feel you shiver for much longer. And then, because you have not asked it of him, he kneels before you, and looks up into your exhausted, drawn face.

“Your clothes need to come off,” he says, a fact and a question. Will you let him remain near you as you peel back the last layers of your armor, after everything he has done to you?

You just nod. It’s enough for him, for now. He tries to remove your clothing as gently as possible, to treat you with the care due to spun glass, although he knows you’re more resilient than titanium. Your skin is soft underneath his knuckles as he lifts your sweater, as he slips the silk sleep shorts from your strong legs. He settles you in the shower, and the warmth of the water is welcome after the chill autumn wind. He peels his own clothes off, and finally, finally, pulls you into his arms, letting the spray of the shower hit you full on, hoping that this will be enough to warm you through, with the warm water streaming down your chest and his warm skin at your back.

Ever since you burst back into his life, Sylus has had an ache in his chest, even when you’re right there, as if he can never get close enough, no matter how tightly he holds you. He needs to be inside you. He needs you to be inside him. He would carve himself open and pull you in, carry you in his chest where his heart should be, where you belong. If he could. If you would let him. He knows you’re not ready yet. He knows that this strange compulsion isn’t necessarily healthy, and not possible. So sitting here, holding you in the shower, so tightly against him as the steam and water envelop you both—it will have to do. Satisfaction courses through him as the shivers racking your body begin to slow, the waves of goosebumps having already disappeared. He could sit here with you until the sun collapses in on itself, and all the stars blink out, one by one, at the end of all things, without boredom and without regret.

But you have other ideas, as usual. You grow still in his arms, your body melting into him, but then he hears the first strangled sob catch in your throat, and he realizes that you’re weeping. The sword through his heart is nothing compared to the lance of pain he feels as you begin to howl, your keening filling the bathroom and echoing. At first he’s afraid that you’ll try to tear away from him as you start to shift in his lap, but as you turn and collapse back against him, your chest heaving against his, your arms wrapped so tightly around his neck, that insatiable ache inside him pulses. You’re here. As close as you can get, without peeling back his skin and slipping inside. You seem to be drawing comfort from his body as it holds you. He’s glad for it, because what is the point of having a big, strong body if not to shelter you? He has no words to give you—what can he say to someone who has lost everyone you held dear? Who has been treated so cruelly by fate and by the people who should have cared for you the most? Himself included.

He has no words of comfort, because the one person he has to lose, that he has already lost, again and again, is now weeping in his arms, and it’s entirely his own fault this time. The only thing he has to offer you right now is the strength in his body. So he simply holds you tighter, tries to hum you a little lullaby, rocks you gently. He hopes it is enough, for now. He holds you, and he hopes he can try again, and again, and again, until he gets it right. Before you tell him to go and mean it.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #love and deepspace fanfiction #my fanfic #some of you asked for this so here it is #i hope it makes sense and isn't repetitive #sylus's singular obsessiveness makes me worry that i am only writing him one-note and that's not the intention #but it was an interesting challenge this week

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