#no offense star wars but really. how long am I going to have to use those unidentified tags.

[the-irreverend]

The Inferno Theory: The Chara Theory to End All Chara Theories

Here we are! Nine years of Undertale. And seeing how Chara is heavily associated with the number 9 (AND THAT TOBY FOX FINALLY TALKED ABOUT THEM), I can't think of a better way to celebrate the occasion than by dedicating this 5000-word-long theory about them? Y'all remember when people used to make long-ass theories about Chara? Yeah, they're coming back with a vengeance! To say I have a colossal hyperfixation is a massive understatement. No character in all of fiction has had a bigger impact on my life than this little rose-cheeked, cocoa-addicted freak. I’ve been a Chara fan for as long as I’ve been an Undertale fan, and you can bet that my understanding of them has changed a lot since. And now I have the pleasure of sharing said understandings with y’all!

Once upon a time, there was an aroace autistic who, like most of y’all, had a very unhealthy obsession with Undertale. And unlike most of you, he thought the Genocide Route was really fun. Most fans talk about how unhappy they felt killing everyone, but for me, I felt like a polar bear at a baby harp seal convention. I got a disturbing level of happiness out of turning everyone to dust. Hell, the only unhappiness I felt was when I couldn’t turn Monster Kid to dust.

Oh well, at least I got a good consolation prize!

I was one sadistic son of a gun, and so I was even more delighted to find out I had a secret admirer/partner-in-crime and that they joined in on the fun because I was such a goshdarn inspiration to them. Not wishing to disappoint my self-appointed partner, I erased the world without a second thought, eagerly awaiting what we might get to do together.

So you can guess I was pretty taken aback when, instead of a warm welcome, they started lecturing me about how I couldn’t accept the world’s destruction and that I was the one fully responsible for it (even though they were eager to take credit for it earlier). I didn’t think much of it at first. Initially, I just thought that they were just irritated that I was undoing what we had worked so hard to accomplish.

But as this game taught me time after time, you should never trust your first impressions. Those first impressions would crumble to dust when they said this.

To say I was completely baffled is an understatement. Why the hell would this prepubescent genocidal maniac be so obsessed over whether or not I think I’m above consequences? So obsessed to the point they would tell me to go to hell if I told them no? It was at that moment I realized there was something more to this character than meets the eye. But for a long time, I couldn’t seem to figure out what that something was. And it didn’t seem like anyone could figure that out either.

I’m very much a veteran of the fan wars that have emerged surrounding Chara. In fact, one might even say I am a deserter of sorts, as I am a former member of the Chara Defence Squad, Offense Squad, and Neutralist Squad. But I’m not gonna be a stuck-up and say everyone’s a canon-ignoring idiot except for me and that I’m the only one who knows what Toby Fox intended Chara to be. Even though I ended up with a very different take than yours (and will certainly argue why it’s the best), I owe you all your discussions a huge debt, and I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t gotten invested in your interpretations, to begin with. Not to mention that, contrary to what some may argue, you’ve made some valid points to complement them.

And while the debate that resulted from Chara’s ambiguous morality has led to a lot of controversy and even toxicity, it has also been a source of some FANTASTIC CONTENT. Like seriously, would we have gotten those badass renditions of Stronger Than You if no one thought Chara was an awful person? Would we have gotten Man on the Internet’s beautiful rendition of Star if no one thought Chara was a good person (turned awful)?

It would be utter hypocrisy for me to ask of you to approach me and my arguments (or anyone who accepts them) with understanding and good faith only to then not do the same to anyone who doesn’t agree with me. In this theory, I will definitely argue why some points made about Chara are flawed; points that you might hold yourself. But that doesn’t automatically mean that you (or your takes) are intellectually or morally inferior to mine. And besides, I’m not Toby Fox.

So with that said, why did I eventually came to disagree with pretty much everyone about Chara? Because, one way or another, I couldn’t find a take that clicked with me personally as I felt there were various inconsistencies and issues holding them back. I looked at YouTube videos, subreddits, Tumblr essays, Twitter threads, and even forums on the Steam Community. But I couldn’t really find what I thought were satisfactory answers to the questions I had about Chara’s motivations, role in the game, and relationship with the player.

And then, one day, I found those answers. It all happened when I asked myself: “What if Chara didn’t turn against me… because they were always against me from the start?!”

I don’t mean that Chara only saw you as a means to an end. I mean that YOU were the end. What if Chara didn’t use you so they could screw over the monsters but they used the monsters so they could screw over YOU.

You probably think I’m insane, don’t you? And you’re right! I AM INSANE! AND SO IS THIS WHOLE DAMN THEORY!!! But somehow, someway, it just works!! And I’ll show you why and how!!!

What you are about to read is the culmination of six years of reading and critiquing Chara takes and theories of every kind and quality, whether it be Judgement Boy’s Who is the Real Villain of Undertale to Wandydoodles’ Oblivion Theory. Six years of examining the arguments and counterarguments of Chara defenders, offenders, and neutralists alike. Six years of looking in every corner of the UTDR fandom. From the tranquil lands of Quora. To the dark recesses of Reddit. To the intellectual wastelands of Twitter. To the fiery hellsite of Tumblr. So, without further ado, get ready for some of the most pure, unadulterated, high-octane, universe-collapsing neurodivergence you’ve ever seen in your life!!!!!

Part 1: The demonic heritage of the "demon who comes when people call its name".

Have you ever had one of those moments where you’ve asked yourself, “What the actual hell is this guy talking about?” I bet you’re having that moment right now. Everything about their character post-death, including their motives, their methods, and their relationship with you, is perfectly reflected in one of their most famous (or rather infamous) lines:

When most people hear the word demon, the first thing that comes to mind is a being made of pure evil whose only purpose in life is to destroy all things good in the world. Right?

Well, yes, but actually, no. It’s a little more complicated than that. To argue that Chara is a demon because they’re simply “an evil little twerp that enjoys being evil” doesn’t do them or their role in Undertale justice (although that hasn’t stopped people from trying to argue that). To understand why calling themselves a demon is EXTREMELY important, we need to dive into the wonderful (and totally not controversial) world of religious beliefs!

In ancient and modern religions, demons are a little more complex than just ethereal jackasses with a vendetta against virtue and righteousness. Though they vary from faith to faith, most demons have a specific set of qualities and tropes that make them integral to whatever faith they’re in. You also see these demonic qualities in fiction that’s derived or inspired by religions, and since Undertale’s lore and worldbuilding have a heavy emphasis on the spiritual and divine, you can see them in Chara. Since Undertale is a game of “Western” origin, you can definitely see they share qualities that are all too familiar with devils of “Western” religions. In classic devil fashion, they target those with weak integrities or suspect morals; they tempt you with the promise of fulfilling your desires at your and everyone else’s expense; they’re able to control your body as you grow their power through your sins, and hell, they even do the thing where they make a deal for your soul. Also...

But though it's evident that Chara encourages you to do “evil,” THEY THEMSELVES are not responsible for it. Yes, Chara encouraged you to kill, but YOU are the one who acted on those encouragements. In fact, YOU are the one who encouraged THEM to help you out! They walked down the dark path with you, but you didn’t really give them anywhere else they could walk. You had all the power and every chance to turn back and no reason to keep walking. And yet you persisted.

But that does beg the question, why did you walk it at all? What could possibly inspire you to give all of these characters happiness, satisfaction, and peace and then rip it all away? Because you decided that giving everyone the most satisfying ending was not satisfying enough for you. Because there was more that you could experience for yourself, even if it meant making everyone else experience something absolutely horrific. It wasn’t enough for you to fill the glass only halfway. You needed to fill it to the brim. You wanted to reach the absolute. Even if doing the Genocide Run was a bad experience for you, you CANNOT deny it was a fulfilling one. And Chara knows it, too. It ain’t exactly a coincidence that fulfillment and fullness are recurring motifs in Chara’s character.

Like all demons, Chara is able to tempt the wicked and sinful by targeting our greatest weaknesses and deficiencies. It’s no different from how Succubi and Incubi target those who succumb to the sin of lust. That’s why you won’t go after my aroace ass anytime soon. But I digress.

But Chara doesn't just tempt us by exploiting our need to fill the glass to the brim but also because of how they exploit the satisfaction we get from watching it fill up, that is to say, the satisfaction that comes from trying to achieve fulfillment.

We humans are addicted to progression as much as we are to completion, and in an RPG like Undertale, the satisfaction of progression comes in the form of NUMBERS. Not just the numbers that flash on the screen when you battle enemies but also the ones that go up when you finish said enemies off, whether it be your hit points, experience points, and so on. And Undertale isn’t any ordinary RPG; it’s one where its RPG elements are interwoven into the fabric of the game’s universe. Because of that, Chara is able to use these elements in their world to influence those outside of it.

But Chara does not just influence us through the numbers that increase but also the ones that decrease. That’s why the first thing they do when we reach Snowdin is give us a tally. 

It’s not just there to measure progress. It’s also there to incentivize us to keep progressing. It gives us a small dose of satisfaction that’s enough to distract us from the mundanity and misery of the murder run, like a loading bar on a loading screen. And just like with loading screens, the farther it progresses, the harder it gets to turn away. Why would you want all the lives you’ve taken and the stats you’ve gained to amount to nothing? Why would you want to hit reset and go through those brutal fights with Sans and Undyne again? You can’t empty out the glass, not when you’re that much closer to filling it to the brim. Speaking of Sans and Undyne, it’s quite interesting that even though they barely know you, they know exactly why you won’t take your foot off the pedal, so to speak.

But that’s not the only thing driving you, isn’t it? Chara knows that there was something else that was spurning you along. Something more powerful and more dangerous than your addiction to progression and completion: PRIDE. 

Perhaps the real reason you kept giving in to sin until it was far too late was because you didn’t think it would be too late. You didn’t hold back because you thought you would be able to go back. You thought you could just absolve your sins with the press of a button like you did in countless worlds before. You thought you could dive in, touch the bottom, and come back out of the water. But what were you getting into? How deep would you have gone? And would you have gone in if you knew you couldn’t possibly return? You know you wouldn’t. And Chara knows it, too. That brings us back to the dialogue I showed you at the beginning of this theory. The one said changed everything I knew about this character, and I firmly believe that this is the MOST important line of dialogue in the entire franchise.

PART 2: THE PART WHERE I (PRETEND TO) DESTROY 9 YEARS OF ESTABLISHED FANON!

When I say that that little blurb about being above consequences is ABSOLUTELY ESSENTIAL, I do not say that lightly. It isn’t just important to Chara's character, but the game of Undertale as a whole! Anyone who’s serious about Chara’s character should never take this for granted because Chara sure as hell does not.

It’s not just our refusal to accept the world’s destruction that’s a huge-ass deal to Chara; it’s the arrogance and complacency that accompanies it, rooted in the position and privileges we have as the player. It matters to them so much that they’re willing to completely forgo bartering for our soul (which they say they want) if we don’t admit that we have that belief!

And yet, despite Chara taking this subject so seriously, the people who are analyzing their character ironically don’t. Generally speaking, most people simply brush this line off as nothing more than something they do to help them on their quest to achieve their goals. So, with that said, let’s talk about what those supposed goals actually are.

In all my years of reading and assessing countless Chara theories and interpretations, I’ve discovered that everyone actually agrees on what Chara's goals are. They just can’t agree on why they want them. Said goals are A) reach the absolute, B) max out their numbers/power, C) erase the world, and/or D) eradicate all monsters. But what if it’s actually the other way around? What if those things were the means to an end rather than the ends themselves?

What if the true goal of the “demon who comes when people call its name” was just like that of the demons of old: not to be your partner in crime, but to torment and punish you for your crimes? To make you face CONSEQUENCES!

I’m not making this argument simply because it makes Chara look more badass (though I think it totally does, lol). I firmly believe that Undertale’s post-Genocide content is written so that Chara’s character can only make sense if that was Chara’s goal from start to finish. Because if Chara’s endgame was any of those four I mentioned earlier, their character kinda falls apart because they're awfully inconsistent about fulfilling them. And those inconsistencies are evident in the Second Geno Ending.

Discrepancy 1) They say they will “appear time and time again” to help us “eradicate the enemy and become strong,” and yet they call us perverted for eradicating everyone time and time again.

You can argue that they didn’t want us to recreate the world in the first place and just move on to another world, but if so, why let us come back at all? And if it’s to get our soul, why do they keep around this world after we have it? This leads us to...

Discrepancy 2) They tell us to ERASE the world and move on to the next, and yet they allow us to restore it without a hitch after we give them our SOUL, seeing how there’s no black void when we start the game again.

If Chara was powerless to stop us from coming back, this wouldn’t be such a big deal. But they CLEARLY DEMONSTRATE that they’re able to stop the player from restoring the world, as seen in the first post-genocide ending. And yet they don’t use this power after the first time the world is erased (WHICH YOU WOULD THINK THEY WOULD WANT TO USE SINCE THEY WANT TO ERASE THE WORLD AND MOVE ON TO ANOTHER)! Seeing how the world is back again without us doing anything makes the restoration of the world like something that Chara CHOSE ON THEIR OWN VOLITION. And what makes this all the more damning is...

Discrepancy 3) They tell us they’re down bad for increasing our ATK, DEF, EXP, and LV to the max and erasing the world and everyone in it, and yet they TELL US TO DEVIATE FROM THE ONLY ROUTE THAT ACCOMPLISHES THAT (which, as stated before, they call us perverse for doing it again).

So, let me get something straight. You tell us you want to ”eradicate the enemy” and “ erase this pointless world,” and yet not only are you allowing us to undo all of that, you want us to do something INSTEAD OF THAT??? It’s funny how you lecture us about how we cannot accept the world’s destruction BECAUSE, APPARENTLY, YOU WON’T EITHER!!!!! Also, before I forget...

Discrepancy 4)

WHAT KIND OF MISANTHROPE DEDICATES THEIR WHOLE LIFE TO WIPING OUT HUMANITY, GETS GIFT-WRAPPED A CHANCE TO DO THAT, AND THEN JUST PASSES IT UP?!?!?!

On behalf of misanthropes everywhere, I am DEEPLY disappointed in you!

So it doesn’t matter if you believe Chara is always evil, good, or detached from morality entirely. Because Chara has the same goal across all versions, they all succumb to the same inconsistencies!

Funny how most people see them as this embodiment of the addictive nature of levelling up and consuming everything in a piece of media and all that jazz WHEN THEY SEEM TO CASUALLY GIVE UP ON IT!!!!!!

And if you argue they want a Soulless Pacifist Run when they suggest “another path,” then ask yourself, what does that give them that a Genocide Run doesn’t? Keep in mind, aside from a scribbled-out photograph, we don’t see how many monsters or humans they killed besides the main characters or how much power and stats they gained from it. And it’s not like we see them erase the world afterward since only the genocide run has that infamous wall of red 9s. Not to mention, the genocide run is the most secure way of accomplishing their goals since they have the backing of the player. Not only that, but it’s also the safest and most efficient way to erase everyone and increase stats to the fullest, and we all know how Chara feels about efficiency.

So Chara has no reason to pick the Soulless pacifist ending over the Genocide Run if they want to achieve their end of increasing numbers and consuming the world… unless those things were a means to an end rather than ends themselves.

Indeed it is coming together! That’s the other reason their statement, “You think you’re above consequences,” is so damn important! They’re not telling us why we sinned, but it reveals they intend to make us suffer for those sins, and how.

That’s why Chara is seemingly so inconsistent about erasing the world. Because it was never about the world. It was all about YOU.

[SIDE NOTE: I’m sure many of you will point out that if Chara wanted us to get a Soulless ending in this world, then why would they encourage us to “move on to the next?” I don’t think this is too big an issue for two reasons. First, this line is meant to emphasize that, like all demons, Chara is inescapable and that no matter what world you go to (within their own universe), Chara will always follow you now that you’ve unleashed them. Second, because their goal concerns us and not the world they’re a part of, their character avoids the aforementioned inconsistencies that hamper the other Chara theories much more severely, in my opinion.]

Part 3: Contrapasso

Now I’m sure some of y’all might think that Chara doesn’t need to yearn for our torment to achieve the impact of the Soulless ending and that just because Chara is a demon doesn’t automatically mean they need to screw us over. You are right in that not everyone who makes a Faustian Bargain needs to have malicious intentions toward the people they’re taking advantage of (Kuybey from Madoka Magica is a great example of that). But Chara does need it! Not only does it make their character more narratively cohesive, but also makes their character more thematically impactful. And it’s more in tune with their demonic nature for them to want to torment us.

Because demons represent something more terrifying than evil itself. They represent the terrible price of embracing it, a price that all evildoers fear more than anything, and that all demons want seek to inflict upon us. Like most demons, Chara isn’t encouraging us to sin to fill the emptiness in our soul (or even their own). They did it to perpetuate that torturously empty and unfulfilled state for all eternity, a state which even themselves now endure.

Now, you’ve probably noticed that I’ve talked a lot about the themes of fulfillment and emptiness, and it’s for a good reason since those themes are heavily featured in Undertale. I mean, how could it not? Because concepts of demons, hell, and sins (which are explicitly mentioned in the game) are deeply intertwined with the concept of emptiness. The theologian Thomas Aquinas once defined evil as not a presence but as an absence (of that which is good). Darkness is the absence of light; war is the absence of peace; bigotry is the absence of tolerance; pride is the absence of humility, etc. You see this reflected in not just Christian theology but also fiction as a whole, as a lot of villains are motivated by a desire to obtain something that they believe can’t be without. Whether it be wealth, status, recognition, power, the death of an individual, or even just sadistic pleasure.

Since demons are beings that are inseparable from evil itself, the life of a demon is forever cursed by unceasing and unbearable emptiness. Hell, the word damnation originated from the Latin word damnum, which literally means loss! They’re not exactly partying in hell while your immortal soul is being slow-roasted for eternity. They’re burning in that lake of fire and brimstone along with you! They can’t end their damnation, not because they don’t want to but because they simply can’t. They’re fated to be bereft of the satisfaction or fulfillment found in Heaven or Earth, a fate that is worse than death in every sense of the word, especially since they can’t experience death anymore. Because of that, a demon embodies what is perhaps the most terrifying form of evil of all: not one rooted in a desire to rid the emptiness and unfulfillment within themselves, but a desire to inflict them upon others. Because as a wise philosopher once said:

We see this horrific state of mutually assured suffering everywhere across fiction. From goofy, lighthearted tokusatsu's...

...to nightmarish sci-fi dystopias...

...to a little indie game made 9 years ago.

Oh yeah. Don’t think I was gonna talk about emptiness without mentioning everyone’s favourite homicidal fauna-turned-flora, especially not with lines like this.

Take one to know one! And it can’t be a coincidence that the game emphasizes the theme of emptiness when giving the spotlight to the three characters that have committed the most “evil”: Flowey/Asriel, Chara, and YOU.

Quite the unholy trinity going on here, eh? It truly is fascinating how the emptiness led us to work with each other to exterminate all monsters. And it’s also interesting how the unique kind of emptiness we have eventually led us to work against each other. Whether it be Flowey wishing to preserve his sentimentality for his long-gone sibling, us players wanting to maintain our (perverted) sentimentality for the world of Undertale, or Chara weaponizing these sentimentalities to exact their misanthropic hatred.

Remember how I said that Chara was a lousy misanthrope because they keep letting us bring back the humans they wanted annihilated when they were alive? That does make them a lousy misanthrope… unless their misanthropy found a higher priority target: YOU!!!!! Chara’s desire to torment us didn’t come out of thin air. The same hatred that drove them to wipe out the humans of their world years ago is the same hatred that’s driving them to get at the humans of our world, even if it means destroying those who once embraced them. And now, that hatred is more potent and destructive than ever before, so much so that it’s no wonder Toriel was able to feel it when she endured that fatal blow after the Geno Run began.

Do you think witnessing what soullessness did to sweet little Asriel wasn’t already terrifying and tragic enough? Just try to imagine what it could‘ve done to a vengeful, traumatized, chocolate-addicted problem child so consumed by hatred that they poisoned themselves just for a chance to wipe out their own kind. All of that hatred of humanity is still alive and well, and now it has no humanity to hold it back. 

And what could be a more fitting target for a MISANTHROPE that calls themselves a DEMON… than a HUMAN that wants to play GOD?

After all, the only thing demons love more than tormenting mortals is warring with Gods.

Why else do you think that Chara winks right at you if we make Frisk stay with Toriel? Because that’s who the Soulless Ending was meant for. It’s when they’re finally able to unleash all that animosity and hatred that’s been lurking behind that smile ever since we killed everyone in the Ruins. It’s the moment that they’ve been patiently waiting for because they knew that’s when it would hit you the hardest.

And what makes the Soulless Pacifist Ending very special compared to other “bad endings” isn’t simply because they destroy those we pretend to care about (may I remind you that you did do the genocide run, after all). But they destroy something much more valuable to us as the players: OUR OMNIPOTENCE. Chara doesn’t destroy people for the sake of destroying them. But because in doing so they destroy our arrogant belief that nothing could possibly challenge the invisibility and invulnerability we players take for granted.

It's all too human that those with the most power are the least willing to lose it (or even take responsibility for it). And in a world where we should have absolute power, we thought there would be no consequences for abusing it. So what could be a more fitting and frightful punishment than having to actually face them? Missing out on the best ending in a video game is one thing. But to forever lose the power to achieve it ever again?! Now that’s terrifying!

Throughout myth, legend, and religion, sinners are often punished in a way befitting of the sin they’ve committed. In Greek Mythology, Tantalus was damned for trying to feed the Gods the flesh of his murdered son with eternal hunger and thirst despite being within arm’s reach of water and food. In Dante’s Inferno, those who succumb to wrath are forever doomed to fight each other in a river of mud. And since Undertale is no stranger to concepts such as hell, sins, and demons, you can damn well be sure that there’s going to be damnation fitting for the sins that drove you to complete the genocide run.

You completed the Genocide Run because you believed ending their lives would be fulfilling. Now, you can no longer get any fulfillment out of saving their lives.

I mean, where else can you get your precious fulfillment? Those paltry neutral endings? They only offer a fraction of what the pacifist ending offered. And the genocide ending has been drained of its satisfaction like the pacifist! Would you do all that tedious grinding and brutal boss fights just to hear your so-called “partner” lecture you again on perverted sentimentality and say you should choose another path, even though there’s nothing that they could offer? Of course not. In the end, you’re just like poor Tantalus agonizing in the pits of Tartarus, feeling the water vanish from his hands just before it touches his lips.

The ultimate triumph of Chara isn’t making you suffer a total defeat, but perhaps something much worse to you as a gamer: a pyrrhic victory. It’s like having a Twinkie that's been drained of the creamy center. Everything is still there except the thing you treasure most. You’re damned to play a challenge forever deprived of any and all fulfillment you once got from it, a satisfying journey that will always be doomed to reach a dissatisfying destination.

In the end, Chara leaves you with the world exactly as they described it the first time they met you face-to-face: POINTLESS.

You can have the world exactly as it was before (and the people within it). But in the end, Chara will always have the last laugh.

Figuratively and literally.

Welcome to hell!

Part 4: Why Consequences Matter

Woooooo!!! Man, that was quite the read, wasn’t it? And yeah, I wasn't kidding when I said this is going to be autistic as all hell! I don’t doubt you have a lot of thoughts in your mind, and then you’re gonna share them by the time you’re finished reading this post. Some of you might think this is the Chara theory to end Chara theories. Some of you believe that this is the worst thing that has happened to this fandom since Sebastian Wolff. Some of y’all, I’m whitewashing them because I argue they’re driven by a desire to punish the wicked by any means necessary. Some will think I’m demonizing them because I say that they’re, well, a demon. 

[SIDE NOTE: Just so I don’t miscommunicate what I believe about Chara’s morality, here are some key points to take away from this theory. A) Chara sought to make you pay for the evil you committed. In fact, the idea that the Soulless Ending is Chara punishing our sins has been around for a while, especially by those who think Chara was “corrupted. B) However, in this theory, Chara's actions are all done with the intent of accomplishing that goal. This means that Chara was aware of what they were doing, they wanted to do it, and that THEY KNEW IT WAS EVIL. C) But you still have to remember that Chara is also A LITERAL CHILD. And D) They’re a child who endured a great deal of hardship (and possibly trauma), which made them so embittered and vengeful. Also, E) Remember that they’re also soulless, just like Asriel when he was Flowey.]

But I think most of you were gonna look at this interpretation of Chara and feel the same thing that I have about most of yours: a take that’s not without issues, but not without a fair bit of interesting points.

But regardless of what you think of this theory overall, there’s one thing I won’t leave up for debate: I deeply treasure Chara’s character. Not just because I think they’re fun, cool, or interesting but also because I firmly believe they’re invaluable Undertale. And yet, at the same time, I think they’re severely undervalued by the fandom. And who can blame them?

The characters of Undertale speak very little of Chara, and Chara speaks for themselves even less. But just like Johan Liebert from the anime Monster, even though they’re not seen too often, they still manage to exert a massive presence and impact within Undertale’s narrative. And that presence is made all the more impactful because they perfectly represent the themes of the narrative: and that theme is CONSEQUENCES, or more accurately, the CONSEQUENCES OF VIOLENCE.

From the violence that drove Chara to climb Mt Ebott to the violence their brother Asriel inflicted in hopes of being with them forever. From something as grand as a war between two civilizations to something as small as dismembering a snowman. Everywhere you look, you will see that violence (and its repercussions) haunts the story and characters of Undertale. But what makes Undertale stand out from other media that tackles this subject is that it’s not just an integral part of its narrative but also its metanarrative. The most ingenious way it does this is by giving meaning to the actions/mechanics that we take for granted, specifically monster encounters.

Our Lord and Saviour Toby Fox said it best:

Because the monsters of Undetale are treated as something more than just enemies to be killed, there are going to be consequences for choosing to kill them away. Some argue that it goes too far in how it admonishes you for killing even a single monster, even to the point of being preachy (I’m looking at you, ScottFalco, but that’s a response for another day).

That argument is deeply flawed because it fails to account for the fact that without these ramifications, the game’s themes would be rendered null and void. The last thing that a game with a narrative centred around the consequences of violence can afford to do is afford you the luxury of avoiding them. And that principle especially applies if you dare to choose nothing BUT violence. //////If you were to bring them all back as if nothing happened, then your decision to commit genocide would be completely meaningless, which would totally disservice Undertale themes regarding violence. There needs to be consequences. LASTING CONSEQUENCES. Undertale can’t drive home its messages and them without lasting consequences. Undertale can’t deliver those consequences without Chara in the driver’s seat. And Chara’s character can only be at their most narratively cohesive and thematically impactful if seeking to make us suffer consequences was their intended destination.

Regardless of whatever detail about Chara you’re discussing or what side of the discussion you’re on, one thing is very clear: they’re absolutely essential to Undertale in the same way that Mephistopheles is essential to Faust, the Cenobites are essential to Hellraiser, and Kuybey is essential to Madoka Magica. And they’re the only ones with the means, motives, and deep-seated misanthropy to hold this whole damn game together.

Sans is right. We deserve to be burning in hell for what we did to those poor monsters. And I can't think of anyone more qualified to have us humans “burning in hell” than a self-proclaimed demon with a seething hatred of humanity.

And how fitting is it that the skeleton who judges our sins is followed by a human child who punishes us for them?

BUT HEY, THAT'S JUST A THEORY!

A CHARA THEORY!

THANKS FOR READING!

[yikes-ajax]

Yikes! No blog intro? No longer!

What's UP my DUDES, it's time to sit the FUCK up (seriously, straighten your back you animal) and LISTEN UP. I am the MOST disinteresting person you will EVER meet and yet here we are. My name is AJ or sometimes Roary (if you know you know, hey besties) and have the stupidest cat ever and that's IT. But to fill the void in my metaphorical and dead heart, and really just to appease my need to feel special, here's the basics.

I am:

- An adult (aka throwing more temper tantrums than I did as a kid)

- Bisexual

- Genderfluid, literally any pronouns are fine (just nothing dehumanizing, if you care)

- American (insert sigh here)

- Disabled (mobility and neurological)

Blog Navigation

Main: 🌟 You're here!

Sims blog: @yikes-a-simmer

Vent blog: @yikes-ajax-thats-sad

Trauma blog: @puppydog-eyes-kittycat-claws

Dogboy blog: @weewoof

Under the cut is just some extra info if you really feel like boring yourselves ↓

The

Nitty Gritty

For those who care about the details for some reason??

- I alternate between canes, crutches, and a wheelchair (my dad once called my car a medical store) so when I make stupid jokes about being crippled or shit it's because I'm disabled and don't know how to cope

- You don't need my health records (I am a simp for my neurologist and don't need your opinions from five minutes of searching google), but what I occasionally talk about and am comfortable sharing is that I have functional neurological disorder (fnd), non-epileptic seizures (thanks fnd), poor mobility (thanks again fnd), and so... So many mental issues, as you can probably guess, such as PTSD, the spicy kind of depression that needs 3 different meds to stabilize, a sensory processing disorder I was diagnosed with so long ago I don't remember the name of (is that mental or physical??), and other bullshit

- I've got severe social anxiety but I'm trying my best to get out of my shell, so don't hesitate to interact, just forgive my rambling and nervousness

- Surprise, surprise, I have dissociative identity disorder (did), and yes, I'm traumagenic if you really must use such stupid terms. I don't give a fuck about dumb syscourse, I think endos are offensive af but what do I know, I can't even parallel park and know how to stay in my own lane. I've been in the DID community, you can probably guess who I was if you do enough digging but I have no interest in revisiting that side of the Internet, it is the most toxic community I have ever seen

- I sometimes go dark, but I'm fine, I'm likely just busy or obsessed with a video game and my queue has ran out

Current interests (stuff I post in-between cat pics when I feel inclined): Critical role / dnd, star wars, crochet

Video games: Ark: survival evolved, star wars criminals, Minecraft teehee, Red dead redemption (1 and 2, yeehaw), skyrim

The

Cast

Rosie (the reject) and PJ (the pacifist turned genocidal but still total baby)

Rue (the mean ass) and Allie (the bottom of the food chain that is in perpetual fear, but hey, she has an extra toe so that's cool)

Meadow (weapon of mass destruction)

And me, AJ (the bitchass blog runner you'll hopefully never see the face of)

Do not interact:

My neighbors cat 😤😡🖕😾

Encouraged to interact:

Aliens, goblins, werewolves (hey mamas 😎), marine biologists, people who ever feel like a plastic bag drifting through the wind, little guys, little clown guys (THIS IS A SAFE SPACE FOR CLOWNS, I REPEAT, SILLY LITTLE GUYS ARE WELCOME!!), those discontent with their mortal flesh and wish to break to endless spiral of human destruction, little meow meows, anarchists, Dr. Gregory House (please fix me sir), that one hot chick from that one show I watched that one time, DILFS PLEASE, and stupid little fdufcking.. stupid little bitches

All in all,

I'm just here to have a good time and bring some laughter to anyone who wants it. My favorite thing to do is laugh and crack jokes, and if I can make someone else laugh with me, then my purpose here on earth is done. Though, I have a very dry and sarcastic humor that I know can sometimes be hard to read, so please just understand that I'm usually just playing around! I promise I'm not as mean as I seem!

You don't need to worry about anything upsetting here, I try not to post or reblog anything that could dampen someone's day, because not only are y'all here to escape, I am too. This blog will always be safe, I have no interest in discourse, don't care about a DNI, and rarely bother checking who follows me unless you're talking to me. Anonymous asks are on for fellow socially anxious lurkers that wanna talk, but be warned— don't diss my cat 👹

Thanks y'all, love you guys. Stay safe and sleep well ❤️

[weerd1]

In defense of “Somehow.”

Hi all! I don’t usually go fishing for trouble on Tumblr or in a fairly vitriolic Star Wars Fandom. However, here I am about to try a friendly discussion on “The Rise of Skywalker.” This is a long one, so buckle up.

Let me be very clear up front: Yes, I love a lot of this movie, but like the vast majority of Star Wars content, I can’t say the movie doesn’t have its problems. There are parts that are just sloppy as hell (like TPM and ROTJ before it). The way the film treats Finn and Rose Tico is at times offensive in its disregard for characters I love. There are too many Macguffins and some whole characters and even planets that don’t need to be there.

There are other gripes though that really bug me, not because I think people aren’t allowed to have different opinions from my own,  but because they seem to be willfully ignoring some of the film’s content in order to make the film fit their narrative. I would like to offer a defense of Poe Dameron’s weary, “somehow, Palpatine returned.” 

Look, the meme is funny.  

There are places I see this used and I laugh at it a lot, because I get it. But it does seem to indicate that the film offers NO possible explanations for how this happened, and just uses this line as an excuse for the character to come back. And that simply is not so.

In that very scene, someone asks “how,” and a friendly Hobbit responds with, “Dark science, cloning. Secrets only the Sith knew.” Now, alone even that is a handwave; but those comments are well into the film, and we have already seen:

A variety of machines keeping his mangled corpse alive.

Tanks full of Snokes- failed clones that were at least useful.

Palpatine speaking in Snoke’s voice when he tells Kylo Ren he WAS every voice Kylo ever heard in his head.

An entire planet full of Sith scientists, soldiers, and worshippers following Palpatine’s every wish.

The child OF a Palpatine clone who it turns out there’s a whole trilogy about.

And that’s before we even get to Tired Poe Dameron and the Friendly Hobbit.

Additionally, the movie reminds us that despite interpretation, Palpatine DOES NOT NECESSARILY FALL DOWN A REACTOR in RotJ. His throne room as that movie showed us in 1983 is at the top of a tower rising from the Death Star’s surface. The elevator doesn’t go to the core, it goes to the surface, or at least into the infrastructure where the crew operates. It’s relatively close to the equatorial trench, and Luke drags Vader to a shuttle in those docking bays. Yes, there is a flickery blue light at the bottom of the shaft, but it is poorly defined. Even assuming there is a reactor at the bottom, the release of energy we see is not from a reactor, but rather Palpatine himself who was just shooting blue lightning out of his hands, and as he “dies” there is a bunch of blue lightning released. That makes sense. 

But the question does remain whether this was a clone of Palpatine in TROS or the original body re-animated, because that is honestly possible!  We know his Sith minions have BEEN to the wreckage of the Death Star, because Ochi’s little dagger has a specific map to WHERE on the wreckage the tower is. So, here’s the guy we know was hunting down other Palpatine clones (like Rey’s dad) and had been to the tower. This is pretty easy to read that he HAS recovered the original corpse, the Sith machines are tying to restore it, and they hope the existing clone program can help with that.

“What do you mean existing Clone program?” 

Well, let me first say, this ties to the two fundamental truths about Star Wars: It has NEVER been chronological (we start at Ep 4) and it has never been complete (even at the end of Ep 4, the Empire is standing and the fight goes on).  It was 20 years before Star Wars put out prequels to describe HOW Anakin became Vader. I’ll also remind you that the word “Sith” never appears in the original trilogy. There were two DECADES of Star Wars where there was no official “rule of two.” Where we didn’t even know Palpatine WAS HIMSELF A SITH and not just some other Dark Side dude. So much of the background for the OT that is left unsaid in those films comes in later, non-chronological material, that still leaves an expansive and incomplete picture of the Universe. The Prequels still need the “Clone Wars” cartoon to flesh out many of their tenants as well. We can’t blame Disney for treating Star Wars the way George Lucas treated it from 1977 to 2014. 

So, long aside, but we get the fact Palpatine is playing around with self-perpetuation for years. Even in TCW we have storylines about finding Force sensitive kids and sequestering them away.  In the original expanded universe, the Zahn trilogy tells us Palpatine needed to cycle through clones every few years to stay alive. So even when there was NOTHING to go off of but the OT, writers were playing with this idea, and it bubbles under the surface of the PT and TCW (Sifo Dyas and the cloners of Kamino for instance). 

Other, well regarded modern shows are playing with this too. Look at the fact a Snoke clone shows up in S2 of Mandalorian, with Grogu’s DNA used to try and help create him. The Bad Batch is showing us the Kaminoans sequestered off somewhere under Palpatine’s control right after the Clone War ended. “Oh,” that’s just a retcon,” I hear.

So were the Prequels. So was TCW. Again, this is how Lucas ALWAYS treated Star Wars.

So yes, when “THE DEAD SPEAK” in TROS, it’s a surprise, but it is not a plot device that exists in a vacuum. There is evidence in the film. There is evidence in the pre-Dinsey properties, and there is evidence still being laid out in other associated shows and films. It is not just, “Somehow.”

[spongyllama]

sorry in advance for my rant here lol

But yeah I get it, it's a bit frustrating for me occasionally as a fic author who tends to write longfics about Anakin, near the end of which Palpatine faces a timely and well-earned demise... And absolutely no shade or dislike toward anyone who has commented anything similar to what I'm about to say!! But it always frustrates me a bit when people say, ever since THAT movie came out, something like "we all know you can't kill a Sith that easily so he must still be alive!" or "I don't believe he's dead because he's come back before!". And I totally get it, some people are able to compartmentalize and/or enjoy things I don't and that's great, but it just makes me go a bit urrrgghhhh because I hated THAT movie so much and every shred of disrespect that it showed to its source material and particularly the prequels and ROTJ, and for people to think of that in reference to my fics is like... it's not a big deal, but I cannot lie that it irks me a little bit

(but again absolutely no shade whatsoever to anyone who did comment something like that because I love my commenters and I am grateful for them all even if maybe we don't have the exact same opinions about the direction that Disney Lucasfilm took, those opinions being utterly despising the sheer fact that Star Wars is still being milked and will be milked for the rest of time as long as capitalism exists)

The other frustrating thing is that when I'm talking about Star Wars to someone in real life, they just don't understand why I'm simply not interested in the new Disney shows and movies. I'm pretty out as a nerd to people that get to know me a bit, and like these people absolutely cannot accept that I just...don't want to watch the new Star Wars? I will watch Ahsoka exclusively to see Hayden's beautiful face, and I did watch Kenobi due to a sort of obligation, but like...nothing here appeals to me? I'm into Star Wars for like, 4 characters and the set of circumstances in which they live, and that's...it? I don't care what happens after ROTJ, I don't care what happens in between ROTS and ANH, I didn't even watch Rogue One because I just never needed an explanation as to how Leia got the Death Star plans and I DEFINITELY did not need a Han Solo origin story...

(actually my opposition to Rogue One is because I really, really hate that plastic CGI Carrie Fisher at the end, and even more I hate that they didn't ask her to be involved, used someone else's voice, and did all that while she was still alive. idk it just seemed rude to me and sort of offensive even after decades of people calling her fat and old, which is a load of horseshit because women simply aren't allowed to age and have problems. smh)

okay I'm sorry I don't want to rant forever but yeah long story short in case anyone was wondering, canon for me is the 6 movies, TCW, plus the Utapau Arc which I will die mad about not being included in season 7, and on that note I did really like the Siege of Mandalore arc because IMO they were already drafting it when Lucas was still there and always intended on it being the series finale, and The Phantom Apprentice is probably one of my favorite episodes of the entire show because it's literally about Anakin without him ever being in it and that appeals to me greatly. But I did not like the rest of season 7 and did I mention I'm still mad about Utapau? I'm just afraid that the kids newer to the fandom don't know about it and I won't let it be forgotten

Welcome! This blog is dedicated to the original six Lucas Star Wars films, aka the Real Skywalker saga.

What I consider CANON (aka the complete Lucas saga):

The Prequels x Original Trilogy (+ certain deleted scenes and novelizations)

What I consider EXPANDED UNIVERSE (aka optional supplementary material that is informed solely *by* the Lucas saga):

Lucas-era Clone Wars, including the 2D Tartakovsky series as well as the 3D animated series (2008-2013 seasons ONLY).

Other Lucas-era EU material, including various tie-in novels, comics, concept art, art books, and so on (but only that which aligns with and/or supports the primary canon).

Occasionally, I may reblog the odd bits of 'new canon' I watched prior to distancing myself from Disney's Star Wars (ie Rebels and Rogue One).

**PLEASE NOTE: I do NOT accept Disney's version of Star Wars as canon and regularly share anti-Disney views.

[ct-hardcase]

Sometimes you want your evil power couple to go on vacation and wear plushy hotel robes.

[ikaroux]

Xiao: Who are you ? (part 1) (v.EN)

f!reader

I want a sweet Xiao <3 and then when you have Matsuoka Yoshitsugu as a seiyuu, how can you not love him?! (even if it will surely be complicated for him to understand the emotions that go through him!).

Zhongli being written.

Masterlist

Part 2

Who are you?

The last Yaksha guardian was collapsed on the ground, wounded, exhausted. His last battle with the darkness had lasted most of the night, further weighing down the karma of the young man with dark hair dotted with emerald strands. The voices of those he had killed fogged his mind, causing excruciating pain to his soul and body. Lying on his stomach unable to open his eyes, his hand struggled to find his winged jade spear that had fallen to the ground with him. A groan of pain scraped his throat at the movement.

The young man flinched briefly as he heard footsteps approaching him quickly, feeling hands grasp his shoulders to carefully turn him around.

He tried again to open his eyes, his vision was blurred and foggy. He could not distinguish the features of the human who had seized him, feeling only his hand gently caressing his hair in an attempt to soothe him. The voice he heard calling him with concern sounded like a woman's, soft and warm.

A soothing light enveloped the young woman, the boy did not understand what was happening because in the second that followed, his body lightened, his pain evaporated, was he dreaming?

Although his vision was still blurred, he nevertheless managed to distinguish a little better the contours of the young woman with long hair (color).

"Who are you? "

His voice was marked by fatigue. He managed to distinguish a thin smile on the face of his rescuer. He repeated more weakly:

"Who are you...? "

His eyes sank, the ethereal form of the young woman reminding him of distant memories, a sudden warmth burst in his heart. Tears beaded in the corners of his eyes.

"Gui...zhong? "

The landscape around him darkened, leading him straight into a soft torpor.

Xiao woke up with a start. Where was he? The Wangshu Inn? Yes, he recognized his quarters, but how did he get there? He still remembered his fight against the horde of monsters he had defeated. He raised his right hand to his face, examining it more closely.

He had no more wounds, no more pain, which brought him back to the young woman he thought he had seen. Had he hallucinated? Had she really healed him? Everything seemed to be a blur. He got up from the bed without difficulty, heading directly to the balcony which was on the top floor of the inn. He looked around, hoping to find the woman who had helped him. The sun was beginning to set, so he had spent the day resting here. It was unusual for him, not being human he didn't have the same needs as them, sleeping, eating, living with others, all that seemed ridiculous. He was almost angry at himself for staying unconscious for so long, hitting one of the wooden columns on the balcony.

Xiao turned around, heading towards the stairs, quickly walking down the steps to Wangshu's innkeeper, Verr Goldet.

"Verr. "

The young woman turned her attention to Xiao.

"Good evening lord Xiao, have you recovered from your last fight? "

"Did you see who brought me here?"

Verr didn't take offense to his curt tone, simply shaking her head to indicate that she hadn't.

Xiao clicked his tongue, annoyed. He needed to know who this mysterious woman was who had taken care of him. The memory of the warmth that emanated from her gripped his heart again, drawing his steps back towards the exit of the inn.

He suddenly bumped into a young man with blond hair, accompanied by his annoying little creature.

"Xiao?"

Aether looked at Xiao with big round eyes, he was not used to seeing him with such an expression. He was confused, frustrated and angry, these were all emotions that were running through the yaksha since he woke up.

"Xiao is not in a good mood"- Paimon twirled around him- "You should come eat something with us, nothing beats a good meal for..."

"I don't need that! "

Paimon gasped, hiding behind Aether. Xiao tried to calm himself by inhaling a deep breath of air, passing by the traveler without saying a word.

"Wait Xiao! Where are you going? "

Aether stopped him, grabbing his arm loosely so as not to rush him further. Xiao immediately gave a sharp blow on his arm to disengage himself, he regretted his abrupt words, he hated it. Before he met Aether, he never had to worry about others or how to behave with them, he was alone and he was fine with that. It was all too... human for him. Slowly he turned his gaze to the traveler.

"Aether I... am sorry. "

"Xia...! "

Without saying another word, Xiao disappeared in a draft.

When you landed in Liyue from your native land, Sumeru, a few months ago, a terrifying battle took place at the city's port. An ancient God who had once been sealed by the rock lord had broken free from his prison, attempting to destroy the port of Liyue in the process, but fortunately he was quickly stopped.

Since these events, you had started to travel in the lands of the geo archon, studying the local fauna and flora. Flowers had always fascinated you, their shapes, their smells, their meanings or their benefits, you studied absolutely everything, noting and drawing in a notebook everything you saw.

In Sumeru, you joined the prestigious magic academy to perfect your Guizhong, that was the last thing he said to you. Who was he? It seemed to you that you had already read this name in one of the books you had borrowed from the academy. You couldn't ask him, tiredness taking him away from you. You knew that not far away there was an inn, it was going to be difficult but you had to take him there so that he could rest. When you picked him up, wrapping your arm around his shoulders for support, his spear on the ground disappeared by itself. You had adjusted your grip before you began your walk.

After several minutes of recalling these events, you noticed that you had finally arrived at the high cliffs of Huaguang. Taking your courage in both hands, you prepared yourself mentally to climb the cliff. Up there was a flower that you wanted to study, the Qingxin flower. They grew exclusively on the highest stone peaks, avoiding heat and humidity, a lonely and hard to reach flower.

"It's okay! "

You rolled up your sleeves, putting your feet and hands where they could grip, slowly you began your ascent.

Night had fallen on the Liyue plains, and it was at the top of Qingyun Peak that the Yaksha had taken refuge, watching the stars brighter than ever. Sitting on the edge of the cliff, the memory of the young woman haunted him. The pain in his chest made him clench his fists, he had never felt like this, he didn't even know what name to put on these feelings.

Xiao was a thousand year old follower, human feelings didn't concern him, so why? Why such pain at the mere thought of a... stranger? But was she really a stranger? This woman had reminded him of an old friend, Guizhong, who died during the Archon war. Could she have come back in an ethereal form? Or maybe it was a new trick the demons had found to torture him a little more.

In the distance, Xiao saw a faint jade-colored light coming from the Huaguang stone forest. He widened his eyes, remembering that glow that had saved his life. His heart began to beat furiously in his chest.

"This is... impossible... I found you. "

His voice trembled at the sight of the sweet emanation. It warmed him, soothed him, the voices that constantly hammered him fell silent and his usually aching body was now light. At last he understood his obsession with you, when you had treated him earlier this morning, a bond had been established between you, a bond as strong as the one that bound him to Morax for whom he had the greatest respect and devotion.

Xiao stood up, looking in the direction you were facing. He disappeared into the wind.art and deepen your knowledge. More than once your teachers told you that your manipulation of your dendro vision was exceptional, some city-states were already looking to recruit you as a researcher or healer, but you always refused, preferring to remain free of your movements. Once you had finished your studies, you quickly decided to leave your homeland, wanting to learn more from your neighbors. Your steps finally led you to Liyue.

You had left early that morning, heading towards the Huaguang stone forest from the Dihua swamp. On the way, you passed a badly wounded young man with emerald tattoos on him. His face, despite the wounds, was beautiful and when he opened his eyes, the amber color immediately fascinated you.

You couldn't leave him like that, wounded and bruised, using your Dendro vision to heal him. When you used it, it projected a jade aura on you and a flowery area grew around you, releasing energy that allowed you to heal even the deepest wounds.

He had tried several times to ask you to identify yourself, which you did, but his apparent fatigue had closed off his senses.

Guizhong, that was the last thing he said to you. Who was he? It seemed to you that you had already read this name in one of the books you had borrowed from the academy. You couldn't ask him, tiredness taking him away from you. You knew that not far away there was an inn, it was going to be difficult but you had to take him there so that he could rest. When you picked him up, wrapping your arm around his shoulders for support, his spear on the ground disappeared by itself. You had adjusted your grip before you began your walk.

After several minutes of recalling these events, you noticed that you had finally arrived at the high cliffs of Huaguang. Taking your courage in both hands, you prepared yourself mentally to climb the cliff. Up there was a flower that you wanted to study, the Qingxin flower. They grew exclusively on the highest stone peaks, avoiding heat and humidity, a lonely and hard to reach flower.

"It's okay! "

You rolled up your sleeves, putting your feet and hands where they could grip, slowly you began your ascent.

Night had fallen on the Liyue plains, and it was at the top of Qingyun Peak that the Yaksha had taken refuge, watching the stars brighter than ever. Sitting on the edge of the cliff, the memory of the young woman haunted him. The pain in his chest made him clench his fists, he had never felt like this, he didn't even know what name to put on these feelings.

Xiao was a thousand year old follower, human feelings didn't concern him, so why? Why such pain at the mere thought of a... stranger? But was she really a stranger? This woman had reminded him of an old friend, Guizhong, who died during the Archon war. Could she have come back in an ethereal form? Or maybe it was a new trick the demons had found to torture him a little more.

In the distance, Xiao saw a faint jade-colored light coming from the Huaguang stone forest. He widened his eyes, remembering that glow that had saved his life. His heart began to beat furiously in his chest.

"This is... impossible... I found you. "

His voice trembled at the sight of the sweet emanation. It warmed him, soothed him, the voices that constantly hammered him fell silent and his usually aching body was now light. At last he understood his obsession with you, when you had treated him earlier this morning, a bond had been established between you, a bond as strong as the one that bound him to Morax for whom he had the greatest respect and devotion.

Xiao stood up, looking in the direction you were facing. He disappeared into the wind.

You had finally reached the top of the cliff, immediately spotting two-three Qingxin flowers. You immediately knelt down beside one of them, taking out your notebook and pencil. You began to draw this beautiful flower from every angle, noting here and there the characteristics you could observe. Satisfied with everything you could see, you finally turned to the landscape plunged in the darkness of the night. Liyue's sky was dotted with stars that shone brightly. Sitting cross-legged in the center of the cliff top, your gaze turned back to the flowers of Qingxin, suddenly reminding you of the young man you had rescued. When you looked into his eyes, his eyes seemed so sad, so lonely. The pain that seemed to be emanating from him had struck you at the highest point.

You turned your attention back to the stars. Your mind was obsessed with this boy and it was with him in mind that you began to sing an ancient poem by Sumeru. The words, although sung in your native language, were undoubtedly sad and melancholic. Your hands were placed in front of you, palms up, eyes closed, activating your dendro vision. A jade-green circle encircled the entire surface of the cliff, particles of light streaming from the ground. Gradually, luminescent blue flowers began to grow around you, following the rhythm of your song.

It was a violent draught that cut you off, opening your eyes in surprise. You gasped as you saw the young man with the amber eyes standing before you.

He was out of breath, stiff as a board, his eyes never leaving yours. Something in him seemed different from this morning, in his eyes you could see... peace?

He cautiously approached you, kneeling down in front of you to get to your level. He took one of your hands in his, squeezing it gently. The particles you had created swirled around you, lighting up the scene. Your heart was pounding now that he was in front of you, you found him even more attractive under the moonlight. His eyes shone with an incredible brilliance, his tattoos also glowed with a soft emerald glow.

Your voice, your appearance, everything seemed sweet to him, no wonder he confused you with Guizhong, you looked like him in some ways.

His lips trembled slightly as he continued to examine your face, a question seemed to cross his lips.

His free hand went up to your face, tucking one of your locks behind your ear.

"Who are you? "His tone was more brutal than he had intended it to be.

Your eyes widened at the question. Of course you couldn't introduce yourself or learn who he was, his name, what he did. You wanted to know everything about this man who had marked your heart.

Seeing that you didn't answer, he asked again in a soft whisper, making you blush.

"Who are you? "

"(y/n)..."

And for the first time since you met, a smile stretched his lips, a silence accompanying your answer. His smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, his hand dropped yours.

"Xiao. "

You looked at him intensely, your face completely red as he straightened his legs.

"As long as you're in Liyue, I'll protect you. Call me and I'll be there in a second."

You slowly nodded, fascinated by this man who was decidedly not human. He watched you for a few more seconds, his eyes entranced by your presence before disappearing as he had appeared...

"Xiao..."

[kaasknot]

Please take this as an offense but I am absolutely fascinated by your current obsession with Buster Keaton and went back through your account to figure out what rabbit hole led to this but couldn't figure it out. If you're okay with sharing can you tell me the rabbit hole that led to this?

OFFENS TAKEN no but okay it's really kind of dumb. this past january someone reblogged a buster keaton post, i assume a stunts gifset because those get numbers, and i hit up his tag on a whim to see what was what.

now, at the time i was writing an OC character for star wars. and while i knew just about everything else important about this character, i didn't have a clear idea of what he looked like. but i was scrolling through pics of this old-timey comedian and it slowly dawned on me: my character looks kind of like buster keaton. official facecast made.

and honestly, that's why i came back to the tag a second time. if it hadn't been for that association, i probably would have forgotten about buster and moved on. but, once a month or so i'd jump back in the buster keaton tag, refresh my memory on my OC's face situation, and then jump back out.

till eventually i guess it hit critical mass, and all of a sudden in late may i'm hitting up the buster tag… because i'm thirsty for buster. i pretty clearly remember a series of gifsets around The General that made me go "…damn, son."

gonna wax rhapsodic here for a bit. let's get the most obvious point out of the way: buster keaton is pretty. he's got cheekbones and big eyes and a profile to die for. and he's ripped, because he's a goddamn acrobat. like, his vastus medialis continually makes me go "that can't be real." also, he's a short king. a small little guy. 5'5", and perfectly willing to make jokes about it—and that kind of security is hotter than the surface of the sun.

he's also ridiculously funny. he made his career on that, you'd kind of hope he would be; but specifically it's funny to me. his sense of humor matches mine perfectly: wry, ironic, a touch of the absurd/surrealistic, leaning to black humor, and with minimal use of sticky substances or stupidity. i have so much trouble with modern comedy because 90% of the time it's just so dumb. buster keaton movies are not dumb. his hero is a clever little shithead—if somewhat naive and literal-minded—with abysmal luck, who gets into awkward situations and does his clever best to get himself back out. i vibe with it.

and then obvs his stunts. the more of his movies i watch the more i mutter "how did he not die?" and "is he made of rubber bands and cotton balls??" his physicality is so satisfying to watch, and not just in a prurient way (tho i am definitely also watching in a prurient way). this is a man with supreme control over his body and a thorough understanding of physical comedy. he was pulling out pratfalls well into his 60s, yo.

and the more of his movies i watch (especially in comparison to roscoe arbuckle's movies), the more i appreciate how good of a filmmaker he was. he let the story do the talking, rather than clutter up the screen with intertitles. his precise use of camera angles, the astonishingly good cinematography, the use of the camera itself to sell a gag (i.e. the dream sequence in Sherlock, Jr.). i saw a letterboxd review call The General "mad max fury railroad" and i haven't been able to get that out of my head, because y e a h, his editing was as precise as margaret sixel's. i watched "One Week" after watching all of the arbuckle shorts he was in, and lemme tell you, my third eye was blown wide open. "oh," i said to myself. "i get why people call him a genius."

and from a frothing fangirl perspective, he has built in artificial scarcity. his smile is rare, his voice is rare, shirtless scenes are rare. (in reality, none of these things are particularly hard to find in his films, but like i say to everyone who sits still long enough for me to yammer at them, their perceived scarcity makes them so much more compelling. when you hear him say "pass" in Sunset Boulevard you quiver like you're catching sight of ankles in the 1800s). it encourages thirsting.

the more i learn about him the more obsessed i get.

[keigelsss]

Hard At Work - Kuroo Tetsuro

a/n: HERE IT IS!!!!! it’s really bad. i struggled. i just wanted to get it over with but this idea weighed heavily on my mind for so long and i cant seem to get it out the way i want so this is the bare minimum with what i was trying to go for sorry :/

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, timeskip!kuroo, dom!kuroo, language, teasing, literally half the fic is foreplay oops, smut, oral sex, unprotected sex (no glove no love y’all), kuroo smacks your ass once, sir kink?, SIZE KINK, belly bulge, overstim, squirting, creampie, as always my shitty writing. *thoughts in italics… if i forgot a warning pls lmk*

Summary: you never thought you’d find yourself in this situation, let alone with the man in charge of your paycheck. luckily those files weren’t that important.

word count: 4.7K

You’ve only been working in this position for about two months now, assistant to one of the smartest sports promoters in the country. It’s a wonderful job and you get to meet star athletes almost every day, but what wasn't in the job description was the super hot promoter that you would be working under literally. If you thought it was hard coming into work with someone so damn attractive, the amount of teasing that went on in and outside of the office was insufferable.

Your day began like every other; come in, bring Kuroo some coffee, a full list of the day's meetings and tidy up in his office. While setting the coffee on his desk, you anticipate what comment he’ll make about the lack of a baked good to accompany his beverage.

“Awe Y/n, looks like you forgot to bring something to munch on again,” he was currently going through emails while twirling a pen in his hand. That scheming smirk that you’ve come to recognize all too well plastered all over his smug face. 

“I’m sorry, Kuroo, they were all out at the café.” You placed your belongings on the small desk located in the corner of his office, spending some time to go over today's schedule as well as sort through a few contracts and client files.

“It’s all good,” he let out a soft chuckle. “You could always let me eat you instead, shortcake.”

You gave a pointed glare to the man before sighing and closing the file cabinet you just finished sorting. “I think it’s best if we get to work, we’ve got a long day ahead of us, sir.” he sends the smallest smirk in your direction then returns to his tasks. Shit... Did I mean to make it come out like that? Whatever he always teases the ever-living hell out of me so it's about time I had my share of the fun too, it’s only fair. Right?

Most of the day was uneventful, the typical routine coming and going without any interruptions. At around 4 pm though, you found yourself swamped with far more paperwork to go through than usual as well as having to scan and digitally file. We didn't have this many meetings today, did we? I just did a stack like this… Most of these need Kuroo’s signature, they shouldn't be on my desk.

Raising your head you shifted your gaze, letting your eyes land on him. He’s seated only ten feet in front of you behind his desk but today it seems like an entire mile. Did he always look that good going through his messages?

While gathering the papers that were wrongfully in your pile and saying a quick prayer to anyone out there, you walked over to sit in one of the matching seats opposite him. Placing the folder down softly to not mess up the flow of his work. He instinctively moves his elbow away to make room for the file and side-eyes it momentarily.

“Just give me two minutes here and I’m all yours sugar,” he says with a quick smile in your direction.

Humming your response and relaxing into the chair you take the time to admire his features. The messy but somehow put together hair that, according to his long-term clients and friends, has been that way since childhood. The sharp features of his cheeks and jaw, his pink lips permanently resting in his signature smirk that can mean an infinite number of things as you’ve come to find out. A muscular neck that is far too appealing for your taste, broad shoulders leading to strong arms, and an equally muscular chest. It’s no doubt that he is built like a god under that dress shirt, it fits him so perfectly it's almost offensive.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts of the man in front of you that you don't even notice how he moves his body, giving all his attention to you.

“Stare any longer sweet girl and you're gonna start drooling all over that cute outfit of yours.” His deep chuckle vibrates through you, definitely causing something to happen deep in the pit of your stomach. Your body was so hot and your throat was so damn dry from the way he was looking back at you. Is he undressing me with his eyes? Fuck! I’m one to talk, I’m doing the same thing.

“Uh it looks like some papers of yours got in my pile, if you can sign them, I’ll finish scanning and get out of your hair.” 

You sat up to hand him a pen then rest your palms against the desk. Those pieces of paper are the only thing separating the two of you and it helps you keep a grasp on reality for the time being.

He toyed with the edges of the folder, lifting just the corner, not even bothering to read over the contents. “Yeah, I put them there thinking it would keep you in the office just a bit longer but you caught on to my plan faster than I thought.” He met your gaze with a semi defeated smile.

“You thought I wouldn't notice at all? Kuroo, I thought you were supposed to be the mega genius here because I had just filed all of those this morning.” A sudden boost of confidence ran through your body and your hands found their way to the folder and started mimicking his previous action that, hopefully, would drive him just as crazy as it did you. Your cold fingers delicately traced above his watch then to his forearms, stopping right where he cuffed his sleeves. A small hiss escaped him through his teeth followed by an airy laugh.

“Call it an experiment.” You couldn't help but giggle at his response.

He suddenly moved back, completely reclining and relaxing in his chair. He went to loosen up the tie around his neck and even went as far as to open two buttons on the restricting shirt. Cheeky bastard.

Kuroo cleared his throat. Resting his elbow against the arm of his chair, chin resting in the palm of his hand. “I bet I can tell what you're thinking right now, shortcake,” he continued to roll his chair back slightly.

Without giving a second thought you moved around to his side of the desk, sitting and leaning on the end farthest from him. You conjured up the best comeback your normally shy and reserved self would never think of, but right now, it's war.

“Oya oya? Tell me, boss, what am I thinking right now?” you finally turned your gaze towards him, pulling off the most convincing innocent eyes you had.

He stood up from his seat, taking the slowest steps toward you and stood right beside your small body. His large hands are dangerously close to the edge of your skirt. If he could feel how hard your heart was beating in your chest you’d be done for. 

That contagious laughter of his booming throughout the room once more. He’ll never admit it but your teasing words sound a lot like him.

“Well if the way you're clenching the hell out of your thighs right now isn't the biggest sign.” His calloused fingers finally make contact with the exposed skin on your legs and slowly rise to trace the curves of your body. Finding a place to rest on your jaw with his thumb gripping your chin forcing you to look directly at him. “I’d say you're thinking of all the different ways I could make you cum on my desk,” his thumb began to slowly trace your lower lip.

You were barely aware of the small moan you let out while fluttering your eyes closed. “Let's say you're right Kuroo,” you nearly choked on the lack of saliva in your throat. “What else am I thinking?” your response barely above a pathetic whimper.

He let out a happy sigh as he placed his thumb between your lips, pressing slightly to signal you to open up. That sigh quickly turned into a small moan when you let your tongue slip from your mouth and wrapped your lips around the digit. Years of hard work and skill evident in the sensation of his thumb pressing against your tongue.

“You’re probably thinking about my cock filling every inch of your tight little pussy,” he moved to stand between your legs, his other hand finding residence on your hip and squeezing the clothed flesh possessively. “Or maybe you’re thinking you might just have the upper hand here because you caught on to my little trick,” he began to mess with the hook and zipper on the side of your skirt. Lowering the piece of flimsy metal agonizingly slow. 

“If that’s the case then you're seriously mistaken sweetheart also when it's just us, call me Tetsuro,” he whispered his name in your ear and if you weren't trying to match his teasing energy, you would’ve made the first move but the build-up was so much better.

He finally let go of the zipper on your skirt and began to pull it slowly down your thighs, all while maintaining eye contact. He slowly removed his finger from your mouth and trailed any lingering saliva along your bottom lip and down your jaw before his hand found comfort around your neck, offering the softest squeeze, eliciting yet another breathy moan from your lips. If only you knew how much those sounds of yours were causing him to short circuit.

“Tetsuro. If there’s anything I know very well, it's my place in this office.” You kept steady eye contact while attempting to squeeze your thighs together. 

Kuroo noticed your struggles and continued to strip the skirt from your body. Your lower half was beginning to burn with anticipation. His long fingers then traced the outline of your panties, if he looked any closer he would see the little wet spot forming right at your entrance. He lightly pulled on the thin material and snapped it back against your body, a small chuckle rising from deep in his chest because of how cute and responsive you are to his actions.

“And where is that exactly?” He can't help but tease you, even though his cock is absolutely suffocating, he still wants to make sure you know who’s in charge. 

“I'm an employee on your payroll, aren't I?” your voice was so soft, focusing more on steadying your breathing. He began to run the back of his hand along your hip and grazed his knuckles against the area that you ache for him the most, a throaty sigh escapes you and some of that newfound confidence as well. Where the hell did she come from?

“It only makes sense that my position is under you.” Kuroo is slightly surprised by your response but he can tell that you’ve had enough of his teasing just like he’s had enough of having to come up with new ways to fluster you. Now it seems that all his prayers are being answered, he finally has you to himself all alone in the office, and there’s only one thing on his mind after hearing the words slip from your lips. “That’s definitely the right answer, but I hope you don’t mind if I spend some time on you first?”

His fingers were now pulling the fabric of your panties down and off your body, he never breaks eye contact, rubbing his hands all over your legs and occasionally squeezing your soft skin. He finally returned to eye level and placed both hands on your cheeks, bringing you in for a hot and desperate kiss. He managed to push you further onto the desk so you can rest comfortably, the cold sensation of the wood on your bare skin forced a tiny gasp to escape. 

Kuroo began to play with the buttons of your blouse, pulling on the material. By the time he gets to the last button, you’re halfway done removing his, finally seeing the strong body underneath it all. Hot. Once he had you completely undressed he took a single step back. Biting his lip and admiring your body.

“You’re so god damn sexy.” He came back to you, hot mouth leaving kisses all over your neck and chest. He spent some time on each of your breasts, sucking and biting on your sensitive nipples, sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. His hands hooked under your knees and spread your legs. You're practically dripping onto his desk by now and can’t help but grind your hips against nothing, desperate for some sort of relief. 

“Someone's a little needy, huh?” his breath was hot against your stomach and fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. Once he got on his knees in front of you, his fingers found their way to your throbbing center. Slowly parting your folds and massaging your sensitive hole with perfect pressure. “Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ wet too,” with his other hand he used his thumb to play with your clit. You threw your head back, letting out a soft moan as you made contact with the desk below.

Kuroo wasted no time putting your legs over his shoulders, leaving wet kisses along your thighs and placing several on your hips. He finally placed a kiss on your clit, causing you to yelp and buck your hips against his face. “You taste better than I imagined baby girl,” he licked a stripe through your folds, then sucked on your clit softly. “Mmm it feels so good!” you’re a moaning, whimpering mess already. Kuroo has to use his hands to keep you still but he’s humming happily while lapping up all you have to offer him and you can't help but shake. “Am I making you feel good, pretty girl? Your cute little pussy is so sensitive huh?” his tongue was replaced with one of his fingers gathering up your slick and slowly entering you.

“Yes yes fuck I love it. I want your cock. Please.” you looked at him through lidded eyes sucking your bottom lip harshly in between your teeth. He can't help but smile at how cute you look begging for him. “Relax baby girl, we’ll both get what we want but I gotta work you up a bit more.” He added another finger curling them a little to find your sweet spot, while sucking on your clit. He knew he found it when you squeezed your thighs around him and called out his name. Your walls twitching around his fingers, reaching your first climax of the day. 

He pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, sucking off every bit of your juices, moaning in sheer delight. Another kiss was placed on your clit before he began a trail of them to your neck and jaw, teeth sinking into your skin. One of his hands caressed your cheek as he kissed you on the lips, your taste and his hot breath sending another wave of arousal through you and you moan into his mouth. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. “Wanna make you cum with my tongue one more time okay sweetheart?”

You wanted to whine and throw a fit but his mouth was magical and you weren't one to complain. With a small ‘okay’ and another kiss on the lips he made his way to your pussy once more, already swollen and ridiculously sensitive. He began with the same rhythm as before, soft groans of satisfaction driving you wild. The grinding of your hips against his face only became more violent when he added his long fingers. Finding that same spot as earlier. 

“F-fuck oh fuck I’m gonna cum!” you arched your back off the desk and brought a hand to your chest massaging squeezing your nipples. The only thing you hear before your orgasm rips through you is the loud squelching of fingers inside your pussy and his moans of praise. When you open your eyes and finally come back to earth, you see Kuroos face, hand and wrist covered in your juices. “I haven't even fucked you yet and you squirted just like that? You're gonna be the death of me Y/n.” 

You giggled a little, hiding your face in embarrassment, body still trembling from the intense orgasm. Of course that smart mouth of his is sinfully skilled. He moved your hands out of the way, intertwining his with yours, lifting you and pulling you into another kiss. 

You let go of his hands running yours along his toned chest, leaving small scratches, quickly removing his belt and slacks. You squeal at how big he looks in his boxers, his cock begging to be free. Pulling the waistband down and letting it drop to his feet, you moan at the sight. A small bead of precum forming at the tip, now an angry red from being neglected for so long. “I wanna make you feel good too Tetsu.” 

Before you can drop to your knees for him he puts his hands on your hips, rubbing soothing circles. “Next time gorgeous, I wanna feel you right now.” he lifted you off the ground, legs wrapping around his waist and lips meeting in a sloppy mess of teeth and tongue. One of his hands made their way to your ass, squeezing softly before landing a smack. You moaned in response and ground your hips against his throbbing member, the tip creating glorious friction against your folds. He finally placed you back on the desk then fisted his cock a few times, running the tip against your folds and teasing your entrance.

“Want you inside me now Tetsuro. Please.” your chest was heaving in desperation and he loved that he made you like this. “Okay sweet girl. If it’s too much let me know.” You gave him a small nod and he kissed you while letting himself slip inside your warm walls. You were already so wet from before but he was so long and thick that the intrusion was slightly painful. 

“Holy shit! you’re so damn tight.” he says through gritted teeth. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tugging softly on his hair when you feel him bottom out inside you. He lets out a few puffs of air because it's taking all his willpower not to cum with the way your pussy is gripping onto him right now. You let out a few whimpers and he checks your face for any signs of discomfort before retracting his hips and thrusting into you. You make eye contact with him, he’s absolutely mesmerizing with that lusty look in his eye and a small layer of sweat on his forehead. 

“S-so big Tetsu. It feels so good.” you squeeze your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer to you and he groans in response. He begins to thrust into you slowly, still trying to keep his cool but finding that sweet spot inside you every time. “Oh you're gonna make me cum with the way you are clampin’ down on my cock like that sweet thing.” he shifts the angle of his thrusts and cages your head between his arms. His large upper body casting a shadow over you that makes you shiver. You can see the way the muscles on his forearms and biceps are flexing with every thrust. How he’s looking down at where you two are connected in pure fascination, tugging his lip between his teeth.

Using his arms to push off the desk, he tugs your hips to the edge and keeps his fingers embedded in the soft flesh, meeting each of his thrusts. You lift yourself as well, resting on your elbows and watching him. You notice a small bump on your belly each time his hips meet yours and it's enough to have you roll your eyes back. Holy fuck now that’s different. Kuroo noticed your surprise and pressed a hand against your tummy, making you feel him even deeper if possible. 

“I’m right there baby girl. Can you feel it?” You feel as though you're being split open but it hurts so good. His stare and dominating aura so sinful and addictive, you know you're in trouble. “Yes it feels so good. I love your cock.” He feels you fluttering around him and picks up his pace. The sharp sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the office along with his animalistic growls. 

“Is that right. You gonna cum on this cock, like a good girl?” his thumb found your clit, working small circles. “Make a mess all over my desk? Let me cum inside this tight pussy?” his thrusts were reaching deep, that bulge in your tummy only looking bigger now. You tried meeting his thrusts halfway, your hand gripped his wrist and you neared another orgasm. “Y-yeah, oh fuck. please. I wanna cum so bad. wanna make you feel good too, sir.” 

At the last word you said he thrusted into you once more. your walls fluttering around him bringing his release as well, he hunched over with a groan and found your lips as he spilled his seed inside you. The warmth filling you up and making you feel nothing but bliss. Your ankles locked around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, keeping him buried inside you while you caught your breath’s. 

He pulled away first, watching as his cock slipped from your tight hole, both of you letting out a sharp breath from the sensitivity. His cum followed right after, dripping down onto his desk. The sight of your clenching pussy and the mess was enough to get him hard again. He wants as much as you’re willing to give him. Lifting your upper body he pulls you in for another kiss, this one a bit sweeter. 

You pulled away and began kissing his jaw. “I want more.” You said looking up at him with bright eyes. Your makeup is messy but you still look delicious as ever. 

He gave you a playful grin and a peck on the lips. “You read my mind gorgeous.” 

He spun you around and bent you over the desk, pressing your body into the wood but not enough to hurt. His fingers slowly ran down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You turn your head slightly so you can see him, right now he looks intimidating as ever. Large muscular body towering over you, one hand gripping your ass and the other teasing the head of his cock along your folds. He can see how your dripping hole is clenching around nothing, your frame trembling from previous orgasms. He's so damn overjoyed that he slips right inside you, not wanting to waste another second outside of your tight pussy. 

The stretch that he provided was nothing you've felt before, he was definitely the biggest you’ve been with. You felt every ridge and vein, every twitch, you still feel him in your stomach. Nothing beat how warm he is though, flooding every nerve with heat and electricity. 

He set a brutal pace, balls slapping against your clit each time, making you cry out and moan incoherent versions of his name. His left hand gripped your thigh and hitched your leg on the desk, the shift in position causing him to drag the tip of his cock perfectly against your g-spot. “Right there Tetsuro, feels so fucking good.” you ached your back in ecstasy. 

The hand he had hooked under your knee creeped up your thigh and rested on your hip. He used the other to raise you off the desk and wrap around you. His warm hard chest pressing into your back and his large, rough palms massaged your tits. You can feel his warm breath on your ear and you shiver when he groans. The deep rumble of his chest crashing into you like a wave. 

Hearing his moans right in your ear was like heaven, the feeling of his cock twitching inside tells you he's close. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum so fuckin’ hard. Your little cunt’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight. You gonna be a good girl and let me cum inside again?” his rough pounding turned into slow, deep strokes. Slamming into your sweet spot with pin-point accuracy.

“Please. Feels so good and I want your cum. Want it in me so bad.” his hand moved to your jaw turning your head, squishing your cheeks and leaving a sloppy kiss against your lips. You brought your arm up, grabbing his face, pulling him closer. You sucked his bottom lip between your teeth and he growled in response, slow thrusts gaining some more speed.

The hand he had on your hip made its way in front of you, fingers trailing softly against your swollen clit. Tears were pricking the corners of your eyes from overstimulation but you loved every second of it. “I want you to milk my cock, take all your filling like a good little shortcake and make a mess on this desk. Can you do that for me?” you only nod and moan your answer.

The intense eye contact between the two of you, mixed with his hard thrusts and rough fingers, make that tingling feeling in your core seem like the first one all over again. Your head falls back against his chest as your body locks up and shakes uncontrollably, the tight fluttering of your walls brought his release as well. 

You can feel his warm load inside as he keeps fucking into you, allowing you both to ride out the intense wave of pleasure. All while massaging your clit, only bringing on another orgasm, making you squirt once more on his hand and desk. Feeling it drip down your legs, surely his too. 

Once the rush of euphoria passed, you both fell forward, his cock still inside you as you both caught your breath. You were still quivering with aftershocks of pleasure when he slipped out of you, a mixture of both of your cum spilling onto the floor and down your thighs. 

He stumbled back onto his chair and took a deep breath. Hypnotized by the way you’re still spread out for him to see, the beautiful sight of your plump ass becoming something he wants all the time. You finally sit up slowly turning to lean against the desk, legs feeling like noodles. Both of you catching the other staring and letting out a fit of laughter. He reached for your hand and pulled you down on the chair with him to relax, wrapping his strong arms around you. 

“So, I was thinking, maybe I should give you a promotion.” he kissed the top of your head and you pinched his nipple teasingly. “Stop fucking around Tetsu.” he smirked and gave you a knowing smirk. 

“We just did, sweet heart.” you rolled your eyes and nuzzled into his neck. 

------------------------------------------------------

After resting for a while the two of you got cleaned up and dressed, tidying up the office so it didn't look like two people just fucked in it. Once you were done you both stood and looked out the window of his office, watching the sun disappear and the stars start to shine. He made a sound like he just remembered something. 

“Do you wanna go out to get something to eat?” he looks at you while putting his coat on.

“I’d love to, I’m starving,” you grabbed your purse and put on your coat as well. “Oh, uh what time is it?” you ask him. 

He lifted the sleeve of his jacket, looking at his watch and raising a brow. “That’s weird. My watch is stuck at 4:45.” you look at him in confusion. 

A sudden burst of wheezing laughter echoes through the walls and you’re still wondering what’s so funny. He turns to you and looks at your face, melting at how cute and innocent you looked. 

“I think you ruined my watch, Y/n.” he brings a hand up to your face moving a piece of hair that was out of place. You can't help but blush at his words, instantly turning away from him and opening the doors to his office.

“Well we’re even now because you ruined any other man for me.” You walked ahead of him in annoyance but he knows it won't last long.

He’ll have you screaming his name again in his bed in no time. 

I wonder if he was joking about that promotion though…

———————————————————————

✨stay sexy my friends✨

Taglist: @bobabybo

a/n: if you made it this far... yooo... im so sorry you had to read this. it didn’t tickle the brain the way i wanted and i trashed it like ten times only to go back with what i originally started with but if you liked it and you feel a lil sum ;) lmk i would love feedback or what I could’ve done better. i don’t know what I want to do with this blog just yet but for now its just my thirsts and writings. i reply and like on @keigohoes im just stupid lol.

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 6

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 4k Warnings: slow burn, sad feels/angst, canon-typical violence, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining Summary: When Fennec Shand reveals your true identity to the Mandalorian, you do your best to pick up the pieces. Notes: I’m sorry this took me so long!! I rewrote it like six times because I couldn’t get it to feel right. Next chapter should be much faster. Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme​​ @beskarhearts​​ @dincrypt​ @dunderr​ @honey-hi​ @just-me-and-my-obsessions00​ @mbpokemonrulez​  @oloreaa​ @red-leaders​ @speakerforthedead0​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​​ @theflightytemptressadventure​ @ubri812​ @zoemariefit​​

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Fuck. Panic coursed through your veins and paralyzed you. Your brain moved infuriatingly slowly as you tried to think of a way to stop the disaster that was unfolding before your eyes.

And yet...despite your fear and despite the fact that this terrifying, high-level bounty hunter had once tracked you, hearing Fennec call you sweetheart made your stomach drop—in a pleasant way, not at all like when Toro had done the same. She was beautiful, strong, mysterious, intimidating. What little you saw of her fighting style confirmed that she was lithe and exacting—catlike in her grace and prowess. A sexy armored bounty hunter.

I have a type.

You shunted that wildly unhelpful train of thought out of your head to refocus on the crisis at hand.

You looked at Mando. “I—”

“What’s she talking about?” he prompted. You couldn’t tell if you were projecting because you felt guilty or if he really did sound a little hurt.

You opened your mouth again to respond, but Fennec beat you to it.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Even in the dark, you could see Fennec’s eyes sparkle in delight as she addressed Mando. “I don’t know how this one stayed off your radar,” she explained. “She was wanted by the Empire for years. Huge bounty... She looks a little different now—check her chest for a scar to make sure, but I’d bet her bounty it’s there.”

Mando had already seen the scar. He knew Fennec was right.

You caught the hungry look on Toro’s face as he drank in everything Fennec was saying. His eyes trailed down your face and landed shamelessly on your chest. You could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he tried to think up a way to confirm your identity and claim the reward for both you and Fennec. This little fucker.

Fennec looked at you, and you took a step back involuntarily. “You’ve gotten sloppy, baby. There’s been chatter for weeks that you resurfaced on Nevarro. If I hadn’t been pinned down here, I’d have come for you myself.”

Her words felt like ice sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You’d figured that news of your sighting would probably get out, but you had hoped against hope that the blue-haired bounty hunter had been taken out before she’d been able to spread the word.

Mando was silent, fists clenched tightly at his sides, visor glued on Fennec. Pulling yourself together, you grabbed his arm and dragged him a safe distance away.

“I was going to tell you. I’m sorry,” you blurted, once you were out of earshot.

“It’s fine,” he replied stiffly, his gaze trained decidedly to your right.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered that even though it was just the two of you, his voice retained its icy, detached quality, all the tender familiarity gone.

“No, it’s not. I should have told you sooner. I-I wanted to—believe me—but I didn’t know if I could trust you. You were—you’ve been worried that I might turn you or the kid in, haven’t you? I was worried that you’d do the same to me if you found out. The longer I spent with you, the more I felt like you wouldn’t, but I had to be completely, totally sure. I couldn’t take the risk. You can understand that, right?”

He said nothing.

“Look—I really want to be able to trust you. I want you to be able to trust me. I just didn’t know where to start. It’s not easy for people like us to trust blindly, you know?” You hated that your voice sounded almost pleading.

Still, he said nothing, a blank beskar wall. The comfortable warmth that had developed—slowly, painstakingly—between you two over the past weeks had dissolved in an instant.

“Mando. Talk to me, please.” You reached out for his arm, but he stepped back. He still wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“Not now. Not here.”

“But—”

Your heart sank when he turned abruptly and walked back to the others.

You watched as he grabbed Fennec’s arm roughly, hauling her to her feet, and you trailed behind as he lead your party back down to the foot of the cliff. When you reached the bottom, Mando threw Fennec to the ground.

“Uh oh, looks like two of us have to walk,” Fennec taunted, eyeing the lone bike.

Mando jerked his head, motioning you and Toro to follow him.

“Alright, so what is the plan?” Toro asked Mando.

Reluctantly, you refrained from asking him if he could contribute for once instead of letting Mando do literally all the work; instead, you turned to Mando and supplied, “That dewback isn’t far.”

Mando didn’t look at you. To Toro, he said, “I need you to go find it.”

“And leave you here with my bounty and my ride?” Toro asked incredulously. “Yeah, I don’t think so, Mando. I’ll only go if she comes with me, so I have a guarantee that you won’t leave.” Toro gestured toward you.

You and Mando spoke at the same time: “No.”

“Either she comes, or I don’t go.” Toro was obviously pleased with himself for thinking of this plan, a smirk painted on his face. 

You shot him a scathing look before turning to Mando to offer, “I’ll go get it alone.”

You’d love to put some distance between you and Toro, between you and Fennec, and honestly even between you and Mando at the moment.

“Suit yourself,” shrugged Toro. “Less work for me.”

You ignored Toro. “I remember vaguely where it was.” You pointed.

Mando pressed a button on the side of his helmet and scanned the horizon, stopping vaguely where you’d pointed. Finally, he trained his visor on you. He looked from you to Toro to where Fennec was seated and to you again, deliberating. You could tell he didn’t want you to go alone, but he also didn’t want to leave you here with Toro and Fennec. “We’ll go together.”

You nodded, knowing you were in no position to complain. Now that your secret was out, it was evident that both Toro and Fennec would capitalize on your value at the first chance. And, even now, when your dishonesty had been revealed to him, Mando still felt compelled to protect you, his generous heart winning out over whatever malice he felt toward you.

A small part of you resented him for that; it didn’t rub you the right way that he didn’t think you could take care of yourself. A larger part of you knew it was exactly why you liked him so much.

It would be convenient if he were a selfish ass. You could convince yourself you didn’t owe him anything, that you’d done nothing wrong. But no. 

This is why it’s easier to be alone.

You felt both angry and guilty, an awful combination that manifested in the urge to hit something—a deep yearning to break Toro’s nose flashed through your mind when you caught the smug expression on his face as he looked from you to Mando. He was enjoying the palpable tension that had materialized between you a little too much.

“Watch her,” Mando reminded Toro, gesturing to Fennec. “And don’t let her get near the bike. She’s no good to us dead.”

Without a look or a word to you, he turned and started toward the dewback. 

***

You walked in awkward silence, knowing you’d have to be the one to break it, but you delayed the inevitable, admiring the array of stars spread out above you. Mando stomped up and down the swells of sand, staying several paces ahead.

You meandered your way through a storm conflicting emotions: anger at yourself for getting into this situation (rightful), anger at Mando for being infuriatingly honorable (misplaced), guilt that you’d hurt Mando (well-founded), fear about your safety (appropriate), fear that Mando was about to break your heart a little bit (honest), irritation that you were trekking through a damn desert and there was an aggressive amount of sand in your boots (fair but trivial)... and a myriad of others that were too nuanced to unpack.

After deliberating for a long time, you decided to take an offensive position and offer to leave preemptively to save Mando the trouble (and to save yourself from having to hear that from him). You steeled yourself with a deep breath and interrupted the oppressive quietude of the night, jogging for a moment to catch up with him.

“We can go our separate ways when we get back to Mos Eisley. I know I’m too much of a liability to keep around, especially with the kid.”

He turned his head to look at you, the night sky reflected in his visor.

“I have enough credits to get off world some other way.”

“If that’s what you want.”

It killed you a little just how much it wasn’t what you wanted. You were supposed to be totally independent—you’d chosen this life when you joined the Rebel Alliance, knowing that if by some miracle you managed to survive, you’d be hunted for years. The call for your blood wouldn’t—and didn’t—end with the Battle of Endor, especially when Imperial remnants remained strong. And years ago, condemning yourself to this life for a just cause had seemed brave and romantic. Now, here you were, desperate to build a connection with someone else, despite the risk. And you were starting to think that truly being brave would mean accepting that risk.

At what point is it worth giving up ease for happiness, for something more?

You gathered up what nerve you could muster and took a leap.

“It’s not what I want, but I know you feel betrayed. I really am sorry I didn’t tell you—I was planning to, but I was scared. Scared that you’d take advantage of that... scared that you’d take back your offer to stick together. And the longer I waited, the harder it got to come clean.”

“I understand.”

The frostiness of his voice had given way to something a shade softer, but it still hadn’t returned to its former warmth.

You nodded.  

As it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything else, the disappointment started to settle in, trickling into the hollow of your chest. He understood, but it evidently didn’t change the fact that the fragile trust that had evolved between you was shattered.

Well, fuck.

You suppressed the wave of emotions that threatened to overtake you, focusing instead on making a new plan for yourself. There would be time to work through the feelings later, alone. Your thoughts wandered to where you might go next, running through a mental list of options. Nothing sounded appealing. 

None of the places that came to mind would be stocked with a shiny, withholding Mandalorian and an ancient green toddler.

You walked for another twenty minutes before Mando spoke again.

“I want to trust you too.”

You stopped. “What?”

He halted too, turning to face you. The dark sky painted his beskar deep shades of liquid indigo, speckled with pinpricks of starlight, that moved as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “I wish you... uh... had felt safe enough to tell me that, but I understand why you didn’t.”

You knitted your eyebrows together. “Wait. You’re not mad?”

“I haven’t given you any reason to be open with me. And I guessed you were running from something.”

“Oh.”

“The Empire part caught me off guard—but I knew there was something.”

Of course he’d figured it out...that seemed so obvious now. He’d be able to spot that from a mile away. Plus, he knew you. You spent the last month or so learning his tells and quirks, but you hadn’t stopped to think that he was doing the same with you.

He continued: “But the kid and I are also wanted by the Empire. We’d have the same problem even if you weren’t here.”

“True...” You were struggling to recover from the whiplash.

“What are you wanted for?”

“I was an Intelligence Officer in the Alliance.” It had been years since you’d shared this information with anyone, but the words fell from your lips as naturally as if you said them every day, like you’d been ready to tell him all along and your mouth had finally caught up with your heart.

“Yeah, that makes more sense,” he said. “Explains a lot of your skills.”

You scoffed. “Fair.”

Mando cleared his throat and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “But... it’s...uh, nice to not always be alone.” He punctuated the end of his sentence with a shrug, a little embarrassed.

Relief washed over you.

You smiled. “For me too.”

“Good,” he agreed, nodding decisively.

“Shit, you really let me think you were furious,” you laughed, feeling infinitely lighter but still trying to wrap your mind around this abrupt turn.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I was... trying to figure some things out.”

You shook your head in exasperation and started walking again, but you froze when he said your real name. You’d known your name would sound good in his voice—everything did—but the way it rumbled and rasped through the modulator was borderline sinful, agonizingly personal.

File that away for later.

You looked back at him, and he cocked his head: “So you’ll stay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you agreed, a broad grin on your face.

You both started walking again, and suddenly, trudging through the sandy desert in the middle of the night didn’t seem so bad. The dewback came back into view as you crested another sand dune.

Mando looked over at you. “Din,” he offered. “My name is Din.”

You glanced up at him, surprised. “Din,” you repeated back to him, feeling it out.

Despite the contradictory definition of the word, it suited him. He was the opposite of a cacophony, a man of few words—though to be fair, he did often cause a commotion. But as a name... Din was short, to the point. It evoked a lot of feeling for just three letters, and that felt right.

“I know your real name now. I thought it was only fair that you know mine too, but only use it when it’s just me and you and the kid,” he explained.

Your throat was unexpectedly tight.

You reached over to squeeze his arm at the elbow, where there was a gap in the beskar. He didn’t pull away.

“Thanks,” you answered, looking up into his visor. 

You hoped he understood that you were thanking him for more than just his name—for his understanding, for his trust, for his protection, for his vulnerability. You couldn’t say that all out loud at the moment, but you hoped he knew.

He dipped his helmet in acknowledgement, and you dropped your hand. 

When you finally reached the dewback, Din approached slowly, speaking to it in a calm, lilting voice. It warmed to him slowly, and he grabbed the reins.

He hauled himself up onto its back and then extended a hand down to you. You took it, and he pulled you up easily to sit behind him. You wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Is this okay?” You weren’t really sure why you asked this time. Things had shifted between the two of you, so you were compelled to check that the casual contact was still welcome.

He cleared his throat: “Yeah, fine,” he confirmed.

It had been a long time since you’d been physically affectionate with anyone, besides the occasional casual, short-lived tryst. It was nice to wrap your arms around someone familiar and comfortable, someone who knew you.

The dewback started forward. Din directed it back toward the cliffs with the reins in his fist. It wasn’t a huge distance, but the dewback was a slow means of transportation.

You had little idea what all this meant for your daily reality with Din. You had both shared that you wanted companionship, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was interested in anything more than that. However, for you at least, this was undeniably no longer a superficial interest that you harbored; you had real affection for him. And it seemed like he maybe was starting to feel same way about you? Or maybe he was just getting comfortable with having companionship? The man was starved for human interaction, so it was hard to know if he was warming up to you or warming up to companionship in general.

One step at a time.

Time slipped by as the dewback lumbered on. You rested your cheek against the scratchy fabric of his cape and closed your eyes. The rhythmic movement, the darkness, and comfort of the position lulled you into a light sleep.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep when Din woke you, squeezing your now limp arm that was resting on his thigh above his beskar plate.

“Alive back there?” he asked in a low voice.

Leaned against him, still groggy with sleep, you felt the question rumble through his chest.

You sat up straight, pulling your arms back to your sides. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine. We’re close.”

The two suns had risen, bathing the landscape in the golden glow of early morning. You looked around and saw that you were a short distance from where you’d left Toro and Fennec. You couldn’t see them yet, but you figured they were hidden behind one of the many large boulders strewn across the landscape.

As you drew nearer, though, you could tell something was wrong. Only one figure came into view—and it was crumpled on the ground. Din registered this as well: his shoulders stiffened, and he pulled the reins tight to halt the dewback’s slow advance.

It was Fennec’s body on the ground. Toro was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“You were right about him,” said Din. “Stay here.”

Din dismounted and approached Fennec’s body. She looked dead, but he crouched to check. He tried to find a pulse, and after a moment, he stood back up and shook his head.

As Din walked back toward you, the realization dawned on you both at the same time.

“He didn’t—”

“The kid—”

“She must have—”

“We have to—”

Din hurried back onto the dewback and directed it toward Mos Eisley, doing his best to make the lumbering creature pick up its pace. It didn’t help much.

The ride back was interminable. You definitely didn’t fall asleep this time, adrenaline keeping you on edge as the hours passed. Both you and Din were incredibly tense, speaking very little, thinking only of the child.

***

Night had fallen again by the time you reached Mos Eisley. The speeder bike that Toro had been riding was parked outside Peli’s. Fury and fear spidered through your veins at the thought of him with the kid.

Din jumped off the side of the dewback and looked up at you expectantly, his arms outstretched. You maneuvered your leg over the side and slid down a bit until his hands gripped your hips, and he lowered you until your feet hit the sand. You could have easily jumped down on your own. He knew that. You knew that. You’d let him help you anyways.

You paused outside the bay to draw your blasters.

“Here,” Din offered you the flash charge.

You slipped it into your jacket sleeve, where it stayed tight against your wrist. Together, you crept through the door and down the stairway that opened up to where the Razor Crest was parked. It was eerily quiet.

You scanned the space, jumping slightly when one of Peli’s pit droids scurried past.

“Took you guys long enough.”

Toro walked slowly down the open ramp of the Crest, the barrel of the blaster in his hand pressed to Peli’s back. The child was held in his other arm.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh?” he sneered.

The urge to hit him flared up so acutely that you clenched your fists. You hissed at him: “Don’t you da—”

“Drop your blasters and raise ‘em,” he ordered, cutting you off.

You and Din exchanged a look before throwing your blasters to the ground. In a subtle movement, you shifted the charge from your sleeve to your fist as you placed your hands behind your head.

“Cuff ‘em,” commanded Toro, nudging Peli forward and throwing two sets of cuffs to the ground.

She moved toward Din.

“No, start with her,” Toro drawled, jutting his chin toward you. “To think I almost cut Mando out of this deal,” he laughed. “I would have gotten you and Fennec, but this is so much better. I get to collect the bounty on you and this target here that Mando helped escape,” he pointed his gun at the baby and all your muscles tensed in protective rage, “...and I get to turn in the legendary Mandalorian himself—a Guild traitor.”

Peli walked behind you. You grasped the charge in your fist so that she would be able to see the top of it. You heard her quiet, sharp intake of breath.

“Fennec was right,” Toro continued smugly. “Bringing you three in won’t just make me a member of the Guild—it’ll make me legendary. Three high-value targets on my first try. Wow, I should really thank you guys.”

Peli was fumbling with the cuffs behind you, taking longer than necessary on purpose.

You hoped she was ready to duck because you’d heard enough of Toro’s self-congratulatory monologue. You released the charge.

In the split second of blinding light, you, Din, and Peli sprinted in opposite directions, taking cover. Toro groaned and attempted to cover his eyes, shooting blindly at the empty space where you had been standing.

Din took Toro out in one shot.

You were closest to where he fell, so you charged forward with your blaster trained on his body. The baby wiggled out of Toro’s arms and ran toward you. His big eyes were watery and his arms stretched toward you, his fingers making little grabby motions. He chittered nervously as you scooped him up with your free arm, and he buried his head in your shoulder.

You kicked Toro’s blaster away from his body as Din approached to make sure he was dead. After he checked his pulse, Din tugged the pouch of credits from Toro’s belt and tossed it to Peli. “Here,” he said.

With a gasp, she caught it and emptied the pouch in her hands. Credits tumbled out, a few falling to the ground.

“That cover us?” Din asked.

Peli looked shocked, scrambling to pick them all up. “Yeah... uh, yes. This is gonna cover you.” It was clearly far more than she was expecting.

You passed the child over to Din, and he looked down at the baby, tilting his helmet in...what? Affection? Relief? This was a head tilt you hadn’t defined yet.

Peli approached him and looked down at the child. “You take care of him, you hear?”

Din nodded.

“Thank you for watching him,” you said to Peli, genuinely grateful that she had turned out to be trustworthy.

“Besides getting held at gunpoint... I guess it wasn’t too bad,” she replied, smiling down at the baby. She’d clearly grown fond of him, and you couldn’t blame her. After a moment, Peli mumbled a goodbye and walked away, eagerly counting the credits in her hands, her pit droids skittering after her.

You stood there, finger caught between three tiny green ones, as the kid babbled and cooed up at you. When you looked up, Din’s helmet was trained on your face.

He tipped his head toward the open ramp of the Crest in a wordless invitation.

You smiled at him, a comforting warmth settling in your chest, and he followed you into the hull.

***

Chapter 7

[silenteyes]

Safe and Sound

For Luke’s Birthday~

TW: Implied Child Abuse, Non-Graphic Violence, Celestial Realm Bashing, Angst, Bittersweet Ending

I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'll never let you go

“Simeon?” Luke’s voice cracked. 

“Luke, I need you to listen to me carefully, alright?” Simeon would’ve seemed apathetic if not for the fact that tears were currently rolling down his face, his usual smooth voice wavering. “I will never let you go, I’d tear the heavens apart if anyone ever took you away from me. I will risk anything and everything just for you to be safe.”

Simeon cradled the young angel in his embrace, giving him a small salvation from this bitter cruelty we call reality.

When all those shadows almost killed your light

Simeon could not care about Michael or any of the other angels right now. They caused Luke - this bright light, to dim. For all they say about being holy beings, they were like shadows to the young one.

I remember you said don't leave me here alone

“Simeon, please! Don’t... don’t leave me alone,” Luke trembled. 

The older angel brushed his lips against his hair and shushed him, rocking him back and forth like a child. he is a child, isn’t he?

But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight

Luke wailed as he saw his guardians his beloved guardians, the holy creatures of the Celestial Realm all killed and slain, blood everywhere. They were the last beings alive he had connected to his mother, and they’re now dead just like her. Is this really the esteemed Celestial Realm?

It will just be another unofficial document in Celestial History. It wouldn’t be looked up upon, and they would be forgotten in a matter of months. How is it that although killing isn’t justified, it is alright for the Celestial Realm to do it? 

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down

Luke let out a trembling sigh, and looked at Simeon with so many emotions it would take him more than a century to decipher them. 

“Why me, why my mother? Why is our fate despairingly so?” 

“Luke, I am not Fate. I cannot answer that. But rest assured, I will help you now. It’s the least I owed to your mother. This holy realm will be no more, for its holiness has been long gone.”

You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now

Luke glanced away and took out his silver pendant and feathered-circlet. It was the last essence he had of her. If he ever felt unsafe, the two would do just the trick and made him feel protected. 

“Young angel, no one can hurt you now.

I will keep you safe, even if it is the last thing I do.”

Isn’t that what Simeon promised too? When did promises became empty words?

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

“If Lucifer is the Morning Star, dare I call you the Morning Light,” Barbatos teased lightly.

“Oh, why is that? It’s not that I’m interested or anything!”

A light chuckle escaped from the butler and the young angel huffed. 

“Lucifer was always destined to stay in the shadows, he and... a few others have never seen eye-to-eye. 

He is known as the Morningstar, which is rather ironic since he doesn’t really bring the destined light. Stars only appear in the night, which is quite fitting for a character like him.

You - on the other hand, are like the sun. Although you don’t appear every time, your light is always there for other people. The stars need light too. Believe me when I say Lucifer has probably took a liking to you.”

The angel squawked out in offense. “No! Demons are horrible!”

The butler raised one brow. “Me too? And Beelzebub?”

The young angel stilled before flailing his arms, clearly conflicted, which made the butler laugh.

Don't you dare look out your window, darling everything's on fire

Luke clutched onto Simeon while the latter hums softly. The outside is too chaotic, and if they stepped out it would be a miracle to even come out in one piece. 

It was the Celestial War all over again, except now it is because of a child who was never treated as one.

The war outside our door keeps raging on

Simeon’s cries were so loud, the only thing Luke could hear. Michael has finally found them. Yet - the war still hasn’t stopped. 

Azrael and Raphael themselves have already gotten on their knees to beg mercy for the child.

“Have you no dignity? No shame? Getting to your knees just for the servant’s son.”

“Michael, he is but a child. You’re talking about dignity and shame when-”

“QUIET, RAPHAEL. Father has agreed that the servant has brought us many troubles, offsprings of hers would be the same.”

“MICHAEL! THIS IS A DAMNED CHILD! AREN’T YOU THE HOLY PROTECTOR?”

“SHUT IT, AZRAEL. Remember that Father could throw you all off from this place.”

“Michael, please-”

“Simeon.” Gabriel’s cold voice cut him off. “I’ve a message from Father.” He glanced at Luke before staring at Michael. “He supports your decision, and he allows you to do as you please.”

Luke could only close his eyes as Michael dragged him, the three who defended him now desperate. 

Perhaps Michael was right. It did seem he brought only trouble.

Hold onto this lullaby even when the music’s gone~ 

The young angel could only clutch his only possessions the only thing left of his mother as Michael dragged him to the very edge of the Celestial Realm, the same place where the brothers fell from.

“Michael, please! Just let us say a few things!” Raphael’s voice rang out. The young one felt the hand dragging him freeze, before throwing him towards the Healer.

“Only a minute.”

Raphael sobbed in relief as he rushed towards the young angel.

“Simeon and Azrael were restrained. They were fighting back and the others were ordered to put them in seclusion. Whether temporary or not, I haven’t a clue.” Raphael embraced him in a warm hug, and the young angel let his tears fall as he returned the embrace.

“Luke, please stay safe for us. Take this,” Raphael cautiously gave Luke a vial and a small... box?

“Archangel Raphael, I-”

“Hush, young one.” Raphael kissed his forehead. “You will know what to do with the vial. The box is a musical one. It will hopefully bring you comfort. Do not let anyone knows of these items unless you are certain they are trustworthy. You-”

“Time’s up. Raphael, you must’ve said enough.” Not waiting for a response, Michael grabbed the young angel by the collar and dragged him back with Raphael pleading for him to be at least a little gentler. 

“From this day onwards, you are banished from the Celestial Realm. You no longer have the right to call yourself a holy being, you are tainted with sin. From now on, you will be stripped off of your title as an angel.”

Luke felt the cold air rushing as he fell, tightly holding the things Raphael gave him.

Gone.

The air was so cold as the Healer’s cries were becoming distant.

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down

The young angel closed his eyes, not noticing his pendant glowing slightly.

You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now

The young angel cried silently, waiting for his body to drop to the grounds of Devildom.

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

The young angel fell unconscious, not hearing the familiar voices.

Just close your eyes, you'll be alright

The young angel opened his eyes to see a familiar butler, with a few other figures he could barely make out.

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

The young one sighed, as being an angel was now just a mere memory.

---

Happy Birthday, Luke <3

[yelenasdog]

ribbons & flames (peter parker x fem!avenger!reader)

REQUEST BY @lokivision​ : hehehehe peter parker request: just fluffy cuddles :D idk if this is descriptive enough for a request oops

genre: fluff!

summary: two avengers that love to cuddle :D

words: 1.11k

warnings: none tbh, just them being dorks.

a/n: cass, ur request was cute and i luv u!!! if u sent a peter request, i’m workin’ on it!! this was kinda rushed and kinda weird but i hope u like it anyway!!! mwah enjoy <3  also, i didn’t use y/n, so if u wanted, u could read this as an o/c or fem character x peter.

·。·。·。

“Pete?”

His name echoed through the apartment just above the bustling New York streets, with nothing coming in response. So, she only shook her head and sighed, turning back to the copy of Fahrenheit 451 she had laying in her comfily clothed lap. 

You see, her and MJ had decided to conquer all the greats together, this most recent being Bradbury’s masterpiece, which had grown to be her favorite by far. She had begun to finally get back in the “zone” of her reading, when she heard four rythmic knocks on the window to their bedroom. She smiled to herself giddily and bit her lip, making her way up from where she sat on the sofa.

Her grin only grew as she saw a masked up Peter sitting on the fire escape railing, legs swinging and fingers tapping the frosted metal on either side of him. When he saw arguably his favorite person, standing in front of him like an angel to save him from the cold, he jumped from his perch. 

He rubbed his hands together, jumping two times in his place. She paused where she stood, knowing that although he may have been a tad bit chilly, the heater in his suit was keeping him toasty. She tilted her head, taking her bottom lip between her teeth and crossing her arms in front of her. Through the glass, Peter groaned, pleading her to “just open up!” to which she giggled and complied, lavender bursts of energy falling from her fingers, enveloping the window and pulling it up from where she stood, several feet away.

“Took you long enough, bookworm. Thought you were gonna let me freeze to death out there.”

She scoffed in false offense, putting a hand over her heart and turning to face him, walking backwards towards where her book was resting. Peter reached his arms out, and she reached hers up, pulling off the mask as he rather pulled her towards his chest. Her walking didn’t cease, and the pair backed up a few inches to where she ended up with the lower of her back pressed against the couch. She looked up at his face, moving one of her hands to run a finger through his sweaty locks.

“You should go shower and get changed. You smell, bug boy.” She said in a half-joking manner, some truth in her words.

He slanted his eyes, running his tongue over his teeth.

“Really? Is that so?” He asked innocently, crossing his arms, mirroring how she had been posed previously. She nodded and shrugged, to which Peter quickly pushed her onto the couch from behind, taking care in doing so.

“Peter Benjamin Parker! I am going to kill you!” She exclaimed, picking herself up from where she had fallen, blowing her hair from her eyes. She conjured back up the sparkling ardor, this time having it reside in her palms and creeping its way through up her arms and to her fingers. Peter looked back over his shoulder as he went, finally making it to the bathroom with her hot on his heels. He slammed the door, and mere seconds later, she easily flung it back open. He smiled, scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry?”

She chuckled, her eyes fading back to their normal hue (that Peter adored), and the rest of the energy faded as well, minus a small strand still dancing about on the tips of her fingers, like sugar plum fairies would. She hummed, another smile gracing her face. She turned, closing the door using the aforementioned strand, and walked away.

She made it to the fireplace, grateful that Tony had agreed to let herself and Peter spend the extra money in order to stay especially warm in the colder months. The orange glow of the flames had grown to become one of her favorite things, she had decided. 

She loved to sit in front of the brick appliance, to send a flow of violet in the pit, watching fondly as the embers and the energy hesitantly mixed, having an intricate waltz. Every time, it seemed that the spark of her own power nearly overtook the fire, but instead, it showed mercy. It would continue to surround and mingle with the possible inferno, until ultimately the fire went out, but her energy remained, dancing by itself.

After 15 minutes of peaceful observation, her trance was broken by Peter, who had just stepped out of the shower. The water still rolled off his shoulders, his curly hair releasing droplets from his head. He let her know that he was going to go get changed and would be right back, his glance only leaving his phone screen once. 

And just as promised, he appeared soon after, and she smiled at the regular Adonis before her, all wrapped up in his old Star Wars tee and black sweats. He walked over to her, gesturing for her to scoot over and make room for him to sit.

“Hey.” He had said when he finally settled in, a boyish smile stuck on his freckled face.

“Hey, yourself.” She had responded, looking at where their two forms were basically connected at the hip.

“That close enough for you, cowboy?” She laughed, her eyes crinkling at the edges. He grabbed her by her shoulders, making her squeal in a surprised delight. He pulled her so that her thigh was resting on his, his lips forming into a devilish smirk. She only rolled her eyes and scoffed in a way that could only be described as melodramatic, nestling further into his chest. 

The Star Wars shirt was soft from years of use, the worn material making her feel at home, serene. She inhaled, taking in Peter’s scent and doing her best to commit it to memory (even the dreadful 2 in 1 hair wash he used, because truthfully, it was still all him).

“This is nice”. He stated, his eyes shifting from the whirlwind of energy surrounding the angry fire that threatened to lick at their toes, to where she had her head resting upon his chest, his heartbeat lulling her to rest. The proximity to the fire never really concerned them all that much, the awareness that if need be she could easily subdue it being what diminished their worry.

“Yeah. It is.” She muttered, entangling her limbs with Peter’s, cuddling into his side even more, however that was possible. He smiled down at her, resting his head on top of her’s, the sensation of her being so close bringing him great joy.

And even when the two Avengers had long fallen into a deep slumber, full of dreams, and nightmares, and things that most feeble minds couldn’t understand, long after the fire had been reduced down to nothing but burnt ash and wood, effervescent ribbons of her lavender remained, just as they always would.

·。·。·。

tagging moot who might be interested: @kelieah​

i hope u liked that!! if u did make sure to rb :D mwah go drink water and eat protein if u can <3

xx hj

[robininthelabyrinth]

Now I want the story where NMJ is half war god and NHS is half fox spirit, thank you so much xD

based on this tumblr post and Lao Nie’s decision to refer to WRH as A-Han in this one ficlet

on ao3

Nie Zonghui had long ago suspected that his Sect Leader was a madman, but he didn’t really know it for certain until the first time he lost the man while on a bodyguarding mission – his first, and a great honor. 

Supposedly.

“It’s all right,” his father said, looking long-suffering, when he reported back in distress. “He’s an adult, our sect leader, and this is a small city with no major threats in the middle of some idiosyncratic festival celebration for some goddess or another. How much damage can he really do before he sobers up?”

Nie Zonghui stared at his father, then turned to his mother, who was also staring at her husband with an expression of sincere incredulity.

“Lots,” she supplied. “Lots and lots and lots, and that’s assuming he doesn’t get himself killed in the meantime. Why would you even say that?”

“He’s our sect leader, have some respect.”

“I respect the boss bull of the herd, too, but it doesn’t mean I let it go wandering around the fields wherever it pleases!” She shook her head, snorting in a manner not entirely unlike a bull herself. “Well, if we’re very lucky, maybe our cousin will knock up a cow while he’s out and about rather than just breaking things. We could use a direct heir already; he’s not getting any younger.”

“We could use him being properly married is what we could use. I don’t understand why he’s so resistant – ah, Zonghui, you’re still here? Go gather some cultivators and go look for him, but don’t kick up any fuss, and worry too much if you can’t find him at once. He’ll be back to business soon enough.”

He was, if by “soon enough” one meant “after nearly ten days” and by “back to business” one meant “still drunk off his ass and waxing rhapsodic about some girl he met and possibly married”.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure the sun shines out of her ass,” Nie Zonghui’s father said, his face stormy. “You still could’ve told us where you went. Look what you did to poor Zonghui, he’s been wearing down his heels pacing in worry over you!”

“Oh, heels, yes, did I mention that my gorgeous goddess had amazing legs, too?” their sect leader asked with a soppy smile and stars in his eyes, totally uninterested in any of their petty complaints. “She could kill a man with them – oh, but I would die a happy man between those thighs…!”

“Zonghui, go guard the outside door,” his mother told him. “Also, tell his younger sister that she might need to be sect leader sooner than she’d hoped, because I’m going to murder this fucking –”

-

Nie Zonghui was there, too, when ten months later his new little baby cousin was (metaphorically) ditched on their doorstep.

The entire thing was entirely too dramatic for his taste, and yes, he was aware that as a person who chose to dual wield sabers he had very little room to criticize others for being overly dramatic, however correct he might be.

They had been fighting bandits – barely disguised mercenaries, really, probably paid off by the Wen sect to harass them – in what had turned into a particularly bad situation. Three separate regiments had joined together to take advantage of a terrible thunderstorm and ambush them at all once and them with their backs against a raging river, swollen with rain to the precipice of flooding, with no way to retreat except by fleeing on their sabers, abandoning the common people they were protecting and losing all face. 

The sect leader had been raging on the battlefield, saber in hand, but even he had seen that they would need to shortly choose between death and dishonor; Nie Zonghui, close by his side, had seen how his face was split with a terrible scowl as he wracked his brain for more options.

Then there had been a terrible roar of thunder, and then a flash of light that had blinded them all.

Nie Zonghui had immediately noted the anomality of it, thunder first and lightning second, and wondered it if it was some sort of array working against them, especially when the light had not faded away but grown brighter, causing searing pain in his eyes that made him fall and clutch at his face. But he was a good soldier, loyal and true, and he forced his eyes open to squint into the night, looking to see he did not know what.

Through his sun-blindness, he vaguely thought he could see a silhouette not unlike that of a woman, ten feet tall and radiant as the sun, wearing a dress of nine colors and carrying a guandao in her hand that seemed to reach the clouds, but when he blinked again he saw nothing at all.

Or, well, he did see something: all of their enemies were headless, no matter where on the battlefield they were, their bodies dropping like a loosened string of coins where they had been standing and splattering anyone they were fighting with blood as they gawped at the sudden corpses.

Also, the sect leader was suddenly holding something in his arms when he hadn’t been before.

“What’s that?” Nie Zonghui asked, and the sect leader turned towards him. Nie Zonghui squinted, and suddenly wondered if this entire battle had been a very bad dream. “…is that a baby?”

“Yes,” the sect leader said, grinning broadly. “He’s my son!”

“He’s your what,” Nie Zonghui said.

“My son! I didn’t know about him, of course – apparently he came as something of a surprise to her as well – but anyway she thought that it would be more appropriate for me to raise him, all things considered. A baby doesn’t quite fit her lifestyle. What do you think of ‘Mingjue’ as a courtesy name? Good, yes?”

Nie Zonghui suddenly understood why his parents were always cursing all the time.

-

“I don’t see why I need another wife,” the sect leader said. “I already have a son.”

“Don’t you want to give said son a mother?” Nie Zonghui’s mother asked, her arms crossed. “One that isn’t the Dark Lady of the Nine Heavens, the war goddess you somehow managed to knock up without getting killed?”

“She never specified that she was –”

“Someone needs to be Nie-furen,” the sect leader’s younger sister interrupted, “because I am sick and tired of doing the job, and it’s a little difficult to ask a goddess to do it. So you are going to find yourself another one that’s a little closer to the ground this time, you understand me?”

The sect leader nodded and agreed, which was universally agreed upon to be the only appropriate reaction when his beloved meimei said something in that particular tone of voice.

(He did, after a suitable period of time, state that he wanted to make clear that there was no actual evidence that he had knocked up Jiutian Xuannü and that it was quite plausible that the mother of his heir was nothing more than a rogue cultivator of particular strength and possibility even immortality. If Baosan Sanren had managed it, why not someone else?)

At any rate, they brought him several pictures of women that might fit the bill and who would not be too offended at being asked to be a secondary wife – their sect leader swore up and down that he had performed bows with the mother of his first son, rendering him legitimate, and anyway no one was in the mood to see if the maybe-a-goddess would take offense to someone calling her child a bastard – but none seemed to catch their sect leader’s interest.

“Consider visiting a few brothels,” Nie Zonghui’s great-uncle suggested. “Anything to get you back in the habit of thinking about women of a less divine nature – though of course we’d prefer that she be literate.”

The sect leader scowled and stalked off to go night-hunting instead.

“I don’t like brothels,” he said to Nie Zonghui as they made their way through an especially deserted mountain valley in search of something that had murdered all the local mensfolk in the surrounding villages with especial viciousness. “Surely there’s an option in between.”

Nie Zonghui preferred his sabers to either men or women, but he obediently wracked his brain to think of where people in stories and famous songs found their wives. “Innkeeper’s daughters?” he finally suggested.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the sect leader scoffed, but the very next day, he decided to break his usual habit of staying out in the wild no matter the weather in favor of taking shelter from the encroaching storm in a small inn right at the base of an especially lonesome and nasty-looking cliff.

“We’re always happy to have guests,” the innkeeper said with a somewhat sinister smile – he was pale as a ghost in the guttering candlelight, and his lips looked very red. “My daughter will show you to your rooms.”

The daughter in question was inhumanly beautiful: small and graceful, with a fox’s face and dark hair that fell to her knees.

“Wow,” the sect leader said, staring at her. “You know, I think you could kill me with those nails of yours.”

Nie Zonghui took a look and agreed with the sentiment, seeing that her nails were as long as claws and looked just as sharp, but apparently he and the sect leader had somewhat different interpretations of this sequence of events and plans on how to address it.

Namely, Nie Zonghui pointed out that the lady was obviously some sort of yao or maybe a gui and that she was probably the one seducing the local mensfolk, draining their yang energy and then slaughtering them, and therefore that it was undoubtedly their duty as cultivators – and cultivators of the Nie sect in particular – to put an end to her vile deeds through the swift application of their sabers. Furthermore, he explained, they should take care never to allow themselves to be alone with her in the process, lest she seek to entrance them with her seductive magics and lure them to their undoubtedly violent deaths.

The sect leader’s rebuttal to this line of logic was limited to “I’m the sect leader and if I want to bang the probably-a-ghost, I’m going to bang the ghost and there’s nothing you can do to stop me”.

Amazingly enough, the sect leader did not end up dead the next day – the innkeeper looked just as surprised as Nie Zonghui felt – and instead announced, very happily, that he was planning on marrying her.

“You what,” the innkeeper said, staring at his very smug-looking ‘daughter’. In light of dawn, she was wearing a dress of many colors with a foxfur ruff, and her beauty was almost painful to behold.

“You why,” Nie Zonghui moaned.

“You shut up,” the sect leader told him. “I’ll have you know that my lady here is very clever, literate and well-learned, and she doesn’t at all mind being the second wife. Weren’t you one of the ones on my case about getting a Nie-furen to help managing things back home?”

“I didn’t think we needed to specify that the person in question didn’t murder a lot of people!”

“Isn’t his first wife supposedly a war goddess?” the lady inquired, her clever eyes dancing in amusement.

“Well…yes…”

“Also, all those men deserved it,” she said. After a brief pause, she added, “In my opinion as a totally unrelated observer, of course.”

“See?” the sect leader said, putting his arm around her waist. “No problem. Anyway, she’ll stick to killing bad people from now on, it’s fine.”

The lady smiled. There were many teeth in that smile, and they were very sharp.

“If she doesn’t, I’ll have my first wife discipline her,” the sect leader added and her smile abruptly disappeared.

Nie Zonghui coughed into his hand, but reluctantly admitted that maybe this wouldn’t turn out to be as bad as all that.

-

“Huaisang is a lovely name,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, being the best of them at diplomacy when she put her mind to it, although admittedly it was something she did only very rarely. “I think we were just expecting something a little different, that’s all.”

“Possibly something a little more fox related,” Nie Zonghui’s father said.

“Please,” the sect leader’s second wife said. “That would be gauche.”

They looked at her.

“…all of my suggestions along those lines got rejected,” she admitted, and glared at the small shrine in the corner as if it had personally wronged her. In this context, it very well might have.

“Is there anything we should keep an eye out for?” Nie Zonghui said, watching his little cousin carry around his even littler cousin under his arm as if he were a sack of potatoes and not a baby that hadn’t yet had its first month celebration. He would have interfered but for the fact that little Nie Huaisang seemed to be notably more in control of his various limbs than the usual infant. “A tail, for instance?”

“Oh, no,” the second lady said. “Nothing like that.”

“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“It’s very rare for fox children to achieve a grand plot worthy of a tail in their first lifetime.” A pause. “From what I understand, that is.”

“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “…great.”

“You’ll take good care of him when I’m gone, won’t you?” she asked, and when they all looked at her, smiled. “Not for another year or two, don’t worry, but I really can’t stay here that long. Sometimes, a girl’s got urges she has to take care of.”

“The sort of urges where we’d need to hunt down a mysteriously appearing fox yao for having murdered a lot of people?”

“I already promised to stop killing people,” she said sulkily. “Although I do think I made some plausible arguments in favor of a little bit of entirely justified murder in connection with the Jin sect and maybe the Lan sect and, oh, the Jiang sect –”

“Please don’t.”

“It’s not my fault your Great Sects are all headed by men who wrong women.”

“You’re not wrong,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, and Nie Zonghui’s father looked alarmed. “But still, don’t.”

“You’re such spoilsports. But no, as it happens, it’s getting to that time when I need to return home for a while to pay my respects to the older generation.”

“How often does that happen?” Nie Zonghui’s father asked. “Once a century?”

“A gentleman shouldn’t ask a lady her age,” she sniffed. “At any rate, my family home is rather far away and they’re fairly insular, so I’ll probably be gone for at least a decade or so. I’d take the baby with me, but, well, you know, long travel and all. He’s better off sticking with his father.”

“All right,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said. “We understand, and we’ll help take care of him as best we can.”

“I’m glad.”

“We have only one thing to ask of you in return.”

Their second lady arched her delicate eyebrows.

Nie Zonghui’s mother smiled. “You be the one to tell your sister-in-law that you’re leaving your post.”

“…you know, on second thought, maybe I can push my departure out a few more years…”

-

“Before you say anything, I want to be clear right now that I don’t need a third wife,” their sect leader said. “I’m fine.”

“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, not unaffectionately. “You’re not allowed a third wife.”

“And therefore – wait, really?” he asked, a little skeptically. “You’re not concerned about me?”

“Oh, we’re very concerned about you,” Nie Zonghui’s father said. “But not in that specific respect. Some celibacy would probably be good for you, at least in terms of increasing your life expectancy.”

“…my sister is lying in wait with a cleaver to make sure she doesn’t have to take on the duties of Nie-furen again, isn’t she.”

“I’m not discounting that possibility, but don’t worry about it, it’s fine, we’ll talk to her. The Lan sect haven’t had a proper hostess in years either, we can just say we’re following their example.”

The sect leader eyed his cousins beadily. “They haven’t had a proper sect leader in years, either.”

“No, you don’t say,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said dryly. “What a coincidence -”

“You have two fine sons,” Nie Zonghui’s father said hastily. “That seems like enough, really.”

“You don’t think they need a mother…?”

“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui interjected politely. “While we admit that it may be within your capabilities to be able to find a mother willing to deal with one step-son who has been waiving around a saber taller than he is since he learned to walk and has a penchant for the unyielding, unmerciful and very violent application of the norms of divine justice –”

Nie Mingjue’s presence bolstered the spirit of good men, while his gaze seemed to make evildoers itch. He was the most earnestly good person Nie Zonghui had ever met, and also one of the most stiff and unbending in respect to what he believed should and should not be done.

Unfortunate that his standards didn’t seem to match up to the needs of either human law or diplomacy…

“– as well as another who can scheme circles around anyone and persuade them of anything as long as he puts his mind to it and only doesn’t because he’s too busy lazing around in the sun to bother –”

Nie Huaisang liked to file his nails down to something that looked quite normal, but they grew sharp quickly enough if he wasn’t paying attention, and he had a penchant for pranks. There was nothing quite as unnerving as running into a sudden and unexpected ambush and then suddenly hearing the shrill peal of a fox’s laughter, hidden behind a scholarly fan.

“– but all things considered, we’d really rather you - didn’t.”

His mother and father nodded fervently.

“Good,” the sect leader said, though he still looked suspiciously at them as if he thought they were hiding something. “Good. As long as we’re agreed.”

-

Nie Zonghui walked in on his sect leader pinning the Wen sect leader to a wall, murmuring something in a low voice with a very particular smile on his face, and then he turned around and walked right back out again.

The sect leader of the Wen sect might appear beautiful and young, but he was at least a generation older than the Nie sect leader. Not that that had stopped the latter from relying on their respective positions to refer to him in startlingly intimate terms – my dear A-Han, the sect leader would say with a touch of wickedness that reminded one of his second son and the tiger gall bravery of his first – and while at first the Wen sect leader had taken it as a challenge to his authority, an act of brash insolence, it appeared that they had progressed beyond that.

That the Wen sect leader already had three wives and two concubines apparently didn’t present any obstacles either – except perhaps in what those poor women might have to endure from their husband when he returned from the wretched teasing he was enduring. Nie Zonghui felt a bit of pity for them.

Shortly thereafter, he felt a bit of pity for himself. The Wen sect had long dreamed of dominating the cultivation world and sought to increase their influence with the other sects through underhanded means, with the Nie sect opposing them at every turn. Even if war was not on the immediate horizon, the wise could smell its distant approach in the air - the best estimates said that it would take another decade or two to arrive, unless the Nie sect leader took an especially hard stance.

It appeared, however, that the Nie sect leader had chosen to take a different sort of…hard stance.

Ugh.

Maybe Nie Zonghui could conspire to throw his sect leader into a cage with a live tiger in heat next time he felt in the mood. It’d probably be less dangerous.

Nie Zonghui had assumed that the first person to talk to him about what he had seen would be his sect leader, even if it was only to remind him of the general rule that the sect leader had ultimate power and therefore could exercise his own bad judgment in deciding to fuck whoever he wished, but instead it was the Wen sect leader that found him later that afternoon.

A flush had yet to fully fade from his cheeks, and Nie Zonghui raised his eyes to the ceiling to avoid looking directly at the man in front of him. 

He did not want to know. Others might, given that no one had ever complained about the looks of either party, but he himself had realized long ago that he had no interest in matters of the flesh under any circumstances; he was very content with that conclusion.

“Is there some service this one can provide to Sect Leader Wen?” he asked politely, and it was only when the sect leader flushed again that he realized belatedly that his words could be misconstrued. After all, his own sect leader had probably already made a similar offer regarding the provision of services…

“Your sect leader has a sister, doesn’t he?” the other man asked, his voice tight and his hands in even tighter fists. “I’m not misremembering that?”

“He does,” Nie Zonghui responded honestly, and not without sympathy for the Wen sect leader’s position. He was given to understand that making certain belated discoveries regarding one’s own preferences could be highly disconcerting, particularly later in life. “But she’s rather different in kind than what you may be thinking, so it won’t work out that way. It wouldn’t work even if she wasn’t already married, which she is.”

After a moment of thought, he added, “Also, consider your predecessors.”

The Wen sect leader’s eyes narrowed.

-

Really, it was the sect leader’s own damn fault that he got himself murdered.

[silkling]

Hi! I remember you said you liked angst. So... Can you write another fanfic on the AU where the rescue bots were found by the Autobots, with the following plot: Blades is forced to repair one of his comrades, who was seriously injured in battle?(either Chase or Heatwave, your choice) 👀

Ooh, I like this idea! Imma do it. I’m going to make it worse though. Just because. Apparently I really like hurting my favorite characters. Go figure, huh? Also, for those who didn’t read the first, this fic is in the same verse as this one.

Also, beware that there will be descriptions of graphic injury, so be wary if that’s something that upsets you.

———————————————————————————————————

The stars were silent. They always were, of course, but during the Ark’s recharge cycle the silence was all-consuming. Blades was in the rec room, sitting in the little viewport alcove that took up a small portion of the wall. They were passing by the same star system where the Sigma had been found by the Autobots, all those stellar cycles ago. 5 vorns or so had passed since then, which felt both like an eternity and like no time at all.

Blades knew Cybertronians lived a long time. In reality, 5 vorns was barely any time at all for one of their kind. But for Blades, who had once only ever known what it was to save lives, the past 5 vorns that he’d spent learning to take them had dragged on and felt almost unbearably long. He hadn’t actually killed yet, but he’d already learned how do so with a blaster, how to do it by hand, and even how to get in close and use a blade. Apparently, he was particularly talented at that last one. Given his name, the Protectobot found it rather ironic.

“Blades? What are you doing up? You do not have any duties this night cycle.”

The motorcycle startled, his engine revving and his processor snapping to attention at the unexpected voice. He hadn’t killed any bot yet, but he’d been in many, many, many battles now, some of which still gave him nightmares. He’d developed battle protocols very quickly after joining the Autobots, and now took being surprised as poorly as most of the others did. His optics sharpened and focused on his unexpected visitor with unnerving intensity, before his sighed and relaxed, tense armor plating loosening once more.

“Chase.” he greeted. “I know. I couldn’t sleep. I was remembering that last battle.”

“Ah.” Here, his friend’s voice softened, and the blue and white bot walked over to join him. He nudged the slimmer youngling aside until there was room in the small alcove for them both, sitting opposite from his friend and letting their pedes entangle. “I understand now.”

And he did. The last battle had been fought on a young planet, one with plentiful energon mines, and where the local species were still primitive. It had been a difficult fight. Blades, like always, had fought on the front lines with Hot Spot, Groove and Streetwise. Chase and Heatwave had been nearby, too. Somehow, they always found themselves fighting near each other. As with most of their battles, Boulder and First Aid had remained behind at the Ark, away from the battle proper. It hadn’t been a very unique battle, at first. Then the Deceptions had unveiled a new weapon. It had destroyed the planet, and every life that called it home had died with it. The Autobots had been too late to realize what was going on. They hadn’t been able to stop it, only flee before they too fell to the new weapon.

Blades had taken it particularly hard. The small motorcycle was a deeply empathetic bot, and it had hurt him to know they they had brought their war to another planet, and that it had resulted in the destruction of that planet and the loss of the lives there. Chase couldn’t blame him. All of Sigma-17 had felt that loss particularly hard. For all they had become soldiers after being awoken from stasis, all four younglings were still Rescue Bots at spark.

“We will simply have to stop Megatron next time and destroy his weapon before he can ever use it again.” Chase said after a moment of silence. He knew Blades wouldn’t be reassured by useless platitudes.

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet, distant. “Yeah.” he repeated, sounding a little more present as his optics hardened. “We will. He can’t do that again.”

Blades turned to meet his friend’s gaze, chin lifting. “We won’t let him do that again.”

Chase smiled, nodding. “No, we will not.” he agreed.

Blades relaxed completely then, sighing and shifting until he could lean into Chase’s chest. “Thank you, Chase.” he whispered.

“Of course.” he said, his arms coming around to press the smaller bot to his chest. “I will always be there to support you, when you have need of it. I am your Amica, after all.”

That was another thing that had changed in the past few vorns. Blades and Chase had always been fairly close, since they found they balanced each other out quiet nicely. Even before stasis, they’d been close friends. Blades appreciated Chase’s calm, peaceful logic and found it helped bring him him back from some of his nervous breakdowns, and Chase found Blades’s natural easy-going and sociable demeanor soothing and helpful at understanding situations which normally gave him pause. It had only taken them a couple vorns after coming out of stasis to formally perform the ritus and become Amica Endura.

Blades laughed, his hands raising to curl across the arms pressed to his chestplate. “Yeah, you are. And I’m yours. You can always count on me, Chase.”

A small smiled tugged at his lips, and he turned his gaze to the stars outside the viewport, in his chest, his spark pulsed, warm and fond with affection and belonging. He knew that Blades was feeling the same right now, both younglings basking in the quiet peace and comfort of each others’ presence.

“I know.”

Outside the Ark, the vast expanse of space stretched on. The billions of stars shone brightly, and life moved ever forward. Time ticked on, and though this moment was calm and soft, there would be many moments to come that would not be. What the future held exactly, only Primus knew. All his children could do now was hold on and ride out the storms to come.

——————————

When it finally happened, Blades would later reflect that he was surprised it had taken as long as it had. But then again, First Aid and Ratchet would probably have done their best to keep it from happening, to make sure his own emotional turmoil wouldn’t cause him to falter. They couldn’t stall it forever though, because this was War and at the end of it all that only meant he would have been forced into a situation like this eventually.

The orn had stared out like most other orns. The only difference has been that the Ark had landed on a planet that apparently was fairly rich in energon. The planet was also largely uninhabited, save some plant life, so they wouldn’t have to worry too much about harming the local inhabitants. Everything had been going well. They’d managed to collect energon, enough to halfway fill one of the storage hangars, and had been in the process of mining more when the Decepticon attacked.

Blades still wasn’t sure where they’d come from. Maybe they’d landed the Nemesis on the other side in the planet and travelled the rest of the way themselves. Maybe the Nemesis was still above them all, and the ‘Cons had just made planet fall on their own in order to attack. Either way, Megatron and his soldiers had showed up, and once again a battle had begun. Blades hadn’t been near his team or his brothers when the attack had begun, so he hadn’t been able to join them for the fight. That had made him nervous, but he’d fought anyway, shooting at any Decepticons who got close and using the terrain as cover.

It hadn’t been long before there’d been a call for medical attention, and Blades had reacted on instinct. He’d sprung from behind the large stone he was hiding behind, following the call until he came across Cliffjumper and Arcee. The other two-wheeler was unconscious, a shot leaking energon from her neck. Blades had been quick to get Cliffjumper’s help to drag her behind another nearby outcropping, and he’d settled down to begin triage care. As soon as he’d been assured of her survival, he’d swiftly ordered the red mech to bring her to the med-bay. Usually, he didn’t have the rank to order other bots around, but he’d found that all the Autobots would tend to do what he told them when it came to medical matters.

He’d turned to rejoin the battle when Sunstreaker had dragged his twin around the outcropping, dropping Sideswipe with a snarled demand to fix him. Blades hadn’t taken offense. They were split spark twins. They shared a spark bond with each other, like he did with his brothers. It wasn’t the same exact type of bond, but it was close enough that he understood the panic. He’d fixed the severed fuel lines, patched up the sparking wires, and welded the gashes in red armor before telling Sunstreaker to get his brother out of the battlefield. Sideswipe wouldn’t be able to fight further with his wounds, even though Blades had managed to repair the damage completely. He’d need to recover.

It had seemed that, after that, the Autobots must have figured out that the outcropping was where emergency triage was being done. They’d probably passed the information along their comm. system while Blades had been working on Arcee. After the Twins, Blades had found himself busy with many bots. Most had only surface level wounds, injuries that needed a quick patch so they could rejoin the fight. Others needed a full field repair and a retreat, like Sideswipe had. Blaster had been dragged to him by his Cassettes in critical condition, and Blades had had to quickly patch the life threatening damage, then order Ironhide, who’d come in to get a leaking fuel line patched, to take the host mech to Ratchet and First Aid immediately.

Once he’d done that and turned to his next field patient, he’d caught sight of blue and white armor. His processor was deep in its rescue and medical protocols, so much so he initially tuned out all his surroundings. It wasn’t until something in the back of his mind whispered that the shade of blue was familiar that he paused, taking in the full extent of the damage. It was bad. The bot’s chest was the worst off. It looked like they’d been hit point blank with an explosion. The metal armor of the chestplate was melted and twisted, with large areas gone altogether. Blades could see into their chest and realized that even their internals were damaged. The fuel pump was dented and had been pierced with a shard of blue armor, there were several sparking wires and spurting lines, and worst of all, the bot’s spark chamber was caved in and cracked. The motorcycle could see the weak glow of the bot’s spark. That wasn’t even all the damage. The poor bot was missing a leg, and it looked like one of their arms had been practically shredded. Even beyond that, most of the bot’s frame was dented or damaged in some way. Blades could barely pick out the paint job under all the damage.

Even so, his processor started screaming louder as he realized that, despite all that, the colors and patterns of that paint were familiar. Blades froze, his spark almost spasming with dawning horror, and he turned his gaze up to the bot’s face. As soon as he locked onto the slack face, saw the darkened optics that he knew should be a glowing amber, he couldn’t hold back the agonized keen as his medical protocols stuttered.

It was Chase.

His next vent came out in a harsh whine, and he couldn’t take his optics off the slack face of his Amica. Blades almost jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Jazz looking at him with a grim expression. The Third in Command nodded his helm at the prone form of his teammate.

“I know it’s tough’.” he said. “But ya gotta take care o’ him. If he don’t get the care he needs now, he ain’t gonna survive the trip to old’ Ratch. He needs you, mechlin’, so don’t spiral now.”

Blades stared at him for a sparkbeat, and then jolted as if he’d been physically shocked. He turned back to Chase, trying to ignore that it was his Amica who was wounded and dying in front of him, and got to work. He took in the damage once more, fingertips transforming into the tools he needed, and with a hard vent he forced his emotional processes to mute themselves in his processor, letting medical response protocols rise to the surface uninterrupted. Abruptly, his previously distraught EM field went blank and numb, making the bots around him wince with the suddenness if it.

Jazz stepped back, a flicker of regret in his visored optics. He recognized what Blades had done. He’d shut down his emotional response core. It wasn’t something the average bot could do, and he suspected the youngling only knew how to because of his medical training. The only other bot he’d seen do that was Prowl, and the Praxian had to do it if he wanted to come up with his tactics without crippling himself emotionally. Luckily, the emotional core could be brought back online later, but he knew it was never a pleasant process for the bot who had done so to come out of the emotional numbness. He only regretted that Blades had found it necessary to do so in the first place. No youngling should have to do something so drastic. It wasn’t right.

In front of Jazz and the other Autobots who were gathered behind the outcropping for minor repair, Blades worked on. He ignored the sounds of weapons fire and destruction beyond the small safe haven he was huddled in, focusing only on the task in front of him. He had to make sure Chase survived. He had to.

Failure wasn’t an option.

——————————

The rest of the orn passed in a haze. Blades was aware of things distantly, but wasn’t processing anything emotionally. He knew Jazz took Chase off to the Ark as soon as he’d ensured his friend wouldn’t die in the next few groons, until Ratchet or First Aid could get to him. After that, things happened quickly. He’d patched up the other bots around his outcropping who’d only needed minor repair, but he’d had no major patients after that. And then Megatron was calling a retreat, and Ironhide had come to guide Blades back to the Ark. None of the older bots seemed upset at the two-wheeler’s numb demeanor. He was in shock. He knew it. They knew it. They didn’t hold it against him.

Once he had been safely delivered to the starship, Ironhide had gone off. Blades wasn’t paying attention to where he’d gone. Maybe some of the others were gathering the last of the energon. Maybe everyone was preparing for take off. He wasn’t fully aware, wasn’t fully processing his surroundings. He drifted along in a haze, until he found himself in front of the medbay doors. That was when his focus sharpened. Usually after a battle, he’d join Ratchet and his brother in the medbay and do his part to help. He needed to go in.

The only thing making him hesitate was Chase. His Amica was in there. He’d done all he could on the battlefield, but had it been enough? Could he face it again?

He would have to. He stiffened his spinal strut and steeled his resolve, then stepped forward and the doors opened. He stepped into the medbay, his optics roving over the occupied berths, until they landed on a trio of berths by the far wall. On one, there was a familiar blue and white frame. Chase. On the second, a red mech lay prone and limp. Heatwave. On the third, a bulky green bot was resting on his side, unconscious and unaware. Boulder.

No.

Blades’s spark screamed in agony. He could see some of the damage from here, but he couldn’t see it all. Heatwave’s lower half looked like it had been crushed under something extremely heavy. The metal armor was dented and almost flattened. Blades could also see that the red mech’s optics were blackened and shattered, if if they’d been hit by a blaster bolt. Boulder wasn’t much better off. His entire back was a melted, twisted mess. Blades could see his spinal strut poking out of the ruined armor. There was so much energon. All three of his teammates were covered in it. It almost looked like they’d decided to incorporate pink into their paint jobs.

An agonized keen tore its way free from his vocalizer, and and medical protocols he had been ready to engage fell away under the onslaught of emotional anguish. He didn’t notice how First Aid had gasped and pressed a hand to his chest plates the second he’d noticed Sigma-17’s damaged states. He didn’t hear his brother call out to him in concern as he keened. He didn’t see Ratchet curse and begin to turn towards him, looking both irritated and worried.

He did, however, feel the hands that clasped his shoulders, the chest that pressed up against his back. He startled, drawing in a rasping gasp, and then he felt a soft warmth wrap around his spark. He knew that presence.

“Streetwise.” he whimpered, twisting to stare up at his oldest brother with wide, over-bright optics.

“Hey, Blades.” Streetwise gave him a small smile. “Let’s go, yeah?”

“B-But I have to stay. I need-“

“Ratchet and ‘Aid can handle it. This was an easy battle. They handled a lot worse than this before you came along.” he cut it. “You won’t be of any use in the state you’re in, Blades. Besides, I’m fairly sure it goes against medical code to come in and treat patients when you’re covered in filth from outside.” he said sternly.

Blades made to protest, but the soothing pulse in his spark from First Aid distracted him enough that Streetwise was able to guide him out of the medbay. He started gently ushering his brother towards the communal washracks, making sure Blades didn’t run into anyone in his shocked state.

“Streetwise, I gotta go back. They need me, I-I can’t-“

“None of that now. You did plenty today. Blades, let them handle it. Your well-being matters too. Right now, that’s actually all I care about. Your team will be fine. Have faith in Ratchet and ‘Aid, yeah?”

Blades whimpered, but he didn’t have the chance to argue further because that was when they came upon the washracks. Hot Spot was there, and he grimaced when he saw the state of his brother, but he forced a smile a moment later and reached out to rub Blades’s audial fins in a way he knew the smaller bot liked. The finial under his fingers quivered faintly, and Hot Spot wrapped a hand around Blades’s wrist to tug him into the washracks. He’d managed to get the others out earlier, and they’d been fairly understanding when he’d explained that Blades was in shock and needed a proper cleaning.

“Come on, bitty Blades.” The largest Protectobot whispered. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? You’re covered in energon, that can’t feel good.”

Blades went stiff at his brother’s words, looking down at his frame and noticing for the first time that his armor was covered in energon. Chase’s energon. A pained whine was pulled from his vocalizer, and Hot Spot winced when he realized he’d said the wrong thing.

Streetwise shot the bigger bot an unimpressed look, but both knew that talking to Blades now would be useless. The smallest Protectobot, though not by too much, had always been prone to worry and panic. Blades was an anxious bot, it was just part of who he was. It meant that sometimes, his worry overcame him and he spiraled. His brothers could always tell when that happened, because his spark pulsed almost frantically and they could sense the overwhelming panic through the bond. When Blades got like this, he lost awareness of his surroundings. They’d long since learned that the best way to soothe him was to use the bond and send comfort and safety along it, to wrap their brother’s spark in feelings of love and reassurance and peace, and pull him out of his panic that way. Thankfully, Blades didn’t spiral often. He was overly nervous, sure, but he’d never let it stop him from doing what was needed of him, and he’d learned to not let it control him. That didn’t mean his emotions didn’t get the better of him sometimes, though.

Hot Spot gently tugged them all over to one of the cubicles, where he’d already grabbed the items they needed. With all three of them in there, it was a little crowded, but they could make it work. The spray of solvent was turned on, and Blades barely twitched as it hit his frame. Neither Streetwise nor Hot Spot were bothered as their younger brother remained silent. They worked together to clean up the mess that was Blades, using wash rags to wipe away the dirt and energon, and then smaller brushes to get in between the armor plating and into the transformation seams. It took some time, especially with Blades so unresponsive, but eventually they had him fully cleaned and dried, and were tugging him back towards their berthroom.

Blades himself was still in a daze. The energon was gone from his armor, and that certainly helped, but he couldn’t stop thinking of his teammates in such dire condition in the medbay. He couldn’t get the image of Chase’s broken frame on the battlefield out of his processor.

Blades was a gentle spark, perhaps even more so than his easy-going flyer brother. Groove was a pacifist, and Blades was deeply empathetic and his brothers knew that he felt things on an emotional level far more keenly than they were really able to grasp. The rest of the Protectobots had been able to adapt to the War, especially since their introduction to it had been more gradual. But Blades, who had always hated seeing anyone hurt, to the point he’d taken any extra classes he could at the Rescue Academy just to be able to help as many others as he could? The War was hard on him. He’d adapt, in time, but with how sudden his introduction to it had been it would be a while yet before the violence stopped making him so upset.

The trio eventually arrived at their berthroom, and when the door closed behind them Blades felt Streetwise and Hot Spot move away from him. A klik later, he felt another frame press against him, and a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. It took only a beat for him to recognize Groove. He whimpered, his fingers twitching and clinging to the copter bot. Blades felt soothing warmth wrap around his spark from the bond, coming from all four of his brothers. Love, warmth, assurance, and peace soaked into his spark, and Blades let out a broken noise as everything from the day crashed into him.

Groove crooned gently, tightening his grip on his younger brother. “Easy, Blades.” he whispered. “We have you. We won’t let you fall, yeah? Just let it out.” he soothed.

Blades shuddered, then sobbed and clung tighter to his brother. He felt Streetwise press up against his back, and Hot Spot’s arms came to way around them all. The four of them stood there for a while, Blades sobbing and gasping as all his panic and worry rushed through him at once. He hadn’t been able to really process it, before. That was the danger of muting ones emotional core, as he had done earlier. It meant that he’d need to handle the emotions he’d blocked off all at once instead of steadily and as they came. So, he was forced to stay in his brothers’ hold, letting them keep him from falling as everything crashed into him. For many breems, he wept into Groove’s shoulder, his own shoulders shaking with the force of what he was feeling.

But, finally, his cries petered out, and then he was just venting harshly, shaking faintly in the aftermath of it all. He felt Hot Spot smooth a hand down his side, then come back up to rub his finial before his biggest brother spoke.

“How about we watch some of that old drama we used to like before the War? We still have the whole series downloaded on the old travel holo-pad. I know you missed a lot of the episodes that came out while you were in stasis, bitty Blades.” he said.

Blades reset his vocalizer, wincing at his staticky and rough his voice was even after doing so. “You have the whole series of But a Chance?”

Streetwise hummed. “You bet we do. We kept downloading the new episodes that came out after…” he paused, trailing off. Blades knew what he was talking about. “Well, we kept downloading the new ones. Never watched them, though. Not beyond the ones that came out before them Purge.”

“Didn’t feel right. Not without you there to make all your little comments.” Hot Spot quipped.

Blades huffed a weak sound of amusement. “You still watched some without me, though.”

“Awe, only a couple, bitty Blades.” Hot Spot smiled. “Not too many. So? What do you say?”

Blades gave another huff. “Yeah.” he agreed,

“Good, because I’ve already got it set up.” Groove said cheerfully.

“Presumptuous.” Streetwise teased.

“Shut it. You’re the one who told me to prepare for a Blades Cheer Up Night.” Groove snipped back.

“We all knew it was time for a Blades Cheer Up Night. Why are you sparklings arguing?” Hot Spot asked playfully.

“I’m older than you.” Streetwise said, frowning.

“Only by half a breem.” Hot Spot sang.

“And I’m not a sparkling!” Groove protested.

“Hush, little brother.” the two older Protectobots said at the same time.

Blades giggled weakly. “Yeah, hush. The big bots are talking.” he rasped.

Groove turned an offended look on him. “We’re all older than you. And bigger.” he sniffed.

“I’m prettier though.”

There were noises of outrage around him, and Blades felt his lips quirk up. Even as Hot Spot tweaked his finial in retaliation, he just felt his smile relax a little more. His spark was still heavy with grief and fear, but already it felt warmer and lighter. He didn’t protest as Streetwise eventually got the other two to simmer down, pushing them all towards the large berth. At the head of the berth, the holo-pad was set up on a small desk. As soon as all four brothers were settled, Groove started the episode Blades remembered having left off on, and they settled down to watch.

Things were peaceful, for a while. They got another episode in, and Blades couldn’t help himself then as he watched the characters go about on screen.

“I’m sorry, Clearview did what now? That’s stupid. She’s stupid. Why would she even do that?”

“Well,” Groove purred. “It could be because she’s actually-“

“No!” Blades hissed, drawing back a pede and planting it firmly in his brother’s hip, sending the flyer tumbling off the berth. “No spoilers!”

Groove cackled, but crawled back onto the berth and flopped on top of his younger brother. “Okay, okay. Have it your way.”

“You two are being far too loud for anyone else to enjoy to show.” Streetwise said blandly.

“Blame Groove.” Blades sniffed. “He started it.”

“You’re the one who kicked me!” Groove squawked, outraged.

“I will not be spoiled! Bots who spoil the show for other bots recharge on the couch, remember? That’s the rule!”

“Well, we don’t have a couch.” Groove said smugly. “So there.”

“We have a floor, don’t we?”

“I’m not recharging on the floor!”

“You are if I make you!”

“Try it!”

“Fine!” Blades huffed, and proceeded to launch himself at his brother.

Groove yelped, not expecting Blades to actually go through with it, and the two wrestled on the berth before their elder brothers pulled them apart. Streetwise grabbed Groove and rolled on top of him, while Hot Spot dragged Blades into his lap and wrapped the motorcycle in his arms.

“Hush.” he admonished. “It’s show time now, not wrestle like feral sparklings time.”

“We’re not sparklings!” Groove and Blades protested in unison.

“Then stop acting like it. Now shut up and watch.” Streetwise said, though they could all hear the grin in his voice.

There were grumbling protests, but the two younger bots obeyed and went still. After another couple episodes, they were released to drape across each other. Time wore on, and the Ark slipped into it’s nightly recharge cycle. By this time, Blades’s brothers were in recharge themselves, curled around and on top of each other while Blades himself continued to watch the drama. He was waiting, after all.

Another groon passed, and the door to their berthroom opened. First Aid trudged in, exhaustion hanging from his frame. He went straight for the berth, tipping right into it and not even bothering to get his legs in. Blades huffed a laugh, gently tugging his younger brother up into the berth. He reached out to turn off the holo-pad, then refocused on First Aid as the youngest Protectobot cuddled firmly into his side. He knew his brother was tired. Pit, he could feel the depths of First Aid’s exhaustion over the bond. But he had to know.

“‘Aid? Are they…?”

“They’re fine.” First Aid mumbled. “They’ll make a full recovery. You don’t have to worry, Blades.”

All at once, the last of the fear and worry left him, and Blades released all tension in his frame with a heavy vent. “Thank you.” he whispered.

First Aid hummed softly. “‘Course. They took care of you when we couldn’t. I won’t let you lose your team if I can help it, Blades. ‘Specially not your Amica.” he mumbled, his words slurring towards the end.

Blades smiled, his arms wrapping around the little medic as First Aid nuzzled into his embrace. “Yeah.” he murmured. They really had taken care of him. “Recharge, ‘Aid. You need it.”

“You too.”

“I will.” Blades agreed. “Goodnight, little brother.”

“‘Night.” First Aid made a sleepy, content churring noise. “Love you…”

Blades blinked, then tightened his grip around him. “Yeah.” he whispered. “Love you too.”

He watched his youngest brother drift off into recharge, then offlined his optics ans let himself drift off as well. Just before he fell unconscious, he felt Groove roll on top of them both, and Hot Spot’s arms coming around all three of them. From the other side of the largest Protectobot, Streetwise’s hand came to rest on Blades’s head, his thumb twitching against his finial.

Comfortable and warm, his frame and spark both surrounded by the peace and love of his brothers, Blades drifted off into recharge, his rest easy and quiet with the reassurance that his Amica and his team would recover. His spark was warm with the sheer joy, adoration, and contentment that pulsed all along the bond, and his rest was easy and undisturbed.

Beyond the walls of the Ark, the stars were silent.

———————————————————————————————————

And here it is! What did y’all think? For those who don’t remember, the Purge that Streetwise mentioned was the massacre of the Rescue Bots.

Also, poor Blades. He has it rough. At least he’s not alone, right?

Let me know how you liked that! If you want more of this verse, I might expand on it after I take care of more prompts. (Or you could request a specific scenario yourself.)

Until next time, folks!

[contrispos]

Episode 8 - Reunion

[Star Wars: The Bad Batch]

WARNING: This thing is long AF

—

Oh no… oh shit… stop… Okay I’ve missed Mr Toothpick here we go

PLEASE LET HIM GO

LET HIM BE WITH HIS BROTHERS AGAIN GODDAMMIT

“It’s Clone Force 99” with a completely monotone voice… stop…

Can Lama Su stop calling them Experimental Unit 99??? THEY ARE SOLDIERS BITCH GIVE THEM SOME RESPECT

TERMINATE THEM?????????? FUCK YOU RAMPASS

Omega is so focused I love it🥺

Wrecker really knows his stuff… so much for being the dumb one(no offense)

Oh my god I know the stress she’s going through… gosh I hope Wrecker has a brain and doesn’t actually blow the whole thing up

YES UNCLE WRECKER

Mom is coming… Dad wants you back on the cruiser

ECHO DID A SUPERHERO LANDING

Awwwwwww I can’t with Wrecker and Omega🥺🥺🥺🥺

FUCK YOU SCRAPPERFUCKS

OH YEAH

THIS IS THE SOLDIER STUFF I CAME FOR

Can Omega stop being the cutest thing ever??

“That’s not comforting” Tech… I can’t explain how much I love you okay???

I got a bit of a heart attack when Wrecker hit his head AGAIN… but then I remembered the last episode…

TECH WHY DIDN’T YOU SHAVE THE OTHER SIDE??????? YOU HAD A CHANCE TO ACCEPT YOUR PUNK SIDE COME ON!!!!!!

Tech’s helmet is the cutest thing, he constantly looks like a little puppy🥺

I don’t like Hunter’s helmet tho… can’t explain it

Wrecker’s undying love for explosives, I can’t

No shit Tech, the lights LITERALLY JUST TURNED ON OF COURSE THE POWER IS BACK

TECH STOP BEING CUTE

I KNOW IT’S JUST HIS VOICE BUT IT’S CUTE AS HELL

THE WAY HE SAYS OMEGA

Echo… Just join Rex goddammit we know you want to

Is it just me or did Echo’s accent just fuck up a bit?? He almost sounded drunk… aRE yOu dRuNk?

YES IT’S THE TECH SCENE FROM THE TRAILER

HE’S TINKERING

TINKER ON BOY

COME ON TECH CAN YOU JUST GET PROPER ARMOR FOR GODS SAKE???? PROTECT YOUR THIGHS!!! PROTECT YOUR NECK!!!!! PROTECT YOUR BALLS I MEAN COME ON

Oh Tech my sweet, sweet darling Tech… JUST TALK ABOUT YOUR EMOTIONS!!!! TALK ABOUT THE STRESS YOU WERE UNDER DURING THE WAR!!!! TALK ABOUT YOUR FEAR OF LOSING YOUR BROTHERS!!!! I WANT TO BE HURT REAL GOOD!!! IF I DON’T NEED THERAPY AFTER AN EPISODE YOU HAVE FAILED!!!!

Okay please tell me Omega is standing on something, I really don’t want Tech to have worse posture. I know he’s 6’4” so like Omega should be WAY shorter than that compared to him

Ah shiet

Stop

No

Company, leave!!

Go

Away

LISTEN HERE YOU GIRAFFE!!!! I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN IF YOU DO ANYTHING TO MY PRECIOUS CHILD OKAY

Oh god

Stop this right now

DAMN HE IS LOOKING GOOD

sorry

I don’t like this

Crosshair knows them so well this isn’t good

WAS THAT??? NO IT CAN’T HAVE BEEN? WAS THAT HOPE IN HIS VOICE?? IS HE HAPPY TO FINALLY BE WITH THE BATCH????

Stop it I don’t like not liking clones

Oh Crosshair I have missed you and all but can you just like leave??

Oh my god the regs really are stupid huh?

Tech I love you you little smartass

Crosshair, stop it, get some help

I am honestly pissed at Tech, like constantly… WHY DOES HE GET FUCKING PERFECT THIGHS AND I DON’T

Oh hell nah

🎶 fuck this shit i’m out 🎶

i don’t like this

i’m scared

Tech you sneaky bastard

TECH STOP BEING SO EXCITED ABOUT MASS MURDER

I don’t like when Crosshair disrespects my children like that

I’m crying

this is too much

Omega, you get a golden star for being cute as fuck

Tech, you get a golden star for being cute as fuck

The rest of you, you get to sleep on the floor

OH HELL NO

DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE

“Your issue is with me, not her” Hunter, your dad is showing. Like literally it’s consuming you

HUNTER I TOLD YOU LAST WEEK THAT THIS WAS NOT THE KIND OF HUG I MEANT

HOLY FUCK MY FAMILY IS HOME I CANT LAUGH NOW

THAT SCREAM

AHHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHA

Wrecker this isn’t a video game, you know that right??

TECH HOLDING OMEGAS HAND??? KILL ME NOW

WAIT

crosshair held the side of his head

DOES THAT MEAN????

weeeee a slide

Oh Wrecker I love you

We should let them have more slides

I think it could be mutually beneficial

They have fun, I get some extra serotonin

Hey! You should have let him finish!

What are the engines capable of, Tech? *blinks unnaturally quickly*

HUNTER HOW FUCKING STRONG ARE YOU???

How did you do that? I wanna save Tech too 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Crosshair clearly isn’t used to talking this much, his voice sounds kinda sore…

Tech could you maybe like, stop being emotionless? YOU ARE ABOUT TO DIE

holy fuck they’re gonna die

no

ohhhh no

no no no no no no no

OH YEAH MY SMART BABIES I LOVE YOU

OH MY GOD

they really are a group of dads

NOOOOO TURN THEM OFF

CROSSHAIR

NO

STOP

TURN THE ENGINES OFF MY BABY IS DYING

Omegas little welps🥺🥺🥺

CROSSHAIR MY CHILD

HE LOOKED SO SCARED

okay, who did that?

CAD FUCKING BANE????????

ARE YOU KIDDING ME????

THIS JUST BECAME A WHOLE ASS WESTERN

THE MUSIC AHHHHHH

HOLY FUCK I NEVER THOUGHT ID BE EXCITED ABOUT CAD BANE YET HERE WE ARE

no

stop

nuh uh

nope

i’m out

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD

NO

HUNTER

STOP

OMEGA

Oh no

Crosshair is properly fucked

oh shit

IT CANT STOP THERE

okay not gonna lie that was a gorgeous scene

is that what it looks like in their helmets??? really? I thought is was just like, a window, but this makes more sense

HOLY FUCK

created by DAVE FILONI yeah bitch I am gunning for you. I will find you, and i will kill you.

BITCH

[calebdumes]

definitely not working on my jedi au when i should be working on rosebuds...definitely not a thing that happened...

fandom: star wars rebels (ish?)

word count: 985

rating: n/r

~

Caleb secured the blindfold over his eyes and took a deep breath. As he exhaled, he activated his saber, the comforting hum of the blade thrumming in his bones. The Force flowed around him like a river, unending and unrelenting. He could sense the other beings in the room, like ripples in the water, but he rose above them and settled into the familiar stance of Form III, waiting for his opponent to make their move.

Caleb felt a shift in the Force a moment before his opponent moved to strike, like a faint change in the current. He raised his lightsaber in time to block a powerful blow from above, electricity clashing as their blades met. There was a hissing sound as a second lightsaber activated. Caleb disengaged and spun out of harm's way as the other blade came sweeping towards his middle.

It was an unfair advantage but he had survived worse odds than this. And with the Force on his side, he knew he could succeed. His opponent was powerful, favoring quick movements and forceful swings. It was clear they were a very skilled duelist and had an intimate understanding of the Jar'Kai but Caleb was no easy target - even without his sight. He blocked blow after blow, rarely lashing out in offense. He dived deeper into the Force, using it to guide his motions and show him what he could not see.

He could sense his opponents' impatience growing as each of their hits were met with Caleb’s glowing blade. He smiled to himself, relishing in the resilience of his chosen form. Even still, sweat began to drip down his neck, his muscles twinging with fatigue as the fight continued on. His opponent struck, in a wild and desperate move, giving Caleb his first opportunity to attack. Reaching out, he pulled on the Force, ripping the second blade from his opponent’s grip and sent it clattering to the floor.

His attacker’s shock reverberated in the Force before they composed themselves, retaliating in a quick succession of blows. Caleb grinned matching each one expertly. It wouldn’t be long before he had his victory. But his awareness had narrowed, he became too focused on the threat before him that he had lost sight of his surroundings.

Caleb took a step back, his foot falling on something cylindrical, causing him to lose his balance. He crashed to the floor, air punching from his lungs and his lightsaber falling from his hands. The Force screamed at him in warning, just as his opponent’s blade came for his exposed neck. Caleb threw up a hand, the burning heat of the attacking lightsaber blistering his skin as he held it at bay with the Force.

“Good. Very good.” a familiar voice hummed. “Improved greatly you have, Knight Dume.”

The lightsaber above him deactivated and Caleb let his hand drop. Using his other hand, he undid the blindfold and looked up into the face of his attacker. Ahsoka Tano stood over him with a satisfied but winded smile on her face. She outstretched her arm for him to take. Caleb gripped her forearm and let her help him to his feet.

“Not bad, kid.” she said, the secondary lightsaber slapping into her palm before she clipped it to her belt. There was a smattering of light applause from the onlookers. Caleb felt his face heat in embarrassment as he spied Master Kenobi looking at him and Ahsoka pensively.

“Not a kid.” he grumbled. He hissed as his own lightsaber jumped into his injured hand.

“To the infirmary, go you must.” Master Yoda ordered. “Accompany you, Knight Tano will.”

Ahsoka slung her arm around his shoulders and began to push him out of the dojo. “Don’t worry,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m sure Obi Wan still thinks you’re great.”

“Shut up.” Caleb elbowed her in the side.

Ahsoka hid her grunt of paint with a bright chuckle but sobered as Caleb lifted his injured hand to inspect the damage. “Sorry about the hand.” she said.

Caleb ran the tips of his fingers over the little red blisters on his palm. “I’ve had worse.” he said with a shrug. Ahsoka hummed at that, keeping her around him as they walked through the airy halls of the Temple.

“So, how long are you back for?” Ahsoka asked.

“I’m not sure yet. Master Windu gave me an assignment here on Coruscant but I don’t see it lasting long. What about you?”

“I leave for Malastare tomorrow.” she sighed wistfully. “There’s trouble brewing in the Dug Council and Senator Teem has requested a Jedi presence.”

“I hear Malastare is nice this time of year.”

Ahsoka snorted. “Are you thinking about taking a vacation?”

“Force knows I could use one.” Caleb said with a roll of his shoulders, the bones in his back popping with the movement. “You know, I don’t really need to go to the infirmary for this. It’s nothing a bacta patch can’t fix.”

“Who said I was taking you to the infirmary?” she asked with a sly smile.

“Ahsoka.” Caleb groaned as her arm slipped from his shoulders and she latched her hand around his wrist.

“Don’t Ahsoka me.” she said. “Drinks are half off at the Rusted Astromech and I am going to need all the drinks I can get if I’m going to spend the foreseeable future listening to a bunch of politicians argue over one another. And, we need to celebrate your complete and utter defeat!” she added brightly, looking over her shoulder at him.

“I had you on the ropes.” he shot back. “And you know it. You just got lucky.”

“Whatever you say kid.” she laughed.

“You know you’re only a few years older than me.”

“Which still makes you kid.”

Caleb rolled his eyes and let her drag him along. After all, it was just a few drinks. What could possibly go wrong?

[oneterribletruth]

four little words

MERWeek 2021 - Prompt: Long Time No See

read it on ao3!

“You will let me see my daughter!” The receptionist just smiled plaintively and nodded at Hannah’s outcry, her hand reaching for the phone that kept ringing.

“Ma’am, she’s just come out of surgery. She won’t be ready for—“

“You don’t get to tell me—“ 

Hannah was cut off by an asari slamming both hands into the hospital counter.

“I’m looking for Liara T’Soni. Asari. About as tall as I am. Biggest fucking blue eyes in the galaxy. Should be with that stupid redhead, Commander Shepard.”

The offense that had been stirring within Hannah died as the asari said her daughter’s name. 

“We don’t have any asari in this hospital ma’am,” the receptionist said, clearly stressed as her phone kept ringing. “Now if you’ll give me one moment I need to answer that call.”

“She’s not being treated, puckerfuck. She’s with her girlfriend.”

“Yes, just one moment—“

“You touch that fucking phone and I will remove your fucking hand.”

The receptionist pulled her hand back. 

The asari smiled, but it was more like a baring of teeth.

“Good choice. Liara T’Soni. Commander Shepard.”

“First name?”

��Of who? Me? The Commander? I don’t fucking know. She’s the Savior of the fucking galaxy. How’s that for a first name?”

“It’s Nova.”

The asari turned to Hannah, and Hannah had to say that her attention was really rather startling. The burning of a thousand stars was held within her eyes. “What did you fucking say?”

“Her name is Nova. Nova Shepard.”

“And who are you.” It was not a question so much as a command.

Hannah stuck out a hand in greeting. “Admiral Hannah Shepard. Her mother.”

“Aethyta.” The asari did not shake her hand, just turned back to the receptionist. “Well, you heard her. Now tell me where Liara is.”

“What relation are you to Miss T’Soni?”

“It’s Doctor T’Soni. And I’m her father.” Father? Hannah’s mind hung on the word.

The receptionist nodded though, either knowing something she didn’t, not hearing, or not caring. The latter was most likely, especially as she eyed the ringing phone again.

“Of course. As I was telling Admiral Shepard here though, Commander Shepard is coming out of surgery. She needs to rest. Doctor T’Soni is the only one allowed into her room as of current.”

“Listen here: I’ve had enough of this bull--” The receptionist reached for the phone.

Aethyta’s face twisted into a snarl, body tensing and arms starting to glow blue.

Hannah placed her hand on the receptionist’s, stilling it on the handle. “I think it would be wise for you to tell us where to find our daughters. Otherwise, you’re going to have a pissed-off Admiral and Matriarch in the waiting room. And I don’t think you want that. Now do you?” Hannah squeezed the receptionist’s hand a bit too tight. 

The girl’s eyes widened at the unspoken threat and yanked her hand back. “Room 308.”

“Thank you, dearest.”

Hannah took off from the desk at a brisk pace, knowing that her daughter was behind one of these doors. She didn’t care if Aethyta was following her, though she knew it was likely that the asari was a few steps behind her.

Finally coming to the correct door, her hand rested inches above the door, waiting to knock, but hesitating. What if Nova didn’t want to see her? What if the girl beyond this door was not the girl she had known before? That was a silly question though. Of course, Nova was different. After this war, they all were.

“Are you just going to stare at the door or are you going to open it, hun?”

Hannah glanced up to Aethyta, who stood with both arms crossed, one hip jutting out. Her brown eyes seemed to take all of her in with one long look that stretched from toes to head. Hannah’s face burned.

“Yes, of course,” she mumbled, and gave two polite taps. There was no answer. “Perhaps they’re both sleeping.”

Aethyta scoffed and lightly pushed Hannah out of the way before barging through the door.

Hannah, frowning, followed her through.

“Father?” Another asari, presumably Liara, started out of her chair, where she had been tucked up, likely sleeping.

Hannah could hear the gravel of Aethyta’s voice in return, but the words were drowned out as she saw Nova laying there in the hospital bed. Her face was a mess of scrapes, her hair burned away in some places, and she was covered in bandages, but Nova looked…peaceful. Calm. Content.

Hannah covered her mouth to stifle a sob, using the other to take Nova’s hand in her own. “My baby girl…”

Nova’s eyes fluttered open, revealing the matching set to Hannah’s own. “Momma?”

“I’m here,” Hannah whispered, tears streaming down her face. Momma. She had called her Momma, as she hadn’t since she was a small child. “I’m here, baby girl.”

Nova’s eyes closed again, settling back into that peaceful expression. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She could hardly get the words out. When was the last time she had held her daughter’s hand? Seen her face in something more than a holo-projection? Three years ago, Hannah had thought she would never have the opportunity again. And then by some miracle, she had come back to Hannah. Yet still, they had not seen each other. Just a few short messages between them. A call that had lasted less than a minute before Nova set course to die. Again.

“I love you Momma…” The four little words were sleepy, her tongue thick with whatever medicine that was keeping her out of pain. But Hannah’s heart still squeezed.

“I love you too, baby girl. I love you too…”