#now valuable resources to your side?

[batcavescolony]

(The Road To Civil War)

It's so interesting to see this brought up with other hero's, usually I see this with Batman. But it Really it's goes for anyone with a no killing rule, In this case Spider-Man. At what point are the deaths on your hands cus you didn't kill the villain last time. Spider-Man and Batman don't believe 'the ends justifies the means', to them killing someone is wrong no matter what. it's really easy for someone detached from the situation (or just reading a fake story) to just say yes, kill them. but really when push comes to shove would you actually be able to walk up to someone and kill them?

[phoenixblair666]

It Only Takes One Second: A Logan Howlett X Fem!Reader Story

This story takes place in the X-Men trilogy. It's a romance between Logan and Fem!Reader, where the reader goes through a traumatic experience that allows her mutant powers to emerge. She goes to Xavier's school in search of sanctuary but finds Logan instead. When He helps her learn how to use and control her powers, he creates a valuable new member of the X-Men, but what started as helping a new recruit find their footing, turns into a blossoming romance.

Authors Note: This story will be in multiple parts. As of now how many parts, is to be determined. The story starts off slow, but additional parts will be added. Enjoy! ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Word Count: 1,207

Reading Time Approximately: 5 Minutes

WARNINGS: Mentions of Traumatic experiences (Car crash), Mentions of Anxiety, Mentions of Hospitalization

(Part: 1) How It All Started

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚ ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .

Driving has always given you a sense of peace. That certain feeling of highway hypnosis was more than welcomed; the cool breeze in your hair, the gentle warmth from the sun shining through your windshield, and classic tunes fit for a twenty-three-year-old woman playing through your out-of-date stereo.

You never feared the long roads during these trips, nor did you fear where they would take you. Living in a van had its perks. One day you may want to lie beachside, lemonade in hand, the next you're driving through the Rocky Mountains, taking in the natural sights. Today that feeling changed.

Screeching tires echoed through the twined peaks on either side of you, the smell of burnt rubber filling your vehicle. You tried to take control of the wheel as best you could, but the invisible ice covering the pavement made it incredibly difficult. Your car swerved one way, then the next before the sound of metal against metal was heard, airbags deploying, scraping your face, leaving first-degree burns against your skin. Now you were airborne, freefalling off the side of a mountain. Time feels as if it slows as you watch the raging river below get closer and closer with each second.

Then it happens. Suddenly your body senses the air surrounding you. The way the gaseous molecules float freely, only parting ways when they touch your solid form. You can feel the vibrations from each of these molecules not on your skin but deep within your muscles, a sensation that is completely foreign to you.

The car is only a few yards away from crashing into the aggressive waters when your body begins to use the surrounding air as leverage, and you begin to float on your own accord. It's not gravity lifting you from your seat, but it's you, manipulating the natural resource. Everything happens too quickly for this newfound ability to be of use, and before you know it your car is making an impact with the water. The surface of the river is like concrete against the metal, crushing the hood to your knees. Your windshield shatters, allowing water to flood the interior of the vehicle, and then everything goes black.

══════════════════════════════

The smell of rubbing alcohol and soap is the first thing your senses pick up, then the constant beeping in your ears. Your fingers feel the rough texture of fabric as you weakly grip a set of white sheets. All of your senses slowly come back, one by one, acclimating you to your surroundings. Finally, your eyes flutter open. Your vision is blurry, but you can see the bright fluorescent lights shining down on you. You blink hard, trying to make the rest of the room visible, succeeding when you begin to notice the objects around you. A countertop with a sink, an empty armchair, medical posters, and IVs wrapping around your arm with a small needle filling your body with a plethora of drugs.

Just like the rest of your senses, the unfamiliar buzzing in your muscles returns. Once again, you feel the sheer power of the surrounding air in your body. This is a sensation that is completely new to you, it is frightening. Your heart begins to quicken, and the machine next to you detects the rapid pulse, alerting nearby nurses. You begin to paw at the IVs that adorn your arm, ripping the needle from your skin and discarding it on the floor, allowing liquid to pool on the clean white tiles. Your body begins to hover as you panic, lifting a few feet above the bed. A nurse opens the curtain that led into your room, gasping at the sight before him.

As you float, the feeling of uncertainty washes over you. Everything that was happening to you in this moment was unnatural, almost alien. The fact that you survived the horrible crash the day before, and now you can fly without trying, was some sort of strange miracle.

Nothing in your life has been or will be the same since this day.

══════════════════════════════

The sign against the brick wall was a clear indicator that you had reached your destination. You had heard from one of the doctors a few weeks ago that there was a place for 'You people' that acted as a sanctuary. Until then you had heard few stories of mutants, let alone seen one for yourself. And now here you are, standing at the entrance of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. You inhale sharply, feeling a ball sit in your chest, all worries flooding your mind at once.

Hesitantly you take one heavy step forward, then the next. Gravel crunches under your combat boots as you make your way to the large mansion-turned-school. Two large oak doors decorate the front of the classic old building, and an elegant porch covers them, while vines grow upwards against the brick, some even covering the many windows that adorn the structure. A large water fountain sits in the middle of a rounded driveway, and different types of foliage surround the man-made body of water.

What was once gravel turns into a stone path, leading to the driveway. Your steps become more wary as you approach the stairs of the porch. The unknown sits behind the oak barriers, making your heartbeat thump against your ribcage. A few more steps and you are right in front of said barrier. Lifting your arm had proven to be more difficult than expected as thoughts raced through your skull. Despite this, the rough skin against your knuckles meets the solid object with three small knocks.

Your anxiety spikes as you wait for someone to answer. You almost don't notice that you're holding your breath, barely able to remind yourself to keep breathing. One of the doors swings open, making you jump at the abrupt motion. A tall man peers down at your shorter self, eyeing you intently. His hair is pitch black and came to two catlike peaks at the top, with facial hair that hugs his jaw but stopped above his lip and chin, leaving only a small amount of stubble. His eyes are a light hazel color, resembling two rounded drops of honey and his body is quite built. He wore a white, wife-pleaser that showed every muscle under his lightly tanned skin, along with a dark blue, denim pair of jeans.

Your breath hitches in your throat, as your eyes meet his. The stare lasts longer than you'd like, but when his hardened expression turns curious, you find it easier to find your voice. "Is this Xavier's School for the Gifted?" You ask sheepishly, searching his eyes for a silent response. The man looks you up and down, then to the gate that you had entered from. Once his eyes meet yours again, he smirks. "Do you know how to read?" He questions, lifting an eyebrow. You nod quickly, feeling quite small at the hands of his satirical response. His features change for a third time, and he smiles. "Then I think you're at the right place."

You try to match his smile, but it comes off as nervous. He chuckles at your shy exterior before opening the door further and allowing you entrance.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

i have left

hey everyone this will probably be the last thing i post on this blog albeit im keeping it up for resources.

im eternally grateful for how this community has helped me through prostitution and everything, i have amazing mutuals and i have learned so much 💜

but it has become toxic. many of yall cant handle disagreement and default to being as condescending and obnoxious as possible. one of us calling out a post is not enough, we have to dog pile everyone with a slightly shitty opinion. some of yall have severely lost the plot if you ever had it in the first place. not everything is that serious, especially when it comes to online drama.

im sick of it. so many engage in the same bullshit we accuse online trans activists of. this is an echo chamber. so many just mindlessly parrot slogans and arguments. what im very sick of is seeing single tweets or posts by a nobody, usually anonymous, being spread as receipts and shit. you know how annoying it is when everything a self proclaimed terf somewhere on social media says is taken by trans activists at face value and representative of the community when theyre not even radical feminist, just transphobic? yeah. yet a lot of yall do the same by saving and sharing „receipts“ where some random person who claims theyre trans (or not even) says some fucked up or out of pocket shit. you will always find people like that online, from any politicial „camp“ or ideological alignment!

a lot of yall seem to think that debate is about winning and not like, having an exchange of arguments and let the audience come to their own conclusion

and i just dont hate trans people. in fact i feel kinship to any female or homosexual trans person, anyone except heterosexual males. many of yall dont even realise how male centered you are when you more or less equal the trans community to heterosexual men who have a fetish for humiliation and forced feminisation or whatever. who exist and are an issue and i do wish the trans community at large would distance themselves from those men, but its not all there is to it. yes i agree that we need to protect vulnerable young people, girls and especially lesbians and gay boys, from being pushed into transitioning, i think the age of consent should be put at 21 or something, but we have to acknowledge and consider that there are people who have already transitioned and will transition in the future and i just dont understand how you cant have any empathy for them. no matter what you think about transition, many trans people ARE vulnerable and marginalised. plus consider how many detransitioned women are in this community yet yall talk about trans people as mutilated and shit its gross. in the end we can only try to establish structures that keep people from self harming, but an adult of sound mind has the right to do so anyways, including plastic surgery and trans surgeries. and i want to keep my arms open to them; but a lot of rhetoric around it spread on here will only alienate them further.

right now im saving all my essays in notes so its out of my mind. i have missed the community a lot so maybe i will return at some point but i have also been feeling better since i stopped being on radblr. i miss the rare valuable input and thoughts by other women but overall i have felt unaligned with how things have been handled on here. it has been mostly negative instead of constructive and pragmatic. ive had the impression some of yall enjoy the „being in the in-group“ community aspect more than actually being here for feminist exchange. lack of nuance, lack of empathy, lack of reason. it pains me but i have more and more come to understand why people just block us without engaging on general suspicion because ive also come to be annoyed with some of yall engaging with posts - and im on „your side“.

anyways im doing okay, im going to drug counselling regularly now and am trying to establish a stable life for those of you who inquired, and i hope anyone reading this is self reflected enough to know whether this applies to her or not. bye

[lunarlianna]

Planets in the 8th house

I know a lot of you may don’t really like this house but trust me it’s more lovely than it seems and as with any other house it has it’s ups and downs. Now let’s understand what it’s up with this house, first it’s where Scorpio and Pluto rules, also as a side note Mars feels pretty comfortable here as well, in traditional astrology Mars was the ruler of Scorpio. It dives deep into subjects such as intimacy, sex, secrets, fears, death, rebirth, shared money and possession. It’s the house of transformation and occult, deep psychology inside as well. It’s also a pretty karmic house. Here is how each planet behaves in the house.

The Sun: an individual with the Sun in the 8th house seeks deep, intimate relationships but may face challenges as they tend to give excessively. They might experience ups and downs due to others' casual approach to relationships. Healing often involves addressing a father's emotional impact and seeking fulfilment through connections. The path to growth lies in balancing self-reliance with meaningful, committed partnerships, allowing for personal shine and transformation through shared resources. A curiosity for mysticism and the occult converges with a aspiration for financial stability, potentially influenced by inheritance.

The Moon: drives a deep desire for security, sometimes leading to seeking it through others' resources. This can evoke self-doubt, possessiveness, and psychic sensitivity. Transformative partnerships or marriages might bring financial gain. They approach relationships seriously, often overextending, leading to turmoil; finding balance through self-sufficiency brings happiness. Sensitive to unspoken nuances, they find peace by releasing expectations, channelling probing curiosity into worldly understanding, seeking connection through intimate relationships and a quest for broader meaning. Gains or inheritances linked to women are common, yet a sense of connection remains elusive.

Mercury: in the 8th House gifts you with analytical powers, suited for research, detective work, and understanding complex matters like taxes or insurance. Your inquisitive nature drives you to unravel the depths of life's mysteries, though this may lead to concerns over finances and a tendency to gossip. Your mind dwells on profound subjects like death, healing, and psychic phenomena. Mercury's presence here offers a valuable perspective, helping you discuss and process intense emotions, easing the pain associated with this house. It enhances rational clarity within the realm of misunderstood emotions, serving as a valve for emotional release and facilitating conscious understanding.

Venus: in the 8th House grants you access to material comforts and potential prosperity, often through a partner's contributions or inheritance. While you enjoy sensual pleasures, be mindful of avoiding overindulgence or laziness. Your attraction to healing, metaphysical pursuits, and magic might thrive. This placement bestows a harmonious touch to intimate connections, making give-and-take feel natural, appreciating the sensual without burdening the relationship. Challenges, such as losses and responsibilities, are handled with understanding, adding a sense of kindness to your relationships.

Mars: in the 8th House fuels your drive for research, uncovering secrets, and intense pursuits, but challenges arise as desires clash with the give-and-take nature of relationships. Financial issues, possibly through a partner, highlight the need to diminish money's importance. Struggles may emerge in sharing resources and emotions within partnerships, causing emotional outbursts. Learning to channel Mars' willpower constructively, alongside exploring healing or surgery interests, can lead to personal growth despite these challenges. Understanding and managing the intensity of your desires and their impact on relationships becomes key.

Jupiter: in the 8th House blesses you with optimism and faith in humanity. Financial gains through partnerships, marriage, or inheritance are possible. Your strong emotional depth can be harnessed for psychic abilities, enabling you to bring upliftment and healing to others. Jupiter's presence in this house facilitates an effortless give-and-take dynamic, aided by your universal outlook, allowing you to avoid getting entangled in overly emotional relationship issues. Your emphasis on genuine, giving connections attracts reciprocal generosity.

Saturn: in the 8th House endows you with diligent work ethic and patience, yet your pursuit of financial security might lead to self-imposed social and sexual restrictions. Transform this drive into soul growth via wisdom gained through partnership relationships. Issues around abuse, power, and past hurts may arise. Challenges involving inheritances, shared finances, and intimacy emerge due to Saturn's hesitance to let go. This position can make relationships tough, leading to commitment issues. Overcoming Saturn's grip fosters eventual happiness and harmony, teaching valuable lessons of release and trust.

Uranus: with this placement, your intuition and psychic senses are heightened, drawing you to the mysteries of life and the occult. Nervous tension may arise, and unexpected gains or losses in shared resources are possible. Balancing your need for freedom with emotional connection is key, as Uranus' resistance to commitment can challenge relationships. Remember to stay open to intimacy while navigating life's uncertainties.

Neptune: in the 8th House enhances your intuition and empathy, but it's important to set clear boundaries to avoid relationship challenges. Embrace healing and afterlife interests while ensuring honesty in financial matters. Remember to balance selflessness with self-care, fostering healthier and more fulfilling connections. Your compassionate nature is a strength in navigating these dynamics.

Pluto: In the 8th House, your intuition and business sense thrive, drawing you to metaphysical realms. While inheritance and clairvoyant potential shine, be cautious of financial complexities in partnerships. Transformative experiences spark a fascination with life's mysteries. Pluto's influence urges open communication to ease power struggles, offering healing through release and growth. Embrace vulnerability for stronger, more compassionate relationships.

COPYRIGHT ‼️

Do not copy my posts or you will be sued for copyright infringement. All it takes is copying me a few times and it is considered illegal due to the copyright claim written at the bottom of my posts

Do not rewrite/copy my observations and post them to your Tiktok, Tumblr, Instagram

[deepdreamnights]

Hey, you know how I said there was nothing ethical about Adobe's approach to AI? Well whaddya know?

Adobe wants your team lead to contact their customer service to not have your private documents scraped!

This isn't the first of Adobe's always-online subscription-based products (which should not have been allowed in the first place) to have sneaky little scraping permissions auto-set to on and hidden away, but this is the first one (I'm aware of) where you have to contact customer service to turn it off for a whole team.

Now, I'm on record for saying I see scraping as fair use, and it is. But there's an aspect of that that is very essential to it being fair use: The material must be A) public facing and B) fixed published work.

All public facing published work is subject to transformative work and academic study, the use of mechanical apparatus to improve/accelerate that process does not change that principle. Its the difference between looking through someone's public instagram posts and reading through their drafts folder and DMs.

But that's not the kind of work that Adobe's interested in. See, they already have access to that work just like everyone else. But the in-progress work that Creative Cloud gives them access to, and the private work that's never published that's stored there isn't in LIAON. They want that advantage.

And that's valuable data. For an example: having a ton of snapshots of images in the process of being completed would be very handy for making an AI that takes incomplete work/sketches and 'finishes' it. That's on top of just being general dataset grist.

But that work is, definitionally, not published. There's no avenue to a fair use argument for scraping it, so they have to ask. And because they know it will be an unpopular ask, they make it a quiet op-out.

This was sinister enough when it was Photoshop, but PDF is mainly used for official documents and forms. That's tax documents, medical records, college applications, insurance documents, business records, legal documents. And because this is a server-side scrape, even if you opt-out, you have no guarantee that anyone you're sending those documents to has done so.

So, in case you weren't keeping score, corps like Adobe, Disney, Universal, Nintendo, etc all have the resources to make generative AI systems entirely with work they 'own' or can otherwise claim rights to, and no copyright argument can stop them because they own the copyrights.

They just don't want you to have access to it as a small creator to compete with them, and if they can expand copyright to cover styles and destroy fanworks they will. Here's a pic Adobe trying to do just that:

If you want to know more about fair use and why it applies in this circumstance, I recommend the Electronic Frontier Foundation over the Copyright Alliance.

[bitter-bats-cult-of-the-moon]

Demon or Deity? Deciphering Spirits

How to Confirm That You’re Talking to a God or Goddess

You can thank St. Augustine of Hippo for this. In the early 5th century, he wrote a theological essay against Paganism titled, “On the Divination of Demons.”

St. Augustine’s mother was Christian, and his father was Pagan. He understood both sides. He wrote many philosophical arguments for Christianity, his largest being The City of God.

In "On the Divination of Demons," Augustine fought back against an Oracle predicting the invasion of Serapis's temple. He argued that demons spoke to this Oracle. He argued that All Pagan Gods are Demons in disguise. He ridiculed fortune tellers and future predictions comparing them to the circus.

Do the arguments hold some sort of validity?

While Spirits can impersonate Deities this guy can now be pushed away from the conversation.

I’ll ask that question again.

Can Spirits Impersonate Deities?

The short answer is Yes.

The long answer depends on your experience level and knowledge.

If you are not used to the deity’s signs and how they communicate or you do not know which red flags to look out for, you are prone to deceit.

Red Flags

Messages drastically change.

For example, recently you received a sign from the Goddess Hekate. She wants to work with you.

The next week, another message tells you that She does not like you. Deities rarely change their mind without good reason. Double-check the divination.

People do everything for you.  

Deities do not need to go through others to speak to you. Even if you cannot hear Them directly, deities can contact you in different ways. If someone else does a reading that sounds completely different, question it. Especially if it’s random and not requested. Do not use other people to translate things for you all the time. Spiritual journeys are personal. They are meant for you, and a lot of people get hurt this way. Other individuals love taking advantage of people using them for their own motives. Just be careful out there.

Overly negative or apocalyptic.

I've heard an unfortunate amount of people claim that the world was going to end after contacting their spirits. Why would they let go of any worshippers telling them that? Why would they give someone a sense that they are the chosen one? Question that. No one is special. We are all here for the human experience. Try dealing with that first even if you don’t want to.

The entity is trying to force you into things.

You do not need to answer spirits. A deity could ask you to worship Them. You can also say no. With years of experience, I have never heard of a deity punishing someone for not working with Them. If a message sounds like a threat, then question everything, and it’s probably best to ignore it.

How to Guarantee That You’re Speaking to a Deity

Ask the same question several times.

Use your preferred divination technique writing down all the answers to your questions. After one day has passed, repeat the same method rephrasing the questions asking the spirit again. Sometimes there are inconsistencies. Question what feels right and what does not.

Thoughts belong to whom?

Are the thoughts yours or are the thoughts external from you? Sometimes strong emotions are mistaken for spiritual signs. It’s easy to get caught up in your own head and let it take over hijacking the metaphysical exercise. Always question this. Did you anticipate a specific answer? This can also lead to derailment. It doesn’t hurt to ask again to gain confirmation. Before contacting your deity, stabilize your emotional state.

Gathering valuable resources.

Contrary to what I just said you can seek outside opinions for valuable resources. Become familiar with the deity’s information beforehand and ask about other peoples’ experiences. Just don’t let people take over the work or tell you how to think. Try to do the work yourself. Research is key.

Different techniques for you.

Try a different form of divination to see if the answers are around the same or greatly vary. This won’t hurt and it will help you learn more. Trust your instincts in spirit work. It’s okay to question things.

Protection orders.

If there is constant anxiety and worry, then do yourself the favor and put-up protection wards before spiritual communications begin. It will give you some peace of mind and it doesn’t hurt anything at all.

[cnnmairoll]

Heyoooo Mai! I hope you're doing well!

I'm here to ask for a little comfort request if you can. Can you do Jing Yuan with a reader who often gets talked over and feels like their voice is annoying? Like Jing Yuan comforting them and maybe even helping them be heard by other people?

If you're not comfortable with that, that's fine! I don't want you to feel pressured into writing it at all! Remember to take care of yourself and take your time with requests!

Finding My Voice with You

Pairing : Jing Yuan x Reader Genre : Comfort/Fluff a/n : Ryker you always have the most relatable ideas, I love it sm ( ;´ - `;) You ask Jing Yuan and you shall receive!! sorry if this felt short ><

The meeting had been droning on for what felt like hours. Jing Yuan, the Dozing General of the Cloud Knights, sat at the head of the long, polished table. He appeared nonchalant, his eyes half-lidded, as if he were only half paying attention to the proceedings. But beneath that seemingly lazy exterior, his keen mind was always at work.

You, on the other hand, sat a few seats down from him, quietly observing the discussions. The topic of the day was a crucial matter regarding the allocation of resources for the upcoming mission. It was imperative that every member of the council had a chance to voice their ideas, and so far, the discussions had been civil and organized.

As the meeting continued, your idea began to take shape in your mind. You knew it could make a significant difference in the success of the mission, so you waited for the right moment to speak up. Finally, when there was a pause in the conversation, you took a deep breath and began to express your thoughts.

However, just as you started speaking, another council member, with a louder voice and a tendency to dominate discussions, interrupted you. Your words were drowned out by their assertive tone, and the other members immediately turned their attention to the newcomer.

Jing Yuan, sitting beside you, had been silently observing the meeting. When he saw how you were ignored and your idea overshadowed, he cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the room. His voice, though calm and gentle, had a commanding quality that demanded respect.

"Excuse me," he said, his eyes scanning the room. "Our esteemed colleague was speaking. Please allow them to finish."

The council members, including the one who had interrupted you, fell silent, their attention now focused on you. It was a small but significant act of support from the Dozing General.

With Jing Yuan's encouragement, you found your voice again. You expressed your idea clearly and passionately, and this time, you had the full attention of the council. Your words were met with nods of agreement and thoughtful consideration.

After the meeting finally concluded, you and Jing Yuan walked together through the quiet streets of Xianzhou Luofu. The evening air was crisp, and the lanterns lining the streets cast a warm, golden glow.

You couldn't help but bring up the moment from the meeting, your voice tinged with insecurity. "Thank you for helping me back there," you said, your gaze fixed on the cobbled path ahead. "I felt self-conscious about my voice when I was interrupted."

Jing Yuan, with his hands clasped behind his back, offered you a reassuring smile. "You have valuable insights, and it's important that your voice is heard. Don't ever doubt yourself. In this council, your ideas are just as significant as anyone else's."

His words warmed your heart, and you found yourself walking a little taller beside him. "Thank you, Jing Yuan. I appreciate your support."

He chuckled softly, the sound like a gentle breeze rustling through leaves. "Think of it as my duty, not just as a general but as your partner. I'll always make sure your voice is heard."

You glanced at him, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his eyes. "I'm grateful to have you as my partner, Jing Yuan."

He slowed his pace slightly, allowing you to walk side by side. "The feeling is mutual. Now, let's not dwell on the meeting any longer. Tell me, what's been occupying your thoughts lately? Any new ideas or plans?"

As you strolled through the quiet streets, the two of you engaged in a conversation that flowed effortlessly. You talked about everything, from the intricacies of the upcoming mission to your personal interests and aspirations. Jing Yuan listened intently, his occasional chuckles and thoughtful responses making you feel cherished and understood.

With each passing day, your relationship with Jing Yuan grew stronger, and the bond between you deepened. He became not only your ally in council meetings but also your confidant in the quiet moments you shared. And as he continued to support you, you found comfort in the knowledge that you had a loving partner by your side, someone who valued your voice and cherished your presence in their life.

[lakesbian]

and now for our Checking In With The Dallon Sisters poasting

Panacea shook her head, “Tattletale found a way around my sister’s invincibility. Glory Girl was bitten pretty badly, which is why I didn’t come sooner. I think it hits you harder, psychologically, when you’re pretty much invincible but you get hurt anyways. But we’re okay now. She’s healed but sulking. I- I’m alright. Bump on my head, but I’m okay.”

victoria is demonstrably having a bad time with the previously noted psychological pain of being forcibly reminded that, no matter how hard she tries, she will never be the spotless, invincible, perfect hero she wants to be. the bug bites suck obviously but the "sulking" After being healed is an indicator of where it really hurt--not just physically.

(amy's power reminds me of. do you guys know that one tumblr post about the concept of exploring the horror potential inherent to D&D-esque fantasy healers? like, the horror inherent to being perfectly, magically healed from horrifying injury a hundred times over, and being expected to just get up and keep fighting afterwards, without any regards to how your mental health is doing. that's exactly how amy's power functions: you're made physically better than ever, and expected to get back up and keep being a hero, but you still have the memory of the pain and the lingering psychological aftereffects. but, like, you're fine now, so you just need to get over it and go back to throwing yourself in the line of fire, okay?)

amy is also right off the bat clearly not doing so hot--she's acting very shy and withdrawn and unsure compared to both of her prior appearances. obviously that is due to the horror of some random villain going "btw, remember that you're ontologically an invader into the family you are trying to belong in!" but i think it's probably compounded by the fact that amy is so used to being treated either 1. like she's intrinsically awful/unwanted or 2. like she's only valuable/desirable as a resource by Everyone But Victoria that walking into a room of heroes w/o victoria by her side is always liable to make her insecure and withdrawn.

oh, and the burnout. obviously the severe fucking burnout.

“No, I hated that he would have a normal life, because I’d given up mine.  I was scared that I might intentionally make a mistake.  That I might let myself fuck up the procedure with this kid.  I could have killed him or ruined his life, but it would have eased the pressure.  Lowered expectations, you know?  Maybe it would have even lowered my own expectations for myself.  I… I was just so tired.  So exhausted.  I actually considered, for the briefest moment, abandoning a child to suffer or die.” “That sounds like more than just exhaustion,” Gallant replied, quietly. “Is this how it starts?  Is this the point I start becoming like my father, whoever he was?”

the "every second i rest, someone dies" conundrum would be nightmarish for her even if she had the healthiest social support net on the planet, but her circumstances make it infinitely worse. she's treated by everyone in her "family" but victoria like an invader, and even victoria has unintentionally stressed the importance of using her healing power in the way that the family wants (i.e. to cover up victoria's police brutality) in order to Be A Good Family Member. amy has internalized that being a good dallon is the same as being a good hero, and failing at being a dallon is the same as being overcome by her ontologically criminal roots. so she works herself to the bone, and when she inevitably starts to falter, she views it as an indicator of something intrinsically wrong with her rather than as a sign that her family + society's expectations for her are harmful and unfair.

and dean's advice for her only reinforces this further:

Gallant let out a slow breath, “I could say no, that you’re never going to be like your father. But I’d be lying. Any of us, all of us, we run the risk of finding our own way down that path. I can see the strain you’re experiencing, the stress. I’ve seen people snap because of less. So yeah. It’s possible.”

he suggests that she try to take a break, but only in the service of "so you can heal more people in the long run." he validates the idea that she could go "down that path," as if becoming a villain--becoming A Bad Person--is a risk all heroes have to fight against on an individual level, as opposed to criminality being a result of circumstance and not even inherently immoral. and of course dean thinks that way--he's a millionaire child soldier, his entire life is predicated on individualist thought with ignorance to the ways in which systematic factors impact people. acknowledging that amy is being horrifically mistreated would mean not only acknowledging the flaws in the PRT system, but acknowledging what might lead people to stray from it, and he simply can't do that. it goes counter to every idea that his life is built on.

he never even tells anyone that amy thought about letting a child die, or if he did, it didn't go anywhere. she was desperate for help all along, increasingly ready to explode, and everyone just ignored it. because as she says:

"My sister’s all I’ve got. The only person with no expectations, who knows me as a person. Carol never really wanted me.  Mark is clinically depressed, so as nice as he is, he’s too focused on himself to really be a dad. My aunt and uncle are sweet, but they’ve got their own problems. So it’s just me and Victoria. Has been almost from the beginning."

this is also where we see another more blatant sign of her crush on victoria--it's very ambiguous as to whether dean is interpreting amy's feelings towards him as meaning "wants to date me" or "jealous of me for dating victoria" but i think it's probably the former because there's no way he would keep his mouth shut if it was the latter, lmao. really what this scene is doing is introducing all of the stressors amy is experiencing that, because they're going unaddressed, because everyone else is refusing to address them and she has internalized that's how it should be, are going to boil over horrifically later on. that burnout and fear of accidentally-on-purpose making a mistake will lead to truly being unable to heal victoria later on. that sense of obligation, that if she can't keep healing she's turning into her father, will contribute to her being unable to just walk away from victoria instead of trying to heal her. her crush on victoria--the ultimate example of how her should-be family has ostracized her--will boil over in the impulsive brain alteration & the sexual nature of the wretch's design.

and all of this would've been avoidable if not for, as mentioned in the prior post abt this interlude, the dallons' and the PRT's enforcement of wallpapering over the kid heroes' pain to Keep Up The Show.

[ask-the-royal-absol]

Linda@Flint: "You know you're actually right about this kid being funny." The dragoness chuckled as she points her thumb at Destino. "I hear he's gotten himself into shit a few times cause people take 'em the wrong way. But it sounds like you know a bit about this absol already. You probably know about this prophecy involving him too. But I'm gonna be honest..." She trailed off as she looked around the room, appreciating the size and décor. "I'm a bit more interested to hear about this kingdom you're running. How far would you say it reaches and how long have you been running it? If it's anything like this castle then I bet it's pretty impressive."

Flint: Them. You use them, don't you?

Destino: Sure do. Suits me better.

Flint: Thought so. So, you wanna know about the kingdom? Hey Magmar, could you get the maps please? It'd be easier to show off our kingdom with it.

Magmar: As you wish, your highness.

*With a bow, Magmar ran quickly off into one of the rooms located on the side. Flint continued from where he left off.*

Flint: I've been running this kingdom for a good 30 years now. Inherited it from my father. It was difficult to take his place, I'll admit that. He had a...notorious reputation. But hard work is enjoyable work and work I certainly have. This kingdom is now thriving better than it ever has done before. It has to be partially thanks to the Underdark for allowing us access to their ores. Without those, I imagine many Pokémon wouldn't evolve into their final forms or perhaps even know about them.

Destino: At least we get some appreciation.

Flint: Of course your kingdom does. Our success depends on your trade relations with us.

*Flint caught a glimpse of something emerging from Destino's fur. Something purple. It took him by surprise when this shape formed into that of a creature.*

*Hope stepped up beside her father, knowing he'd never actually seen a ghost type before.*

Hope: Yeah, that's Destino's best friend. Felix. He tagging along too. He's a ghost type.

Felix: And poison. Ghost and poison.

Destino: Felix, out.

Felix: Sorry pal.

*Felix carefully left Destino's fur, making sure to pat down any loose strands. He knew how much Destino liked to keep themselves well groomed and he didn't want to cause them anymore frustration. He levitated next to the Prime. The king tried to settle himself. It was hard to when a mysterious visitor decided to appear from the long mass of fur on Destino.*

Flint: Wow. A real ghost! An actual ghost! That's not something you see everyday! At least, not up here.

Felix: Ghost type. Not a ghost.

Flint: What's the difference?

Felix: Ya see, I ain't dead. Just have abilities that resemble those of spirits.

Flint: Fascinating! I'll have to pick at you for more information about that! Anyway, yes. We could very well mine elsewhere. That's true. However, I'd much rather have the miners know they're going to be able to mine some ore, even if it is a small quantity of it. If they went somewhere new because our trading system broke down somehow, it'd mean we wouldn't necessarily be certain a days worth of mining would harvest results. The guarantee for resources is more valuable and more cost effective for me and the mining companies I work closely with.

Destino: So, without access to our resources, you'd be screwed over? Ha, I knew our kingdom was valuable to the surface. Serves you lot right for locking us away.

Flint: This kingdom tried to fight for your freedom, kiddo. We just unfortunately failed.

Destino: Clearly you didn't fight hard enough then.

Flint: Type advantage is a powerful thing, Prime.

*With a stream of panting, Magmar appeared from behind the king, holding what looked to be a beautifully adorned tube.*

Flint: You did well! Don't you worry too much about it! Which one is this?

Magmar: Land map. I've got the city map rolled up in there too, incase you need it.

Flint: And that's why you're one of the best advisors I've ever had! Good lad! Let's crack this open!

*Flint took the tube with the tips of his claws, unscrewing the deep blue cap from it. With claws that big, there was a little struggle for those fine motor movements but Flint was able to eventually get it off. He gave one of the maps back to Magmar who delicately put it back in the engraved tube. Flint then unrolled the perfectly kept map. It was surprising how neat it looked. No tears, no wear marks, no ageing either. It looked almost brand new.*

Flint: Now this right here is the land you stand upon. We are right here.

*He pointed at the dot labeled 'Terrestria'.*

Flint: And the land all around it is the land I govern. You see those black lines? There the boundaries of my kingdom and will one day belong to Hope.

*Using his claws, he traced the upper right corner of the landmass marked on the map.*

Hope: One day. You've just gotta give me the title first.

Flint: Yeah. It'll come, don't you worry about that. Now, the most interesting part about this is the city is called Terrestria and the kingdom, so everything inside of this area, is also called that too. I'm honestly not sure of the reasoning for that, you'd have to ask a historian or something.

*Destino stared at the map, looking at all of the features it had to show. They saw the rocky structure their group appeared from. This kingdom was absolutely huge. Compared to the Underdark, this was massive. Ridiculously so. Imagine all of the resources this land had to offer. All the space that could be given to its citizens. Destino knew their parents obtained an ok amount of foods and other items from Terrestria though it was never enough to feed absolutely everyone. Considering the amount of trip their parents took, no wonder they decided to continue their trade relations with this kingdom. Destino felt as though their kingdom had been cheated out on more. If they had this much to offer, why wasn't the Underdark given more? There was a growing sense of anger inside of Destino. They had to keep it together.*

Flint: You'll also notice that it's the smallest kingdom compared to the others. There's debate on whether Mechania or Terrestria is bigger but Mechania does seem like the larger kingdom. Naaturo has the largest kingdom but that's because it does the majority of food production. Queen Pollen is incredibly good at keeping her food supply lines going for the rest of the kingdoms. Whimsain also has a substantial amount but they won all that during the Great Type War. Can't really shift the boundaries of our kingdom as we don't want another war going on but it'd be nice to get a little more land to work with. Hope that answers what you wanted to know.

Flint: That's right. It's not completely public knowledge so I'd keep it on the hush-hush when you're outside these castle walls.

Destino: Wait, nobody outside even knows about this?

Flint: Only certain Pokémon do. If we spread knowledge of this union around, it'll end up in the ears of the Whimsain lot and we'd be in a distortion of a lot of trouble. It'd mean we couldn't provide any of our end of the bargain to you.

Destino: My lips are sealed, Flinto. Dunno if I could trust any of these idiots with this information but you do you.

*Flint looked towards Gizmo and Mouse, determining whether they could be trusted with this. He was usually a pretty good judge of character and they didn't seem like the type to spread something like this around. Flint made a mental note to send a couple of spies to watch and observe them for any suspicious activity. With a sigh, he felt he could deal with the risk well enough.*

Flint: Our union was established around 400 years ago. King Alumin of Terrestria and King Estavior of the Underdark met when the Terrestrians were trying to find a new mining route and agreed on a collaboration between the two kingdoms would be beneficial between the both of them.

Flint: Estavior allowed Terrestrians access to their mines, which we found out later on was a guarantee to harvest ores for evolution stones. Alumin offered foods and other resources for this. Kind of him but it's really helped us out in the long run. We've been going strong since then. Ores are super useful for us as we've got the knowledge to turn them into evolution stones. The ores of these stones are incredibly dangerous when raw.

Destino: We had one of our citizens try to use one of the ores scattered around. She did not recover from the deformations caused. So much energy and power to be harnessed. Honestly, if I had an ounce of interest in the matter, I'd be curious as to how I could use that power for myself. A spotlight for my own. That could be good. Always showing the most important Pokémon in the room.

Hope: Of course you'd say that. Surely there could be other things that the energy produced could be used for rather than yourself?

Destino: And what would be the point of that? Honestly Hope, you're not thinking of the bigger picture here. A spotlight. For me. It's a fantastic idea.

Felix: Des, perhaps we should draw the focus back to the King? This is interestin' stuff.

Destino: And bring the conversation back to something dull? Come on Felix. You know it'd be far more interesting talking about how I would use these ores if I wanted to use them.

Flint: Point is, these ores are dangerous when not cut into shape and we're able to turn them into something useful for everyone. The trade union is something that benefits both sides, even with the danger of being discovered. Perhaps you should take more interest in your history, young Prime. If you don't learn about it, you may make mistakes which could lead to the downfall of your kingdom if you're not careful.

Destino: Me? Making mistakes? Ha, that's hilarious. I doubt it.

*The map of Arkaedia is now available.*

@askiceboundlopunny @masked-vee

(6/6 - No more questions for now.)

[euphiea]

[NEW FILE UPLOADED]: STATUS: LEAKED//CORRUPTED ↳ Black Panther ↳ Shuri Udaku ↳ Alternate Universe ↳ Synopsis: Absurdity colors the wind, the true song of Aquarius. White doves and weeded lawns bring abundance, and though tradition condemns the latter, it took an absurd eye to deem a dandelion a wishing flower. It took an angel condemned by God to grant it so.

Euphoria’s Annotations: ##Based in 1800s || ##Tribbing || ##Arranged Marriage || #Inspired by: This Fic by Wiinters on AO3 & Queen Charlotte (Bridgerton) || ##Shuri Has A Dirty Mouth

[ATTACHED MESSAGE]:

↳ EUPHORIA: I feel like domspace shuri is more of a dirty, slutty talker than a sadist. Expect heavy edits over time. You are not british here.

Love conquers hate. The elders of the living generation have tried to pass this down, but to no avail, for they leave the context out of it—leave it up to the youth to interpret on their own, without any clue on where to start, what to think. The repetition of the saying with no further explanation rendered it tasteless, wisdom that’s carried nations is now a graying chatterbox that no one pays mind to.

The planet is run by two powerful, opposing kingdoms by the names of Wakanda and Vymont. The war has stretched on for centuries, legend has it the land of Jormil was once rich, nutrient soil—until bloodshed soaked the grounds in great volume, far surpassing the limits of its thirst, and therefore turning it into a vacant, hilled land of wild clay.

As the elders passed and the world modernized as to not be left behind by expansion, the war over resources grew to be a nuisance. The people despised the other side, while the ones who wore the crown could not figure a vital reason to continue fighting. In typical history, when nations quarrel it’s ended by two means: total conquering, or union. This case was different, what could be done when the kingdoms simply grow tired?

The story needed to be good, believable. Enough to throw salt on any fires before they emerge. A fairytale with a valuable lesson, love conquers hate.

Thus, the papers sealing your marriage were drawn.

Princess of Vymont and Princess of Wakanda, two young women who met and fell madly in love, despite being rivals. Desire bewitched you as your knights fought, carelessness revealed your schemings much to the rulers’ horror. Efforts that could move mountains and change the weather, the seasons at will, what it took for either to come around. Now, you join Princess Shuri Udaku hand in hand, allowing love to light the way.

Good, believable.

It’s your duty as Princess to endure for the sake of your people. Your marriage with Shuri was sealed in ink weeks before the matrimonial kiss, and even by that time, you hadn’t spoken much. Complete strangers too skilled at lying for your own good.

You assumed that once you married, once your nations united, you wouldn’t have to see her. Sure, all eyes were on you, closely watching your faces and mannerisms for any chances of fraud, but Shuri is a busy woman, the innovative leader of sciences and technology, she had no real time for you.

“Have you consummated the marriage?”

Unfortunately, your mothers were much keener than the public. Queen Ramonda’s question was met with stiff side-eyes and silent nods, and if that didn’t give it away, it was the five foot distance standing between you.

It’s been five months since your marriage, and three weeks since your holy matrimony was sealed in stone. The months leading up to that night, Shuri made astounding efforts to be a wife to you, despite you claiming she did not need to. You were fine with lying, maybe even a quickie in the case that the Gods and Ancestors happen to be vindictive. Shuri denied, saying she didn’t want to touch you as a stranger when you’re her wife, for you didn’t deserve that, and it wouldn’t feel right.

She moved into your gifted estate and slept in a room three halls over. Three months of dining together, painting, gardening, attending balls and picking out fabrics for elaborate complimenting gowns—newlywed activities, a real honeymoon. Your time spent had ignited a spark, a spark that morphed into an unrecognizable blaze of red heat that charred your skin that night of your first time.

Your first time may be your only time, and it irks you.

The fact that you’re irked, irks you.

You woke up in an empty bed, rung the bell, and as your servants tended to you, you asked them where your wife went.

“She’s at the lab for today. She wanted me to tell you she’ll be home by dinner!”

Shuri kept her promise, she returned about an hour from supper while you were in the garden, reading. The next day, the same servant repeated the same thing, except Shuri will be home a little after dinner, and the next day, she’s going to be staying late at the lab, don’t wait up.

Secretly, you were hurt. Shuri never stopped being a busy woman, but you feel as though she merely prioritized you for one thing, and now that you’ve given it to her, she’s lowered your name on the list.

You could confront her, but for what? You married to end a three hundred year war between nations, not from being in love with one another, like Prince T’Challa and Nakia. You told yourself that you’d get over it, but you overheard your servants gossiping:

“What of Rineea, now that the Princess is married?”

“Riri? She has been spending her time at the lab… I halfway expected it to be a call off situation when they married, but that’s unrealistic, huh?”

“I did too. But they were together for a minute, when I heard of the Princess’ engagement, I assumed it was to her. Now imagine my shock when I found out it was a Vymont.”

“Thee Vymont. I am just the cook, but… Put a Princess and a coworker in front of me, and tell me to choose a spouse. But I’m just the cook.”

“Right.”

Right, you’re a Vymont. A crucial detail so easily forgotten. You’re staying on Wakandan soil, holding a piece of Wakanda’s crown, but in no way are you Wakandan. You’re still an outsider, trapped in a marriage with someone who will never see you as anything but. Although, Shuri is a generous sweetheart with you. She told you once how stupid she thinks the war is, how she’s overcome with glee now that it’s over.

“The war has ceased, and I get a beautiful wife as a token,” She had said to you, standing irritatingly close, “And the prettiest Vymont has to offer, at that.”

You told yourself you just aren’t home at the same time, but the possibility she’s been skipping out on you for a girl she has real feelings for, real history with, sharing real similarities with as a Wakandan scientist—meanwhile, you paint, study music, and teach horse riding to children. Shuri said you were the prettiest Vymont, not the prettiest in general. The Wakandan must be show-stoppingly gorgeous, how silly is it to think one night with a Vymont could amount to many with a Wakandan?

It’s three hours until midnight, the warm bodies of your servants is what’s stopping the estate from growing cold. Ethereal are the full moons in November, traces of clouds brush the stars’ cheeks, the wind blows away October’s remnants, and strips crooked branches naked. The daytime servants are tucked away in their own, the nighttime servants are dutifully buzzing; you know the estate well enough to avoid being seen by them.

“Have you changed—“

You abruptly pause your journey mid-step at the sound of a servant’s voice. You’re at a four way stop, of sorts, near the ballroom. Tongue bitten, fingers digging into the black silk of your nightgown, you take a peek around the corner.

Two brown skinned women in uniform, one holding a lantern, the other a stack of aprons resembling the ones they have situated atop their ragged, black dresses. You didn’t hear the door close, but they’ve just come out of a room, tension releases your shoulders as they walk in the opposite direction of you.

Still, you tiptoe across the way. If they catch you, they’ll gaslight you to death about cold-driven sicknesses and royalty needing their beauty rest until you agree to return to your chambers.

The estate’s grand halls are a gothic black with bleached carpet. The moon’s essence gleams through high windows, illuminating your path in a way you’re thankful for, the hall you just journeyed from had no windows and it’s not wise to carry a candle when sneaking around. Yes, it can be blown out and re-lit, but you’re not in the mood for extra activities. At least, not those sorts, of extra activities.

The name of the game is distraction, you’re looking to blow off some steam by walking around. Being alone in your room, underneath your sheets with your thoughts, is poisonous. You’re meeting with congress tomorrow to discuss plans regarding a new terrorist group that’s been attacking countries under Wakanda, to which the Princess herself will be riding with you. At close proximity in a three hour carriage ride with the curtains drawn.

It’s record breaking how fast your sheets became sweltering, each scenario you pushed away was followed by a new one, filthier than the last. They were all painfully unrealistic, you know this, the only reason you shared that night was to affirm your marriage. The weighed rock on your finger is for your people, for the greater good, your wife’s inventions center just that.

Shuri is resilient, hot-headed. She performs her duties well, a brilliant leader for the intellectual world, and her jokes are funny. Prince T’Challa, her brother, is charming and even-tempered compared to Shuri. He doesn’t raise his voice, his bearded face hosts a permanent smirk, T’Challa is the definition of a dashing prince. Shuri is nothing like him. Humbleness is the only trait they share, really.

She has a smart remark reserved for any situation, she’s attentive to everything, listens even when it’s assumed no one is. One thing you admire in her is her polite streak, she’s genuinely respectful. Shuri treats her staff as coworkers and her coworkers as friends. She’s a friendly, warm hearted woman that gives without a second thought.

She’s a giver indeed, in more ways than one.

You stop at a grand wooden door. You don’t need to look around to know it’s Shuri’s room. No guards crowding the hall, she still hasn’t returned.

Teeth pulling the skin at your lip, you allow your knuckles to brush the smooth wood. Three weeks ago, you were pinned against this door. Days prior she revealed to you her taste for dominance, it was brief and fleeting, like the hint of a character death in a book, you didn’t take it to heart.

“Come on, talk to me. Nothing to say now, my love?”

“Is this what gets you off, baby? I can make you cum like this?”

“Everytime you close your legs, I’ll stop.”

Arousal throbs at your core. You’re bad at following your own directions, then again, this is your fifth walk this week.

You were back from a ball that night. Your corset was fitted to accentuate your tits, neatly placed was a silver cross pendant necklace—Shuri’s favorite on you, silver. She smelled heavenly that night, when she pulled you taut to her body as you danced, you felt how tense she was and smiled. You knew you did that.

Courtesy as the new Princess of Wakanda, you mingled with the guests that night, danced with civilians and giggled as they held you close, akin to how she did. They spun and dipped you, kissed your hand, sprayed you with compliments, by the end of the night you were glowing, and Shuri’s grinning face called you ravishing.

You didn’t think your sly little tactic worked until you got in the carriage. You were met with a silence so sudden, so solemn and heavy, it shocked you. Shuri’s gaze locked you in place, her expression unreadable, uncharacteristically so. She didn’t speak the entire fifteen minute ride to the estate.

A frown tugs at your lips. She claimed you as her wife, no one else’s. Perhaps she only meant it then, as a one-night medium for blowing off steam.

Perhaps your connection is meant to be this way, her in one corner, you in the other. Your marriage is one of obligation, a peace treaty, it’s meant to be shallow. After all, she’s Wakandan, and you’re of Vymont, your bloods don’t mix, they never have. It’s stupid to believe they ever could, your alliance was for the people, not you.

Indeed. It’s high time to get her out of your head. It’s silly to crave someone with every bone in your body when they’ll never see you in that way.

“Princess?”

You jump out of your skin, braids knocking against the wood as you whip around.

Behind you is your wife and her royal adviser, Okoye, wearing long, extravagant black fur capes with mini hills of melted snow collected on the hoods and shoulders. Okoye’s lantern allows you to see the way Shuri’s eyes are soft, adoring. Your heart lurches, her fatigue is blatantly obvious, and, still, she’s so gentle.

You suck at following your own directions. You train your attention on Okoye, whose expression is a stark difference from Shuri’s.

“What are you doing out here, and wearing that? It’s freezing,” She presses, scrunching her eyebrows. Your outfit isn’t as skimpy as she makes it seem: a black, thigh-length, silk nightgown with slippery straps, a matching silk robe that trails your footsteps, and black slippers. You cross your robe over your torso and tie it with a loose knot.

“I was only taking a walk-“

“—And where is Aneka?!”

“Enough, Okoye.”

The royal adviser slowly kisses her teeth, but quiets at the royal’s command nonetheless.

“Princess, is everything alright? Do you need anything?” Shuri says, and frowns when you shake your head. “It is almost midnight. You should be asleep.”

You hate this, you would have rather been caught by your servants than your wife.

“I’m fine. As I stated, I was merely just walking around,” You reaffirm, tucking a braid behind your ear before twirling its end. “I was not expecting you, how were your travels?”

“Cold,” Okoye answers, you squint at her.

“We caught wind of a blizzard approaching, so we left earlier than scheduled. I’m so glad I caught you, let’s talk more inside.”

“Ah, I think I should return to my room. We present to congress in the morning.” You tangle your fingers behind your back, feigning a look of disappointment. Shuri tilts her head.

“It’s funny you bring that up,” She says, “That’s what I need to talk to you about. I’m sorry to keep you up, Princess, but I would let it go if I could debrief you on the way.”

Any word of protest dies on your tongue when she ghosts her hand on your hip, brushing past you to open the door. As she guides you inside her room, she bids Okoye a good night.

Shuri doesn’t give you a second to breathe, when the doors close she pulls you into a kiss, sliding her hands along the silk of your waist. She holds you taut against her, a whimper sounds at the back of your throat and she sighs, immediately deepening the kiss. The musk of outside clings to her, it’s not an unpleasant scent, it’s subtle and bearable.

You confusedly try to wrack your brain for conclusions, explanations on how this can be if there’s crucial information to be shared, but the haze that clouds your judgment slaps you away.

You’re chocolate to her burning hands, melting almost too easily into her. The cold, damp fur tickles your palms as you slide up her arms before pulling the hood off. Her hair isn’t detangled enough for you to play in, too dry for a comfortable attempt, so your nosy fingers fall to her neck instead. Arousal is the fire that melts your organs, steadily burns you from the inside out, all you can do is pant and weakly push at her, sweat beading your forehead.

“You’ve been hiding from me, my love,” She mutters against your lips as she very subtly ruts into you, her declaration sends a surge of desire straight through you. She squeezes various areas of your torso as if to leave handprints on your body, she’s asking—pleading for permission to touch you and it’s so hard to think, her and her fucking mouth make it so hard.

Your tongue is too heavy for words, when you buck your hips she furthers her point by sliding a hand between your legs to rub your pussy over the silks.

“I never imagined you to be so cruel.” Shuri guides you back by your waist, and you let her, relishing in the feel of her kissing down your neck; as far as you’re concerned, she can do whatever she wants to you. “How much longer were you planning to deprive me of this? Of you?”

Your back hits a wall, Shuri moans and reconnects your lips—before the smoke can thicken, you break away.

“Have you been sleeping with other people?”

“No.”

Shuri has a special ability, she can move space, manipulate the particles that make up your reality, as she pleases. It’s the only explanation for how heavy the room is now that she has you caged, her amorous breaths lightly fan your eyelashes, her expression is difficult to make out in the dark, but her presence is telling enough. It’s her special ability at play.

Her response is incredibly quick, but she’s not lying. Your lips are chapped, you haven’t done much, is a simple kiss this titillating, to this degree? She’s not lying, but you don’t believe she’s telling the entire truth.

You hum, looking off to the side. Shuri notices, you believe that she’s lying to you, though she swore at the podium she never would; she pays it little regard, there’s other, more pressing matters on her mind, it’s been three weeks since she’s had you, and she prayed to Bast that she got to see you before your trip.

“..You are captivating, my love,” Shuri breathes, “Take off your clothes and lie on the floor.”

It’s her special ability that wills you to pull the knot of your robe a-loose, the garment cascades to the floor and Shuri never takes her eyes off of you, even when she unclasps her cape and tosses it across the room. She’s wearing black trousers and a beautiful white blouse with frills adorning the chest, which suffers the same fate as her coat when she tugs it off.

—

Your legs are stretched to the hint of exertion, halfway numb due to how your wife is situated on top of you, but it’s welcomed, for it gives her access to you, access to your cunt that throbs with each rock of her hips.

Shuri’s wetness trails down your lips to join the puddle dirtying your silks, her breaths fan your ear, accompanied by deep, throated moans that slip without her permission. It’s not as obscene as the slick sounds of your cunts, but it heats your face, blood roars underneath your cheeks.

“You’re enjoying this. Look at you.”

Shuri’s taunting contributes to your lightheadedness. Pleasure is a sea of waves far too rowdy for you to handle, a soft mewl pulls you further in its depths, the only answer you can muster is a nod, eyes struggling to stay open, weakly clawing at her back.

If her people heard any of the things she’s saying, any of the things she’s whispered in your ears when no one is looking, shock would turn their bodies to stone. The months leading up to your first time were torture. Your image matters, it’s imperative you have a good reputation or you risk being overthrown, a lesson your father sat you down and talked to you about when you were 5, and you’d thrown a hissy fit during a festival.

“There’s a mask attached to the crown.” — A quote you once read in a fantasy book, written by a civilian. You internally squealed, they had no clue how correct they were, and they never will, for your mask wouldn’t allow it. It’s partially why you like Shuri, she’s a princess herself, and you’ve seen firsthand the stark difference between Princess Shuri of Wakanda, and Shuri Udaku.

“Can I make you cum like this, beloved? Hm? Make my pretty wife cum all over herself, from a little humping,” Shuri slurs through pants, her clit twitching as it glides along your folds. Her and her fucking mouth is going to be the death of you, she’s so incredibly raunchy when lust impassions her, as if arousal is a poison, a sickness.

Shuri stills her hips at your lack of response, and you whine, jerking into her.

“Yes, Shuri, ‘m gonna cum like this,” You plea, nipples brushing her own as your back arches, “Keep going, please please.”

She shudders, the way you say her name is criminal. Her hips resume their pace, your eyes loll to the back of your head.

“Good girl,” Shuri practically purrs in your ear, “Good girl.”

She sits up to pin you by your shoulders, holding you in place as if you were ever going anywhere. Her pace grows harsher, her grip comes with a resounding ache that fans the flames licking your belly, you’re convinced Shuri can do anything, say anything, and it’ll dampen your arousal the very same.

“I want to fuck you with a toy, just like this. I’ll make you ride me ‘til it hurts, ‘til you can’t think. You won’t know what to do with yourself.”

Shuri’s eyes are trained on your face, you feel moreso than see it, for it’s her special ability. She’s an obvious woman, says what she means and means what she says, even blunt to her own detriment, at times. Her words stir something in you, force their way through your ribs to caress the heart that’s forgotten it’s meant to beat. The knot in your belly is steadily tightening, if she stops you truly might cry.

The approach of her own release is telling from the way her pussy throbs and pulses along your lips. She lowers her hips, dropping more of her weight to increase the pressure where your desires conjoin, knowing she has you locked in your position. You wonder if she’s holding anything back at the moment, how far her limits are from this point.

“And you’ll take it for me, won’t you? Like the obedient girl you are.” And you shudder, nodding incessantly to the jerky rhythm of your tits.

“Shuri, ’m so close,” You whimper, legs twitching. “Please don’t stop.”

She would be a fool to do so, knowing this she nods anyway, whispering under her breath curses not fitted for a woman of her stature. Pleasure is a sea of waves too rowdy for you to handle, it creeps on you, bringing with it an insurmountable pressure you’d squirm to flee if Shuri weren’t holding you still.

If you asked, she’d say she’s holding you in place to keep the angle right, and it’d be a half truth. She’d leave out the sick satisfaction that surges through her when doing so, the hint, or inkling, that you’re trapped with no other choices. You’re water through her fingers in everyday life. Shuri gulped down her desires when pursuing you, she wanted to go at your pace, do things to your accord, otherwise she’d risk being seen as clingy and eager.

You didn’t believe her earlier when she told you she hadn’t slept with anyone, but she was telling the truth. The entire carriage ride home, Shuri was squirming in her seat, resorting to palming her pussy over her pants to satiate the teenage urge to get off right then and there, for she couldn’t stop thinking of you, in various positions, various settings, far more scandalous than the privacy of her room, far less lady like for a woman of your stature.

Your wife’s eyes roll to the back of her head. “(Y/N), cum for me, Princess, let me see it.”

The air is punched from your gut, your mouth drops open in a silent scream as you release, your stomach twitching at each wave that passes. It’s the feeling of your pussy’s incessant pulsing coupled with the dashing sight of you that drives Shuri to follow, she cums with a broken whimper, her head lolled over her shoulders.

“Yes, like that, just like that,” She breathlessly encourages, hips slown to drawn out thrusts, “Doing so well for me, my love, so so well.”

Shuri’s name is but an anchor, you repeat it under your breath over and over to keep yourself grounded. Her arms jelly, you catch her before she can completely collapse on you—not that you’d mind.

Weeks, she’s had to smile in people’s faces, feign interest in their lives, and come back to an empty home. Weeks, she’s had to camp in her lab to ensure her coworkers’ tasks were done to perfection, and it’s imperative they are—they were not. Weeks, she’s had to live off simple interactions with you, long hug, light conversation, and then she’s pulled away.

Weeks, she’s had to tell herself the lives of others are important too, civilians are people too, if not she’d be under you—or on top of you—all the time, enjoying the serenity your aura provides.

It’s scary how quick it’s come to this. Five months, you met on a chilly day, bedded on a windy night, and now her windows are blanketed in frost. Five months, and the signature of her human coding is tattooed on your finger, the skin where your wedding ring rests.

“Have you been sleeping with other people?”

Shuri makes a mental note to address it tomorrow, at an appropriate time.

[drabblesandimagines]

Bold

Joshua Rosfield x female reader, fluff Commissioned piece, 2,820 words - thank you to the commissioner for commissioning me, and for allowing me to share on here too! x

The Imperial soldier squeezes your cheeks so hard between armour-clad thumb and forefinger that it’ll leave bruises, digging into your jaw to direct your half-lidded gaze at him. You’d been staring in the corner when he’d come in – head pounding, shivering one minute and sweltering the next, barely reacting until he’d grabbed hold of you. You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve now been shackled in this damp, dark and cold cell awaiting punishment, how many hours it’s been since you’ve had anything to eat or drink.

“We are gonna make a fine example out of you in the morning, my lady.” He snarls out the title with distaste. “Filthy Branded sympathizer, hm? Well, you’ll be pleased to hear if you love them so much, you can die with them.”

He shoves your head against the wall and gets to his feet. You don’t say anything in retaliation – don’t have the strength - but hear him leave the cell, locking the door behind him, as always. This is it, then. A public execution is how you will meet your fate, alongside some poor Bearers. It used to be rare that Bearers be executed, too much of a valuable resource for the Empire, but they seem to be growing keener on it ever since the Mothercrystals began to fall.

Was it really so wrong what you’d been doing - giving Bearers a warm bed and a hot meal when their days were so already so cruelly numbered? You owed a Bearer your life, after all. In those days after the fall of Phoenix Gate, they had helped you escape out of Rosalie before the Iron Blood and Empire could descend.

How life had changed since that moment.

You curl up on the floor, shackles clanking against the concrete as you move, and close your eyes, hoping that your last night of dreams will be of happier times.

--

Rosalie, Capital of Rosaria, Year 860

It had been easy enough slipping in to the banquet hall. By this point of the wedding feast, everyone was far too merry on wine and ale to pay any mind to the girl who followed in the footsteps of a couple of Shields, just relieved from their duty.

You scanned the high table for your target, fidgeting with the silver pendant around your neck – a nervous habit your mother scolded you for constantly, “Ladies do not fidget” ­-and smiled as you saw Joshua sat in one of the high-backed chairs, alone, poking at something on his dinner plate with a sour look on his face.

He didn’t enjoy these functions - to have the Phoenix attend such an event was seen as a blessing and honour upon the newlyweds. Elwin was away with the war effort, his usual chair empty as a sign of respect, but Anabella had abandoned her younger son’s side for once, conversing with some of the Imperial noblemen who had travelled to the duchy especially for the celebrations.

You hurry between tables and guests, taking cover, until you reach the end of the high table and duck under the table cloth to crawl on your hands and knees to below where Joshua is sitting. You’re thankful you’re dressed in navy this evening - your governess would scold you rotten if you came home with stains again.

“Psst!” You tug at the hem of his robes sharply, causing him to look down in shock. Joshua’s widen in surprise before a shy smile develops. He looks around the room to make sure no attention is on him at that moment and slides down off his chair to join you on the floor.

“What are you doing here?”

 You grin, proud of yourself. “My governess thinks I am practicing needlework with Lady Jill, so I thought I’d see if you were need in company.”

“You snuck in!” Joshua gasps in realization. You’ve always been more adventurous, more bold than him, though it was obviously much harder when he was under his mother’s watch.

“Mm. I walked in right behind the Shields, if you would believe it. They didn’t even see me.” You’re almost giddy. “Now, have you managed to have any fun at all?”

He pouts, fiddling with the hem of his robe. “Not really. They had cake, but Mother said I couldn’t until I had eaten everything on my plate.”

“Let me guess – carrots?”

He gives a curt nod.

You roll your eyes, he’s always been particularly averse to the vegetable. “Wait a moment.” You crawl out from your hiding place, heading towards an abandoned table – the dancing had started in earnest now – and swiped a piece of untouched cake from a plate, balancing it in your palm as you hurry back to your hiding place.

“Here,” you break apart the delicate sponge with your fingers, offering him half – the bigger half – and smile. “Let’s share a piece.”

Joshua beams, accepting the offering and raising it up to his lips to take a delicate bite. It’s delicious and so sugary sweet, topped with icing - Mother is always forcing him to eat things she deems good and nutritious for him to aid with his ill health.

The two of you eat your cake in silence as you peek out under the table cloth, watching the ladies’ skirts twirl across the dance floor as the festivities continue.

“What are they doing out there now?”

“Dancing.” You reply, almost wistfully.

“Do you…” he hesitates, brushes the crumbs off his hands, “Do you wish to dance?”

“My governess says I have two left feet,” you lament, dropping the cloth to turn back to him, fiddling with your necklace once more.

“That is untrue”, Joshua protests. “I saw you dance at the First Shield celebrations – you were graceful. Mother even agreed.”

“No,” you grow a little bashful then, shy of compliments. “Plus, that wasn’t proper dancing, that was-“

A sword pokes cautiously through the table cloth then, making the two of you jump.

“Well, well, what’s this - an intruder in the Great Hall?” Your heart skips a beat at being caught, watching as the sword carefully lifts up the cloth and Clive pops his head through, a curious smile on his face in a crouched position as he takes in the two of you.

“My lady, your governess is causing quite the commotion in search of you. She appears to be under the impression that you were practicing your needlework with Jill.”

“Ah...”

“However, Jill informed her that you had been, but had just headed homewards prior to her arrival. You may wish to head back before she finds you are, in fact, not.”

“Thank you, my lord. Please pass on my thanks to Lady Jill too.” You bow your head in respect – always have been a little nervous of Clive despite him being very sweet - before beginning to crawl out past him. You pause, turn your head over your shoulder and beam at the blonde-haired boy. “Goodnight, Joshua.”

“Goodnight.” He smiles, bashfully.

As you disappear, Clive shakes his head with a knowing smile at the Phoenix, who scowls in response.

“You’re making that face again, brother.”

“What face?”

“The one all the adults do.”

Clive sighs, ruffling his brother’s hair. “You’ll understand when you’re older. Come on,” he offers Joshua his hand. “Out of there before Mother notices.”

--

Year 678

You sleep in feverish spits and spurts, a hoarse-sounding cough wracking your lungs until dawn breaks, where you are dragged up to your feet and along to a wagon for transportation, a group of three Bearers already within. You’re barely conscious but you don’t fight it, perhaps the fever will take you before the noose can.

Everything happens in a haze – a bumpy wagon ride, the clash of metal on metal… You swear someone picks you up with gentle hands rather than rough ones, bundles you in something warm and soft, a gentle bobbing sensation as if you are on a boat…

And then there’s a moment where you see stormy blue eyes that seem familiar from long ago, a flicker of recognition…

Then darkness.

--

Clive storms into the infirmary, you cradled in his arms and Tarja looks up, ready to chide him for once again interrupting Joshua’s check-up, but her prepared scowl drops as she sees what he carries.

“What’s happened?”

“Three Bearers incoming – no injuries, as far as I can tell. Cole says this one hasn’t been properly conscious since they rescued her – a fever, mayhaps.”

“Right,” Tarja nods her head towards an empty bed. “Put her down.”

He places you down, gently, on the bed besides Joshua, who had got to his feet in the commotion – trying to take advantage of it to sneak away from Tarja’s ministrations.

“Joshua, wait.” Clive grabs his brother’s arm, halting him firmly in his tracks. “Take a look at her face – a good one. Am I mistaken, or isn’t it…?” He trails off, looking for confirmation.

Joshua quirks an eyebrow, confused by his brother’s request, but he complies all the same. He walks back over to the bedside and gazes down upon your face, paired with the pendent hanging around your neck and he swears his heart stops.

--

There’s a dull thud in your head as consciousness returns, your eyes flutter open to take in a wooden ceiling, but not one of a wagon. You’re lying on a soft mattress, covered in a blanket and, most peculiarly, someone has their hand resting upon yours.

You turn your head and stare at the blonde man sat besides you, who meets your gaze with a familiar bashful smile.

“Hello,” his voice is soft, just as you remember. “I do not know if you remem-“

You don’t let him finish his sentence, sitting up and throwing your arms around his neck. He’s a little taken back by the sudden act of affection, grunting a little at the impact, but it soon turns into a chuckle as he wraps his arms back around you.

“I thought you dead.” You mumble into his shoulder, voice hoarse but thick with unshed tears. You pull back, wanting to take in his face. “Or am I? Tell me, is it really you, Joshua?”

He nods, beaming now – tears brimming in his own eyes. “It is me, my lady.”

“But how…?” Your question is cut off by that awful wracking cough, burning your lungs and making your eyes water. Joshua rubs your back – he knows all too well how painful coughs can be, after all.

“Easy. Tarja, our healer, will ban me from your bedside if I cause too much excitement. You must rest. There will plenty of time for conversation later, I promise you.”

You reach out for his hand and squeeze it in acknowledgement, trying to catch your breath as your cough finally begins to subside.

“Here.” He drops his hand from your back and twists awkwardly, reaching for a tankard of water by the bedside and offers it to you. “Small sips, now.”

You take it gratefully, being mindful of Joshua’s instruction despite a dreadful thirst and sip slowly, keen to return to conversation, so many questions running through your mind.

He gently takes the tankard once you have finished its contents and places it down, a pout now on his lips.

“I beg you excuse me – Tarja will be most displeased if she discovers you have awakened and I have not informed her. I will be but a moment.”

He gets to his feet – he’s certainly taller than you now, still of a slim build and almost all leg - and you squeeze his hand again firmly as you could hold. “I fear this is a dream.”

Joshua smiles – that same sweet smile you remember from childhood – and brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss across your knuckles. “I assure you this is most real, my lady.”

 --

After a few more days in the infirmary, plied with various elixirs and tonics and strict bedrest, Joshua staying firmly by your side every waking moment that he was permitted to, Tarja finally deems you recovered enough to leave. He is sure to take your hand and escort you down the stairs, giving you a grand tour of the Hideaway, so you found it to be called.

“Joshua?” Jill calls for him as she descends the stairs from Clive’s chambers – the two of you having just done a lap of the Ale Hall. “Clive would like a word.”

“Of course,” Joshua nods, giving you an apologetic smile before he turns to ascend the stairs. Jill quickly swoops in to take his place, looping her arm through yours and leading you out of the Ale Hall and he can’t help but muse that he had somewhat monopolized your time as late. He knocks on the door of his brother’s chambers once and is bade to enter, finding Clive seated at his writing desk, two tankards in front of him and a chair waiting on the other side. The other Fire Dominant gestures towards it and as Joshua sits, he wastes no time.

“Now,” Clive pushes the tankard of ale towards his brother, “Out with it.”

Joshua looks bemused. “Out with what?”

“You’re in love.”

He lightly scoffs, but there is no hiding the crimson in his cheeks. “Nonsense.”

“We all saw it when you were children, Joshua, and we can all see it again now.”

Joshua takes a deep sip from his tankard, trying to avoid Clive’s gaze.

“Look, I do not mean to push you, just… with what we know about Ultima, I do not wish for you to have regrets going forward. I wish I had told Jill years ago of my feelings, and  I cannot sit here idle and allow you to do the same.”

“What if she does not feel the same?”

Clive smiles at him – the same smile he and all the adults did back when he was merely a boy – and he knows what he must do.

--

“My lady,” he offers you hand once more, “Would you care to join me some fresh air? The night is quite pleasant and the view from the observation desk exquisite.”

You take it – it feels more and more natural every time – and nod. “I would love nothing more.”

You head up the spiraling stair case – Joshua’s hand still holding your own, another resting on the small of your back and emerge at the top. He was right - it’s a clear, moon-lit night, Metia twinkling and stars down upon you, the still waters of the blighted lake almost like a mirror.

He leads you over to the bench and the two of you take a seat, for a moment just enjoying each other’s company in silence, though you soon notice the twitch in the Phoenix’s leg.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I…” He looks down a moment, before meeting your gaze with his own again. “I wanted to thank you.”

“Me - whatever for?”

He places his hand hesitantly upon yours, clasped politely in your lap. “For being my steadfast friend when I was growing up, and now, to reunite with you after all these years, to see the beautiful young woman you’ve become – still as kind and honest and… brave.”

“Brave?” You laugh at the suggestion. “No, not me – not in comparison to Clive’s merry band.”

“My lady, please don’t dismiss yourself, and especially not when I am trying my best to pay you compliments, which I see you are still no good at accepting.” He teases.

“Some things never change, I suppose.”

“Yet some things do.”

There is no time to question as Joshua leans forward then, cupping your palm with his hand and stares deeply into your eyes, making your cheeks prickle with heat.

“May I be as bold to request a kiss, my lady?”

You don’t even answer, leaning to forward to meet his lips with yours, placing your hand upon his shoulder. It is gentle – as Joshua has always been and will always be – and soft, slowly increasing in pace as the two of you grow in confidence and passion. His arm wraps around your waist, tugging you closer, bodies pressed as he runs his tongue across your bottom lip, seeking entrance and -

There is a creak of a floorboard and the two of you break apart, flustered by the interruption, hearts pounding. A sheepish Clive is stood there, Jill trying to stifle a giggle behind him, the two of them now trying to head back down the stairs.

“Brother,” Joshua calls, “I assure you we are no longer in need of a chaperone.”

“I can tell.” Clive replies, his voice carrying from up the stairs.

“Now, sweet one,” Joshua places his hand back upon your cheek, arm once more around your waist to pull you against him. “Where were we?” ---

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

[autolenaphilia]

Re-reading Auramgold's "The Abuser's Guide to Transmisogyny" and oh boy does it have the pulse on how transmisogyny works, especially the kind common on this website.(as the title might tell you, It's a sarcastic guide to using callout culture to isolate and abuse transfems, so basically all the content warnings.)

I'm not talking about the more explicit kind from outright terfs or nazis, although that is of course bad. I'm talking about the more insidious kind, the kind who has "terfs/nazis dni" in their bio, and who is often (tme) trans themselves. The kind of transmisogynist who openly disavows transmisogyny, but has a growing roster of callout posts about supposed "pedos/freaks" who all happen to be transfems. Really you should read all of it, but like here are some choice selections, things I've seen being done to mutuals like right now.

"The main factor of going for a fast and hard strike is finding some Controversial point to grow a harassment mob around. Maybe your victim said something you can ship-of-Theseus into sounding racist, maybe she chose to associate with someone already considered "problematic", maybe she even just posted about some sort of kink or sexuality and you're gonna bend that into her being a rapist or a pedophile. The last approach works best of all of these, as society is always primed to see trans girls as pedophiles; the TERFs already did the work for you on that front. But even if any sexual allegations aren't your centerpiece seed, they can do wonders as an extra spice, a perfect excuse for "if you support my victim against me, you're supporting pedophilia" attacks."

"Many communities have self-ascribed "anti-pedophile crusaders," and these are a valuable resource considering how easy it is to make someone see a trans girl as a sex criminal. Recruit them by leaning into a narrative of how your victim "protects pedophiles in <community>," which works especially well in fandom spaces with the presence of their "anti" faction. If you construct a narrative of your victim puppeting the community from behind the scenes, you can lean right into the fascist playbook of portraying your vulnerable victim as the puppetmaster."

"Of course, you don't even need even a made-up "victim" to accuse your trans girl victim of sexual impropriety. If your victim is into any sexuality at all, she's likely to have some kink or another that is vaguely Controversial enough to accuse her on. Never mind that it's between consenting adults, if you frame it as thoughtcrime, if you frame it as sin, it's very difficult for your victim to actually defend against it. One particularly effective mode to attack with is any caregiver/little dynamics your victim might be into, as it is very easy to twist "your victim likes diapers" into "your victim likes fucking children" as a ship-of-Theseus argument. Targeting littleness works especially well because it is a kink that usually comes from parental abuse that manifests into fawn trauma, and you can take advantage of your victim's trauma making her try to appease anyone that hurts her to neutralize any ability she has to fight back.

While littleness is one of the best targets to base accusations of sexual abuse on, basically any kink can work well enough for that. If she draws CNC you can call her a "secret rapist," if she's into petplay you can call her a "zoophile", if she's into gore or sadomasochism you can claim she's physically abusive. Hell, you can get the antis on your side if she merely ships the wrong characters together or likes a "bad" character, as they're all too willing to join at the hint of anything like that they can attack someone for. Literally any kink or sexuality can be twisted into a slight against your victim, and this works very well for your attacks so that they may pull at the groundwork the fascists already set out for you."

[lunarlianna]

Ceres asteroid

Ceres, originally an asteroid and now considered a Dwarf Planet by astronomers, plays a pivotal role in astrology. Often associated with nurturing, attachment, and self-care, Ceres sheds light on our relationships and well-being. This celestial body's placement in your birth chart unveils how you express love, seek support, and approach finances, offering valuable insights into your personal growth and nurturing style. Ceres symbolizes the natural world, the ever-changing rhythms of the seasons, womanhood, fertility, parenting, and reproduction. Ceres, also known as Demeter in Greek mythology, is the goddess of agriculture and motherly relationships. The myth centers around her daughter, Persephone in Greek Mythology.  While often relevant within a 1-3º orb with Natal Planets, Ceres provides insights based on House and Sign placement, addressing key aspects of our relationships and well-being.

Ceres in signs

Ceres in Aries: you possess a strong sense of self-sufficiency and independence, often relying on your inner drive to support both yourself and those around you. You tend to seize opportunities with enthusiasm and speed. However, it's important to approach impulsiveness and anger with mindfulness, as they can occasionally affect your self-care. Sports and competition boost your well-being. In relationships, you seek partners who empower you and ignite your fearless spirit.

Ceres in Taurus: you're the dependable and stable force in your loved ones' lives, working hard to create a comfortable future for them. You seek partners who can provide abundance and completeness. Nurturing, for you, is all about physical touch and creating a cozy environment. With Ceres feeling right at home in Taurus, you excel at building long-lasting abundance and using resources wisely. You may find joy in supporting others materially and have a deep connection to the physical world, your senses, and the pleasures of life, especially through food and nature.

Ceres in Gemini: you're drawn to a partner who can intellectually stimulate and inspire your growth through meaningful communication and learning. Nurturing your mind is essential, and you may find joy in acquiring knowledge, mastering various subjects, or simply using your mental energy wisely. However, remember not to push yourself too hard to prevent burnout. You excel at providing mental support, especially to younger individuals, and your natural gift for teaching and effective communication shines through.

Ceres in Cancer: taking care of your emotional well-being is crucial, and having a strong support system is key to feeling fulfilled. While you may have physical comforts, they can feel empty without sufficient emotional fulfillment. You tend to be exceptionally supportive of others emotionally, sometimes giving more than receiving, which should be balanced. A stable home and family life are vital for your personal growth. You prioritize creature comforts like being at home and cooking, focusing on stability and connections in life.

Ceres in Leo: you're a motivated go-getter who pursues your desires with determination. You're attracted to bold and confident partners who earn your respect and admiration, providing you with a sense of confidence. Your creative side is a source of self-nurturing, and it offers opportunities for the attention you crave. Supporting and encouraging children, whether your own or others, brings you fulfillment, and your hobbies provide solace and support. It's essential to address any issues related to your need for attention, as self-expression, recognition, and love are fundamental to your growth and success.

Ceres in Virgo: you embody devotion and nurturing, using your intellect and practicality to create a caring environment for loved ones. In relationships, you're loyal and go to great lengths for your partner, seeking empowerment, avoid any situations where you might be taken for granted. Your path to growth involves competence, self-discipline, and a quest for excellence. You find comfort in well-organized settings, and maintaining daily routines plays a vital role in nurturing yourself. You express support through subtle acts of kindness. However, it's essential to address any tendencies towards perfectionism and self-criticism, as they can sometimes affect your self-confidence.

Ceres in Libra: you bring patience and nurturing to your relationships, cherishing the importance of love and care. You seek partners who inspire your independence. Beauty, grace, and cooperation are your guiding principles, and you find deep fulfillment in meaningful connections with people you profoundly respect. It's vital for you to maintain a balance in giving and receiving support. Your strong suits include negotiation, compromise, and mediation, which play a significant role in fostering harmony in your relationships.

Ceres in Scorpio: you possess a natural gift for nurturing and empowering those around you, uplifting them and making them recognize their self-worth. In relationships, you seek loyalty and trust, as these qualities are essential for your sense of strength and security. Your path to growth centers on deep, intimate connections with others, emphasizing self-empowerment. However, remember to reserve some for yourself and maintain a balance in giving and receiving. Intimacy plays a crucial role in boosting your confidence, and you thrive in relationships marked by strong physical and emotional bonds.

Ceres in Sagittarius: Your journey to growth and success involves the freedom to expand your horizons and explore the philosophies, religions, laws, and cultures of the world, fostering a deep connection to the world's diverse perspectives. Your nurturing style can vary; you may either find it challenging to provide support due to your desire for personal space or offer substantial support to others, often excelling as a mentor or through effective communication. In relationships, you seek someone who can ignite your passion for exploration and provide you with knowledge, empowering you to stand up for your beliefs.

Ceres in Capricorn: in relationships, you seek a partner who supports your goals and ambitions, providing stability and encouragement to help you achieve success. Your sense of nourishment often comes from pursuing your goals, and while you may not have felt fully supported in your younger years, you tend to amass resources and security as you grow older. Nonetheless, it's crucial to strike a balance and avoid overburdening yourself with excessive responsibilities, especially in supporting others. Remember to care for yourself along the way.

Ceres in Aquarius: you're here to champion change and support the collective good. In your relationships, you seek partners who share your vision of making positive contributions to society, and their unwavering support fuels your drive for revolution. Your personal growth path centers on nurturing your uniqueness and embracing your individuality. Your friends are a crucial source of support, and your involvement in meaningful causes empowers you to impact the lives of others positively. However, you might need to work on connecting more deeply with your emotions and reducing any tendencies toward emotional detachment to strengthen your relationships.

Ceres in Pisces: that's you – the empathetic soul. You've walked in others' shoes, and your love fiercely shields your dear ones from life's harshness. In love, you seek someone who can keep you grounded, as you tend to escape into a vibrant world to evade the darkness of reality. For you, growth and success come from your wellspring of compassion, unwavering faith, and trust. You're the ultimate caregiver, often putting others' needs before your own. Remember, it's okay to prioritize yourself and embrace self-care.

[bethbluebell]

reckless [ e.williams] one shot

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary; jackson has its two units that venture outside for their own unique purposes. one being the patrol unit and the other is the scavenging team. you being on the scavenging team take your role way too seriously and ellie isn’t happy when you end up hurt.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

"I have nothing to apologise for." You stated with your hands on your hips, earning a disapproving glare from Maria and your exhausted scavenging partner who was hunched over beside you.

Maria narrowed her eyes replying back to you in a stern manner, "This isn't about you, (Y/N). You are more than willing to put - not just yourself but your partner in unnecessary danger." You looked off to the side and gave off a dry laugh.

“Just me alone brings back more useful resources in a day than the whole scavenging unit combined gets in a month. I may take 'unnecessary' risks, but those risks have provided our people with rare medication, valuable materials, and a better quality of life. So, no. I don't feel like apologising because I am actually taking my role seriously." You crossed your arms in defiance and stormed off in the direction of the bar.

Your friends always stopped off there after their patrols so you'd always visit if you had time. This was standard behaviour from you and you were very much aware that Maria’s patience was wearing thin. However, no-one could deny that you were a valuable asset to the team. The townspeople would always come to you with requests for items to look out for because you’d always go the extra mile. It was a blessing and a curse, but you knew in the back of your mind that it was only a matter of time before your luck ran out.

The door to the bar was already wide open so you gladly let yourself in taking in the scent of booze. You spotted Jesse and Dina in the back enjoying a drink, which is what you so desperately needed right now.

You slumped down on the empty seat next to Dina and pressed you’re lips together glaring down at the floor, “Someone's not happy." Dina remarked setting her drink down on the table.

Jesse shifted his weight, leaning forward in your direction, "Maria tell you off again?"

You tilted your head back and groaned before facing them both, "I'm sorry but it's such a fucking joke how they disregard all my hard work because my partner wouldn't listen to me and then gets shocked when he ends up hurt!"

Ellie walked over to the table, a drink in hand flashing you a grin seeing you all fired up, “Maria?" Jesse nodded over at Ellie as she sat down next to him. Frustrated, you abruptly shot out of your seat and slammed your palms onto the table nearly spilling Ellie's newly bought drink.

"Hey-!" Ellie gasped closing her hand around the top of the glass.

"She threatened to take me off the scavenging team if I 'keep this up' like what the hell is that supposed to mean?" You asked swiping Ellie's drink and slumping back down in your seat.

The three weren't phased by your outbursts as they occurred more than three times a week. You were very passionate about your job so it irritated you. In the past all three of them have tried to defend your actions to Maria but she shuts them down faster than they can speak up.

You took a large sip from Ellie's glass failing to notice Jesse & Dina giggling as Ellie stared at you baffled, "Uh, (Y/N)." Ellie spoke up, side-eyeing Jesse.

Your eyes darted over to hers as you parted the glass from your lips, “Hm?” She reached over and swiped her drink back keeping it close to her chest.

“My drink." Ellie stated as her eyebrow raised in amusement with her lips curled into a smirk.

You pouted letting off a loud, dramatic sigh, “It’s like everyone’s against me!” You cried sinking further in your seat.

There was a pause until both Jesse and Dina erupted into muffled giggles. Your eyes shifted to Ellie’s and you momentarily froze at her staring back. Like clockwork your heartbeat grew louder as your pupils darted away in an instant scrambling the thoughts in your head.

As their laughter quietened you stood up, clearing your throat. You and Ellie always had a hard to explain friendship. The fact is you never liked others viewing it as a friendship even though that’s all it was. You hoped any future admirers of Ellie would back off when they see the tension between you two. Thick sexual tension if you will.

For your other friends you’d play matchmaker. You might as well be wearing a diaper and running around with Ellies bow the way you set them up with the current bachelors of Jackson. Seven minutes in heaven? Spin the bottle? Name it, you’ve done it.

Not her though. The thought of Ellie with somebody else physically pains you. You wondered if she ever caught on, it’s not like you were the most discreet person that ever graced the planet. If so, she never mentioned it and even played a long if that was the case.

"Right, I'm off. I'll see you guys bright and early tomorrow?"

"That you will. Just tread carefully with Maria. I know the patrol and scavenging units are different, but we'd hate for you to be kicked off the team." Jesse remarked causing you to laugh out loud.

"You don't need to worry about me my dear ol' Jesse." You patted his shoulder, "I have a few tricks up my sleeve to open Maria's mind a bit." You winked at the group as you turned around and exited the bar.

The three look at one another and sigh. Ellie rubs her forehead and glances back over at your retreating form, “She's definitely getting herself kicked off the team tomorrow."

Jackson - 6:24 AM - The following day 

You stood on your tip toes, vaguely checking your horse over as your scavenging partner hastily unzipped their backpack, groaning in annoyance, "Give me five minutes, (Y/N), I'm pretty sure I forgot my gloves."

You smirked at how much you were getting your way. Misplacing your partners gloves seemed like a bit of a gamble at the time but as the saying goes ‘Fortune favours the brave’.

You made sure to mix yourself in the center of the scavenging groups just before setting off. You inconspicuously peered around as one of the men went through the rules - the ones that you were currently breaking - to make sure your partner wasn't back yet.

Somehow your plan worked. You were galloping just beyond the gate left to explore the wilderness till your hearts content, throwing whatever consequences Maria has planned for you to the back of your mind.

Jackson - Ellie's POV

I swiftly jumped off shimmer and handed her off to the stables alongside Dina. I had made plans to watch a movie with Joel this afternoon until my thoughts were completely scattered due to Dina harshly elbowing me. A fuming Maria came storming up towards us, steam practically coming out of her ears, "Ellie. Dina. Do you have any idea where your good friend from the scavenging unit is?"

I side-eyed Dina and shrugged, "I'm guessing she's not back yet." I commented earning a stern look from Maria.

"Correct. However, I wouldn't mind a bit of a delay until I was made aware the partner we had assigned with her never left but she did."

I cursed under my breathe putting two and two together. This was the plan she had? How was this meant to open Marias mind? This is the angriest I've ever seen her.

Dina stepped in front of me and gave off a nervous laugh, "You know (Y/N), she's really dedicated to the team, I'm sure this was all out of good faith." I nodded behind Dina, awkwardly tracing my arm.

"Good faith isn't much help when a pack of clickers have you cornered. I know you guys are good friends but she's being far too careless with her own life over a little bit of supplies."

Dina looked back at me in defeat. As much loyalty I have towards (Y/N), I care way too much about her for this to carry on.

Your POV

Humming an old tune, you scanned through the last room within the building. The supplies bag your horse was carrying was already filled to the brim with items but you weren’t sure if you’d ever get the chance to visit this area again.

Biting your lip, you got to the last few unpicked drawers in the room.

Ah, Jackpot.

You carefully lifted the limited-edition comic from the draw and scanned your eyes over the beautifully designed cover. Ellie's is going to freak.

You grinned to yourself straightening it up in your backpack before heading out the room. Just as your hand leaned forward to grab the handle - it already turned, revealing two stocky men barging through the door.

Looks like your luck had finally ran out.

A majority of it was a blur. As much as you should have been prioritising your life, you were more worried about the comic in your bag getting crushed.

You managed to slip past them and dart through the door. Not failing to notice  them persistently chasing after you behind.

You reached down to the gun holster strapped on your upper thigh as you ran to the exit of the building. You had never been one to jump straight to violence, even in a world like this. That was one of the reasons you switched from patrols to scavenging. When you first joined the patrols, you were under the impression that it was just killing infected. That was until the incident happened.

You were on a patrol route preparing to advance into the paired patrols. You were in a trio with two brothers, the younger brother was 20 whilst the older brother was 24. They were teaching you the ropes and comparing how they work differently to group patrols. That was until you ran into another group that was made up of five people.

They seemed friendly enough until the youngest of their group lifted his gun up and shot the older brother you were patrolling with. You were startled, completely froze in place as you watched his body drop to the ground.

His younger brother mirrored you as you both looked at each other in disbelief. His head lifted in the direction of the group and before you could act, your partner shot the one who killed his brother straight through the head.

After that it turned into a shooting match before you could even comprehend what or why this was happening. You and the brother survived the attack, but you were badly injured. You both had killed the remaining four and still to this day you had no understanding on why it ended the way it did. Sometimes there is no explanation and it still plagues your mind to this day.

That encounter finalised your decision to switch to the scavenging unit. It was the safer option not just physically but mentally. Plus, all scavenging routes get cleared by the patrol units beforehand so there was a very minimal chance of encountering anything besides wildlife.

Back to the present; you were currently running towards your horse, your gun in hand but no finger on the trigger. You weren’t sure if there were infected around these parts and you weren’t keen on the idea of a horde coming after you as well.

Your movements became sloppy as you struggled to fix the strap on your supplies bag which sat comfortably on the side of your horse. The last thing you wanted was this trip to be for nothing. Your spatial awareness became a second thought until you were roughly grabbed and thrown to the ground. You yelped in pain as your back connected with the ground. Only one man was stood above you but his expression was enough to make your blood run cold.

A smirk was plastered across his face. You could only perceive it as something creepy and somewhat psychotic. A machete hung loosely from his hand and it seemed he noticed your eyes linger on it a bit too long.

His grip tightened around the handle as he sneered over you, “You seem like a tough cookie but please don’t hold in them pretty little screams for me.”

 Your eyes widened as the blade came down onto your shoulder. You screamed out in pain at the impact turning your head away from him. You had squeezed your eyes shut as a reflex allowing your body to endure the pain. As you peaked one eye open, your eyes landed on the gun hidden behind you. You must’ve dropped it whilst being thrown to the ground.

Discreetly, you moved your palm along the ground bringing your hand closer and closer to the gun. You held eye contact with the man above you, giving him a fake sense of security as you waited for the perfect opportunity.

In a flash you grabbed the gun and pointed it directly to his face.

BANG

His body went stiff and you quickly scurried to the side as his body collided with the floor. Your heart rate was uncontrollable as you quickly ran to your horse and climbed on. You could hear the yelling of the other guy followed by the echo of scattered gunshots as he clumsily aimed at you and your horse. You sped off in a hurry not even giving yourself the chance to look back.

Fuck, that could have ended so much worse.

On the bright side his weapon must’ve been blunt as your shoulder was still very much intact. There was only a deepish wound soaking through your clothes but it was survivable. That still didn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch though.

Looks like you were clinging on whatever luck you had left after all.

Back at Jackson

The guards at the gate had quickly escorted you inside taking your horse off you in the process. It was already dark outside and you were told Maria would deal with you in the morning. What a blessing in disguise that was. If she saw any of the wounds you were concealing, she would definitely be nagging your ear off by now.

 The guy that slashed your shoulder managed to miss your jacket and aim straight for your t-shirt. This was expected as with being thrown to the ground the jacket was practically hanging off your body anyways. This made it easier to hide the gash but definitely made it hurt 10x harder.

 However, you needed to treat it, and this led you to your next dilemma. You had let Ellie borrow your med kit just a couple of days ago and now you needed it back. Otherwise, you’d have to wake up with a nasty infection and you just were not in the mood for that, maybe on another day but just not today.

You trudged your way over to Ellie’s running over how you were going to play this off to her in your head. As you stood just before her front door you composed yourself, taking a deep breath as you lightly knocked in a familiar melody.

There was a long pause as you huffed entertaining yourself by kicking the rocks underneath your feet. You were still contemplating if this was a good idea until you plucked up the courage, your voice being half way between a whisper and a shout, “Ellie?”

A few seconds past until you heard keys jingling within the lock and the door flinging open. You lifted your head slightly and smiled on instinct. Gosh, weren’t you happy to see her. Ellie played with her earlobe as she stared back at you. 

Ellie looked.. tired. She was either super stressed or you had just woken her up. You were hoping the latter.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you? I won’t be too long I just-“ You rambled until she cut you off.

"Is that blood?" Ellie perked up, nodding her head in the direction of your shirt.

You looked down completely caught off guard by her question and scratched at the dried blood hoping that it would somehow magically disappear and Ellie would get memory loss and forget all about it, "No?" You answered sheepishly.

The blood she was referring too was actually the aftermath of you blowing that guys head off.

"Thats not a question you're suppose to answer with another question." Ellie threw back at you, opening the door wider to allow you to enter her humble abode.

A laugh escaped your lips as you walked past her, “It’s not mine.” You reassured her, placing your bag on the floor gently enough not to irritate your shoulder. “I just need to get something and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Your smile grew dim as you saw the worry spread across Ellie’s face.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

You gulped and proceeded to sigh heavily debating on whether to tell her the truth or not. Facing away from her you spoke up, your voice barely above a whisper, “I went far east.”

In that moment you swear you saw Ellie’s eyes bulge out of her head, “Far east! Are you insane?” Ellie raised her voice as she began to pace around the room.

“I know, I know. It was a stupid idea.” You admitted sitting down onto her bed and throwing your head in your hands.

“You need to stop trying to fucking prove yourself. You’ve done more than enough for this place and you’ll end up dead if this carries on.” You avoided her gaze and stared down at the floor trying to hide the burning pain from the fresh wound on your skin. You felt a dip in the bed beside you and a hand comfortingly touch your thigh.

Your breathe hitched at the contact, forcing you to pull your hands away from your face, “I know you mean well but do you know how worried we were? How worried I was?” Ellie's voice broke at the last four words causing your heart to skip ten beats. You could barely look at her. Knowing you were lying about your wellbeing as she was pouring her heart out to you.

“I’m sorry, Ellie.” You sighed, “Maybe I was a little reckless but I’m fine.” You smiled softly at her, proceeding to pull your coat up towards your neck praying it was covering the stained shirt beneath. You followed her eyes as they darted to you shoulder, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. She isn't dumb, she was definitely putting two and two together.

"Why don't you stay for a bit? Take your coat off and rest." Her offer took you back by surprise making you fumble as you stood up. "I- no it's okay, I should go home." Completely forgetting about the med kit, you went to grab your bag but without thinking you placed the strap on the deep cut on your shoulder.

You cried out in pain and fell back on the bed. Ellie quickly steadied you and shot back bluntly, “Take it off.” You spun your head in Ellie’s direction as you attempted to catch your breath, “Now. I’m not asking.” She demanded her body abnormally stiff.

Giving in, you pulled the coat off your shoulders. Ellie’s eyes never left your body as you unveiled the gash. You thought she was going to pass out when she laid eyes on it.

Her face flushed a sickly white as her fingers began trembling, “Please say infected didn’t do this.” Ellie uttered leaning in closer.

 “No, I barely came in contact with infected.” You confirmed pulling your shirt down further exposing it in all its glory.

“Alright, you can tell me how this happened in a bit but first I’m going to get some stuff to patch you up.”

 “Thanks, I guess anything would be better than using my dirty shirt to soak it up.” Ellie rolled her eyes, smiling as she got up off the bed.

“You’re an idiot.” She muttered clearly amused.

You waited patiently until she came back over to you. Ellie began disinfecting the wound which immediately had you biting your bottom lip in pain.

The silence was comfortable. You felt so at ease with Ellie around and never felt safer. Ellie pulled back from your shoulder and looked down at the supplies she had scattered on her bed.

You studied her side profile, clearly ogling but at this point you really couldn’t care. The only person that could really call out right now is Ellie and she’d have to notice first. 

“I have a feeling you’re enjoying seeing me squirm in pain.” You joked as if you didn’t have a machete lodged in your shoulder four hours ago.

Ellie chuckled, shaking her head, “Shows you’ve learnt your lesson.”

 You laughed back disheartened fidgeting with you fingers, “You know, I feel like people think I’m not able to handle myself out there. Just because I’m not on the patrol team anymore, it doesn’t mean I’m any less capable.”

“That’s not what I think” Ellie meets your eyes preparing to bandage you up.

“That’s what everyone thinks”

Ellies lifts her hands to your shoulder and carefully begins to bandage the wound, “Do you think we don’t all know why you stopped doing patrol?” Your forehead crinkled at what she was suggesting. “We all agreed with your decision but now what you’re doing is even more dangerous than that.” She reminded you. 

Even though her voice sounded strained her movements were still light and it actually felt nice considering the situation. “I just don’t want to disappoint anyone. Imagine being on the scavenging team and coming back with sweet fuck all!” You lifted your hands up in the air causing Ellie to shoot you a stern look before carrying on working.

“All I’m saying is it might as well not be a thing if that’s the case.” You pouted, looking down to view Ellie’s handy work.

She leaned back and nodded to herself followed by a sigh, “This isn’t about your pride, (Y/N), this is about your life. Do you understand what it would do to me if I heard you got killed over fucking supplies?” Her voice begins to raise.

Your body felt hot as you felt the urge to cry at Ellie’s words. Hearing this from her really did put it into perspective how selfish you were being and that was never your intention.

“I’m such an idiot. I wish I could at least do something to make it up to you.” You groaned.

You felt her gaze on you and suddenly began to feel self-conscious. Your old shirt that was once white, now a dark crimson red still clung tightly to your skin. Not leaving much to the imagination as you pulled it up further.

Ellie did have a small stack of clothes neatly placed on her bed for you but you were too exhausted to even change. You’d prefer to at least wash the dirt and grime off your body before tarnishing the freshly washed clothes.

You looked over to your bag and it was as if a light bulb had gone off above your head.

The comic!

“Oh my- how did I forget!” You shot up off the bed and bent down to open your bag. You pulled out the comic and somehow it was in pristine condition. Grinning down at it, you turned around to Ellie and held it out to her, “Please take this as an apology. I mean, I was going to give it to you anyway but this works out so much better.”

You watched as Ellie’s head tilted down at the comic bewildered. She reached out taking it out of your grasp flipping it over in awe, “Please tell me you didn’t almost get amputated for a comic book.”

“Ah-ah! Limited edition comic book” You announced gleefully.

She looks over at you dumbfounded, “You’re actually insane.” Ellie comments clearly thrilled by the gift but trying to not encourage you any further.

“Yeah, well you better treasure it because I am one hundred percent being kicked off the scavenging rota tomorrow.” You trailed off not even attempting to hide the sadness in your voice.

Ellie put the comic book down beside her now focusing all her attention on you, “We’ll figure something out. I’m positive I can make some sort of arrangement with Maria.”

“Oh, yeah, Like what?” You asked teasingly crossing your arms.

Ellie pushed herself off the bed and made her way towards you. Your cocky façade faltered slightly becoming more nervous the closer she came. “I can go scavenging with you and you can patrol with me. You need a partner that can keep up with you and even though we both know I’m way too overqualified, it seems you’ve left me no choice.” She grinned making light of the situation and having way too much fun mocking you in the process.

You rolled your eyes and pursed your lips together, “You know, I can’t ask you to do that for me.”

“I want too.” Ellie quickly responded; no hesitation evident in her voice.

Your heart started to pound at an increasingly rapid pace. You wanted to ask her what made you so special? Why was she was willing to turn her whole routine upside down for the likes of you? But instead you cowered, hiding behind a joke like you always do.

“Why? You enjoy the idea of babysitting me?” Even this time you couldn’t camouflage the nervousness in your voice. Something was building up between you both and it was getting harder and harder to ignore it the longer you were alone together. You almost looked away until Ellie stepped forward, taking your face in her hands and pulling you towards her.

The only way to describe it was passionate. The kiss was rough like an indication that this was much overdue. You deepened your kisses with each other both of your hands beginning to wander. It was as if you couldn’t get enough of each other. Your fingers running through her hair, her hands caressing your body. It was so dreamy like you could literally feel the adoration Ellie was exuding.

You broke apart, your eyes lingering on each other trying to work out if that actually just happened. Ellie looked down at the floor, combing the stray strands of hair behind her ear.

“You want to know why?” Ellie asked catching your attention, “Because I love you, (Y/N). It was killing me seeing you ride out of these walls because I never knew if it was going to be the last time I’ll see you.”

You stepped forward intertwining your fingers with hers. You pecked her lips and smiled up at her, “You’re such a sap.” You teased making Ellie roll her eyes and wrap her arms around you. She lifted you up with ease causing you to yelp with a mixture of laughter and the yells of you telling her to put you down.

Once she finally put you back down on the floor you lightly hit her arm all while still laughing. You were so happy you didn’t even care if you were taken off the scavenging team anymore. As long as Ellie was by your side you knew you were going to be okay.

“I love you too, Ellie.” You blurted out, causing her to turn towards you in shock and after a couple of seconds she began to grin like a little kid.

“I mean it was obvious but it’s still nice to hear you say it.”

“Oh, shut it you.”

After the high of it all died down, you and Ellie were chilling on her bed until a revelation occurred to you.

“Wait, does this mean you and Maria are going to gang up on me now?”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Ahhhh! I am so exciting to share this with you all! Not my best work but I enjoyed writing it regardless.

I thought writing a little one shot would help me out of writers block and focus on the 4th part of my new to you series. Let’s see if it worked shall we?

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 4: Even the Score

It's not often that a Mandalorian asks for help. It's even more surprising when he asks you. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-3 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: None for this chapter, whole fic is violent and smutty so minors DNI!

Length: 5.5k

You weren’t in pain when you woke up. 

It took you a moment to even realize where you were, the lighting in the Mandalorian’s quarters dim. You had to fight to remember what happened, the last thing you recalled staggering up the ramp of the Razor Crest and collapsing in the hold. The rest came back quickly, though. Finding the medical supplies, sewing your side shut, Mando returning with the quarry - a quarry who knew who you were. The bounty hunter helping you to his bunk and stitching the gash on your back while you dug your fingers into his leg. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been out but your body felt strangely intact. You tested moving your fingers and toes before bringing your hand gently to your side to examine the wound there. It was closed - completely, like you’d never been cut at all. You frowned, reaching around to find your back. It was healed, too. 

Sitting up slowly, you tested your oddly healthy body’s range of motion. Nothing hurt, you weren’t even sore. How long had you been out? There was a bottle of water beside the bunk, which you took, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry. You looked down. Your legs were bare and you were in a shirt that was a few sizes too large for you and suspiciously blood free. 

Standing took a bit more effort. It was obvious you hadn’t used your legs in a bit and they were shaky as you made your way slowly from the bunk out to the rest of the ship. The hum of the engines made it likely you were en route to your next destination - wherever that might be. You stopped where you’d been stitching yourself up but there was no blood on the floor. He’d cleaned up then. 

You made your way slowly through the ship, peering into the galley only to find it empty, before climbing the ladder to the cockpit. He’d told you to keep out before but you figured this was an exception to the rule. You knocked on the hatch to give him a second to prepare before easing it open. 

He glanced over his shoulder as you hovered near the hatch, arms crossed over your still only partially clothed body. 

“You’re up,” he said, looking back to his screen. You nod in response before realizing that he couldn’t see you. 

“How long was I out?” You asked. 

“Two days,” he replied, not looking at you. You nodded slowly. 

“You used the bacta patches,” you said, more a statement than a question. 

“Yes,” he said. You caught a tension in his voice, one you may not have noticed when you first met him but seemed obvious now. 

“Why?” You asked. 

“Watching someone suffer for the sake of suffering isn’t in my nature,” he still wouldn’t look at you. You nodded again, more for yourself and to give your body something to do. 

“Where are we headed?”

“Coruscant,” he replied. He glanced back at you again. “The people who… want you. How many are there? Would you be safe in a spaceport there or should I find a shuttle to the planet?” 

You considered just how much you could keep to yourself while still answering honestly. 

“Spaceport is fine,” you said. “I’m valuable, but only to a handful of people. Most won’t have any idea who I am and, as far as I know, those who do want me are playing it close to the chest. They’re powerful and have plenty of resources but they’re not sending someone like you after me. Not yet, anyway.” 

He didn’t say anything, leaving you both there in silence. 

“Sorry for intruding,” you muttered, climbing back through the hatch and returning to the hold. You missed him turning to watch you go. 

Usually, you got dressed every day in the fresher, but the crate offered a better mirror. You decided to risk changing in the hold - suddenly realizing the Mandalorian had to have seen you naked to have gotten you changed, anyway - so you could examine the places where your injuries would be. You twisted in the reflection, nothing but a red mark - like someone had slapped you - left where gaping wounds had been just two days earlier. You touched the flesh at your side, almost like you wanted to prove to yourself that you were whole. It was still strange that the Mandalorian had used bacta. The patches cost an arm and a leg and it’s not like he cared what happened to you beyond delivering you alive to Dantooine. You’d been surprised that he’d helped you at all, his hands surprisingly gentle as he cleaned your wounds and sewed you up. He’d let you collapse against him, tried to take your pain while he worked on you… it didn’t make sense. He didn’t trust you enough to take his helmet off anywhere near you but seeing you hurting bothered him. You shook your head as you put on some of the clothes you’d bought on Hosnian Prime. You didn’t understand him at all. 

You wanted to go through your routine - train, use your body and feel strong - but, while you weren’t in pain, your body was tired. It felt like you’d spent days doing nothing but work to become stronger and better. Instead, you climbed on top of the crate and jumped, catching the pipe to pull yourself into your hiding spot. This time, though, just that made you out of breath. You stretched out, the new skin stretching and pulling, before seeing if there was something - anything - on your data pad you might have missed about Mandalorians. 

You were only there for a few hours when you heard the telltale sound of the hatch opening. You peered down from your perch, watching as he came to stand below you. He looked up at you, his arms crossed as you frowned down at him. 

“We’re coming up on Coruscant,” he said. You nodded, still frowning. He turned to leave before stopping and looking back to you. “How do you get up there?”

“I could show you,” you said. “But then I’d have to kill you.” 

He laughed once, shaking his head, and you smiled. You hadn’t made him laugh before. It was a nice sound. 

“I’ll show you how I get down, though,” you said. “That’s a less closely guarded secret.” 

He stepped back, giving you space as you slipped to the edge of the nook and jumped down, landing lightly on the balls of your feet. 

He just watched you as you stood up straight. His visor stayed still but you could feel how his eyes went up your body, making you frown. He turned and walked, wordlessly, to the cockpit and you trailed behind him. 

Coruscant, at least, looked like you remembered. You’d been all over the planet before the fall of the Empire but the context was so different that you doubted anyone who knew you then would recognize you now. Mando guided the ship into a port not too far from where you’d usually dock near the Imperial Senate building - probably the New Republic Senate building now, you realized. A lot had changed in the last two years.  

The Mandalorian was wordless as always as he went to the hold, you following again, pulling yourself on top of a crate to watch him prepare. But he gathered less than usual before standing next to your perch, looking up at you. “Come down,” he said, nodding toward the ground. “I need to talk to you.” 

You sighed but obeyed. Of course he’d only want to talk to you if you had to look up at him instead of the other way around. 

“Can’t handle talking up to someone, can you?” You asked, partially because you meant it but more because you wanted to go back to your old rapport. It’s not like you had much of a relationship but this dynamic - one where he’d helped you and maybe showed that he cared about more than just dropping you off on another world - was uncomfortable. 

“Here,” he thrust a com link into your hand. You frowned down at it, turning it over in your fingers. “What, have you never used a com before?” 

“Yes, I’m a newborn babe in the woods,” you rolled your eyes. “I just don’t know why you’re giving me this now, you didn’t when you left before…” 

“I don’t like coming back to my ship to find someone screaming when I don’t expect it,” he said bluntly. “Get in trouble, call me. Get in a bad enough spot, take the ship and get off world and I’ll meet you.” 

“I thought you’d hunt me across the galaxy and kill me for taking your ship,” you frowned up at him. 

“For stealing my ship,” he replied. “It’s not stealing if I know you’re taking it and where it’s going.” 

You didn’t say anything. 

“I’ll be back tonight,” he said, turning for the gate. Your eyebrows raised. He must have sensed your shock because he answered your unspoken question without even looking at you. “I have a meeting. It should only be a few hours. Stay on he ship.” He turned to look at you. “And if you get hurt, use the damned bacta.” 

Part of you wanted to defy his orders on principle. You’d always liked Coruscant, the place was so different than your home world. Naboo was lush and green and natural while Coruscant was sleek and artificial and bursting with so many different cultures melting together. You loved Naboo but Coruscant was exciting. 

But you knew better. Yes, the chances of anyone recognizing you here now - especially among billions - was basically zero. But what were the chances of the Mandalorian’s quarry knowing who you were? Equally low, you figured. If you got into a fight now like you had on Hosnian Prime, it was highly unlikely you’d leave it alive. You wouldn’t be able to move as quickly as you had then, and you could tell that - while your flesh was knitted together and muscle connected - you were still a bit low on blood. Staying on the ship was the smart thing to do. 

You felt strangely antsy, waiting for Mando to walk in at any moment. It was odd, being more aware of his plans. You weren’t sure if you liked it or not. 

He was right, he wasn’t gone long. Only three hours after he left he returned, shaking his head, frustration pouring off him in waves. You’d been sitting atop a crate when he came back and you watched him pace as he took off his gear, putting things away in his fastidious fashion, before he came to a stop in front of you. 

“I need a favor,” he said, looking up at you. 

“The great Mandalorian is in need of help,” you leaned forward so your elbows were on your knees and your face was almost level with his helmet. He grunted an affirmation. “Surprised you’d ask an Imperial for assistance…” 

“You’re not Imperial,” he said, impatient. You were taken aback, blinking away your shock. “I’m not going to pretend like you are.” 

“Maybe I pissed off an old boss,” you replied with a cavalier shrug. Really, you were panicking. It suddenly felt like the history you’d invented based on his assumption - the crafted web of lies you’d tended to to hide your identity - was threatened. “Imperials kill each other all the time.” 

“Imperials don’t put their lives on the line to protect a stranger,” he said. “You’re not Imperial.” 

You considered him for a moment. You’d never even seen this man’s face, you couldn’t trust him, not really. He knew exactly who wanted you now. What if the meeting he’d just been to was discussing terms of surrendering you to them? 

But something in you told you he was safe. He wasn’t going to turn you in or slit your throat in your sleep. The lie he’d inadvertently invented about your allegiances wasn’t going to change that. 

“Fine,” you said. “You’re right. I’m not Imperial, never have been.” 

“Why did you say you were?” He asked, arms crossed over his chest.

“I didn’t,” you shrugged. “You did. I said I had Imperial ties, which was true. I had to talk to a lot of Imperials. I worked with some for almost a decade.” 

He considered you for a moment. 

“I don’t like being indebted to people,” he began but you cut him off. 

“I’m only able to breathe without writhing in pain right now because of you,” you said. “I owe you. Even the score.” 

“Fine,” he said. “I need help… getting into a party.” 

“A party,” you said, tone flat. He nodded. “OK… how can I help?” 

“I need a…” he looked you up and down again. “Doll to get me in the door.” 

“Why?” You said, ignoring the use of his infantilizing nickname. He sighed. 

“A brother Mandalorian has a foundling,” he replied. “She’s been in his care for three years, since the Empire killed her family. She’s been taken.” 

Your stomach clenched, all urges to joke out of your system. 

“The party?” You asked. 

“According to my contact, there is a party tonight where the person who took her may be,” he said. “We can’t just go in with guns blazing. We’re not sure who has her, if she’s safe and what might happen if we do. We need to be sure so we can find her and bring her home.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“So you want me to go in and see what I can learn?” You asked, frowning. He shook his head. 

“I want you to use your diplomatic skills to get me in,” he replied. “I need someone who can pass as an invitee to get me in the door so I can follow this lead. It’s supposed to be a…” he paused, searching for the words before reluctantly settling on one. “Fancy affair, with the flesh traders of the galaxy there. Do you think you can get us in?” 

“I can get me in,” you replied. “But will anyone there know your face? Do you have anything besides a flight suit to wear?” 

“I’ll wear this,” he said, as though that settled it. You scoffed. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I can’t just get a Mandalorian into a party with slavers, they wouldn’t let you past the door. But if you just take off the helmet…” 

“No,” he said, so sharply it made you jump a little. “I can’t. You need to find another way to get me in.” 

You considered him for a moment, thinking. 

“Does it have to be that helmet?” You asked, nodding at the shining metal. He didn’t respond. “Because if it can be any helmet… I could retrofit a Kel Dor mask for you, make it a whole headpiece.” 

“You could?” He asked, sounding surprised. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’ve done something similar before. I know a place on planet where we could find one to start with… when is the party?” 

“Two days,” he replied. You nodded again. 

“That’s a time crunch,” you said. “But I think I can do it. Assuming I can find a Kel Dor mask, anyway.” 

“How are you getting in?” He asked.

“Please,” you snorted. “I can get me in. I’ll just need some makeup…” 

“Get whatever you need,” he cut you off. “It’s important.” 

“I’ll need some measurements for you,” you replied, nodding toward his head. “Without the helmet, to make sure the mask fits right.” He took a step back from you, his hands dropping to his sides, fingers clenching. You frowned. “What?” 

“Find a way to do it without them,” he snapped, turning to leave. You sighed. 

“You know what, Mando?” You followed him. “You’re going to have to trust me eventually, you’ve seen me naked, what difference does it make if I see your damn face?” 

“I’ve never seen you naked,” he turned back to you. “I changed my helmet to heat sensor so I could get you out of your bloody clothes without looking. And it has nothing to do with trust.” 

You blinked in surprised, oddly touched by the lengths he’d gone to to preserve your dignity while you were unconscious in his bed. 

“So what is it then?” You demanded. “You can’t wear that thing all the time around everyone…” 

“Yes I can,” he said. His voice was quiet. “I cannot remove my helmet or have anyone look on my face. I would be an apostate. This is the way.” 

Your eyes searched where you were sure his were under the mask. You could feel him there, like you were looking into him. In your readings about Mandalorians, it made it seem like - while the armor was important - it wasn’t a constant requirement. You’d been wrong. 

“I’m sorry,” you gripped your upper arms. “I didn’t know.” 

He didn’t say anything, both of you just looking at each other in the hold.

“Are you allowed to take it off alone?” You asked quietly, eyebrows drawing together. He nodded. “OK…” You thought another moment. “Could I hold it if I couldn’t see you?” He paused before nodding once. You nodded back. “How about this. You go in the fresher. Take off the helmet and set it outside the door. I’ll wait in the galley. You tell me when you’re done and I’ll take measurements based off the inside of the helmet. I get the measurements, your face stays secret and we have a way for you to infiltrate the party.” 

“OK,” he said, still looking at you. 

“OK,” you said back. You held his gaze for another moment before going to the galley. You heard him go into the fresher, the distinctive sound of the metal of his helmet meeting the floor clear even from a room away. The door closed. “Ready,” he called through the door. 

You emerged and found the helmet there on the ground. You sat down beside it, back against the fresher door, before taking it in your hands. It was heavier than you’d expected. You wondered how his neck wasn’t killing him, holding this up all the time. You felt the inside of it, getting a vague idea of the size of his head and making what estimation notes you could on your data pad. 

“Is it OK if I put it on?” You asked through the door, holding the helmet in your hands and looking down at it. Your image of him was so tied to this mask it was like you were holding him there, touching him. “Then I can try on the Kel Dor options and compare.”

“Yes,” he said after a moment. His voice without the modulator was oddly comforting. You could listen to him read ship maintenance logs and enjoy it. 

You held the helmet so it was level with your face, like you were looking him in the eye before turning it and, with some reverence, lowering it onto your head. It was loose but not too massive. When the back of your head was flush with the back wall of the helmet, if you pursed your lips like a kiss, you could just brush against the front of the helmet. 

You took a moment and sat there, looking at the world through his eyes. All this time, you’d assumed he was faceless to you because he chose it. That he had all the respect for you that he had for his quarries. You thought he’d hated you and the persistent presence of the mask was proof of it. You hadn’t realized what the helmet actually meant to him. 

You took a deep breath, realizing the slightly woodsy scent must be what he smelled like below the armor and the flight suit. It suited him, you thought. A hunter smelling wild but like home. 

After a moment, you lifted the helmet off your head and set it, gently, on the floor. It felt strange to leave it there. It wasn’t just a helmet to you anymore but an extension of the man who’d nursed you back to health, taking care to protect you while he did. Leaving it on the ground was wrong. But you got up and went to the galley before calling out to him. The door opened and you heard him pick up the helmet, putting it back on his head where it belonged. 

***

He regretted letting you put on the helmet. He knew it was helpful, that you needed a way to get him into this party to rescue his brother’s foundling. But now he knew how you smelled. There was a sweetness to you, something floral and fresh and he found himself straining to pick up the scent of you long after he was sure you no longer lingered in his helmet. He’d gotten a taste and wanted more.

You’d apologized before you left to find supplies you needed to make his disguise, your voice soft as you explained that you hadn’t understood his creed. He got what you meant, could feel the change in your demeanor. You’d taken it personally, all this time. Thought he’d been looking down on you or insulting you by refusing to show you his face. No wonder you’d clashed with him so much. 

It’s not like you were even gone for very long. The part of Coruscant he’d docked in was apparently the area you were most familiar with and you took off in search of materials, returning just a few hours later with bags but the whole time you were away from the ship, he paced. It was, in part, because such a vital part of his plan was outside his hands. But it was more because he didn’t know where you were. The last time you’d been out of his sight and weren’t safely stashed in his ship, he came back to find you bleeding and in agony. What if one of the people searching for you found you and he didn’t know? What if you just got jumped by a criminal while you were too weak to properly defend yourself? What if you got hurt or died trying to help him? 

He didn’t understand why he cared. You were cargo. He didn’t get attached to cargo. Even now he knew almost nothing about your past, only that you were, in fact, not Imperial. Getting just that out of you was like pulling teeth. But he wanted to know and that bothered him. 

The relief that washed over him when you came back in one piece was shocking in its intensity. The closest comparison was when he realized he’d reached you before the lightning struck you dead. The feeling was the same, just stronger now. He ground his teeth. He couldn’t get attached to cargo. 

You worked diligently all night and all through the next day, constructing a convincing helmet for him. He watched you from afar, trying to do it out of the corner of his eye so you wouldn’t know or be disturbed but he wasn’t sure how good a job of it he did. 

Just a few hours before the party, you found him in the galley, where he’d gone to try to distance himself from the tightness that appeared in his chest when he looked at you. 

“I think I have it,” you said, the helmet tucked under your arm and a bundle of fabric in the other. You handed him the helmet. “It’s not going to be as nice a fit as your actual one but it’ll be fine for a night. I tried it on, you should have good vision but not all the toys you are apparently used to.” You set the bundle on the small table, pulling pieces out one by one. “I think, if you need to have your face covered, your skin all has to be covered too, right?” He nodded, surprised. You didn’t seem to notice. “That’s what I thought. OK. This shirt should cover your neck and tuck up below where the helmet meets so you’re set there. The sleeves are long and there are these gloves…” you held them up for him to see. “That should handle the rest of you. On top there’s this caped jacket that I found that should cover where your armor sits, and be big enough that your plates can go on underneath. Same with the pants. Your boots should be fine for them, too. 

“The helmet is a little off from what Kel Dor wear but I doubt we’ll run into another one and almost no one outside the Kel Dor will know what an off-world ceremonial piece will look like, anyway.” 

He picked up the jacket and pulled it on over his flight suit and armor. You reached up and adjusted the shoulders, tugging the sleeves into the right position, smoothing the collar before stepping back and looking him over. A moment later, you nodded. Satisfied, apparently. 

“This should work,” you said, more to yourself than to him, a hand idly touching the jacket before looking up to his face, your mouth a grim line. “This will work.” 

“It has to,” he said. You nodded, your face serious, before turning to get ready yourself. 

Din took his time. He cleaned his weapons, using it as a chance to center himself. A child’s life was at risk. If they failed now, they may never get her back. He found ways to stash armaments as he got dressed in the different clothes, uncomfortable about how much he’d need to leave behind on his ship, before slowly taking his helmet off. He looked at himself in the small mirror he kept in his quarters for things like shaving or cutting his hair. It had been a long time since he’d seen himself in something besides his fight suit and armor. It may as well have been a stranger looking back at him. He put the helmet you made on his head, breathing deeply as it slid into place. Your scent was there, faint, but waiting for him. 

It fit him better than he’d anticipated. It would stay on securely and move with him like he was used to but he would’t have the tools he liked to have when he was hunting. He growled to himself. This was going to be dangerous. 

He emerged, pausing at the entry to the hold, calling out to you. 

“Are you…” he stopped. How to ask this without offending you? “…Decent?” 

You laughed a little. 

“It’s safe, Mando,” you said and he stepped into the hold but he froze the second he saw you. 

You were walking toward him, putting an earring in your ear. The ship could have been burning around him and he wouldn’t have noticed. He’d have only seen you. 

Your gown was long, covering your feet and brushing the ground, but it fit your shape perfectly. The dress softly flowed over you, like someone had captured water as it washed over your body and made it corporeal, the fabric light enough that he could glimpse the color of your skin below. Your shoulders were bare and the neckline was low, your breasts pressed high, the lush curve making him want to remove his gloves and brush his fingertips over your flesh. He imagined, for a moment, what it would feel like. Your warmth, your softness. It had been so long since he’d really touched something soft. He wanted, desperately, to know what you looked like with nothing but yourself. 

You’d styled your hair, too, half of it up in twists and braids, exposing the slender column of your throat, the rest hanging in soft curls down your back. And he’d never seen you with makeup, your lips painted red, lashes long, like if you put your cheek against his he’d feel them brush his face. He wondered if you’d leave red marks where your lips met his skin.

He shook himself mentally. Cargo. He didn’t get attached to cargo. 

“I rented a speeder earlier,” you said, completely oblivious to the fact that Din had spent what felt like a small eternity thinking of what it would be like to touch you, to truly see you. “Used an old name, one I’m leaving anyway, so it shouldn’t be linked to you at all and shouldn’t make any new problems for me… How are you feeling? Comfortable?” 

It took him a moment to realized that you were asking about the clothes. 

“Fine,” he said gruffly. 

“Good,” you smiled softly before your face hardened. “Tonight, let me do the talking unless you really can’t avoid saying something. I have a plan and I’ll need you to go along with it for this to work.” 

“Do I get to know this plan?” He asked. 

“I’m going to be your slave,” you winced as you said it but it passed quickly. “You bought me when I was young - around the age of the girl we’re looking for. How old is she?” 

“Six,” he said, his stomach turning at the thought. You nodded. 

“Six,” you said. “You’re after someone new to meet your needs and you want me to… train her. You’re leaving me in charge of finding a girl and picking her.” 

He ground his teeth and you must have sensed the disgust rolling off of him. 

“I know,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes beneath his new helmet. “We’re going to save her.” He nodded once. Failure wasn’t an option. “For this to pass, you’re going to need to actually touch me. Back, side, shoulder, arm are all fine. Try not to be too physically far from me and when you’re next to me, keep at least one hand on me. We need to demonstrate ownership. If I ask you for something, it will be for a reason. It will be something we need to do and I’ll need to ask your permission, so say yes. I’ll stick to yes or no questions, so just nod when you can. Don’t make me push you hard, someone in my position would never disobey, it’d put me at risk of severe injury or death.” 

You absently adjusted his clothes, running your fingers over the places his armor sat below the fabric. 

“How are you going to protect yourself,” he asked, looking down your body. There wouldn’t be a place for you to have put a blaster. 

“That’s a bit of a problem,” your face scrunched, knowing he wouldn’t be happy with the answer. “It’s not like I can wear armor under this thing but it’s the only option I had that could pass for what will get us in. Believe it or not, this fabric has a lot of stretch and I have good range of motion. It’ll also help soak a blaster bolt. Not fully, but it’ll take more than one shot to kill me unless they go for the head. 

“I’ve also got this,” you lifted your hand and showed him a ring with a large, black stone in the middle. “It adds to a punch but it also…” You twisted the stone and a needle emerged from the center. “Has got enough sedative to take down a bantha.” You put the needle away and dipped a hand between your breasts. Din swallowed and hoped you didn’t hear as you pulled out the knife he’d seen in your teeth. It was closed this time. “And this has always served me well.” You slipped the knife back into place and adjusted yourself. 

“You were a spy for he rebellion,” he said. Your lips twitched into a half smile. 

“Not exactly,” you said. Then you paused. “Well, I suppose I was, some of the time. Let’s just say that wasn’t my day job, but my position in life and the skills that came with it made me a useful tool when it came to moving information.” 

Din nodded slowly. That would explain a lot. Not everything, but enough. He noticed how you spoke of yourself. A tool. “We never should have asked so much of you.” That’s what your father said. Had anyone ever seen you as a person? More than something to be exploited? 

“What name did you use?” He asked. You raised your eyebrows. “For the speeder. What should I call you tonight, if I need to?” 

“Oh,” you said. “Amira.” 

“Amira,” he repeated, testing the name on his tongue. It fit you but it wasn’t quite right. “That’s not your given name.” 

“No,” you smiled sadly. “It was what I used on Tatooine. Figured it could have one last day in the sun before I left it behind. What name do you want? I obviously can’t call you Mando. I’m not sure if anyone even knows your real name, but I doubt you want that out there…” 

“Duraan,” he said, picking the name of a man who’d helped raise him. It was fitting that the name would help bring another foundling home. 

“Duraan,” you repeated back to him. “That’s not your real name, is it?” He shook his head. 

“OK Duraan,” you said. “Let’s go get the foundling back.” 

[greyfics]

entry 8.5: a side-plot in which norm gets the fuck out.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

subject: norm maclean

fic type: smart relatable underdog side character gets spotlight,

word count: 2.85K

inspo: I really just need to see norm gtfo of that vault lol, I feel like he's got a fighting chance you know?

cw: spoilers for fallout season one  

summary: an overseer that is a brain in a vat. a series of experiments concealed behind the front of a subterranean utopia. the convenient relocation of the last of the people norm cared about- the last of the people questioning the fragile reign of the overseers, and what they might be hiding. norm desperately needs to leave, to find his sister- before he becomes just another one of bud's buds..

- °•. ✦ .•° -

"I suggest you wait it out in your father's pod, unless you want to starve to death- not much food in here, except the occasional large bug."

He is frozen. A small, quivering fist slowly slips down a firmly sealed door- were these vaults reinforced havens, or were they preemptive tombs?- the fist unfurls, as the wrist goes limp and the body connected numbs spare for the pitter patter of palpitations spawned from that very realisation.

His face is absent of blood, and despite the fact he has not yet fatalistically marched over to a cryogenic chamber to further bury himself in this pit, the numbness fades to a chill that kicks his feet into a frenzied pacing.

The robo-brain does a slow, awkward 180° twist, "All that is going to do for you is burn valuable energy that I simply don't have to give back to you, Norm. See, I'm sure you know this if you paid attention during your pristine pre-years education programme, but the human body requires-"

"Just shut up for a second." Is the flat-toned, snappy response Norm gives as he rubs his temples, the repetitive sensation a focal point to ground his shaking limbs, to ground a flurry of rarely seen irrational thoughts in that calculating mind.

Right now, it looks as though his only options are slamming himself against the door fruitlessly until he collapses from exhaustion and inevitably dies of dehydration or starvation, or to get into a pod on the other end of the room and pray that somehow, he is woken up- but what then? what would I even have to wake up to? Norm reflects upon the denizens of Vault 33- the way they force a smile and idle onwards so ignorantly; treating murderers as naughty houseguests, ignoring the slow dissimilation of their vault's security, it's vital resources and population becoming more sparse by the week. Even if there was hope brewing for a better future somewhere on the surface, there's no way that help would reach him down here.

Besides, he was just a problem for Vault 33- he always had been. He recalls the bitter comments about his unenthusiastic demeanour- the fearful confusion directed at his monotony- how lonely, how isolating a life down here is as an anomaly of the herd. With him removed from the equation, and Betty able to sleep at night thinking of him not as dead, but simply as in a rather permanent state of sleep, she would have no reason to wake him up- he who might expose the secrets they had desperately tried to keep locked away for so long. He was better left removed from the vault- left down here.

The reminder of his present predicament begins to suffocate him again, as his eyes flit between the walls and his breath picks up pace, the panic attack coming back for a dizzying second wave. Breathe. Breathe- I can't breathe. I'm going to die down here- this place is a big heaping metal tomb and I have to get out- Norm had never felt so overencumbered at the thought of being buried so deep beneath the surface before, but for the first time ever the urge to scratch his way to the surface was overriding in him the fear of the vultures circling above. He thinks about this- pauses his pacing entirely, and thinks some more. The buzz of an idea begins to spark slowly to fruition in Norm's mind.

It was true that it was better for Betty that he be kept somewhere outside of Vault 33- but maybe he'd even less of a threat left somewhere... else outside of 33? Maybe somewhere he could be more useful? He almost leaps from the exhilaration of having any kind of possible plan c at all in this situation- but his temperament keeps him still- and though his lips remain a flat, pursed line, a playful light dances behind the young genius' eyes, "Locking me in here won't stop Vault 33 from falling apart- it will just guarantee it. I'm your solution." He calmly declares- naturally, Bud's first move is to shut him down, but he is prepared for that, "Norman, you know I can't do that- and you really shouldn't worry about Vault 33 anymore, Betty has things completely-"

"-under control? If Betty had things under control, then how and why did a vault dweller manage to break into her office and trick you into letting them into Vault 31?" Bud stammers, juts to one side and then the other as he awkwardly attempts to give some justifiable explanation to Norm's question.

The bot stills, and lets a sigh out of its speakers, "There may be some... complications to the planned course of action- you being here being one of them, I should remind you- but I'm sure Betty will work through them and get everything back to normal soon enough. What good will it do us to send you to the surface? That would mean opening the vault doors, and risking the safety of everyone inside-" Norm shakes his head at this, takes a step towards the bot as he parries back, "-raiders managed to infiltrate our vault through 32 already, and the main vault door was opened twice after that. Do you really think one more time could hurt?"

The little brain in a pot makes an exasperated crying noise, and shakes itself as emphatically as it can, "But what would be the point in that, buddy, if we can just keep you tucked safely away in the most secure vault of the three down here, and... not open the door at all? None of our problems will be solved by another person leaving." A rare, triumphant grin floats onto Norm's face, and Bud makes a reflexive sharp shuffle backwards at the unnatural site, "If we don't replace our water filtration chip, then eventually Vault 33 runs out of water- and if the vault dwellers don't overthrow the overseer and leave by then? Everyone will die.-"

"Oh my god, why did he smile when he said tha-"

"-Just listen. Vault 32's supplies clearly ran out a long time ago, and evidently no-one from Vault 31 was gonna get up for a glass of water during their 200-year long power nap. By the look on Betty's face when she found out, I'm guessing there isn't a back-up." Bud is back to being completely still and silent now. Norm basks in a moment of captured quiet, takes a couple slow steps to steady the nervous shakes as he deployed as much charisma as he was capable, "You could just keep me in here, and let Betty send someone else to the surface for a replacement- but those people? The other dwellers? They're built for vault life- they fit in here-"

He wavers a little, a lump forming in his throat- but digresses, "I don't. I'm not strong- but I'm quick, and I'm smart... and, I might be a coward- or I was, once- but I'm beginning to realise this place is no better than whatever might be waiting up there. Nobody really knows what they're doing- not you, not Betty- maybe not even my dad. And I don't want to keep sitting around waiting to die when I could be doing something."- I could be helping Lucy, I should have- "So send me. I'll go find a replacement. I'll bring it back- and then neither you nor Betty will ever see me again. You'll be solving two problems with one stone."

The brain-in-a-vat that is Bud spends a painfully long time just sitting there and glowing, still taking in all that Norm had argued, malfunct in his dilemma between maintaining protocol or deviating from protocol for the sake of maintaining the protocol, honestly upset that he was having to do any deep deliberation at all regarding what he had been informed would be a rather simple and satisfying job. When he makes his decision, it comes with a disappointed, exasperated breath- and then a slow, clumsy spin once again, as he veers himself back into the door terminus access point.

With a blip and a hiss, the door that Norm had believed not too long ago to have sealed his fate begins to steadily unlock itself once again. He cries out with desperate relief and punches the air, before maintaining his composure and striding over to the door. He gets as close as he can, in case his thankfully not forever-friend decides to change his mind last minute. He hears the awful creaking of the vault door opening ahead, and dashes for it without even bothering to say goodbye to Bud- no time to spare, I need to leave now- Betty might not be so stupid. The door rolls to the left, his feet hardly make a sound as they dance across the metal grated platform to freedom-

And falter, pause, reverse a few steps when the figure of Betty Pearson is revealed but a few seconds later, arms crossed, already waiting for the door to roll back open.

Oh god, I think I'm having a heart attack. I think I might just die right now. I think that might be for the best.

...He does not die, and though he is grateful, he is also mildly disappointed that he still has to face Betty. She remains still, silent- her expression does not reveal much surprise at finding him here, but her stasis demands him to speak. Thinking of all she has done to this vault, and what little good she has done for it, he steels himself, and he glares back at her, his tone assertive as he speaks, "I'm going to the surface, and before you say anything-"

"Yes, you're right. You are going to the surface." She replies, steady and quiet,"I-" he is the one to stammer to a standstill this time, "I... am?" She steps towards him, and it takes all his will not to flinch away as a superficially endearing arm firmly braces around his shoulders, guiding him away from Vault 31, "Although at times I'm sure it seems as though I have... overlooked certain hardships that have come to challenge us all in this vault," -'overlooked' is an understatement, and a pretty ironic thing to do when your job title is overseer- "-but I've simply been thinking about the best options for our future. With our friends and family... rehomed, and our guests taken care of, I think it's time we begin dealing with some of our more long-term problems, too." The phrasing sends a chill across Norm's neck, which flows through the rest of his body as Betty guides him around a corner to bear witness to the remaining dwellers of 33, whooping and clapping in celebration for something he did not yet know.

Look closer. He notices the pause, the way they look past him to the overseer before they burst into their frenzied display- there are a couple eyebrows knitted upwards, the faintest flicker of a tear in the corner of an eye or a puffy redness where tears were wiped away to conceal the evidence of a negative emotion.

Some have slanted postures, clap a little slower- don't meet his gaze; they seem guilty of something, guilty of the relief that their body betrays.

Do they already know I'm leaving? How could they, unless-

"As I was telling everyone, Norm selflessly asked me for permission to go out onto the surface and solve our water chip crisis- of course, we do not often open our vault doors, and I felt too close to the matter to feel capable of making the decision myself- especially given the possibility that opening the vault door might threaten our friends in 31 too! So, I sent Norm to speak with Overseer Askins in Vault 31 to see whether he believes that this brave quest should be allowed. Of course, this affects all of us, too- but after talking it through with everyone, we've all agreed that however sad it will be to see you leave us- for a while, of course- it is definitely for the best."

A couple dwellers nod- some intentionally, some just in a lull of subconscious agreement even as their faces feign sadness. It stings to see how fast they were willing to get rid of him- it stings to be let go without a fight. The 'for a while' is simply salt in the wound; insulting to even pretend at this point that anyone in this cramped little gathering genuinely held any belief he would return.

"So!" The overseer pipes up chipperly once again, "Norm..."-not so enthusiastic-"Did you have a productive meeting with the Overseer? Did he give his consent to your proposed assignment?"

He could expose her right now, dismantle the order they had wrought horror and fear to maintain- but he knows he could not lead them, he knows how secretly glad they are to see him, of all people, sacrificed to the world above- he knows they would not survive up there, nor would they survive down here without a figurehead to fall behind, to hide them from reality. So he speaks a truth of kinds:

"The Overseer permitted my leave after I explained the importance of my departure, and how it was the best course of action." His tone lacks conviction in the vague, avoidant choice of words he spews, but a half-hearted cheer and a series of awkward hugs follows them anyway.

It's all just a big show. I'm starting to think I might be the only normal one here.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

A solemn march through the armoury and pharmacy to (ill)equip Norm for his journey through the wastes precedes a long, awkwardly still and quiet elevator ride towards the surface. Norm is the first to step out, bursting ahead into a fast stroll until he found himself standing at the precipice, waiting for the bridge to bring him to his salvation (or his doom). She gets into place-

and lingers, before she presses the button- they are alone now, and they are not so different, really- she just got better at hiding her discontent, "Norman." her voice is different to how he has ever heard it before- it was just... normal. When the calm and collected persona dropped away, she was the most human-sounding person he had yet encountered in his sheltered life. He turns, just his head- makes a point to pay attention, to show some enthusiasm- "You might think you're different, but... being different to most those folks down there is probably more of a good thing than not. You are extraordinary, never forget that. Even without everything that's happened, I think you were always going to be a problem for us. You've always been good at seeing things other people don't."

She pauses for a moment, deliberating on whether or not to bring something up- she chews her cheek, looks off to the side as she weighs up the power of her words- remembers her job, her duty, and the mask goes back on with a sympathetic smile, "We really do need that water chip- our vault has enough water to last about 150 more days, but after that, we'll be out. If you head north-east, ask around and you'll find a place that used to be a town called Shady Sands; it's not exactly close to here, but if it's any motivation I'd bet that's where your sister, Miss Maclean, will have headed too. When you get to Shady Sands, go directly east- I only know of a few vaults outside of ours, and I hear there's an old vault somewhere in the hills there- Vault 13. I'm sure they'll have a water chip to spare. Get the chip back to us, and you'll be a hero to this vault forever..." She certainly makes it sound appealing, but Norman knows better, "...but I'll never be allowed back inside." He finishes the sentence for her.

She hits the button, and Norm finds himself overcome with trembling uncertainty once again. Was he crazy? Just because he wasn't built for vault life didn't mean he was any more suited for the wastelands just beyond the door- the tomb unseals. Once again, a thought occurs to Norm at an inconvenient time- as he tentatively steps towards the radiating light that blinds him from above, he turns a final time to look at his now-former overseer with a quizzical expression, "Does... does Vault 32 not have a water filtration chip?"

Her smile doesn't change, but it takes a sinister feel as her next cheery words come out, tainted and barbed, "I did say our Vault has 150 days of water left- I'm afraid I can't speak for Vault 32, Overseer Harper would know more about that. Unfortunately, until we have a functioning filtration chip of our own, we won't be able to spare any of our own resources. But I'm sure everything will be just fine."

Norman began to run.