#that he for a good pleasurable moment he forgets about his identity and role

[simpingforcys]

THE WAY TWO PEOPLE SEND ME THIS, HELLO 👀❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

King Candy glitching from fucking you too hard UGHFUCK YES ❤️‍🔥 I LOVE THAT SO MUCH ITS SO HOT

Oh the ego boost he would have knowing he was put on a Hear me out cake ALDJSKD

Hear Me Out || King Candy x Reader PART 6 18+

You decided not to race in the roster race that night, as you cited that you were far too tired to race properly. Instead, you stood in the stands with a sign that read “Go King Candy!” that was white-iced on a graham cracker. It was a nice snack to nibble on after your king dashed off past you. You had grown rather fond of King Candy, if you were honest. He was kind, funny, and always had a way to cheer you up. Genuinely, it was a bit of a crush you had developed. It was weird, you thought, to crush on a man almost triple your age. Aside from that, it was kind of awkward to talk to your king casually now.

King Candy, of course, got first place. He always did. You cheered loudly from the stands, almost uncharacteristically from your dark aesthetic. King Candy waved to the crowds with a regal and proud smile, but then he spotted you and blew you a coy little kiss. The gesture made you freeze up and blush. 

The flirtatious propositions didn’t stop there. It had been after you jokingly did a “hear me out cake” with your friends outside of the game at Tapper’s. It was meant as a joke, really, but you did kind of mean it (just a bit!), but you put an old newspaper clipping of Turbo. You gushed about how you always like egotistical guys. Of course, word got out VERY quickly about your controversial take. 

You thought it’d be a funny joke to tell King Candy that you put Turbo as your final “hear me out”- after you explained what a “hear me out” was, of course- but King Candy didn’t laugh at first, he merely stood there in slight shock. He quickly recollected himself and waved you off with a little “hoo-hoo!”

“Darling, you weren’t even around to know Turbo!” King Candy explained as he put his hands over yours in an “oh honey, you’re so silly” way, but you decided to make the stupid mistake of defending yourself.

“I- I dunno, sire… Hear me out, he’s kinda…”

“Kind of what?” King Candy echoed with an expression of curiosity.

“Y’know, kinda hot!” You giggled shyly. “I know I never met the guy, but from what I heard about him, he’s like, totally my type of guy! Arrogant, Egotistical, I mean, he was a great racer, right? I wanna be handled like his kart!” You joked.

King Candy didn’t know how to feel about that statement. On one hand, you praised him as being irrationally hot, on the other, you called him arrogant and egotistical. He couldn't tell you who he really was, not in the slightest. You were probably told all about his crimes against the arcade. 

“So, what do you… Like about Turbo?” King Candy felt as if he had to ask.

“I heard about the way he used to race- I dunno, and I heard he was a but rude too which uh- well…” You trailed off as you realized what exactly you were doing. You were explaining why you wanted to fuck a criminal to your boss. “Nevermind, I just think he's attractive- just forget it!”

Ever since then, King Candy had been hitting on you in playful ways. What was his plan, anyway?!

It all accumulated in one night after the roster race, when King Candy called you “sugarlump” as he usually did… But something felt off about the way he said it. There was a lingering purr to his voice that certainly wasn't very PG. There was a slight drawl of invitation as he bid you goodnight. Should you have followed? There was to time to question that however, as your hand was already on the door to his room.

You shut your eyes and opened the door with a flinch, ready to hear him tell you to get out.

“Hey there, sugar.” He hummed as he approached you, your eyes still shut in nervousness. King Candy touched your hand and pulled you softly into his room before he released you. You heard the door click shut and the lock snap into place. Oh god, this was intimidating as hell. 

“Open those pretty eyes for me, won't you?” King Candy asked as he started to guide you to the bed again. “What are you scared of, toots? It's only me. Your pal, King Candy!”

“I know, that's why I'm nervous! I've never- uh-” you trailed off, mortified. King Candy let out a kind scoff and pushed you onto the bed until your back was pressed flush against the spongecake mattress and fondant sheets. 

“Just follow my lead, sweetheart.” King Candy assured as you felt him climb on top of you and pressed kisses against your throat.

“Now, who's the best racer?”

“You are…” you whispered as you felt King Candy undo the fastenings of your overcoat. You felt exposed as your body was slowly revealed to your king. Your skin was kissed and groped- the sensations felt foreign in your code as King Candy mouthed over your nipples, then gave each a gentle touch with his hands.

“Sing whose praises?”

“King Candy's!” You gasped as King Candy suddenly grabbed at your crotch. Your jester hat jingled at the sudden movement you made. 

“Good, you're such a wonder jester, sugar. Now, open up for King Candy~” King Candy grinned- well, you didn't know that for sure, as your eyes were still closed. It sounded like he was grinning, if that made any sense.

You felt as your trousers were removed and tossed aside. A warm, wet sensation lapped at your entrance and you couldn't help but jolted away and shut your thighs together. But two surprisingly strong hands pried your nervous protection apart as King Candy continued to tease you with little licks and an open-mouthed and plunging strike of his tongue inside you.

“King Candy! Good- good god!” You breathed out raggedly. 

“That's it, sugar baby, praise your king while he eats you out.”

“What happened to being rated E for everyone?!” You couldn't help but bring up, curse your memory and need to win!

“Oh, didn't you hear? Word around the arcade block is that E means “explicit”. Now, keep those pretty legs open, doll.”

Whoa, King Candy sounded different when he was turned on. The lisp was still there, but there was a darkness to his voice that made you want to rub your thighs together.

King Candy kissed around your thighs with a smile and a content hum.

“Feel good?”

“Y-yeah.” You mumbled. “Where’d you learn how to do this?”

“I’m old enough to know how to please pretty little sugarlumps like you.”

“I’ll make you scream Tur- for me.” King Candy coughed before he focused in-between your legs again. 

King Candy started to finger you alongside his tongue, which made you squirm and whine. You felt his fingers move deeper and deeper still, then pressed right against the spot that made you thrash and silently scream.

“Oh ho-ho! I found it.” King Candy purred as he started to rub that area inside you deeper and with more pressure, that’s where he ran into trouble- when you accidentally kicked King Candy upside the head in your squirming. 

“Ow!”

“Oh my goodness I’m so sorry-” You squeak out as you finally open your eyes.

“No no sugar, it’s my fault for riling you up so much on your first time.” King Candy responded as he cradled the side of his head with a strained smile.

After a moment, you two stared at each other. You were naked, King Candy was down to his underwear. You made the mistake of looking down- just a peek! That wouldn’t hurt, right?! And it didn’t hurt, until you were accidentally caught staring. 

“Looking at the royal goods, are you?” King Candy chuckled as he scooched towards you with a waggle of his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes with a huff.

“No, why would I-”

“Ah-ah-ahhh, I ought to turn you over my knee for lying, naughty little minx!” King Candy hummed as he playfully swatted at your ass, which made you whine a tad.

King Candy guided you to lay on your stomach with your ass up, your face gently cradled with your arms and a pillow. 

“Now, let’s get you jingling for all the right reasons!” King Candy laughed as he coated himself with a clear sort of jelly. It was cold when it touched your entrance, but King Candy sighed as he pressed the tip inside you. Pixel by pixel, King Candy sank his shaft deeper inside you. It felt like hours before your ass touched his pelvis. It didn’t hurt per se- just felt weird… and full- super full. 

King Candy sighed as his eyelids fluttered shut in ecstasy. 

“Ohhh gumdrop, you’re gonna drive me wild…” King Candy muttered with a little manic laugh that followed. Slowly, he pulled out a tad, then pushed back inside. You both groaned at the sensation. The motion was repeated, and King Candy hissed at the tight grip you had on him. 

The sensation almost made King Candy glitch out- oh fuck, he had to keep it together! He kept his thrusts slow and gentle as he adjusted to the feeling of someone so wonderful around his dick. He bit his bottom lip with a deep groan. When you started to whine in protest at the speed, King Candy took that as a challenge. He bottomed out inside you, then started to piston in and out of you, which knocked your breath out. 

He grit his teeth as he tried to keep himself together- oh god damn it, you were so tight- so warm around him- it’d been years since he gotten any! He wasn’t gonna last long!

“S-so, you ready for the- ah, for the royal icing, dearie?”

Eugh, that made King Candy cringe internally. You dumbly nodded, mouth open and your moans unabashedly that rang out and echoed throughout the cavernous room. There was no doubt that the noise leaked out through the gingerbread doors.

You didn’t know what you were saying anymore- all you knew is that you felt full yet not full enough. You needed to be railed and ruined until nothing mattered anymore. 

“Nnh- oh, sugar!” King Candy whined as he finally piped your insides full. “Oh-hoo-hooooo, that was turbo-tastic.”

“Are you-” You gasped as you tried to regain your breath. “Are you seriously making fun of my hear me out about Turbo now?”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.” King Candy responded, his coding running cold at the slip-up. He added to the charade he put up with a teasing smile.

[k-s-morgan]

Hi. I hope you're well. Just finished reading the new chapter and I must say that it is one of the best presents I could wish for. It brought me so much fun: I even chuckled several times.

“I am… a guardian,” he said with only a slight stumble.

“A guardian,” Ciel repeated. He sounded unimpressed, and the way Sebastian tensed, the way the energy around him coiled defensively ignited a fire of malicious pleasure in his gut. “What are you guarding? The dining room? The food?”

I adore how lost at first Sebastian was when Ciel releases him from his butler role.

Having no task to do and no good reason to be here, disconnected and ignored, he appeared to be absolutely miserable, and Ciel absorbed this healing sight for a while.

And how Ciel enjoyed. Oh, I was feeling this glee with him:D

“Kindly choke to death,” Sebastian said with a sharp-edged smile. It was so jarring to hear something this rude and offensive from him in the presence of others that Ciel jolted, nearly falling off his chair.

“Sebastian!” he yelled, mortified. His shock was so overwhelming that only a part of his mind registered his mistake. Another part joined in when Sebastian’s grin widened.

“I don’t know anyone called Sebastian here, my lord,” he replied.

And this moment was pure gold! How I laughed at Sebastian's behavior here. And just before this paragraph, I was wondering if Sebastian misses being called by name and then - Ciel accidentally does it! Sebastian's pov of this game will be incredible. I can already feel it

He proceeded to serve everyone, but when Ciel was about to dig in, he caught the imperceptible shake of Sebastian’s head. Startled, he hesitated — just on time to hear the exclamations and spluttering from around him.

This was so sweet of Sebastian to warn Ciel. I wonder if he did it instinctualy or purposely?

On the other hand, Ciel was supposed to mean more, at least right now, being Sebastian’s owner. Surely he deserved better manipulation?

And how Ciel thought that he is worth a better manipulation. Oh god these two killing me.

I also felt proud when Ciel manipulated with the same technique his cousin (Edward? I often forget his name). It was done splendidly! And the story about the frog! Thank you for adding one more moment from Ciel's past

TLDR: Your chapter is as always amazing. Thank you for creating and sharing despite your harsh circumstances. Sending you love and peace♡

Hi! Thank you so much for your wonderful comments - I'm thrilled that you liked this chapter! It was such a fun experience to write it, especially as everyone started to relax into their roles.

Sebastian was having an identity crisis revolving around Ciel, and now he ended up having one of his own :D He's going to think about Ciel's question for a while, and at the end of this arc, he's going to give an answer to it, finally coming to understand what his current identity represents.

Ciel calling Sebastian by name, briefly forgetting about his own rules, was definitely a moment of triumph for Sebastian. And I think he warned Ciel about the food because no matter what happens, no matter how at odds they are, they are still a team - they always will be. Sebastian likes being petty and setting up his own challenges for Ciel, but he will protect him from problems devised by others.

I've been wanting to do a scene between Ciel and Edward for a while, and this chapter seemed like the best place for it. Poor Edward, he had no idea what he was stepping into :D

Thank you again, I hope you enjoy the conclusion to this game!

[anjels001]

Secrets of Devildom: Envy Demons (Part 1)

Those who have read the theory of the 7 Og and the cycle of life (thank you @sparkbeast20 for the cooperation) know that there are many gaps in the annon, and many of the events that occurred in the annon are not explained, and/or left implicit without any context.

For those following these moments of theory, you may notice that I have been talking a lot about the demonic classes, their "history," and culture before, during, and after the fall of the brothers, focusing most of these moments on philosophical/mythological debates, pointing out plot points that few would see and understand.

Well, we have already talked about 5 of the seven sin classes, namely Greed, Lust, Sloth, Gluttony, and Wrath.

Today we will talk about the most common emotion, Common in all human relationships present at all times even if we do not realize its existence......

….(insert supernatural intro)…

...We will talk about Envy.

But before starting this theory moment, I ask you, dear reader, to keep an open mind for this moment, and if you want to point out any flaws, or if I am forgetting something, remember that this is just a theoretical post. I won't be upset if you want to add something to this conversation, I just ask that you reblog and tag me so that we can exchange theories on the subject.

Like all theories about demonic classes, I will begin with the famous question: what do we know about envy?

For Aristotle, envy is like a wound that arises when we see another person's good fortune, a feeling stimulated by "those who have what we desire." The English philosopher Bertrand Russell described it as a powerful cause of unhappiness, indicating that the unhappy person is not only affected by envy but also bothers or at least desires the life of others. Russell, however, saw envy as a driving force behind economies, as well as an element that helps maintain democracy.

In Psychology, envy is defined as a displacement of energy, where the individual's focus shifts to the satisfaction and pleasure of others, to the detriment of their potential. It is a psychological pain that arises when we compare ourselves to others and feel that our values, self-esteem, and respect are diminished. Envy is the painful perception of what we lack, aroused when someone possesses characteristics superior to ours.

Sigmund Freud, the renowned Austrian psychoanalyst, saw envy as a result of unconscious hatred, rooted in childhood and intimately linked to anger and depression.

In the spiritual context, envy is related to the emptiness of the soul, indicating a serious problem in how the individual deals with the world. It is a sign of an inability to grow, resulting in a desire to hold others back. Envy originates in covetousness and, when uncontrolled, can lead to destructive attitudes, such as attacking others' achievements instead of seeking one's development.

With that in mind, we can conclude that Leviathan, once a celestial general, saw his life turned upside down after experiencing incredibly traumatic events: war, revolt, loss of his sister, the fall followed by the event of Species Change, and exile from the place he considered his home. 

[A/n: Man, doesn't that open another can of worms? Just thinking about it makes you understand how screwed the brothers are.]

We can then analyze that these events triggered an identity crisis, leaving Leviathan feeling lost and purposeless. He saw himself as a useless opportunist in a world where he no longer had a defined role. His proximity to Lucifer and Lilith during the Great Celestial War reflects his loyalty and sense of justice and his family. However, upon becoming a demon, Leviathan found himself trapped in a cycle of jealousy and self-pity. Feeling inferior and unjustly treated, he withdrew from the outside world, opting for a life of seclusion and escapism through his passions: anime, manga, and video games.

Leviathan's behavior is a manifestation of the trauma he carries with him. His jealousy and self-deprecation are symptoms of his internal struggle to find his place in the world. He often lashes out in anger when he feels threatened or unjustly treated, and his ability to summon Lotan reflects his need to protect himself from his fears and insecurities.

However, it is in his interactions with other characters that we see a nuance in his personality. His relationship with MC is a turning point in his journey, as he finds in MC a true friend and confidant. Through MC, Leviathan learns to face his fears and accept himself, regardless of his flaws and imperfections.

His relationship with Lucifer, Mammon, and other demon brothers is marked by conflicts and rivalries, reflecting his internal struggle to find his place in the hierarchy of Devildom. However, it is in moments of vulnerability that we see a more human facet of Leviathan, where he seeks connection and acceptance.

Considering these aspects, when we compare the characteristics of Leviathan and his relationship with the other avatars, we can assume that the Third Circle of Hell, the Circle of Envy, is a competitive environment, full of envious people who constantly seek high status and boast about their superiority.

In this competitive environment, there is immense development in various sectors, with a strong focus on technology and entertainment.

We can infer that, compared to other circles of hell, the Third Circle is more dependent on the others, mainly on the First (Circle of Pride) and the Second (Circle of Greed), which significantly support it.

Based on that card with a futuristic background, we can imagine the Third Circle would be a mix of the equivalent of Japan, Tokyo, and Atlantis in the human world. I believe it's more like a blend of the Tron universe and Naboo from Star Wars, or even Kamino, with a futuristic and technological setting, perhaps even located at the bottom of the ocean.

Thus, considering that in the Circle of Wrath, the inhabitants are scholars with explosive temperaments, we can conjecture that the inhabitants of Leviathan's Circle would be nerds, geeks, and otakus with inferiority complexes and tendencies to let their imagination run wild, unchecked.

We can also think that, due to its dependence on neighboring Circles, many of the technologies and developments of the Third Circle are controlled or contained to prevent them from falling into the hands of the chaotic public of the other realms. I'm sure more than half of the paperwork Luci does is aimed at containing and controlling the technological flow developed in the Third Circle.

But what do you think of this theory? Do you think I described Levi well? Or did I psychograph him a lot? And about the kingdom of envy, can you imagine something like that? If so, comment and/or send us your perception of this theory, I would love to cover this subject.

For those who want to know more about this specific series in this theoretical series, just search my page #Secrets of Devildom or go to Obey-me masterlist

[agentnico]

Shrinking - Season 1 (2023) Review

“What kind of a person hugs and tells!?” is a great line! I get that out of context this quote means nothing to the passive reader, however within the moment and Harrison Ford’s delivery of that line is pure hilarious perfection. If you’re intrigued, it’s the more reason to watch this show!

Plot: A grieving therapist starts to break the rules by telling his clients exactly what he thinks. Jimmy has lost his wife and wants to try a new approach to his loss, but it is unclear how this will help others.

Amongst Apple TV+ aim of dominating the streaming realm, we have been given the pleasure of receiving a new comedy drama series from the writers of Ted Lasso. That’s it - stop there. You sold me this one. As for anyone who hasn’t seen Ted Lasso, it is probably the one main reason to subscribe to the Apple streaming platform. Ted Lasso may just feature the most outright positive set of characters to ever grace television screens. Especially the titular Ted, played charmingly by Jason Sudeikis, offers compassion, humility and decency, even in the face of insults and abuse. His unshakeable good mood could have been an irritating trait in the wrong hands, but Sudeikis gave the character an endearing quality which lifted viewers' spirits. And the surrounding cast around him is for the most part delightfully lovely. Except for Nate. I mean f*** that guy, am I right?? So the writers set out to repeat the magic with the new series titled Shrinking. Does it have the cult status set out by its older football-themed brother? Well...

What Shrinking reminds me of is those early 2000s Judd Apatow comedies, that always featured one outlandish (commonly raunchy) plot point however within that were a set of immature characters who have some growing up to do, featuring earnest themes about love, relationships, friendship and family. With Shrinking there isn’t much raunchiness, however it is very much a show about flawed characters who have some growing up to do. Jason Segel, who previously appeared in a few aforementioned Judd Apatow films, leads the cast here as the grief ridden therapist who has lost his way in life after losing his wife. His growth is as obvious as apples on trees - he needs to let go of the past and learn to appreciate the good things surrounding him in the present. His daughter on the other hand needs to learn that her dad is so much better and supportive than she makes him out to be. And so on forth with the rest of the characters. 

I would say Shrinking is nowhere as remarkable nor memorable as Ted Lasso, however what works in this show’s favour is that it is an easy watch. All the characters are super likeable and watchable, you get plenty of solid humour as well as enough dramatic heft too. Jason Segel as always looks like a lost beat down dog, but that’s weirdly his most appealing charm. If you’ve liked Segel in How I Met Your Mother or Forgetting Sarah Marshall, he’s the same Segel of guy here who’s constantly having a midlife crisis and can never amusingly do anything right without frustrating someone. Harrison Ford gets to stretch out his comedic chops here and receives some of the script’s funniest lines, delivered wonderfully by his regular grizzly grunt-filled voice. Jessica Williams also brings a lot of fast paced energy and excitement to her role, and then I also wanted to give a shout out to Ted McGinley. He plays Segel’s neighbour’s husband, and he’s not in the show much, but whenever he did, he’d always be this overly positive happy go lucky bean. Just so happy and delightful. Love that guy.

In terms of problems, I’d say the show suffers a little from an identity crisis. It’s pitched as a story where a therapist begins to break rules and starts telling his clients exactly what he thinks and telling them what they need to do. And for the first couple of episodes that is somewhat present, but after than this concept if for the most part completely dropped, whereas I wish there could have been more done with it. Additionally, there are certain characters here that are blatantly unlikeable, and I don’t think the show realises this. For example, Ford’s character is suffering from a developing Parkinson’s disease. So he begins reconnecting with his daughter, however she is an outright despicable self centred human being who is absolutely horrible to her dad. Yet the show tries to justify the daughter’s actions by seemingly making it seem like Ford deserves all the berating and neglect from her. Same goes for Segel’s daughter - at times she was annoying too. Basically, it seems like Shrinking makes it seem like all daughters are terrible, which seems a tad perplexing. 

Overall I enjoyed this new Apple TV+ comedy series. I’ve heard they’ve already greenlit a second season, which I am perfectly okay with as it’s a perfectly apt sitcom that one can tune in to on a weekly basis for 30 minutes of giggles. It doesn’t break any new ground, but it’s an easy watch, and sometimes an easy watch is exactly what ones needs.

Overall score: 7/10

[dreams-and-drabbles]

Hi, it's me again! You probably already know what my request is <3 Will you write me more romantic headcannons with Take on various topics?? (though nsfw, though just romance, it doesn't matter) Only more. Thank you in advance

Welcome back!!! It’s great to see you again!!! I’d be happy to fulfill your request, Anon !!!

SNUGGLES W/ TAKEMIKAZUCHI (…)

When in the comfort of your home, he’s absolutely a snuggle bug. He’s prone to randomly laying his head on your shoulder, or surprising you with a hug from behind—

He’s more reserved in public, of course, but he is absolutely going to hold your hand. Should you be too tired to walk, well, it’s absolutely no one else’s business if he carried you home…

He has a hidden soft spot for you doing his hair, and while he may ‘complain’, the moment you stop running your hands through it— Well, he didn’t really mean for you to stop. He’s actually rather fond of the action. It’s really just a matter of pride that keeps him from admitting as much.

He likes reading to you in the evenings, and takes great pleasure in helping you fall asleep, in this way— He doesn’t mind in the slightest having you snuggle up against him to catch some Zs. In fact, he may be prone to falling asleep himself, curled up against you…

He is incredibly ticklish. This is something you discovered by mistake, when you playfully squeezed between his ribs and he shrieked. Yes, shrieked— The sound surprised him as much as it did you, and the both of you promised to never mention that again.

INTRODUCING TAKEMIKAZUCHI AS YOUR S/O (…) | TAKEMIKAZUCHI INTRODUCING YOU AS HIS S/O (…)

Surprisingly, he makes a good, if not lasting impression. He takes a lot of pride in your relationship, and is incredibly doting towards you both at home, and in the presence of others. He’s perfectly polite but makes it clear that you’re taken— To strangers, the two of you may seem like newlyweds, with how close the two of you often are.

Your friends either absolutely love him or hate his guts— There’s really no in between, and you’re quite thankful they don’t know his true identity, as they’d probably never recover from the shock… Takemikazuchi, to his credit, is an incredibly skilled actor. He fills the role of playful and doting boyfriend quite well, and absolutely does his research on human customs. Sometimes, even you, almost forget his true identity— He’s just that good.

Going out on ‘public dates’ is something that you both find quite entertaining. You’re often invited to couple’s events and double dates, as it’s quite clear to anyone who’s seen you two together, that you’re in a dedicated relationship— Even those, you haven’t officially told, don’t take long to figure out the manner of your bond. ((“It’s the way you look at each other”, one person said— “It’s like it’s the only two of you in the world…” ))

When he first introduced you as his significant other, you were petrified— Dating someone such as himself was rather taboo, after all, and you were unsure of what to expect. You definitely didn’t expect to be gushed over and dubbed ‘Michi’s incredibly cute almost-human—‘ That was the last thing on the list of your expectations, yet somehow, you found yourself with a rather large group of self proclaimed ‘bodyguards’. At least, you wouldn’t have to worry about any creatures from the far shore snatching you up…

Somehow or another, you have convinced everyone that you’re engaged, and are just shy about admitting it— Even those that you’re incredibly close to, keep hinting at wanting invitations to the wedding, which completely puzzles you. After a certain point, you introduced each other to new faces, the responses you received changed to — You’re not married yet?’ or ‘Congratulations!!!’

TAKEMIKAZUCHI AND JEALOUSY (…)

He’s not the type to get jealous easily, as you’re both pretty clear about your relationship with each other— In fact, you can count the number of times you’ve seen him jealous on a single hand.

When he is jealous, however, you can tell almost immediately— He squeezes your hand a bit tighter and seems far more tense. His confident and easygoing demeanour shifts into one of cold indifference towards the others around the two of you. He’s not outright rude to others, which you greatly appreciate, but it’s easy to tell that he doesn’t want to be there—

Fortunately, he’s easily consoled, a gentle and reassuring squeeze of his hand, and a smile solely for him, and he’s perfectly relaxed once more—

He may or may not be a bit more affectionate than usual, after getting jealous, which you find incredibly cute and rather funny. He’s not at all the type to be insecure about things, but sometimes when he sees you close with others like that, he feels oddly left out—

Takemikazuchi’s way of saying he was jealous is by stating ‘I misjudged.’ It’s a phrase you’ve heard only a few times from him, and one that always leaves you fairly flustered… It’s not often that he lets down his pride enough to say something like that, and that he does so for you, leaves an incredibly warm feeling in your chest…

[cherryblossomtease]

Chapter 16

18 + only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Authors Notes: So maybe sometimes I get a little wrapped up in the romance and the drama amongst the kink *shrug* I was very much in my feelings while writing the next few parts but I sincerely hope you enjoy the next few posts over the next couple of nights. I’m happily working on the ending!

Warnings: 18+ only as always. Thank you for knowing your own limits. Not everyone can handle this much Bronte… by Bronte I mean m/m/f action lols- no but really— explicit sexual situations, m/m first time sexual exploration and insinuation, dom Zemo, sub reader, sub Bucky

You’re convinced overindulgence was invented on the first yachts. It was probably the romans who came up with it. Caligula comes to mind. Terrible person, evil fuck really. Threw epic parties though and some of the best were on boats. While you’re missing a few hundred people to reach those levels, the next couple of days could inspire a depraved emperor or two.

You eat drink and laugh your way through a hazy cloud of hedonistic delight until you've managed to find yourself between them, beside them or beneath them on every level of the yacht. And if you aren't being fucked into oblivion, then you and Bucky are on your knees obeying Helmut’s many commands.

And yet it’s not all A.D. levels of body fluid swapping. You and Bucky convince Zemo to give your favorite baking competition show a chance and end up binging all of season three from the start, with you cheering when the winner is announced because you called it when they thought it would be the odds-on favorite.

During the lazy days that drag on so much longer than real life would ever allow, you team up with Bucky and nearly defeat Zemo at an endless game of chess which you can see only happens because he allows it; however you both easily beat the Baron at shuffleboard and more than once until he's convinced you’re both cheating.

The games are fun of course, but what you most like is watching Zemo and Bucky find their stride as a couple while learning how to share you, after all they've only ever had you apart. It's sweet to see them so attentive and aware of one another, not wanting to make the other feel pushed aside or less than. Yes Zemo is the dominant one in this relationship, thats been established, but respect and care for feelings is not bound by a role.

It's the little things that show this, like how Zemo will watch the way Bucky traces his finger down your neck thinking you don't see him looking and adjust his own subtle displays of affection. It happened in the lounge after you all went swimming just this past afternoon. You’d settled onto the low couch together, reading and scrolling. He used to touch you just like that—playing with your hair, stroking the back of your neck— now he watches, and it makes him smile to see Bucky so gentle with you. Without a word and little effort he lifts your legs up and over his own putting his feet up on the coffee table before getting lost in his book again so that you are cradled between them. This way, Bucky is free to touch you as much as he wants and Helmut can wrap his arm around the tops of your thighs and lay his warm hand on your knee. Sometimes, when he reads something especially interesting, he grips just a little tighter...

Helmut Zemo.

Your ever observant Baron. Always attentive to every need, so ready to serve for a man so quick with a command. Be it a drink, or a late night snack; Helmut is never above offering every comfort. He is a gentle and adoring force of such intense love that you both feel swallowed by the world he’s built around you.

On a calm and peaceful night —you can’t say which one, because you’ve intentionally lost count— the sky is full of stars and a low hanging white moon, so the three of you go out onto the bedroom balcony and curl up together on the oversized white sofa. You’ve brought a glass of wine and a blanket and take a big gulp of the jammy red before laying your head in Zemo’s lap while Bucky rests in the crook of his arm making himself small enough to fit and Helmut opens one of the many books from the den.

One of the things you’ve found out during your travels is that in preparation for his escape, Oeznik had been busy readying two crates full of the things the Baron would need; some things which were private and other small luxuries a man like Zemo can not live without, like these books. You’ve begged him to start Wuthering Heights. He doesn’t mind, Helmut is a tragic romantic at heart, it’s Bucky who seems a little doubtful at first but by the time Cathy’s ghost is begging to be let in through Heathcliff’s window, Bucky is silent and listening, completely lost in the story, or as your suspect, this beautiful telling of it. You’re just glad he’s able to experience the delight that is Helmut's voice all soft and calm as he brings the story to life. Everyone should be so lucky…

When he’s gone through the first couple of chapters and you’re starting to fall asleep, he closes the book, kisses your head and rubs Bucky’s thigh suggesting that it’s time to go in.

The bed is a welcome change and while you’re all too tired for a wild session like what happened on the upper deck this morning (your knees still ache and you’re pretty sure Bucky would have marks from Helmut’s belt across his back if it weren’t for his healing abilities) you can sense something special starting.

It’s easy to forget on nights like this that anyone is submissive or dominant in your relationship. There is no edge to the way you touch one another, just love. Limbs intertwine, hands touch and rub and hold; only Bucky’s cool vibranium gives away his identity, otherwise there is a playful mystery in the dark that you all choose to let remain until you kiss a mouth and smile figuring out that it's Bucky because his lips are full and pillowy soft while the fingers that calmly stroke your wet center are Helmut’s because they move in his confident, graceful way. And you find yourself thinking of something you really haven’t before.

Experience. It’s something the three of you have so much of and in so many different ways that you nearly forget one of you is technically a virgin.

Hard to imagine the man kissing you, the man who has been inside of you so many times is new to this, well a form of this. The thought makes your heart flutter with excitement as you feel the deft fingers leave you and Helmut gets up from the bed.

He doesn’t go far and you wonder what it is he’s gotten.

When you feel the weight of him dip the mattress and much closer this time, you open your eyes curious but realize it’s a little too dark and Bucky’s face is too close to see. You pull back wanting to catch a glimpse of what you think is happening as the faint scent of bergamot tells you all you need to know.

Bucky raises up, not far, but enough that the moonlight shines on half his face letting you see how his brows knit close together. His gasp is light. He does not exhale. You can’t see past him but you know that Helmut has been slowly nudging him closer towards his first time and you have been watching this man be readied for a moment that just a few days ago he never would have imagined— or maybe he has? Honestly based on the way he grinds his ass against Zemo when the three of you are lost in all sorts of lovely situations, you’d say he’s imagined it a lot more than he’s letting on.

He exhales and they moan together as you pull him down into a deep kiss.

Is that one finger or two?

“Would you like to come inside of her?” Helmut asks softly as Bucky breathes through the feel.

He hovers over you, eyes shut tight, licking his lips before moaning softly again “Yes.” He manages to say, and you’re so wet you think Zemo could have saved the oil.

Permission must come through some physical contact because you hear nothing, just feel him at your entrance and then inside of you. You can’t help but to moan and arch your back, your stomach pressing against his, your nipples brushing against his warm chest groaning as you give into the familiar size of him, opening your mouth with a deep sigh as your heart races knowing he is taking you while being had.

Between breaths you catch a glimpse of Helmut beside him —right hand flat on the small of Bucky’s back the muscle of his left forearm flexing rhythmically— his face is stern with concentration but his eyes are soft. He does love to make you both feel good. For all his bluster and demanding, nothing ever makes him so happy as pleasing you and Bucky.

The fact that you start to come so quickly is no surprise but the fact that you start to come together makes you look at one another. You smiling through the quick breaths, Bucky’s furrowed brow a sign of his shock but absolute pleasure. It’s too much for him in the best way as he rocks his hips, slowly thrusting deep into your body that clings to him.

You shut your eyes, your gasp mixed with a laugh and a cry as you come.

Bucky lays over you, his face tucked into the safe corner of your neck, so soft and warm where he moans heavily, climaxing in a way he’s never experienced before. You put your arms around him holding him tight and the sound he makes is the sound of a man who has just discovered quite a few things about himself.

He raises up, breathing hard, stunned and happy as he kisses you.

That was incredible for you both and together you quickly look over Bucky’s shoulder at Zemo who sits gazing at your faces in the dark…

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (42)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Ah... that expression of shock on your face, that lack of reaction... Or at least that frail voice that is yours. Danny couldn't have dreamed of a better reaction from you. We would think we were in a movie, where the girl discovers a terrible secret about her boyfriend. This is actually the case, with one exception: We are not in a movie. Danny watched you, his sneaky smile on his lips, like a cat watching the little mouse in his cage, the lion watching the gazelle, or the wolf devouring the poor little doe that will soon serve as his meal. He was slowly moving towards you, but you backed up against the wall, causing him to stop.

“Surprise, Honey. Happy to see me?” He said with a provocative smile.

“J-Jed? No... I don't believe it. It's a nightmare... or a prank! You can't...” you start to say.  

“Can’t what? Being the one who since all this time harasses you every night making you doubt about your loyalty to your boyfriend? I can tell you my sweet little star, that all this is real. But... let's redo the presentations. Jed... never existed. My real name is Danny, Danny Johnson, to serve you.”

“You've been lying to me all this time... But why??”

“Think twice Sherlock. I am... quite wanted in other states. I wasn't going to swing my true identity, to a complete stranger I had just met. And then... there was a good chance... that you have heard of me. But luckily for me... that was not the case.”

“Your office...”

“Want to take a look? since the time you wish to enter it, now that you know the truth, I can show you. Follow me.”

Danny walked past you, while looking behind him to see if you were following him. He unlocked the door of his office and opened it so that you could finally enter it. He saw this expression of surprise on your face again, and this temporary absence of voice made him shudder. Everything went as he had imagined. It remains more than to know how all this would end.

“It's you who... who did all these murders... these innocent people... McKellan and... Hoggins.” You said finally.

“Nice deduction Sherlock. This is me. All those nights when I was inventing an excuse to go out... it was only for that. Spying, stalking... and kill.” Respond Danny leaning against the door.

“And also, to see me as Ghostface. You... you tried... you tried to rape me... and you pretended nothing had happened the next day.”

“And I apologize for that. But I had to... play my role. You would have suspected me too soon otherwise. I had to dissuade you from Jed. Let you accept me as I am. More confident, more... Enterprising then Jed." Replied Danny.

“From the beginning you lied to me. On everything. Your identity, your past, your work... I'm sure this story about this Carla is not real! You invented it or stole it from someone!” you said a little angry.

“Everything I told you about my past... is true. My parents were real assholes. Treating me like a dog. And as for my life with Carla... everything is true. Except one thing: When I learned that Dr. Pheels, the one who cared for her, had let her die, I went to see him one night. I entered through the window. He was in his office. I confronted him with his actions and he... he has denied everything.  *You won't be able to prove anything Johnson. No one will believe you, you're wasting your time, Johnson. You'd better leave and find yourself another jug to fill your nights. And if she's sick... think of me. You can touch a small part. * At that time... I took out a knife that I had taken from home... and I slaughtered him like never before. My first murder, the one that made me who I am today. This is where Jed Olsen was born as well.”  

“And I would still be there. You won't get rid of me as easily. I've told you before: I'm a part of you now.” said Jed in Danny’s mind.  

“That night. You could have killed me. You could have made me yet another victim of your massacres. And yet you left me alive, you played with me, you... persuaded me to kill Hoggins. At least to let you kill him. Why? Why didn't you kill me that night?” you ask calmly.  

It's true. He could have killed you that night. It would have made you just another victim and move on after hiding your corpse somewhere. He could have done it so many times... But he didn't. On the contrary, he lets you live, he spends time with you, shares his life and his past as you did with him. By curiosity? that's what he's always said to himself so far... but in the end isn't it for another reason? Isn't it more because he has found, or at least he thinks he has found something he thought was lost forever? And that he wanted to protect at all costs?

“Lying to her won't do much good here Danny. We both know that. Be honest with her. Like she was with you. And be honest with yourself. Believe me.” said Jed in Danny’s mind, leaning in front of him.  

“I could have. At first, I confess that I did it out of curiosity, to see how far you could amuse me and I would have killed you as soon as you bore me. But... you were... so innocent. But just as fierce. Like Carla. She was like you, dreams full of heads, with punchlines when it was necessary. And a heart of gold, always ready to help people and do good around her. And the more time I spent with you, the more I felt like I was reliving my life before.” responds Danny sincerely to you.  

“Good choice. It's a bit late, but better late than never.” replied Jed smiling.

“Now, that's the question everyone is asking. You know everything. What are you going to do?” Asks Danny to you.  

Danny looked you straight in the eye, his smile having sag to make way for a more serious face. He had his knife in hand, ready to use it if you ever try to play the heroes or warn the police. He would like to not do that, but his secret has to come first. Even if it means killing you. He doesn't want to, but he won't have a choice. He no longer has a choice, and neither do you. You could have stopped before, avoided this relationship. It would have been easier for him. But here... it will be the first time for him that he will have to kill someone reluctantly. There is no turning back now. For both of you. This is where everything will play out.

Deep in his mind... Danny knows how it's going to end. There is no chance that you will accept all this. Even if you have shown flaws, he knows that you will denounce him, or try to stop him. If that really happens, so be it. But he can't help but hope. What a stupid spirit of humanity. And yet, what was not his surprise, when he saw you approaching him hugging him. For a few minutes, he waited for you to take out a knife or a weapon of some kind to attack him. But nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just... a normal hug. As if none of this had happened. Nothing had been said.

“Well... I... I didn't expect that. Unless this is a ruse on your part.” said Danny suspicious.

“What good would it be now that I try anything against you? You said it: if you fall, I will fall too. And... you may be an assassin... you've always been there when I needed... you listened to me, you protected me. You could have killed me a long time ago... and you didn't. And all those moments we spent together... I could never forget them. Never.” You respond without letting him go.  

“Me neither.”

“I guess you've made it. You have succeeded in making me your accomplice. That's what you wanted. You wanted me to enter your world.”

“It won't be easy... but I would teach you to get ready for this new life. Lie... Keep one's mouth shut... Trick... As long as you are with me, nothing will happen to you.”

Danny gently took your face with his gloved hand before placing a quick kiss on your lips. But before he can back off, you kiss him passionately, hugging him a little more. He is not a doctor, or even a psychologist, but he could easily conclude that he caused you to have Stockholm syndrome. Or at least something close to it. However, he will have to be careful in the early days. He doesn't know if all this is real... or if you cheat. It's in Danny's mentality, he was betrayed too often in his youth, he will not let himself be fooled so easily.

“We're going to have to put ... two three little things to the point. First, outside of these walls, and when someone comes here, I'm Jed. no one should know my true identity. Not even Mattew and Melina.” starts Danny.  

“It's horrible... to have to lie to them. They're friends, I'm sure they would understand.” you respond.  

“They will especially warn the cops. At least after researching me. Journalistic curiosity, honey, can wreak a lot of havoc. Especially at the level of the closest people. Second, if the police come to ask you about Hoggins, you say you don't know anything. You tell them that the last time you saw him was when he threatened you in your café. Your employees will be able to confirm this.”

“Because I have to use them as an excuse now?” you replied.  

“Everyone around you can serve as an alibi. I've done it often... very often during all these years.” responds Danny shrugging his shoulders.

“Anything else to know?”

“Even if you know about my office, I'd appreciate not seeing you inside. Everyone has their own business. Was I clear enough?”

“Yeah.”  

“Good. So, how was your day?” Danny asks as if nothing had happened.

“As usual... I had two calls. For the succession, it is settled. And my aunt can't wait to meet you one of these days. But other than that, nothing very extraordinary. I'm exhausted.” you respond sighing.  

“I know exactly what you need to... relax.”

Danny slowly lowered his hands until he reached your ass, putting a small slap. You jump slightly before looking at him, biting your lips slightly. A smirk comes to his face, provoking you just with the look. His piercing blue eyes, the secret of his charm. And it is in a fiery kiss that you both direct in the room, undressing each other before finding yourself on the bed, completely naked. The kiss continued, more sensual, and Danny finally entered you, making you moan with pleasure. He waited for you to relax before he began to move, and every move caused the two of you an insatiable pleasure.

No need to hide, no need to live under Jed's identity, no need to be Ghostface to satisfy his fantasies. Now that you know everything, now that you know who he is, he can finally be himself. He will continue to "play" Jed outside his walls because it is not necessary to arouse the suspicions of either office colleagues or the police. And even less of Wilhelm. This guy is a real leech.  

Now with you he can finally be himself. You are the sweet little star of the devil. And no one will be able to approach you. In every sense of the word... the beast has been released. And nothing can stop it.

Not even himself.

***

(And it's done! This chapter was quite quick to write because since it is the continuation of the previous chapter, the ideas came to me quite quickly. Well, it's true that almost the entire chapter is mostly dialogue between Danny and the reader, but really, I didn't see how I could write it other than that. I don't forget the fic RE8 and the little teasing I talked about! By the way, if at the moment you do not know what to play, whether on Switch or PC, I recommend Road 96, a real surprise that I love! I hope you’ll like this chapter like the others ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all!  See ya!)

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Till The Sun Is in the Sky Fanfic

Title: Till The Sun is in the Sky Fanfic

Summary: Roman is a genie who has granted wishes for over a millennia. The only reason he’d be eager to serve his next master is for a chance to briefly escape the lamp’s darkness. Not for a chance at freedom--for that’s just wishful thinking and he knows what that all entails.

Or at least that’s his assumption until he meets Patton, the newest master of his lamp.

Pairing: platonic royality

Word-Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Crying, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending

This set in the same ‘verse as When the Blazing Sun Is Gone but you don’t need to read that fic to understand this one. @delimeful requested seeing Roman’s/Logan’s role in the AU as part of my follower milestone celebration and so I went with Roman. Also huge thanks to @stillebesat who beta-read two different drafts of this fic and offered valuable input, I appreciate it! <3

-

He didn't know how long it had been since his last Master had thrown the lamp into the sea. It didn't matter really. Minutes, years, centuries...it didn't. Because he knew his next master would be the same as the last six hundred. Selfish, full of empty promises of freedom that never came to pass. 

No, the only reason why he would ever be eager to come out of the lamp to serve his six hundredth and one master would be for those precious moments to get out of the darkness.

Some of his more inquisitive masters would ask him what it felt like to have one’s soul crammed into a lamp.

He always laughed it off and made a joke about how it made for a great napping place.

But the truth was far from it. He knew it was silly, but he feared the darkness. He feared its loneliness, feared no one would ever find his lamp again and he’d be stuck there forever. 

He never told them how many times he uselessly fought against the magic barriers, hoping beyond hope to find a defect in the spell that bound him there. He didn’t tell them how much he feared them being the last master he ever had—not because they freed him but because his lamp never found another master to serve. Worse yet, his lamp shattering.

His soul was bound to the lamp and if it broke--then his soul would split into a thousand pieces along with it. Suffice to say, it was not a happy fate and not something happy to dwell on.

So he sang instead. His voice filling up the lamp, bouncing all around him. He could pretend someone was with him, that way, singing alongside him. He sang the few songs he knew and then some. He made up songs, even, about anything his mind could dwell on. He was halfway through singing about a gallant knight when a pair of hands made contact with the lamp.

 A new master; both relief and trepidation hit him at once. Relief that he’d be free from the darkness once more. Trepidation in knowing that it was only a fleeting temporary respite from it.

That was quite alright. After all, his new master was probably someone in great need of his assistance—they always were. The lamp magic sought out those who were plagued by horrible life circumstances. He would be the knight in shining armor to them, like he’d been to many others before.

For that was his true purpose in life and not freedom. That was just wishful thinking—and he knew all of what that entailed.

With a shroud of red mist, he rose up in front of his new master. All of which was entirely for the sheer dramatics of it. He enjoyed putting on a good show and the adrenaline that came along with it.

“Greetings!” He boomed, waving his arms around in a grand gesture, “I am a great and powerful genie—and I am here to make all your dreams come true!”

The human gawked at him, slack-jawed. His brown eyes bulged from behind his glasses, much like a cartoon character. There was a crack in one of the glasses’ lenses and upon closer look, the glasses appeared to be practically held together by tape. 

The man’s clothing appeared to be in a similar disheveled state—unraveling hems, holes in his shoes, scuff marks. The cardigan tied around his neck looked hardly wearable. Lying at the man’s feet was a blue backpack that the genie wouldn’t doubt contained all of his worldly belongings.

The lamp sought out the unfortunate and if there was one constant in any century, it was poverty.

“You’re…really a genie?” The human asked, pressing his eyebrows together.

“In the flesh.” The Genie winked.

He was well aware of what a fine specimen he was to behold. Flowing locks of russet hair, eyes that glimmered like emeralds, a voluptuous figure. Clothed in only the finest cloth that the eleventh century had to offer. Centuries of existence in the lamp had not diminished his beauty in the slightest.

If there was one thing he could take pleasure in, it was the awe humans gave him before they decided demanding for wishes. It usually lasted for only about five seconds. But during those five seconds, he could pretend that they were actually ecstatic to see him.

“What’s your name?”

He startled at those words.

“Pardon?” He asked, tilting his head backwards.

The last thing the Genie had been expecting, was those words to come out of his mouth. No one ever bothered to ask for his name. It was as though they assumed their wish-granting cosmic vending machine had no name. Or was indeed a living being with thoughts and feelings for that matter. They always started demanding rules and stipulations for their wishes as fast as they could.

“I’m sorry!” The human cried, wringing his hands together, “that was rude of me to ask without introducing myself first.”

He held out a hand, beaming, “I’m Patton! What’s your name?”

“I…” He stared down at the man’s hand, “My name?”

“Oh,” Patton’s eyes widened, “do you not have a name?”

The Genie looked away. He did once have a name, long ago before he inhabited the lamp. He couldn’t remember it. A strained, lilted laugh broke from his lips, not assuaging Patton’s concerns in the slightest.

How could he forget his own name? Names were important—special. Names had power. Names were a person’s identity. How could he let that damn lamp take something so precious away from him? It’d already taken everything else away—what more could it take? 

“I can’t seem to recall it,” He shook his head, before desperately trying to change the subject, “But enough about my fabulous self! I’m here to grant you not one, not two, but three! Three wishes of immeasurable power! Say the magic word, and I’ll spin your dreams into reality.”

He expected Patton to forget the name nonsense entirely at the mention of wishes. Surely, the man had unfulfilled desires—everyone always possessed those. Instead, the man slowly shook his head.

“I can help you find a new name, if you’d like.” He offered, a smile softly framing his face.

The Genie blinked, “You wish to give me a new name?”

He could not make heads nor tails of this strange human. He scarcely knew Patton for a single minute, but his aura oozed nothing but positivity. Still, it was an odd waste of a wish, if you asked him. He’d hate to see someone so good and in need of his cosmic help squander a wish like that.

“No,” Patton said, laughing, “I want to help you find a new name.”

Patton sat down on the beach, the lamp by his side. The human looked up at him and patted the space next to him. Reluctantly, the Genie joined him.

“How does the name Daniel sound to you?” Patton asked.

Daniel. One of his more unpleasant masters went by that name. The genie made a face before shaking his head.

“That’s okay! What about Philip then?”

“Phiiiilip…” He drew out the consonants, testing how they felt against the roof of his mouth, “What do you think, dear Patton? Do I look like a Philip to you?”

“Well, you’re very princely-looking, and I’d say Philip is a very princely name!” The man giggled, “but as long as you love it—I’ll love it as well!”

The Genie hesitated. As much as he liked the name—it didn’t quite scream him. It didn’t encompass his whole being. Philip felt as tight and constraining as his lamp. The genie could lie and tell Patton he liked it just to move on from this whole naming business. His purpose here was supposed to be focused on the wish-bearer and not him, the wish-granter.

However, as he looked upon Patton’s earnest gaze he found himself unable to lie to him.

“I am afraid that I’m not entirely in love with the idea of Philip.” He admittedly with a great sigh.

“That’s alright! We just gotta keep trying then!” Patton declared, undeterred.

He continued listing off names, but none of them seemed to satisfy the Genie. The latter of whom grew despondent that they’d never find the perfect name. There were millions of names in the world, yet none of them appealed to him. He voiced this to Patton, who refused to give up hope that easily and urged him to keep trying.

“Hmm…oh! What about Roman?” Patton asked, “I knew a guy back in high school named Roman. He did theatre.”

Something sparked within the hollow cavity of the Genie’s chest.

“Theatre? As in acting out a story in front of an audience?” The Genie asked, his eyes lit bright with wonder.

He’d never seen a play before. His masters never bothered taking him to events like that. Instead he’d remain in their household, his lamp sitting on a shelf or hidden in a cabinet. Like a jar of quarters to use on a rainy day. He could only manifest within twenty-five yards around his lamp, leaving him unable to sneak off and enjoy something like a theatre show.

But what little he heard of them reminded him greatly of the bards of his time. They used to travel all over, singing sweetly in poetic verse of great heroes and terrifying monsters. He’d always loved watching a bard perform. He almost ran off and became a bard himself before he ended up stuck inside the lamp.

“Yup! He played Lumiere in our production of Beauty and the Beast.”

The names of the character and story were unfamiliar to him. But the Genie could tell by Patton’s phrasing that it had been an important role.

“Roo-man,” He tried, liking how it sounded on his lips, “Roman, Roman, Romaaaaaaaaaaan!”

Patton giggled as the Genie held out the name for as long as he could.

Roman. It was bold, it was brash, it was perfect. Not too snug, not too loose—it fit him just right.

“Well then,” He said, clearing his throat, “I’d be honored to go by the name of such a great bard!”

“I’m happy to hear that!” Patton beamed, “We should go celebrate!”

The human stood up, stuffing the lamp into his backpack in the process. He offered a hand towards the Genie—or rather Roman.

“Celebrate?” Roman questioned, as he accepted Patton’s hand, “Don’t you want your three wishes—"

“That can wait for later,” Patton said as he pulled Roman onto his feet with ease, “what’s important right now is celebrating your new name—with ice cream! I know just the place!”

“Forgive me for asking, but what is ice cream?”

“You don’t know what ice cream is?” Patton gasped, a determined look settling onto his features, “we’ll definitely have to fix that!”

He took hold of Roman’s hand—and marched towards the direction of the ice cream stand. Roman, bemused by the human, laughed as he allowed himself to be tugged along by Patton. He didn’t know why Patton was so concerned about his wellbeing but he found it a nice change from the norm.

Patton chattered along the way, mainly about ice cream and puns relating to the icy dessert and to other things.

“What did the popsicle say to his sonsicle in a crowd?” Patton asked, already snickering at his own joke.

“What?”

“He said, stick with me kid!” Patton burst into a fit of giggles, and Roman followed suit. Admittedly a lot of the contextual humor of Patton’s puns were lost on him but there was something contagious about Patton’s cheery disposition. You couldn’t help but want to laugh along and feel about a bit of that happiness glow in your lungs. 

For those brief seconds of laughter, Roman felt human again. He’d have to treasure this feeling--coveting it once he inevitably ended up in the darkness of the lamp once more.

The sun set in the horizon as they reached their destination; a brilliant splash of crimson red with streaks of golden orange and lilac purple. There were a few customers already in line at the ice cream stand. Cheery music blared. Where, Roman had no clue. He could not see a band nearby. Perhaps it was magic?

“Hey um,” Patton said, ducking his head a bit, “mind if we split a bowl? I’ll let you pick out the flavor. You should go with vanilla—it’s a classic! But, uh you can get whatever you’d like!”

“Patton…” Roman frowned, “I could wish into existence a whole ice cream shop of your own if you truly wanted it. You don’t have to waste money on me.”

“No, I don’t have to,” Patton said with a determined glint in his eyes, “But I want to.”

Roman gawked at him, stunned. What was this human? People normally expected genies to do things for them, not the other way around! When it came time to order, Roman merely pointed to the vanilla as Patton had suggested.

There were tables set up next to the ice cream stand where customers could consume their ice cream. But Patton shook his head, telling Roman he knew a much better place.

“It’s a place my friend Virgil and I like to visit,” Patton said, “It’s nice and quiet, unlike most of the city. The noise can be too much sometimes, y’know?”

This peaceful location happened to be a bench in the middle of a park. Trees gracefully arched over it, dressed in the beginnings of autumn colors. Orange, yellow, red. A warm glowing yellow light emanated from the lamppost beside the bench. 

“You can have the first taste of the ice cream,” Patton told him as they settled onto the bench. Roman obliged him, dipping his spoon a little in the white substance and bringing it to his mouth. He blinked. It was colder than he expected. But not unpleasantly so. It was a smooth, sweet texture.

“What do you think?” Patton asked, practically bouncing in his seat.

“It’s--it’s absolutely divine!” Roman exclaimed, his eyes flickered down to the ice cream, “May I…?”

“Of course!” Patton grinned. Roman took another spoonful, savoring the taste longer this time. They took turns finishing it off as they continued to converse.

Roman wasn’t used to talking. Sure, he talked plenty over the centuries, but his conversations with his masters revolved strictly around wish-granting. Mundane conversations about the weather were anything but mundane to the genie. 

“What’s your favorite animal?” Patton asked, swinging his legs back and forth in a careless manner.

“Dogs—they are lovable, loyal creatures and mankind is undeserving of their affections.” Roman declared.

“Dogs are my favorite too!” Patton giggled, “Oh! And so are cats, horses, lizards, lions and tigers and bears—oh my! Elephants, giraffes, hippos—”

“So all of them are your favorite, I take it?”

“I guess you could say that,” Patton sheepishly grinned, “I wanted to be a veterinarian be—before—”

The human inhaled shakily, the smile slipping off his face. Instead of continuing, he stared down into the mostly empty plastic ice cream bowl. Something obviously happened in Patton’s past that upset him. It wasn’t Roman’s place to pry—but it didn’t mean he couldn’t help in the only way he knew best; magic. In all his centuries as a genie, he’s never met anyone deserving of it than Patton.

The man had been the first in a long while to treat Roman like his thoughts and feelings actually mattered. Like the genie was actually...human. 

“You could still be a veterinarian, if you so badly wished,” Roman spoke softly, “Your every wish is my command.”

Patton flinched, looking more distressed than comforted by Roman’s words.

“Roman please, I can’t do that—”

“Why not?” Roman said, “you are my master—you can make any wish you’ve ever desired.”

“Roman, I’m not your master.” Patton choked.

“Of course you are,” Roman tilted his head, “you are the keeper of my lamp. What else would you be?”

“A friend?” Patton suggested, “Roman, please I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“This is different,” Roman said fervently, grasping hold of Patton’s hands, “this I offer to you freely for you are the most worthy keeper of my lamp. You must have unfulfilled desires, something, anything I can grant.”

Patton stared at Roman, his face void of expression. Several times he opened his mouth before abruptly closing it. As if thinking better of what he was about to say. 

“Please.” Roman pressed further.

His heart rattled against his chest, wanting badly to escape its cage as he did with his lamp. Like the latter, it was a pointless venture. As long as his lamp remained intact so would his soul. Unless of course it shattered, and with it his soul into a thousand pieces. His psyche splintered and fractured, too broken to put back together again. Like Humpty Dumpty except worse for it was a living death, one inescapable. Yet it was a fate that was inevitable and also something he shouldn’t be dwelling on at the moment.

“There is…” Patton hesitated, “one desire I have.” 

“Say it,” Roman said as he bowed his head, not daring to look at the human, “Speak it into existence and it shall be yours.”

It was going to hurt, he knew this. The genie wasn’t the true wish-granter, all the magic they possessed came from the lamp itself. The magic only used his form as a mere conduit. Because that was all a genie was—a damn puppet to his masters’ wills.

Roman brought this curse upon himself—he wanted immeasurable power and he attained it. Except, it was never his will to wield such power. Nay, only his masters possessed it. Only their wishes and not his would be granted. It’d be this way forever and ever, because everyone always cared about their happy endings and not his own.

Even Patton, once he saw the immeasurable power that surged forth from even the simplest of wishes. Roman wouldn’t blame him for it. The human has already given him more than what he’s ever deserved. 

Patton squeezed Roman’s hands. It took every ounce of Roman’s willpower not to sneak a glance up at him. He had to remain strong for whatever wish Patton threw at him. In the short time he’d spent with Patton, he didn’t get off the vibe of a frivolous wisher. He dealt with plenty of those over the years. Ones who used the wishes in willy-nilly ways, without any forethought behind them. 

No, he’d probably be practical. He’d wish for money, or perhaps a mistake in the past to be reversed. Those were always tricky ones. They didn’t always end in the way humans believed they would.

“Roman,” Patton began, “I wish to free you, the genie, from your lamp.”

The genie leapt off the bench as if electrocuted, hands clumsily detangling themselves from Patton’s own. The lamp’s magic roared in his ears, swelling inside him like a great storm. He gaped at the human, his heart bursting out of his chest and into his throat.

“P-patton, mind repeating that?” He gasped.

“I wish to free you the genie from your lamp.” Patton said once more, his voice firm and unbreaking.

This time he couldn’t hold off the wish. A bright red light enveloped him like a supernova explosion. Magic consumed him, rippling through every fiber of his being. A warmth fell across him, one that he hadn’t felt in a long, long while. A great shattering noise occurred. The light died down as he looked to see the lamp had spilled out of Patton’s pack, glittering underneath the lamppost, in pieces. 

Breath heaving, he fell to his knees, touching the pieces. The lamp had broken and he was still here, whole and complete and free.

“Why?” He stared down at the broken lamp, quivering, “I--I don’t understand. You had three wishes. You could’ve had so much—all the wealth and fame you could ever desire!”

“But I didn’t want that,” Patton protested, resting a hand on Roman’s shoulder, “not if it came from a wish you were involuntarily bound to serve no matter what. That isn’t fair. Everyone deserves the freedom of choice. Including you.”

Roman laughed. Except it wasn’t quite a laugh. More of a strangled, gargled croak than anything else. He pressed his hands into his face, shutting his eyes as he tried to block out the dizzying nausea sweeping through him.

After six-hundred masters and a millennia inside the lamp, Roman knew a lot about the freedom of choice. His masters employed it with how they chose to use his wishes. Flaunting it so arrogantly in his face. The wishes were self-serving for most. Sometimes they used it to better others’ situations. But never his own, despite many promising to free him. Because at the end of that third wish, they’d walk away while he’d once more get trapped inside the lamp.

Over and over again, they chose to not free him. Except Patton. He chose to free Roman on his very first wish. For as long as he’d dreamt of this moment, of being free from the lamp, he never expected it to actually happen. It was just a foolish fantasy, too abstract to become reality. Not to mention in this manner. He had imagined a master would free him after he’d proven himself worthy with a great feat of magic. How could Patton think he was deserving of this gift?

He laughed weirdly again. This time it hurt his vocal chords.

“Roman?” Patton asked.

He responded with a noise, halfway resembling a hiccup and a shriek. A gentle set of arms enveloped him, pulling him closer until his forehead rested against a warm chest. A hug? Was Patton hugging him? 

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Patton murmured, ruffling a hand through his hair, “let it all out.”

Kiddo. Roman wanted to snort. He was a millennia older than Patton, he wasn’t exactly a child. Except at those words, he bawled like one as he realized that those were sobs from before. Not laughter. Roman couldn’t remember the last time he cried. Just like he couldn’t remember a time before being a genie.

Who was he, without the lamp? For as much as he hated it, it’d been a part of him. It defined him and the purpose of his existence. Now he was free of it, free to be his own person, with his own wishes and desires. But he didn’t know the first step of what that looked like.

 It was like he was thrown into a raging ocean of confusion and turmoil. Treading aimlessly, desperately hoping for a piece of driftwood to grab a hold on. Something that could anchor him, keep him afloat. 

“P-patton--” He whispers, voice hoarse from crying, “can I--can I choose to be your friend?”

The human had suggested it earlier. Surely, he meant it still? It was quiet for a few seconds. Enough to cause Roman to doubt himself. But then the man who unbelievably granted him his freedom hugged him tighter.

“Of course, Roman,” Patton told him, “I’d be honored.”

With a sniffle, Roman’s hands fell from his face as he threw his arms around Patton to fiercely return the embrace. A few more ugly sobs wracked his throat. How was it that Patton was the one honored to be his friend when it was the opposite? 

Roman hardly knew what being free looked like. But he did know he’d do anything to protect Patton, to preserve this kind, selfless spark that rested in the human’s soul.

As he dwelt encircled by Patton’s loving arms, the last slivers of the sun’s glow faded at last, dousing them in darkness. But for once, he didn’t find himself afraid of it.

[ladyloveandjustice]

The Westing Game Chapter 21

The Fourth Bomb

In a wacky misunderstanding, Theo thinks Alice is the bomber and tries to blackmail her with the info so he can borrow her bike (Yes, really. Go big or go home is Theo’s motto) but of course Alice thinks he means he knows ANGELA is the bomber.

And in what might be the most touching moment in the book so far, Alice responds to this by setting off a bomb and writing a thing indicating that she is the bomber in order to throw all suspicion off Angela. She eve loses her trademark braid in the process.

It really is incredibly sweet. Alice is very caustic toward her sister, but this isn’t the first time she’s indicated she’s ride-or-die when it comes down to it (she got rid of the evidence for Angela and warned her not to say anything to the lawyer), and it’s also a very lovely response to Angela’s early sacrifice- where she took the bomb she made to her face rather than have it explode to her sisters. But while Angela’s sacrifice was spur-of-the-moment motivated by guilt and panic as well as love (not that it makes it less meaningful), Alice’s is one she planned out and considered. She had time to consider the consequences. She knew that Angela willingly put herself in this position. But she still chose to take the fall anyway, and set off a bomb after seeing what the same thing did to her sister’s face.

She already feels meaningless to her family in general, and maybe on the surface she feels her standing (with her mother in particular) can’t get any lower. “I’m already the troublemaker, I’m already the unwanted one, I have nothing to lose, but Angela would lose everything” was how she convinced herself. (in addition to being aware as a minor she wouldn’t be punished as harshly, smart girl that she is).

But it’s also clear that Alice DOES long for her mother’s love and approval, and I think she also had to contend with a deep fear that after this action, there’d be no going back for them, that she’d doomed herself to be the ‘bad one’ forever. Yet she still did it.

And the loss of her braid is of course, incredibly significant. Angela said earlier that the braid is her “crutch”- she bases a lot of her personality around it. It was her excuse to spend time with her mother and now her excuse to spend time with Flora, it’s the trademark thing people can pull on and she can then she gets excuse to kick them and get in fights and form connections, it’s how she gets attention and relationships for herself without exposing her own vulnerability. But she sacrificed what little that makes her stand out, what little social currency she has to protect the same sister who she envies for being in the spotlight- because that bond is more important than her jealousy and her need for attention. Just like her sister sacrificed one of the things that bring her adulation- her looks- to protect her. Love is more important than those petty things.

Alice is forced to talk to Judge Ford afterwards and, sharp as ever, Ford guesses that she’s protecting Angela.  This quote especially gets me:

The judge was astounded (…). Angela could not be the bomber, that sweet, pretty thing. Thing? Is that how she regarded the young woman, as a thing? And what had she ever said to her except “I hear you’re getting married, Angela” or “You’re so pretty, Angela”. Had anyone ever asked about her ideas, her hopes, her plans? If I had been treated like that, I’d have used dynamite, not fireworks; no, I would have just walked and kept on going. But Angela was different.

There’s a fascinating theme in this book about being marginalized, and the different ways these marginalized people both are pitted against each other and can overlook even each other while also finding connections and comradery with each other… I think I’ll have to wait until the end to fully get my thesis on the whole thing together, but I really find it interesting and appreciate it. Ford’s struggles as a black woman, Alice being overlooked for not performing femininity (thus envious of Angela despite knowing how shitty she has it), Angela being boxed because everyone wants to mold her as the perfect feminine ideal (thus feeling envious of Alice despite knowing how shitty she has it), Sun feeling out of place as a Chinese immigrant, Hoo knowing he’s looked down upon as a Chinese-American (yet still not considering the pain of his own wife), Chris struggling as a disabled kid, many people who are financially disadvantaged and/or feeling limited to the role of caretaker, Sydelle feeling overlooked in general and appropriating others’ struggles in her bizarre quest to get noticed- it’s all very interesting and pretty deftly handled, especially considering the time period the book was written in. 

And our antagonist is quintessential exploitative Rich White Man (obsessed with American Exceptionalism to boot), though it’s casually mentioned he’s the son of immigrants, an identity he seems to have actively shed, going so far as to change his name (if that’s why he changed it), so there’s even complexity there.

But the thing with Ford here is an interesting demonstration of that. Despite being smart and socially aware and having an even more fraught history of being dismissed and belittled, she didn’t give much thought to Angela and subconsciously went along with the same objectification everyone else does, putting her on a pedestal. (There’s a lot to be said about how Angela’s veneration and perceived “purity” by the others might interact with her whiteness, and how Ford realizing she bought into that narrative subconsciously might feel to her as a black woman, but I’m not really the person to discuss that. Anyway!)

The other important development here is that Alice also finally confesses that she saw Westing the night of his murder but mentions that the Westing she saw didn’t look dead, but asleep and like a wax dummy. This sets off alarm bells for both me and Ford.

So, I think its safe to say my earlier theory Sam Westing isn’t dead is probably true. What of the corpse that was present at the will-reading? I think people would have noticed it was a wax dummy, but a disguised corpse from his coroner friend still makes some sense. So where is Westing now? Considering Barney Northup doesn’t exist, could he be Barney?

But speaking of Westing, if we need further confirmation the man is the scum of the earth, he’s a union buster and he fired Sandy for trying to organize one in the paper plant.

We also learn Ford’s backstory with Westing at last: Her parents were household staff at Westing’s mansion and she grew up there as a result. She played chess with Westing frequently as a child, but not only would he brag and take pride in beating a goddamn pre-teen, he mocked her with racialized insults. She never won, but Westing ended up financing her education (that’s the ‘debt’ she owes him). She believes he did this to get a judge he could control, but has refused to play along, removing herself from any case involving him.

I can’t help but think Westing would have known Ford wouldn’t play ball, though. So he may have had another motive for sending her to school. It could be something even more sinister. Or… in his own twisted way, did he actually like her? He obviously realized she was incredibly intelligent during those matches, even if he sadistically enjoyed mocking her, enough to know she’d do well with an education. Did he play chess with her so much not just because he enjoyed tormenting her, but enjoyed her as a person as well? It obviously does not excuse what a racist sadistic shithead he is, and I’m not saying he’s secretly nice- just that it could be he was incapable of relating to anyone in a healthy way. I actually think sending Ford to school could have just been an extension of his desire to torment her AND the only way he knew that would guarantee he remained important in her life. He didn’t ever plan to cash in on her debt, but knew it would kill her just to BE in his debt, and got pleasure out of that alone. He probably just thought it was funny and it was also a way to guarantee he’d live in her head rent free- and because deep down he knew she was a cool kid, he also wanted that. He didn’t want her to forget him, maybe, which is sick! But much more interesting than simply “he wanted a judge he could manipulate”.

But it’s also worth noting this is Ford’s (perhaps) final chance to win against Westing in the ultimate chess match. And I can’t help but think he is well aware how smart she is, so he invited her here specifically because he knew she could be his undoing, the one who unravels everything. So- if we go with the ‘Westing is seeking atonement’ theory- did he invite her to give her that satisfaction of finally beating him, like he always knew deep down she could? Because he WANTS to be beaten, to be found out and knows she deserves to be the one after all the hell he put her through? Or in the ‘Westing is still a complete monster’ theory- is his intention to torment her one last time, to show her she can’t win against him? (if it is, I think he may well find he’s gravely mistaken there).

I don’t think Westing can truly achieve “redemption” with this “game”, nor am I one to easily believe the Ultimate Shitty Capitalist can change easily, but if one thing can shake someone’s worldview and make them reevaluate how they live their life, the death of their child WOULD be a big one. So “this will actually be Westing’s weird twisted attempt at atonement” is a possibility I just can’t stop thinking about. If it is, it’s kind of funny and incredible he can’t stop being manipulative and traumatizing even when he decides he wants to do something good.

On top of all that, Angela and Sydelle get more clues and finally figure out the ‘America the Beautiful’ connection. God, so much to chew on this chapter! I really fear for these last nine chapters. I might end up writing a novel longer than the actual novel analyzing and recapping them if I’m not careful. But that’s how you know it’s a compelling story, so hats off to Ellen Raskin!

[witchesoz]

After Oz: Legends of Oz

I hesitated before doing this one, because this movie is mostly based on the book "Dorothy of Oz" by Roger S. Baum, and I haven't read said book. It is something that tends to get on my nerve, when people actually don't care about the original material an adaptation was based on, and consider the adaptation as its own entirely original piece of work, when in fact, a lot of it was taken from somebody's else work. I mean, the perfect exemple is Shining. Some people praise Kubrick for being a pure genius for inventing this story from A to Z, and consider Stephen's King television series a "poor attempt at a remake of the movie", when... you know, King originally wrote the Shining and Kubrick merely adapted it. In fact, people tend to forget most of Kubrick's movies were adaptation. Dr. Strangelove? Loosely based on "Red Alert". Lolita? Everyone knows it is Nabokov. A Clockwork Orange? Anthony Burgess. 2001: Space Odyssey? Inspired by shorts stories of Clarke, the co-author. Eyes Wide Shut? A 1920s German book, Traumnovelle. And so forth and so forth...

  Hum. Sorry for the rant. I just needed to explain why I always want to take in consideration the original material when tackling an adaptation.  But since I haven't read and can't get this book, I will mostly rely myself on the Wikipedia plot and other reviews I read. If you wonder, yes, Roger S. Baum is Baum's great-grandson (or great-great-grandson?), and he wrote "Dorothy of Oz" as a direct sequel to the first book, "The Wizard of Oz", ignoring all of the others, and... apparently he is not a really good writer. But anyway... I still decided to do a little something about this movie, because... well just because I wanted    Oh yeah, another thing... an elephant in the room I have to adress right now. I only discovered it this year, by doing research about the movie (because before I only saw it at the time of its released and then forgot about it). You can know it, or completely ignore it - yes, I know that this whole movie was the result of a huge scam that robbed hundreds of people out of their money, and that the case has been even brought to trial. But... well the movie is still here, people still saw it, it is still around, will be for still quite a long time, and it is now part of the Oz inheritance, that you want it or not. Anyway, a lot of Oz movies had a dark and troubled production. It seems almost like a pre-requisite: if you do an Oz movie, you'll never end happy. Maybe it is a curse? Who knows.

       So... let's get into the subject. Is "Dorothy's Return" a bad movie? (I'll use this name, because "Legends of Oz" was the name of the intended franchise of three, maybe ten movies). I wouldn't say so. A lot of people said it was crap, or worthless, but I wouldn't call it bad. People also said that it is a bland movie, and I would say yes - but only partially. I think a good lot of the extreme bad reactions were caused because of 1- people who just disliked the idea of more Oz adaptations, 2- people too old for this movie, because you have to remember that this is a movie aiming at children and 3- people who are hard-die fans of the MGM movie and not so much of the original Oz books. It may also play in account that Dorothy's Return was roughly released the same year, and played as a "rival" to "Oz the Great and Powerful".

    Now, note that it isn't a memorable movie (except for a few bits). It isn't an excellent movie. It isn't a cult classic (even though it may become it with the whole scam background, who knows?). It isn't something I would watch again and again with pleasure. It isn't something exceptionnal or groundbreaking, it is even quite generic. But, it has some good parts, and it manages to be entertaining, and honestly as a child I could have sit in front of it and watch it with no problem. Because, yes, it is a children movie. The action is rushed, the characters lack depth, some moments are too sugary-sweet or even cringy (for exemple the song "We'll work together". Seriously, I just looked away and sped up a bit because that was too sickening-sweet for me.) As a result, as a child movie they missed things that could have been really good (the old tree agreeing to be use for a boat, which is played straight up as him being killed, the characters even say so, but then it turns out he is still alive as a boat? You could have had a great, deep, fascinating almost philosophical moment, but you just waste it for a happy ending). Anyway, what was I saying? Yes, a children movie. As a result, some people called the movie "too simple". On the other side, people called the story "too confusing".

  To an Oz fan like me, it isn't actually confusing. It isn't at all - but indeed, for someone with a limited knowledge of Oz, it will be confusing. Because, while they base themselves on an Oz book that re-uses many elements from the books (the Queen of the Field Mices, the Sawhorse, the China Country...) it also decided to include a lot of elements from the MGM movie (the Wicked Witch of the West is the one from the MGM, Glinda is also quasi-identical from her MGM counterpart, the Winged Monkeys work with the evil people...). As a result, yeah, it may be confusing. But the inclusion of the MGM elements actually managed to correct some flaws of the original story. For exemple, in Roger S Baum's book, the Jester was merely a normal jester possessed by the ghost of the Wicked Witch of the West, through her magic wand. Wait, magic wand? There wasn't any magic wand mentionned in the original book! But in the movie, to use the broomstick of the Wicked Witch makes much more sense.

      I'll take a short time here to comment on the character of the Jester, who is, I think, the highest point of this movie. He is a good villain. A cliché but interesting backstory cashing on the idea of Oz vilains as siblings, a clear shout-out to the Joker which isn't so bad, interesting plans. He is also the provider of many nightmarish elements (the fate of Dorothy's companions, which I think was a very good idea, or the people turning into puppets and being used for a creepy dance) that made this Oz movie feel... well Ozian. Because a good Oz work is a work that will traumatize your kids! I guess a bit part of why the Jester works so well is that he basically repeats and remakes all his sister, the Wicked Witch, did in the MGM movie, and let's be honest, she was a great villain. (And this again makes sense when you remember the Jester is originally supposed to be possessed by the Witch's ghost). But at the same time he has his distinctive signature and style, with his Jester persona, his circus-related punishment and his personal plots to conquer Oz. [People noticed obviously the sweet irony of things in this movie. You have a double-character that, on the Earth world is a cheater and criminal trying to steal people of their houses and using several fake identities, while in Oz it is a villain that turns people into puppets he can manipulate and relies mostly on cheating and misleading Dorothy to her doom. Which is eerily similar to what the creators of the movie/franchise did with their financers and investors.]

  Talking about the Earth side... The whole "earthly" parts are all bland and not memorable. Just like Dorothy, who isn't really... anything to be honest. The songs sung aren't memorable either. All of that is a fail. A lot of people also considered the Earthly animation uncanny, or even disturbing, but I personally wasn't bugged by it at all. I saw much more uncanny animation.

    When it comes to the Oz part, I actually think they managed to create a perfect "Ozian story". As in, the general schema of the girl entering in Oz through an uncommon mean (here a people-eating rainbow, that I have to say was quite a scary scene to look at), then passing through many small kingdoms, meeting new friends, forming a team, discovering the villain and fighting him off - this plot was repeated by Baum times and times and times again, and probably comes from the original novel Dorothy of Oz. But it still works, as simple as it can be. Plus, the use of the China Country and the Candy County (I think its their name?) was quite a good choice. The China Country was one of Baum's earliest invention, while the Candy County (originating from the Roger S Baum book) is eerily similar to the Bunbury village, an invention of Baum, inhabited by living baked goods that also get angry at the protagonists for trying to eating them. Yes, all in all, the characters feel really Ozian. As for the other member of the team, "Wiser the Owl". Well... he had the potential to feel an interesting and Baum-ian character. But it falls flat because he just becomes one living fat joke. I mean, fat jokes can be funny. But when the character is mostly the joke itself well... yeah, not really working. He had a much interesting role in the prequel comic book.  

   Because yes, there is a comic book associated with this movie! As I said before, originally the project was to create a franchise of several movies, with toys, goodies, applications and video games. (Or at least that was the project the scam used). The comic is however found under the original title for the movie "Dorothy of Oz". I don't have much to say about it, outside that is was quite pleasing (even though it sometimes doesn't make sense when put in direct relationship to the movie), and that it introduced one interesting idea: that the magic of the broomstick/Witch relied mostly on manipulating the weather and nature. The Jester causes a flood to destroy the Munchkin town, he causes an earthquake to break the China Country, he uses heatwaves to melt the Candy County... And another interesting point, the role of Wiser. Indeed, in the movie he is presented as a "motor-mouth" that keeps talking about everything, knows a lot of stuff and has the tendency to finish other people's sentences. But it gets quickly overshadowed by the fat jokes (cause a big part of his character is that he used to be able to fly but now, because of his love for candy, he is too fat to fly). However, in the comic book he has rather the role of the one voice of reason and intelligence that offers down-to-earth, simple solutions to problems where the other Ozians search for more extravagant and magical possibilities. Exemple (SPOILERS: when trying to create a rainbow, the team searches everywhere, thinks of asking witches, wizards and candy makers. Wiser has to remind them that anybody can create a rainbow with just a good crystal and some light. SPOILER ENDING.)  

   (I actually read the comic book before looking at the movie, which may explain why I consider it better than the movie.) To return to my opinion on the movie... Not the greatest Oz movie, but certainly not the worst. Average, but on the good side. Entertaining and interesting, even though bland and generic. They got the feeling of an Oz story but they just didn't found a way to freshen up or make the story shine on its own. A good villain for a heroine easy to forget. Simple. Ideal for children, or to kill time, or just to inspire one for more Oz work.

[spiffyspuffy]

My Mystic Messenger Opinions

(That no one asked for)

Zen

Character: 8/10 I know a lot of people think Zens annoying but I find him endearing. One of the best things about this game is the complexity of the characters and I love that Zen’s cockiness is actually how he hides his insecurities. Even though he’s egotistical about himself, he’s never shallow with MC. He says multiple times that he doesn’t care about MC’s looks. He loves her for who she is and shows this in how he makes an effort to get to know her and be her cheerleader everyday. An underrated thing about Zen is how emotionally intelligent he is. He’s great at helping the RFA members when they need emotional support (Yoosung’s grief over loosing Rika, Jaehee crying from the stress of her job and MC’s shock at almost being kidnapped). 

Route: 2/10 Zen is a great character and he deserves a better route. The false rape accusation plot is horrible and offensive. Also, his route functions as an introduction to the game’s plot, so it’s exposition heavy and lacks action. The creators said that the lesson of his route is that when our insecurities are handled in a healthy way, they can push us to be better people. I love this message and I wish it had been highlighted more in his route.

Romantic Potential: 9/10 Zen is arguably the most dateable of all the characters. He’s a bad boy without being sketchy. He’s protective without being possessive. He’s kind without being a pushover and he’s smart without being pretentious. His biggest drawbacks are his overconfidence and and how busy he is with working. There aren’t any glaring red flags. 

~ More under the cut ~ 

Jeahee

Character: 7/10 I love this adorable theater nerd! She comes across as formal and stuffy at first, but reveals herself to be passionate and funny the more you get to know her. I gave her a lower score because she does have a strong personality that rubs me the wrong way sometimes (her jealousy of MC in Zen’s route, her lack of sympathy towards Jumin in her own route and her general rudeness towards Yoosung). She is the most mature of the RFA though, so her exasperation is warranted. Being mature and grounded also makes Jaehee the least complex Mysme character. I’ve got a lot of respect for her though!

Route: 5/10 Getting to engage in discourse about capitalism and the patriarchy? Amazing and hands down the best part of her route. It’s really inspiring to see Jaehee stand up for herself and choose to follow her dreams. I think it’s important for every young person to hear that they should have a positive work/life balance and demand that their employer supports that. Other highlights are Seven helping Jaehee by making the Power Point presentation for Jumin’s cat project, getting to fangirl with Jaehee over Zen and the creepy stalker plot. I thoroughly enjoy her route and the only reason the score is so low is because some of the other routes are seriously incredible.

Romantic Potential: 8/10 Jeahee doesn’t have any red flags either. I think she’s perfectly capable of having a healthy, romantic relationship with MC. The biggest issue standing in their way is Korea’s bias against lesbian relationships. As a fellow coffee lover and theater enthusiast though, I could definitely see myself or someone similar having a happy life with her, even if it might have to be in secret.

Yoosung

Character: 6/10 I can’t stand people who aren’t competent. Yoosung is a terrible cook, he barely cleans and he doesn’t pay attention to his studies. On top of that, 80% of his personality is that he’s a gamer AND he’s in love with his “dead” adopted cousin. Yuck. ~ But ~ I understand that he’s depressed and depression can seriously effect someone’s executive functioning. Taking all of those negatives away, we’re left with a young man who’s trying to his best to be taken seriously, which is something I can relate to. It’s nice to see imposter syndrome represented and I admire his loyalty to his friends. 

Route: 8/10 This route is sooo good! Who can forget the night when the RFA starts being aggressively stalked by Minty Eye? And the pic Zen takes of a believer looking at him through his apartment window...chills. His route only gets better from there when he infiltrates Mint Eye with Seven. This is the first time we get to see the twins interact and damn, is it confusing. But in a good way!!   The biggest drawback is that MC is stuck in Rika’s apartment and doesn’t play much of an active role in the story. 

Romantic Potential: 7/10 Despite all the negatives I listed about Yoosung, I do think he’s capable of have a healthy, romantic relationship with MC. Yoosung is also the only true sub of the RFA men, which is a definite plus for some players. Yoosung’s yandere side is a huge red flag though. MC better watch out if she doesn’t dote on him as much as he wants. Once he falls for her, he’s all in. 

Jumin

Character: 5/10 Unpopular opinion, but I hate Jumin. I understand that he’s some people’s guilty pleasure though. Jumin’s good aspects are that he’s intensely loyal, an animal lover and has a dry sense of humor. I appreciate how devoted he is to the RFA and it’s members. He offers to help Zen multiple times (albeit rejected), sends everyone body guards in his route and pays the hospital in the SE to keep Saeran’s identity top secret. What I’m not a fan of is the way he obsesses over MC and traps her in his house. This isn’t the first time he’s shown obsessive tendencies either. Seven explicitly states that Jumin acted this way with Rika in the past. Huuuge red flag.  

Route: 3/10 His entire route is fraught with rich people problems. I’m supposed to sympathize with him for an arranged marriage? All he had to do was say no. His father couldn’t force him. He’s possessive of MC because women have only ever wanted to be with him for his money? Not an excuse. Elizabeth going missing was a vaguely interesting story line, but Jumin’s relationship with his cat was cringey enough to overshadow the drama of it for me.

Romantic Potential: 3/10 Jumin has some serious issues. He’s never had a good female role model which has given him a deep seeded hatred of women. Remember when he tells MC that respecting women goes against his core beliefs? Yikes. Then, after meeting a woman who respects him and he actually likes, he locks her up and tries to change everything about her (cutting her hair, buying her a new wardrobe, teaching her the ‘proper’ way to walk, etc). We’re supposed to believe Jumin learns to be better by the end of his route, but he still proposes to MC after only a week of knowing her! I’m having a hard time picturing Jumin in a healthy relationship. 

Saeyoung

Character: 10/10 I’m not saying Saeyoung is a good person. Far from it actually. But he IS very well written and extremely interesting. In the other routes, Saeyoung is energetic and funny, bringing much needed humor to heavy moments. It’s always a joy being in a chatroom with him. Then you have the reveal that he actually hates his job and that he was faking his personality, all to a sad and slowed down version of his theme song. This plot twist shook me to my core. What makes him so well written is that the devs did a good job dropping hints to his real personality in the other routes that players might not notice during their first play through. 

Route: 9/10 This route is a wild ride from start to finish. This is when the plot threads from the other routes come together and start make sense. This route has secret agents, assassins, a deadly bomb, kidnapping, an evil twin, a powerful cult... It’s action heavy while still carrying enough emotional weight to make me cry every time. Saeyoung’s route is heavy and emotional and sooo worth playing. 

Romantic Potential: 6/10 Saeyoung has a shady job and a complicated past. Choosing to be with him means putting your life in danger every day. If you’re okay with that, he’d be a decent romantic partner. He’s a little rough around the edges, but I do think he has potential to become more like his ideal self (God Seven) after reading his AE. He’ll always have that mean and serious side to him, but I don’t think he’s hopeless. 

V

Character: 4/10 He’s low-key the worst. I sympathize with his trauma from being abused by Rika, but I don’t understand why he feels the need to fix everything by himself. Rika might be the source of most problems in this game, but V is partially responsible for standing by and letting her get away with everything. 

My first issue with him comes from encouraging Saeyoung to join the agency. I know Saeyoung didn’t have many options, but how was encouraging him to train to become a hacker and assassin the best option?! On top of that, he stalked Zen per Rika’s request and took creeper photos of him, failed miserably at protecting Saeran and don’t get me started on how he loves Rika unconditionally. V has some good characteristics but I really don’t care about those when he’s so terrible otherwise. 

Route: 10/10 This route is *chef’s kiss* the BEST. I wouldn’t call it a romance since Vs barely in it but damn is it riveting. Saeran is the perfect amount of loving and unhinged, MC get’s to know Rika on a personal level and V finally gets to be active instead of just reactive like he is in all the other routes. It’s also  satisfying to find out how much V has been keeping secret and to get a glimpse into Rika’s psyche. But what really makes V’s route stand out among the rest is that there are spy action scenes like in Saeyoung’s route, but the player also gets to spend time in Mint Eye.

Romantic Potential: 7/10 I’ll be honest. I don’t think V will ever be able to move on from Rika. He’ll always love her, as evidence in his AE. Besides that drawback, I do think he’d be a good romantic partner for MC. V was never the issue in his past relationship with Rika. She was the abusive one and he was 100% the victim. I think he would treat MC just as well in their relationship as he treated Rika. 

Saeran

Character: 7/10 I know I’m not the only one who loved the suave and cunning Saeran of the main routes who, after getting the therapy he needed, became an adorably shy and awkward man. Sadly, that’s not the character we got in AS. Instead, we met Ray, the split personality of Saeran’s psyche. Ray is charming and sweet as well as possessive and manipulative...which is something I’m into. But it’s not for everyone. Saeran’s real personality in AS is revealed to be angry and abusive and not at all similar to who he was in the main routes. I’ll give Cheritz props for writing a fairly accurate portrayal of disassociative identity disorder, but I think Saeran’s characterization is inconsistent. I get the impression Ray was an afterthought when creating AS. 

Route: 7/10 A mixed bag for me. I really enjoy any chatroom/scene with Ray. He’s undeniably creepy, but those scenes were entertaining in a dark romance kind of way. On the other hand, the Saeran scenes had a lot of unrealized potential. Abuse is never cool. All his route needed to fix this was a scene where Saeran explained to MC that he was pretending to hate her to appease Rika and the other believers. While this fake hatred is implied, I think it needed to be outright stated. It’s also hard to believe that Saeran overcame his DID in the course of one night. I know all routes are limited to 11 days, but this one needed more. Highlights of this route are Saeyoung being kidnapped by his father and of course, dark Yoosung with Elizabun. 

Romantic Potential: 7/10 I truly do believe that Saeran could go on and live a happy life in any of the endings where he escapes Mint Eye and receives therapy. While we only get a glimpse of what an emotionally stable Searan looks like, we know that he was kind and attentive with MC. Saeran is a giver and would do anything to make MC happy. Red flags are that Searan is still clingy at the end of his route. Yoosung makes a comment that he’s always holding MC’s hand when he sees them together. Also, his DID is something that will occasionally return and that’s something MC has to go into their relationship knowing. 

[the-hot-zone]

@agentcalliope THE REVIEW GOT TOO LONG FOR AO3′S REVIEW BOX AND WOULDN’T LET ME POST IT SO HERE IT IS. I’M SORRY IT’S SO LONG BUT I REALLY LIKE YOUR FIC SDKSDK

I mean firstly, the only thing I can say after reading this is, wow. Wow. Holy shit, wow. They way everything builds--the capitalization, the punctuation, the epithets, the prose--to demonstrate on both a subconscious and conscious level how Azula develops. The reader is comprehending these words, but also they’re registering the way you use spacing, punctuation, and capitalization, forcing the reader to slow down/stop/keep reading at certain parts, which creates a flow that a) sounds like Azula b) portrays her mental state and c) shows her development. It’s like a crescendo of writing conventions that never stops moving, and god I just. I’m fangirling a lil bit over your writing. There’s not a wasted line, space, italicization, quotation mark, period, comma, or word in this fic. Everything serves a purpose, and the way it builds--just. Wow. I can see the work you put into editing and revising this, and I want you to know that you’ve communicated your point extremely well. I’m moved. As a reader, I’m in tears. As a writer, I’m floored (and I’m taking notes.) God, okay, time to get specific.

The stylization. This is one of my fav writing styles--the blend of poetry and narration--that I don’t get to see a whole lot, and it’s hard to pull off. I really feel like you’ve used that style to its full potential; in your hands, it feels like that style was made to tell Azula’s story. I really, really like this, so I hope you don’t mind if I talk about why? Which means analyzing; analyzing is my love language, and I love your fic, truly.

In the beginning of the fic, she is “the girl;” she is “a princess,” not “Azula.” This shows how, with her defeat, Azula has lost herself completely (”someone is screaming who is screaming”). Ozai built her for a role she no longer has, so she has lost her identity, her sense of self. So, when she accepts the identity of monster, that is something she must unlearn through Iroh and for herself.

The first time the reader reads Azula’s name (as “azula), it’s isolated by a line break and positioned right after a long, run-on thought from Azula (”he doesn’t look quite...”) and before “the boy says.” This shows how Azula’s name, her identity, is separate from a) her inner monologue and thus her sense of self and b) how she perceives the world around her (outside of dialogue). And this further illustrates the importance of dialogue in this fic; dialogue is the connection from her inner monologue to how she perceives the world. Thus, later in the fic, when Iroh speaks the first line of quotation-mark-surrounded dialogue, it shows how he gets through to her. AH THE WAY YOU BUILD EVERYTHING UP.  Also, her description of Ozai in this scene as “the person she knows to love” has so much meaning. It’s like a lesson she’s learned, a fact she’s been taught: to love Ozai. The way you inject so much meaning into line breaks, and the layers of depth you add to single lines. Immaculate. I can really describe it as masterful.

Azula finally refers to herself as “azula” once Zuko says “I will never give up on you” Not only that, however, but the first time she refers to him as “zuko” instead of “the boy” is also when he says “I will never give up on you.” Also, that same piece of dialogue contains “uncle never gave up on me,” which shows how Uncle’s patience connects both Azula and Zuko in their respective healing journeys. Which, oh my god, I love Uncle’s role in Azula’s healing in this fic. His remorse for leaving her with Ozai is so tangible and painful to read. I love how you portray his characters; he comes off the page as Uncle Iroh; his characterization is so strong.

But the scene after Azula finally refers to herself as “azula,” Suki comes in. For one, “zuko and katara beat you or did you forget?” is written with a question mark, showing the significant of that line and how it affects Azula, shown in “azula screams.” Azula connects the person who is screaming with herself; she is still fracturing due to her loss. (Because her loss of the Agni Kai is symbolic of like, her failing everything Ozai built her up to be: the opposite of Zuko.)

The scene where Aang comes is where punctuation in Azula’s inner monologue first appears:  “the avatar’s gray eyes are soft and full of sympathy and it makes her angry.” I feel like this is her echoing Ozai’s sentiments, especially with “a princess is not pathetic.” Patheticness was something Azula had always associated with Zuko, so these lines sound a lot like Ozai to me. But “not made to be pitied” is next, without any punctuation. This is because pity is a new emotion for her to face, and she does not associate it with “a princess,” seen in the later lines “now the girl sees not pity but weakness” What’s important here is that Azula is “a girl” again. Aang’s pity is the antithesis to Ozai; peace where he sees bloodshed and war, and it blindsides her. Bro I just, the way you communicate Ozai’s presence so subtly yet so strongly... the talent.

Also: “it makes me feel sad for you the avatar answers“ Stop making me cry!!! THAT LINE WAS HEARTBREAKING. The snippets of Aang in this fic were lovely to read.

iirc, the first full line we get, capitalized, with punctuation, is when Toph is talking to Azula: “I just wanted to tell you that I know what it's like to have Expectations to have parents that expect certain things of you. It sucks. but you suck too. no wonder everyone hates you.”

THE LAYERS OF MEANING:

a) Expectations is capitalized, showing the significance of expectations to Azula; her mind latches onto it. (I love the significance of expectations throughout this fic and how the play into Azula’s sense of identity and healing jdkfkfAHH like with the TEA.)

b) This is where Azula’s “new” sense of self as “monster” begins to develop. “but you suck too. no wonder everyone hates you.” Both are short and with periods, showing the weight of Toph’s words.

When Katara sees Azula, iirc, we get the longest string of sentences with periods so far. Periods are becoming more common, showing how Azula’s identity is beginning to come together, but it’s an identity as monster: “your own brother. you’re disgusting. you’re a monster.” The repetitiveness and switch between your and you’re is almost like a rhythm, pounding “you’re a monster” into Azula’s head. After Katara leaves, we get the first full sentence Azula says: “I’ve never pretended to be anything else.”

Azula sees herself as a monster; she’s seeing the weight of her past actions.

When Iroh arrives, we get the longest string of sentences WITH capitalization in this point of the fic (I think): “It’s sweet. You have always loved sweet tea, my niece. A fascinating contrast.” And a new identity is introduced: my niece.

When Azula asks for Uncle after the nightmare, we get the first time a name is capitalized in the fic: Uncle. Not even Ozai has “father” capitalized. This shows Iroh’s significance in her healing journey. Not only that, but Uncle is the one that comes to her, not Ozai. This contrast between Ozai’s absence and Uncle’s presence is what begins to allow Azula to heal--and what ultimately helps her truly stay on the path of healing. I love how you build up the notion of Ozai not being there for Azula, not coming to get her. The way it culminates in the end feels like such strong, real development because of your build-up.

Once Uncle begins to visit regularly, your writing becomes more abundant with “proper” sentences. This is one of my fav examples of this:

“Uncle continues to bring her sweet tea. He talks to her. He sits next to her as she leans against the wall and speaks many tales of spirits and beautiful women. azula almost looks forward to his visits. Almost.”

Every sentence except the one that begins with “azula’ is capitalized. She’s not there yet, with her identity, but Uncle is there. And when Azula says “but I am a monster,” the fic gets its first line of quotation-enclosed dialogue:

“Oh, my dear. My beautiful niece. I don’t believe that.”

And then, right after that, we get “Princess Azula.” This is the first time Azula is capitalized, and Uncle says it. But Azula is the one perceiving the dialogue; she is accepting “Princess Azula.” Sure enough, right after that, we get this:

“Azula narrows her eyes suspiciously.”

The first time Azula refers to herself in her inner monologue as Azula. FINALLY. FUCK. This is one of the most satisfying developments in this fic, when Azula finally sees herself as “Azula,” even if she’s not all the way there yet. Your build-up makes this moment feel amazing.

Another thing I loved was how Azula is obsessed with getting the tea perfect; the tea is a reflection of herself; “She will make his jasmine tea, and she will make it precisely the way it is expected to be.”

HIS jasmine tea. Not HER jasmine tea. This shows that she’s trying to fit a mold she thinks Iroh has for her; she will make the tea as it is expected to be; SHE will be exactly as she is expected to be.

But when she fails, Iroh simply says “Let’s try it again.” When Azula fails to be “perfect,” pain and fear isn’t waiting for her. Iroh is. So when Iroh says,

“I am just an old man looking forward to trying his niece’s cup of tea, which she has worked hard on.”

This is so important. It is HIS NIECE’S (Azula’s) cup of tea, which SHE has worked hard on. In other words, it is Azula’s healed identity that she has worked hard on, and it is “one of the best teas I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing in my life.” Just. The symbolism. Fuck. So good. 

Then, in the next scene, she tells Zuko to tell Aang she’s sorry. This brings back Sokka’s earlier words, “you won't ever apologize for what you’ve done or bear responsibility for your actions and we both know it.” BUT AZULA IS UNLEARNING, and that is tangible development, babey. In a way, Sokka was right, because the “you” he was talking to wasn’t the Azula that’s now wanting to apologize to Aang. Azula as “Azula” didn’t exist then; now she does. I can’t this fucking fic I am STUNNED. The way you introduce and maintain concepts to develop Azula’s journey... It’s amazing AH

“Azula cradles her own cup in her hands and breathes in the steam, letting it cling to her face.“ Bro I just wanted to say that this line gave me brilliant imagery. You perfectly described how it feels to hold a mug of something warm and breathe it in, like ahhh the sensory imagery was so VIVID.

“Zuko tears off a piece of bread, and places it on her palm. She looks down at it, her hand without crackling cackling blue fire. The only blue is the water, beautiful and clear.” Thinking bout the contrast, and how the color blue used to separate her from the world; now it joins her to it (turtleducks.) YOUR LAYERS. Another contrast I love was the one between “red drapes that used to block out the sun when it rises every morning” and “basking in Agni’s light.” This reminds me of the Sun Warriors and Zuko learning the true meaning of fire, as something full of life and light, not something that only burns. That was my favorite contrast throughout the fic, and the most meaningful to me. 

Azula saying “Why not?” to Sokka was everything I need in life.

“Azula brings herself out of the palace, and back into the prison.“ Ozai is her prison. The wording. THE WORDING SAYS SO MUCH. The way she comes to Ozai--but. He never came for her. Uncle did. She has new experiences and a new sense of self; she’s not the Azula she was, and she’s not the Azula Ozai is expecting. So when you write

“Because he has made Azula into Azula, and he has done it well.”

and she walks away, it’s a defiance of everything she’s been, everything she was forced to be. Azula made Azula into Azula, and she understands this.

“This is not what she was made for.” is a recognition that Ozai forced her into a role that was never for kindness, for love, for acceptance, for change. As she learns and unlearns, unmakes her identity as a monster, she’s understanding that Ozai never intended for Azula to be her own Azula. And this means she sees the world through her own eyes, not Ozai’s:

“his eyes not wounded and sad but fierce and soft and she knows what he’s saying isn’t a lie.”

JUST. The way you built this fic. You saw more than words as your tools, and I am honestly in awe of the way you used writing conventions. This fic is so strong because you literally made everything about Azula; Azula is this fic. THE ARTISTRY. I really, really hope you’re proud of the story you’ve built. Thank you for writing.

(ALSO TOPH WAS EVERYTHING I NEEDED AND MORE.)

[the-odd-job]

Harem AU Chapter 11 - How’s the Heart?

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe/Starscream, Sideswipe/Starscream/Megatron/Sunstreaker Characters: Megatron, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Starscream, Skywarp, Twin Twist, Topspin, Unnamed Characters Additional Tags: Hurt & Comfort, Referenced Orgy, Public Sex, Rape, Sticky, Deepthroat, Coercion, Mindgames, Sex Related Injury Words: 12857

Fair winds, my love Fly towards the calm Fly utterly lost Towards a beating heart, a beating heart

How is that heart Underneath the silence? How is the one Drowning in the mire?

— Nightwish – How's the Heart?

( Previous )

They’d found their way to their own cots at the back of the room at some point during the night. The memories were hazy, again, exhaustion muddling their thoughts, but it had to have happened after the damn signal was turned off.

At least… At least Megatron had somewhat lost interest in them after he’d come in Sideswipe’s mouth. He had waved them off to the side and called other, more obedient members of the harem to see to him—using their mouths, having them ride his spike, kissing them, everything and anything, and the lot of looked like they were enjoying themselves as they practically (and sometimes literally) kissed the damned mech’s pedes.

But somewhat forgotten, the twins had slipped off the berth, only to collapse onto the floor, unable to overcome the weakness in their limbs from too many overloads, from too great arousal, from too much emotion.

The other mates, not called to the dais, came for them, gently guiding them from the floor and onto the cots where they welcomed them with open arms, ignored Sunstreaker’s growls and Sideswipe’s pleas and used their valves, their spikes—relieved them with murmurs of how it was okay, there was no need to fight it, how they should just let go and listen to their crazed protocols. Because what else could they do?

There were overloads. So many of them, the stench of lubricant and transfluid so heavy he was surprised the air hadn’t dripped.  

Primus. He wasn’t even sure which was worse, Megatron or the other mates. Megatron was cruel, uncaring, only interested in what they could give him and how he could have exactly what he wanted. The mates, they veiled their rape in kindness, like they were helping, guiding them into an awakening—and they had helped, because he wasn’t sure their systems wouldn’t have entirely burned out if they’d tried to fight their arousal, the protocols, for too long. The mates had helped them dispel some of that, enough of it that it didn’t straight up kill them. 

But all of it had been… So unwanted. And after their frames had tired too much, it had turned into a dream, out of focus—or what he’d wished was just a dream. A very, very bad dream disguised in a good one, a pleasurable one, the kind that you could overload from without any external stimulus. 

It wasn’t a dream, though, and he couldn’t deny it had happened—not with the harem wing still surrounding them with its warm colors, smell of all permeating interface, the berthroom with its many cots… And the other mates. There were contended rumbles coming from elsewhere in the room, satiated cuddling, quiet laughter… Everyone spent in the best—worst—of ways. Even the frag crazed fraggers the mates were, were calm for the time. No one was interfacing, just… Enjoying the afterglow.

And he couldn’t deny the afterglow himself. His frame was buzzing pleasantly, the damned protocols that had been so wholly turned against him now laying dormant, disinterested in the way of being fully sated, thanking him for all the attention he’d given them.

Without wanting to.

They sat on their cot, the one closer to the wall, their backs to the rest of the room, trying to forget everyone else and everything they had done to them. Sideswipe was fiddling with his servos, scraping his claws together, his spark spinning too fast.

Sunstreaker sat, elbows on his knees and his helm clutched in his servos.

It wasn’t fine. None of it was fine, no matter what the other mates said. Sideswipe was hurting so badly, unable to shake off the memories Megatron had brought to the forefront to break his resistance. My Lord. 

Pits. Everything he’d been made to do under his own power, to show respect he didn’t feel, didn’t want to give. Made to wait there, in the solitude and quiet of Megatron’s berthroom for when the tyrant would come back and abuse him some more, never knowing when that would be or what it would bring.

Fuel and relative freedom dangled in front of him to force him to cooperate.

He couldn’t believe Sideswipe wasn’t crying as those memories spun around in his helm, joined by the ones from last night

Sunstreaker wasn’t sure he was feeling much better, even if tears were beyond him too. Everything Megatron had done… During the time he’d spent alone with him, then the relief of several days of nothing, only for that to be… Shattered.

Denied an overload, so aroused he thought he might die from it—denied, until he spoke the things Megatron wanted.

He couldn’t believe, now, that he’d given in so easily, that he’d thanked that monster, that he’d asked for his spike… How could he have been so desperate? The memory of the need in his frame surely didn’t compare to what it was like in the moment, but still he couldn’t believe it.

Never again. Could he promise that much to himself? Promise that he’d never again thank him, never again beg for him?

He wanted to, but his spark cracked with the almost certain knowledge that anything he would promise, any resistance he could offer… That Megatron would only break it, one way or another. 

It hurt. It hurt in both of them, and the pain echoed between them, bouncing back and forth until it didn’t matter whose it was. It was theirs. Their pain over the hell they’d gotten stuck in.

How he missed Iacon and its gutters, the low life of scraping by—it was so much better than this.

But it had had its risks and its dangers, and they had fallen victim to those, only to end up in here.

They were rested now. Low on energon, but rested, and their fuel levels would be easily fixed if they dragged themselves to the dining hall. It was hard to find the will to move, though—easier to get caught up in their looping thoughts.

Starscream, too. He was a peculiar one. By all appearances… What? What was he? It was like he hated wasting time on them, but from the beginning he had taken the role of showing them around, showing them their place, telling them what they needed to do and how they needed to do it—performing the near administrative tasks like giving them their language files and asking what they were good for.  

And yesterday… Acting as if he was keeping the harem itself safe, forcing them to please Megatron when they would have fought—why did he do that? Because Megatron was in a mood, and that made him more dangerous than usual?

What was Starscream’s role in all of this? It was like he was the secondary leader of the harem. Was there a pecking order, then, one that Starscream was at the very top of, only bowing to Megatron and… The other free mechs, probably. It didn’t look like Starscream was free in any shape or form. He lived and fucked in the harem just like the rest of them, only ever briefly leaving—always returning.

Did Starscream care enough, despite the appearance he put forth, that he was intent on keeping the harem members safe? And he was likely the one who had started the event chain that had led Sunstreaker to have his drawing tablet. Maybe Megatron needed to have approved that, but wasn’t it Starscream who had asked what they did, and said he’d made note of it?

The one who had likely brought it up with Megatron, made the request?

It was as confusing as the rest of what the mates did and how they acted. 

Once again they could hear thrusters hitting the floor with every step, approaching them, but when they turned to look it was Skywarp, not Starscream. He was carrying two cubes and smiled at them when he had their attention. “I figured you’d be as hungry as the rest of us! Here,” he said, offering both of the cubes to them. 

Sideswipe took them a bit automatically, blinking at them only after they were both in his servos already.

Sunstreaker could feel him shrugging mentally before he passed one of the cubes to him. It appeared their contents were identical, down to their warmth and flavor

“Thanks,” Sideswipe murmured quietly before taking a sip. As usual, the energon was fragging delicious, and as full of energy as midgrade just could be. Sunstreaker followed suit and began to drink his own, giving his frame the fuel it very much needed. 

“You’re welcome! And thanks for last night, by the way. Megatron wasn’t in the best of moods, but you really took the edge off him,” Skywarp carried on, rocking on his heels and looking like he genuinely meant what they said.

Had they taken one for the team or something?

They were quiet for a moment, drinking their energon, trying to… Trying to forget Skywarp’s participation in all of last night, before Sideswipe spoke up with their question. “What could have happened, if he was in a bad mood?”

Skywarp glanced away from them, his wings flicking like he was… Uncomfortable. Well, that was a first. 

But it probably said something about what Megatron could do when he was in a mood. “Nothing good,” Skywarp responded at length, shaking his helm. “He doesn’t always take it out on us or anything, but someone else out there might feel it before he comes to us.”

Out there. In the freedom.

And it was Skywarp admitting that Megatron sometimes mistreated them—by the sounds of it, even those that behaved themselves. 

So had last night gone well, considering they hadn’t lost limbs or had any physical parts broken? That Megatron had just raped them?

The twins shared a glance. They’d known, at least on some level, that Megatron was dangerous. Of course he was! He was fragging strong in all ways, powerful, and far too good at twisting everything into his favor… But Free Cybertron painted him as temperamental too, on top of being cruel as he had already proven to be.

They, though, had mostly seen him smug, amused, in control. Very few traces of any temper, any anger, no matter how they’d pushed.

But it was still there, wasn’t it? Under the surface, all the time. Were they lucky they hadn’t come to the receiving end of it? Probably.

And… Now what? Was it their job to bring the tyrant down from his more dangerous spells? That of the mates? Just… Frag him until he had burned out his anger and frustrations? 

Sideswipe bit his lip; Sunstreaker shook his helm. Some lot in life that was.

They had to get out.

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

They eventually dragged themselves to the washracks and took their sweet time making the most of the facilities provided for them, ridding themselves of the signs of the orgy, the countless pain transfers, scuffs, dried fluids inside and out. With the amount of imperfections it was going to be a long process anyway, but they lengthened it further for their own enjoyment.

They had no reason not to. Take what they could, use it to prop themselves up, until they were out of here.

Even if they were no closer to finding a way out. But it didn’t matter how long it took. It didn’t matter.

One day, they’d make it out.

In the meantime, in between working towards that one singular goal, they finished touching up their finishes until they were shining, glowing all over again—for themselves and for the joy of watching themselves from the mirrors, no one else—and then headed for the entertainment room, again, after a quick detour to their trunks for Sunstreaker to fetch his tablet. Pass the time with something pleasant, waiting for a chance to find a way out. 

They sat themselves on one of the lush couches against the wall opposite the door, Sideswipe watching the show on the main screen, Sunstreaker burying himself in his drawing. He wasn’t going to let this one thing be taken from him just because it had been turned against him in short order.

He wouldn’t stop using it just because slagging Megatron had made him thank him for it. Megatron wouldn’t have that victory. He wouldn’t ruin this.

And… The other mates. Slag, this wasn’t even the first time they’d forced themselves on them. It should’ve been expected, after the first orgy. Some of them were already in the entertainment room and others trickled in slowly… It wasn’t comfortable to be around them, not really, but pits. There wasn’t really anywhere to get away from them all, unless they wanted to return to hiding in the library. 

Wasn’t the best they could do just try to forget? They were stuck around the lot of them for now, anyway. They could hiss and growl at them all they wanted, but it wouldn’t change a damn thing.

He doubted it would make the other mates understand any more than slagging anything had so far. Anything they’d said or done, the others had only met with confusion. Why were the twins so upset, they’d wonder.

They were already too messed up to get it, so warped they couldn’t understand their position anymore. 

And they had to live surrounded by that for now… Frag. He’d be so happy to get to return to the outside world where mecha actually saw this shit as unacceptable. Like it was. Where they’d be rightly horrified by it.

Instead of… All this.

Sideswipe was frowning at the screen, but from his own distraction, it took Sunstreaker a moment to notice his thoughts running onto new tracks. Once he picked up on it, he glanced up at Sideswipe, who, by now, was passing his optics over the room in search of one pair of wings. 

As luck would have it, Skywarp was present, playing some board game with three other mates, laughing at whatever they were finding funny right then. Sunstreaker’s optics followed his brother as Sideswipe got up and wove his way past the furniture to them, seating himself next to Skywarp.

And tried not to think if any of them had fragged them last night, how many times, and in what ways.

“Hi, Sides!” Skywarp greeted him, as did the others, all offering smiles to him. “What’s up? Wanna join? There’s room for more!”

“Nah, I’m good just watching,” Sideswipe turned the invitation down with just a lopsided grin—not one his old, bright ones, full of zeal for life. Those Megatron had stolen from him, but… It was a grin all the same. He tried. “I was wondering if I could ask something, though.”

Skywarp looked at him curiously and the others followed suit, but the Seeker nodded. “Sure. Shoot away.”

“Okay, so, like half the stuff on tv and in the book files,” Sideswipe started, staring at the game board studiously, “the story ones, there’s almost always someone from Free Cybertron trying to get to or getting to Kaon, and then that’s like… The good ending. But I thought Kaon was closed to outsiders? Why does that theme just repeat?”

The other mates shared a few glances among each other, but Skywarp was the one who replied. “Well, that’s the dream, isn’t it?” he asked, and Sideswipe glanced up at him in confusion. Skywarp clarified, “To escape Unified Cybertron.”

Now Sideswipe frowned. They didn’t even call it Free Cybertron, although no one said anything to him for calling it that.

But they called it Unified Cybertron, just like everyone and everything else here. And while the word “unified” wasn’t necessarily or inherently full of negative connotations, in this context it absolutely was.  

And what the pit was this about escaping Free—Free—Cybertron? Into fragging Kaon of all places?

The damn hellhole where they’d been raped way too many times to count almost from the moment they’d crossed its borders? 

Sideswipe had a lot of things to say and a lot of anger to unleash, but instead all that came out was a quiet, “I don’t understand.”

Because he didn’t. He didn’t understand any of this. 

“Kaon is free of the Prime’s influence,” another of the mates answered. Topspin, maybe? He seemed to remember someone calling him that.

And… That was all he said. As if that explained everything.  

It didn’t. It didn’t explain a damn thing. Sideswipe’s frown deepened in even greater frustration and he scrubbed both of his servos down his face. And resisted the urge to just scream. Not even any words, just… Screm.

Screm.

That would’ve been real nice right about now, but at the same time, he didn’t really want to make a scene in the middle of the entertainment room. Who knew where that would get him. Maybe nothing would come out of it. At this point he doubted the other mates would’ve even understood why he was frustrated, why he was angry, why he felt fit to fragging explode… No matter how he voiced any of that.

They just lived their lives here, apparently happy to frag and get fragged and for some reason buying into this whole bullshit about Kaon being the Free part of Cybertron. That, despite the fact they were all trapped in the harem wing.

What was free about that?

“Anyway,” Skywarp spoke up again and Sideswipe peeked at him from between his digits, “It doesn’t happen a lot, that’s true. It’d be dangerous to let too many in, but they’re stories. Fantasy. Make believe. You know? You can toy with the best case scenarios there, no matter how unlikely they’d be in real life.”

Best case scenarios. 

Sideswipe groaned. Pits, his helm was going to start hurting at this rate, trying to make sense of how these mechs had been twisted into believing all the garbage shot at them from every direction like from the barrel of a goddamn machine gun. It was all… Upside down. Everything here was. Wrong way around in every way imaginable.

“Thanks,” he mumbled before he slipped off the seat and wandered back to Sunstreaker. His brother was watching him, frowning like he was, equally disturbed by the answers he’d gotten. 

Frag this place.

He flopped down next to his twin like he’d never left, but somehow he didn’t feel like watching the show as much anymore. Maybe he should play something instead. Sunstreaker had gone back to his drawing, happy to lose himself into his work, so he wasn’t going to be any entertainment.

Sideswipe turned on one of the smaller screens and browsed through the game library.

Someone noticed he was doing that. “Hey! Sideswipe– You’re Sideswipe, right?” a blue and white mech had turned around on one of the couches ahead of them and was looking straight at him.

“Yeah?” Sideswipe answered more than a little hesitantly. Had he… Done something wrong? He’d played the games before without anyone saying anything about it…

But no, it wasn’t like that. “I’m Twin Twist, nice to make our official introductions,” Twin Twist grinned at him before he gestured vaguely towards the screen Sideswipe had claimed for himself. “Wanna play Destiny’s Razor with me?”

Oh he liked that game, but he hadn’t tried its multiplayer property a lot yet.

It was an easy decision he came to after just a few seconds of considering it. Sideswipe grinned back and nodded. “Heck yeah.”

Twin Twist’s smile widened before he turned back around, picked the game and joined it, Sideswipe following suit—a bit of excitement curling in their spark.

Time to wreak some virtual havoc.

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

After a while of playing, Sideswipe took Twin Twist’s invitation to join him on the couch the other mech was sitting on, to better enjoy the game together. Sunstreaker didn’t mind being left behind to his art.

And Sideswipe knew him. If nothing and no one interrupted him, he could draw all day and all night, foregoing fueling and recharge if he hit the zone. And… There hadn’t been chances for that often, on the streets. They needed to earn their living, and it wasn’t safe to lose your focus of your surroundings like that.

Things were so different here. The only real threat was Megatron, otherwise they didn’t have too much to worry about.

But speak of the devil… Sideswipe didn’t pay much attention to the heavy pedesteps coming down the hall, too engrossed in shooting things, but the wave of arousal and excitement in the fields around them kicked both of the twins out of their tasks. 

Their confusion only lasted a moment. One glance at the door and their spark shrunk in on itself.

Megatron was standing there, looking at the room at large like it was all there for him, and it was. It was all for him, every last one of them. 

And there were so many to choose from and more crowded in the hallway behind him, fields all around them fluttering with hope that they would be picked to do whatever Megatron wanted of them this time. 

Not the twins’ fields though, and yet Megatron’s optics first landed on Sunstreaker, clutching onto his tablet for dear life, and then that red gaze passed everyone else before zeroing onto Sideswipe, staring back at him like a deer in the headlights.

Megatron entered the room properly and walked over to one of the couches up front and center. Its occupants moved out of the way at once and the tyrant sat down on it, reclining on the assuredly comfortable piece of furniture. Everyone kept a respectful distance from him, despite the eagerness that was swamping the room.

There were only two little dots that didn’t join in on the sentiment, and it was them that Megatron focused on. “Sunstreaker, Sideswipe. Come here.”

Sunstreaker growled, in no way motivated to do as he was told. Twin Twist nudged Sideswipe, jerking his helm towards Megatron. It was clear what everyone else thought: the order had been given, thus it should be obeyed.

Without delay.

They delayed until Megatron’s optics began to narrow, and from there on… It wasn’t their choice anymore. Starscream was on the move again, first marching over to Sideswipe and grabbing by a horn. Sideswipe’s squawk went completely ignored as Starscream simply dragged him over to Megatron and shoved him onto the couch next to him. Sideswipe laid still where he landed, his spark pulsing and rotating too fast for comfort—staring up at Megatron who met his gaze with something… Dangerous dancing in those red optics. 

Starscream fetched Sunstreaker too, and he was thrown onto Megatron’s other side. The other mates closed ranks around them. He couldn’t have run even if he’d wanted to.

And he wanted to. He didn’t want to be here, with his plating brushing against Megatron’s, the vibrations of the tyrant’s powerful engine traveling into him just so.

Megatron didn’t remove his optics from Sideswipe and Sideswipe couldn’t look away, not even when one of Megatron’s servos came to… Caress his cheek.

He shivered, from helm to pede. The touch was so unwanted, but fear rooted him in place.

He would’ve rather Megatron hit him. Not… This. Fake gentleness when he was sure Megatron didn’t have a gentle molecule in him. He was evil, rusted and rotten to his very core. 

Megatron only went on to prove that much with his next words. “Coax it out, Sideswipe.”

There wasn’t exactly a reason to ask what he was supposed to coax out. Not when they’d been here before, when he’d been given that order before—when he’d resisted, so fucking hard, or, or… He thought he had, anyway, before hunger had driven him into cooperation. 

“No,” Sideswipe said now, the shaking of his helm only stopped when Megatron caught a hold of his jaw—and that did nothing to stop the rest of his frame from shaking.

“That’s not what we say, is it, Sideswipe?” Megatron asked. Sunstreaker growled on his other side, but there was a flash of white, blue, and red, followed by angry cursing.

Starscream pinned Sunstreaker when his brother would have tried to intervene, would have tried to– To save him.

From this. From Megatron. Somehow. Could it have ever worked?

Shouldn’t they have tried anyway?

But they weren’t given the chance. 

Megatron’s grip on his jaw tightened as his silence stretched on, but it wasn’t pain that had tears running down Sideswipe’s cheeks in rivulets. It was bad enough when Megatron told that to him in private, told him to do things in private, when there was no one to see Sideswipe’s disgrace—no one to see him fail in trying to remain the master of his own life, his own fate.

He wasn’t that anymore. Not when his opposition was Megatron.  

But he wasn’t ready to just give up, especially not with everyone watching. The other mates, they were all rapt on them, quiet, but their hunger for Megatron’s attention reflected in their fields. A little more and they would’ve been downright jealous of the attention the brothers—Sideswipe—were getting. 

He’d gladly swap places with any of them, right now. 

Megatron’s thumb brushed across his lower lip, rough, then rougher yet on the second pass, but he didn’t repeat his question even as his grip began to tighten to an extent that was starting to threaten the integrity of his facial plates and all of the underlying structures. Sideswipe whined, but he wouldn’t say it, not again–

But then Megatron reached along the length of his far smaller frame, his claws brushing across his tightly closed valve cover, and then grabbing his aft. He remembered still. Of course he still remembered how much Sideswipe liked that. Pits, he was shaking so hard, and Megatron started to toy with his frame, fondling his aft, petting his valve cover, dragging his claws along the seams, but not so hard it would’ve hurt.

Just aroused. He was turning his frame on until Sideswipe had to keep his hips from dancing, until he was biting his lip to fight back his moans. Sunstreaker was growling, furious, but Starscream kept him down, kept him from being able to do anything as Sideswipe grit his denta and tried to deny his frame–

But he met Megatron’s optics, and although it came as a gasp more than anything else… “No.”

“Oh?” Megatron asked, raising one of his optical ridges at him. Then his gaze rose, looking at something—someone—behind him. “Were you sitting next to Twin Twist? Come here.”

At once Sideswipe could hear someone getting up and hurrying over until an all too eager field was lapping against his own. “Spike him,” Megatron said next, and the energon in Sideswipe’s lines froze for a moment before his fuel pump beat back into action.

“NO!” he said, shouted, trying to pull, twist, yank himself free, but Megatron’s grip on his jaw was unrelenting.

The servos that landed on his aft this time, the digits that started to play with the edges of his valve cover, they didn’t belong to Megatron. His frame was already running hot from Megatron’s all too knowledgeable touch, and Twin Twist wasn’t any less experienced. Sideswipe’s tears ran more numerous, but no one paid any mind to all the ways he phrased how he didn’t want this, didn’t agree to this, get the slag away from him–

Twin Twist only touched him until his frame reached a limit and forced his valve cover open despite himself. That was all the invitation Twin Twist needed, burying his spike into his valve at once. At least he was fragging well lubricated by now, and… Twin Twist wasn’t rough, or careless, like Megatron was, like none of the mates had been in the last orgy. It was clear he moved to enjoy himself too, but the way he circled his hips and alternated his thrusts, all the little tricks Sideswipe didn’t even know a name for… It felt good. It felt way too damn good, even without his interface protocols under an accursed spell. And Twin Twist wasn’t too big, especially not after everything his valve had already been through. It didn’t hurt at all.

He was moaning soon enough, squeezing his optics shut and focusing on fighting his losing battle against his frame. It didn’t matter how much he didn’t want this and it didn’t matter how much he tried to deny it, it was pleasure that started to course through him.

And when Megatron released his jaw, Sideswipe’s helm fell to the couch and he tried to silence his sounds into his arm.

With Sideswipe appropriately punished for his refusal, forced into enjoying all of this all over again, Megatron turned his attention back to Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker growled, a hard, deep sound when the tyrant’s optics fell on him, still expertly pinned in place by Starscream. Growling and glaring was all he could do.

But with one gesture from Megatron, Starscream released him. Sunstreaker raised himself up immediately, only for Megatron to seize him by the throat and pull him close, considering him for a moment before his gaze dropped to Sunstreaker’s groin. Sunstreaker snarled harder at that, for all the good it would do for him. Was there anything he could have ever done to discourage Megatron? He couldn’t rightly think of anything.

Rip off his spike, maybe. If he even could have with the damn thing apparently made from steel for all the damage it just shrugged off.

And that would have likely gotten him killed. Not the best of plans, no matter how satisfying it would’ve been in the last few moments of his life.

“Do you like your new gait?” Megatron asked him. Sunstreaker bared his denta, and tried to jerk free when Megatron’s other servo ran down his frame, to his hips, and then lower, stroking his valve cover. “Should we maintain it a little bit, hmm? It would be such a shame if you lost it.”

“Says you,” Sunstreaker growled past the constriction of his vocalizer. “My frame, and I don’t want it. Go die in the gutters, you fragging halfwit.”

“Your frame?” Megatron questioned, ignoring the insults. 

But the tyrant’s fake confusion melted away very quickly, replaced by what looked a hell of a lot like genuine, restrained anger. “Don’t forget who you belong to, youngling,” he growled. And now Megatron’s grip tightened enough that he could say no more, only a burst of stating coming out when he tried. He wasn’t allowed to keep fighting, not even just verbally.

And then he was flipped about, onto his stomach across Megatron’s lap—with his aft presented to Sideswipe, who looked up in alarm. “Prepare your brother for me.”

Sunstreaker’s engine roared and Sideswipe shook his helm, even as he moaned from Twin Twist’s treatment, flirting with the edge of an overload. 

Megatron didn’t waste time on trying to get him to do as he was told. “Topspin,” he said instead, without looking up. Topspin stepped up at once, ready for orders that came in short order. “Show Sideswipe how it’s done.” Sunstreaker’s valve cover earned itself a meaningful tap. 

He tried to jerk away again, but Megatron gripped him tight and Topspin stepped over, angling Sunstreaker’s lower half until he had access to the junction of his thighs.

Then there were lips on his panel, and a glossa, these too knowing exactly what they were doing as they started to administer pleasure to his frame. Megatron kept Sunstreaker’s vocalizer quiet, but his frame revved hard, first from anger–

But then, when Topspin never once let up, the sound turned into reluctant arousal. He couldn’t stop his physical responses of his frame any more than Sideswipe could, and he wasn’t allowed to escape the mouth working insistently on his cover—until it snapped back with another burst of static from Sunstreaker. 

A dexterous glossa slipped inside his valve at once, seeking out all the sensors in its reach in its first thrust in, pull out, another push inside, brushing against sensitive areas as if it had invaded his valve before and knew all of his ins and outs already.

But that could probably just be attributed to his valve being standard build. 

It didn’t work in his favor, that was for sure. Sunstreaker tried to jerk his hips away, time and time again, but not once did it work, and with Topspin intent on his task, his vents were heaving hot air from his frame in far too short order. “That’ll do,” Megatron said at that point, and finally Topspin pulled back, as did Twin Twist leave his brother, although knowing what would follow… Sunstreaker would have rather had him than Megatron.

But he’d been prepared for Megatron. The tyrant pulled him by his throat until he was on his hands and knees on the couch. He was let go, but before he could even try to get away—as little as he expected the other mates would have let him—Megatron had already positioned himself behind him, one knee on the couch, the other on the floor, and rammed into his valve. Sunstreaker jerked from the pain that stabbed his internals, but snuffed the sounds that wanted to escape his vocalizer.

Megatron’s pace… Pits, he was getting some serious flashbacks to his very first interface with the tyrant. This wasn’t just Megatron taking his pleasure out of him. This was about making him hurt, for his insolence no doubt. 

And Primus but it hurt. Megatron was again showing his strength with the amount of oomph he put behind each and every thrust, and he angled his hips in just the way to hit where Sunstreaker would feel it the most—Sideswipe said something, half scream, but then there was Starscream again, pushing his brother down and keeping him there.

Do not interfere. Not with anything Megatron saw fit to do.

Sunstreaker first groaned at a particularly hard entry into his frame, and then, when Megatron corrected his technique some–

He screamed. It wasn’t loud, and it was hoarse, but he couldn’t for the life of him keep quiet when Megatron hit something, and Sunstreaker didn’t know his own damn frame well enough to say what it was without reading the damage reports, but something buckled deep in him, then gave away entirely under the continued assault of Megatron’s goddamned spike.

He could feel wetness leak into his internals, meeting his armor and then seeping past the gaps—probably one of his tanks was what had gotten damaged, then. 

How, how Megatron could break something like a tank with nothing but his spike… He didn’t understand. Spikes weren’t supposed to be able to break a damn thing.

But whatever modifications Megatron’s had, it spelled pain for Sunstreaker, right then and there. He didn’t look what color fluids were bleeding out of him, too busy gritting his denta, too busy pressing his face into his arm, shuttering his optics until there was nothing but black behind his HUD. Warnings were flashing at him and he let them blink away in the dark, trying to focus on the repetition of that rather than the repetition of Megatron’s spike hammering into his frame until he wasn’t sure his armor wouldn’t cave from inside out.

Pain.

Sideswipe was crying, begging for it to stop, curling in on himself from the phantom sensations he was suffering, too stubborn to pull away, too stubborn to not share–

But no matter what he said, Megatron paid him no heed, let nothing and no one distract him before Sunstreaker had fallen silent again—agony in his frame, in his valve, his midsection, until he couldn’t even make sense of the signals anymore, until he had no hope of keeping up with them. They drowned out everything else, even his vocoder.

Once he reached that point, then Megatron decided it was sufficient. The tyrant growled above and behind him, his transfluid pouring into his valve—and then past it. Last time he hadn’t been certain if it was real or imagined.

This time he didn’t imagine it. 

His frame shook as Megatron finally pulled out and stood up. “The both of you will come to my wing tonight,” he said, and even to Sunstreaker’s hazy processors there was little doubt he was talking about him and Sideswipe. “Have Knock Out fix that first.”

And with those parting words, he walked out.

Sunstreaker couldn’t will his frame to move, not with the pain radiating from his core into every part of his frame. Sideswipe, unhurt as he was, scrambled to his side as soon as Starscream let him, his servos hovering over golden plating. Tears streamed down his face, but he didn’t know how to touch, where to touch without hurting him more. “Sunny…” he said so quietly, but it reached his audials all the same. 

He could feel the question in them. Was it worth it? Was defiance worth it when it’d only leave them bloodied and broken, one way or another? Were those little moments of satisfaction worth this?  

Sunstreaker forced his optics open when someone approached, and glanced up at Skywarp. The Seeker had a sorrowful look about his face, for once. Did even he acknowledge this much was messed up?

But he laid the blame at their pedes, not Megatron’s. “You really shouldn’t test him like that,” Skywarp murmured, and that… That was probably the overarching sentiment of all the mates, wasn’t it? That they had asked for this.

Their fault for pushing Megatron to a violent limit of his. 

“Let’s get you to Knock Out.” Twin Twist. Sideswipe snarled at him, but it was without any real strength. Yeah, he’d just gotten raped by the mech, but what else was new? They’d all forced themselves on them at one point or other. 

Sideswipe had gotten pleasure, unwanted. Sunstreaker had earned himself pain. Which was better? Which was worse?

Before, he would have said he preferred pain, no questions asked. 

He wasn’t as sure anymore. 

It was Twin Twist and Topspin that gently laid their servos on his frame, pulling him up and supporting him when the utter agony of his internals stole all steadiness from his legs. His helm hung, his vents heaved—but no longer from heat or arousal.

It just hurt, like getting stabbed several times over, aggravated by every move he made… But it wouldn’t get better anytime soon, not without Knock Out.

So he ground his denta together and tried to bear it, tried to ignore it enough to at least move his legs—even so, the other set of twins had to nearly carry him between them. Sideswipe followed on their heels, wanting so bad to help, but without the ways or the means to do so.

It was an excruciatingly long walk down the hallway to the medbay, but they made it, eventually. Topspin and his brother helped him onto one of the berths before Sideswipe took their place by his side, clutching onto his servo, his arm.

Sunstreaker squeezed his servo back, trying to calm their turbulent spark. Yeah, that had been bad, and yeah, he hurt now, but it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

He’d be fine.

Sideswipe found it hard to believe.

Knock Out walked over from wherever he had been—his quarters, maybe?—took one look at him, and shook his helm. “Now what did you do to earn that? Don’t answer, I don’t want to know. Especially not the details.”

He said all of that so casually, like this was no big deal, like this happened too often for him to give a frag anymore. If he ever had given a frag to begin with. Sideswipe growled again, but Knock Out fluently ignored him and merely scanned Sunstreaker. He sighed at whatever he found—annoyed, more than anything.

Not bothered.

Not feeling sorry for them.

Not thinking this was wrong.

Just Knock Out being Knock Out, the harem’s detached medic and bodywork miracle.

“I’ll put you to stasis for the repairs. This shouldn’t take too long. Are you..?” Knock Out trailed off, looking up at Sideswipe.

“I’m staying,” Sideswipe said firmly.

Knock Out shrugged. “Just stay out of my way and keep quiet. Now then!” Sunstreaker turned his helm to the side on the medic’s approach, let him plug in, and watched as Knock Out initiated medical stasis.

His frame slumped, fleeing consciousness leaving all systems lax and only the vital ones online. Sideswipe gave his brother’s arm one more squeeze before he stepped back to huddle against the wall. Out of the way, like Knock Out had told him. 

And quiet, hard as that was.

Sunstreaker had been just like this, in stasis, helpless, out of it, when Megatron had used his frame only for him to come back online to the signs of what had been done to him.

Sideswipe couldn’t disagree that that was… Beyond messed up. What kind of a mech fragged a corpse?  

The same kind of mech that would interface you to pieces if you showed disrespect.

He wasn’t even crying at this point, as much as old tear tracks had dried on his face. Megatron wanted them in his wing. Tonight. And he was bound to be displeased after what had happened, here. 

He was too sore to hurt any more. Not… Not physically. His frame could still be made to suffer in ways he hadn’t even known about, he was sure about that much.

But he wasn’t so sure his spark could contain any more pain than it already did. He wasn’t sure his mind was ready to process anything more.

He felt about ready to stop feeling.

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

Unfortunately, he became less certain of his emotional immunity when they were led to Megatron’s wing that night. Fear was rising, quickly.

Knock Out had fixed Sunstreaker like he had fixed them every time before. Sunstreaker wasn’t in pain, anymore, aside from the little sting of fresh welds. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

But would it remain that way, or did Megatron have something painful in mind for them now? They had displeased him. In his twisted mind that probably earned them all sorts of awfulness, that Sideswipe wasn’t looking forward to one bit.

The doors to the wing closed behind them, and trapped they were. Sunstreaker was gripping his servo, trying to calm him, to build strength in him—but he wasn’t sure that, for once, Sunstreaker wasn’t equally trying to gather strength from him instead of just giving it to him. Things had… Never been this bad before. They’d gotten hurt before, pretty badly, and they’d struggled to get themselves the necessary repairs, but never before had anyone tried to systematically break them, inside and out. 

That was what Megatron was doing now though, a-and… They’d acted out, and felt it, especially Sunstreaker, which could only be the beginning to the plans Megatron had for them.

But there was no running, not from this, so, together, they walked down the long hall, past all of the closed doors, and to the lounge where Megatron was already sitting, reading something. He glanced up on their arrival, and frowned. “Berthroom, you two.” His tone… Megatron was done playing around, wasn’t he?

Sideswipe swallowed hard, but after a glance at Sunstreaker that his brother returned, they slowly crept past the furniture of the lounge and to the doors of Megatron’s berthroom, and through them, and– Pits, what would happen now?

They could hear Megatron getting up behind them, walking after them until he was forcing them further into the room with the threat of touching them to nudge them in the right direction. They wanted as little of his touch as possible, as much as they expected there would be a lot of that tonight.

“Get on the berth,” came the next command, and ever hesitantly they did just that, hoisting themselves up and scooting somewhere off to the center. Megatron followed them, his optics severe. Not amused, not smug.

Just intent on making them do as they were told and exactly as they were told. The means he’d use to that end… He didn’t want to know, but he was sure they’d find out anyway.

“Make out,” Megatron said next. Sideswipe started, Sunstreaker growled—and they didn’t do it.  

Megatron raised an optical ridge at them, unimpressed. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how. You’re brothers.” They were, and yeah, they knew how, they enjoyed it… But not in these circumstances.

Even Sunstreaker didn’t dare say anything, but they didn’t act on the order either.

And Megatron proved he just wasn’t going to wait for them, not anymore. He reached over, and before they could jerk out of the way, his servo had found Sideswipe’s valve cover, claws dug into the seams, and torn the entire panel off. Sideswipe was too unprepared, too surprised to even make a sound even as his sensors alerted him to the pain, just keeled forward into Sunstreaker’s arms.

Then three of the tyrant’s thick digits stabbed into his bared valve without any warning, any preparation. Now Sideswipe gasped when the sharp tips raked against his valve mesh, making his hips jerk in an attempt to get away—but that only dug Megatron’s claws deeper, and he had to stop, had to still himself lest he damage his equipment further. 

Megatron began to move his servo, and this wasn’t about arousing him, no. He dragged his claws across sensitive sensors in a way that didn’t do anything more than hurt with sharp pains, and Sideswipe clutched onto Sunstreaker’s arms, closing his optics tight.

“Make out,” Megatron repeated, and now his digits slowed, the suggestion clear as day: do as they were told and it didn’t have to hurt. 

Sideswipe glanced up at Sunstreaker, his brother staring back at him with a pained expression, but what could they do?

What could they do?

Sideswipe reached up now, and pressed his lips against Sunstreaker’s. They were unresponsive, but just for a second before Sunstreaker returned the kiss, almost desperately—wrapping his arm around Sideswipe to keep him close, to give and seek comfort from each other.

Because that was all they had now, wasn’t it? Each other.

Megatron’s digits abandoned his valve, blessedly, horribly—rewarded for something he didn’t want to do in the first place. He didn’t want to give in, but by the pits… What options did they have?

At least the press of Sunstreaker’s lips was familiar, when their glossae entwined, it was familiar, and the taste… It was his brother, there was no question about that. This was theirs, their… Their attempt to enjoy even something about this.

Megatron moved next to them instead of being mostly behind Sideswipe. A click had the both of them glancing at the tyrant, all to see his spike cover retract and his spike pressurizing already, readily. “Use your servo to pleasure me. Don’t stop kissing,” came the orders, tersely.

What was this? Putting on a show for Megatron’s benefit, while simultaneously pleasuring him?

When they didn’t move fast enough, Megatron reached for Sunstreaker’s valve cover and ripped that clean off too. His brother jerked from the pain, but didn’t voice it any more than Sideswipe had—but before Megatron had the time to do more than that, Sunstreaker had pulled him back against him, landing a kiss on his cheek before Sideswipe had the sense to turn his helm to face him.

And it was Sunstreaker’s servo that reached for Megatron’s spike and began to pump his servo along it.

Sunstreaker was shaking, but Sideswipe could feel his determination to keep Sideswipe safe. If that meant indignity, if it meant pleasuring their rapist… So be it.

As long as Sideswipe remained safe.

It was a sentiment that had the red twin crying in no time. Look at what they had been reduced to. Doing something that they’d always loved, but now involuntarily, left without choice, while pleasing the damn mech that had torn them from their humble but happy enough life, only to bring them here to endure things they hadn’t imagined even in their worst nightmares.

They weren’t ready for this, nothing in their life had prepared them for this—nothing could have prepared them for this. The cruelty, the immorality were on another level entirely.

It was too much, and yet they couldn’t but bear it. 

Sunstreaker’s servo jerked Megatron to completion, the tyrant’s transfluid splattering onto his brother’s arm, on Megatron’s plating. “Lick that off, Sunstreaker,” he said, and the brothers parted ways to both stare at Megatron. Sunstreaker was shivering, Sideswipe’s armor was rattling—and they didn’t move fast enough, Megatron again jabbing his claws into Sideswipe’s valve.

This time he cried out.

That was enough to prompt Sunstreaker into action and he lowered himself onto the berth, in a position of true subservience neither of them could have ever wanted, and did as he was told. He cleaned, with his glossa, all of the transfluid that had landed on the tyrant’s plating, and all of what had remained on the tip of his spike and run down the length. Megatron’s digits left Sideswipe’s valve and he was rumbling, approving—and approving meant not physical pain. 

Only pain of a spark forced into something it never wanted to do, never wanted to be. But they were stuck. They were so, so stuck in all of this, their way out still unclear. They would find it eventually, he just… He hoped it would be soon enough.  

Megatron tapped Sunstreaker’s chin once he was satisfied with his brother’s work, and Sunstreaker eagerly pulled away.

Then it was Sideswipe who got the next set of instructions. “Lay on your back and spread your legs.”

He didn’t like where this was going, but under the gazes of both Megatron and Sunstreaker he nevertheless leaned back until he was laying down entirely, and let his legs fall apart, putting his coverless valve in perfect display. 

If only Megatron had chosen to spike him then. That would have been familiar, that he could’ve… He could’ve handled that. 

But instead Megatron’s optics moved to Sunstreaker. “Fist him.”

“What?!” they asked in unison, and Sideswipe shot back into a sitting position.

“You can’t be serious,” Sunstreaker continued, their disbelief quickly giving way to dry horror. They didn’t want to ‘face each other to begin with, not in any way, and… Frag, not in that way either. And Sideswipe didn’t particularly fancy finding out what getting fisted felt like in the first place. He hadn’t even entertained the thought before, no matter how much he had enjoyed interfacing.

But here they were.

“Oh, I’m very serious,” Megatron responded to Sunstreaker, and his voice left little doubt of that. But… Slaggit, better Sunstreaker than Megatron. Megatron’s servos were as large as the rest of him. That would’ve… He wasn’t sure his frame could’ve taken that in any shape or form.

But Sunstreaker… Sideswipe met his gaze. Sunstreaker’s face twisted with emotion as he tried to think of some way to avoid this, some way to spare them both this… He came out empty. 

“Now,” Megatron said, without inflection, but there was threat in that one word all the same. What would he do if they didn’t? How would he hurt them? “On your back, Sideswipe.”

He fell back even more reluctantly than before, but Sunstreaker couldn’t will himself into motion.

Couldn’t, before Megatron gave him some more incentive. “Do it, or I will.”

He could probably survive Megatron’s servo if it came down to it. He didn’t think he’d die, but the amount of damage it would have caused… 

The amount of pain.

It didn’t need to come down to it. Sunstreaker grit his denta, but moved between his spread legs and grudgingly, unwillingly, brought his servo to Sideswipe’s valve.

The sooner they were done with this, the sooner… They could move to whatever else Megatron had planned for them. And the sooner they got to all that, the sooner they would get out of here.

Even so, Sunstreaker wasn’t about to hurt Sideswipe if it could be avoided. He pushed two of his digits into Sideswipe’s valve at first, adding a third when he found it looser than he’d expected—but after, he sought out sensors, and not to scratch them, but to stimulate them, in the good kind of way. Pleasant way.

As much as Sideswipe didn’t want this, he wasn’t opposed to the slow start, the little act to make some lubricant gather in his valve. And, surprisingly, Megatron gave them the time to do that, watching, stroking his spike languidly, but not rushing them. 

Sideswipe tried to relax, let his legs fall apart a bit further, tried to force away some of the tension in his frame, because that would only translate into tension in his calipers, and if… If he was supposed to take Sunstreaker’s whole damn fist, it would be best if he was relaxed. He hoped that would lead to the least possible amount of pain—and damage, if his calipers tried to stay in the way stubbornly.

Sunstreaker didn’t want to hurt him, but this might hurt anyway, no matter what they did. Best they could was try to reduce the chances of that. 

To that end, Sunstreaker played with his valve until there was a decent amount of lubricant in place. Then his brother cycled one deep ventilation and added a fourth digit to very little resistance from Sideswipe’s calipers.

And that was maybe the worst part, how… Easy it turned out to be. It shouldn’t have been. Taking a whole damn servo up his valve was meant to be a struggle.

But with how large Megatron’s spike alone was, and how many times he’d gotten hammered by it already, Sunstreaker could easily slip four of his digits into his valve, and when pulled out, pushed in, pulled back, tucked his thumb against his other digits and pushed again… There was some resistance as the widest part cleared his rim, but it was still too easy. It stung, but it wasn’t outright pain. There was enough lubricant to ease the passage.

And his valve had just gotten forced too far out of shape by Megatron. Sunstreaker slipped his entire servo in, up to his wrist, and felt Sideswipe’s valve flutter and clench against the intrusion, unused to the strange shape.

Tears fell from Sideswipe’s optics and he stared resolutely at the ceiling. He didn’t need and didn’t want any of the reminders of how they were being reforged to their new role in life.

“Overload him,” Megatron said once they’d gotten to that stage. He didn’t need to specify that Sunstreaker was to overload him with his servo, like this, because that really was obvious enough.

It shouldn’t even be too difficult. It didn’t hurt, so… What else was there to feel but pleasure? Sunstreaker was slow and careful, mindful when he began to move his servo in and out, and with every pass it became easier and the resistance of his rim lesser. He made sure to brush against sensors, and it felt good. Strange, because it wasn’t a spike and didn’t have the shape of one, but pits, it wasn’t bad. 

He didn’t want that. Primus, but he wished he would have hated it because it was Megatron that had ordered this. He wanted to hate everything even remotely related to the mech.

But instead his hips started to push into the thrusts of Sunstreaker’s servo and he had to bite back his moans. Sunstreaker didn’t slow down either, once it was sure he wasn’t hurting him, even by accident. The sooner they were done with this…

The better. And he was quickly, very quickly, driven towards an overload with Sunstreaker’s intent but gentle touch. He didn’t try to fight it. As much as he didn’t want the pleasure, he wanted this just over with.

It wasn’t his best overload ever, but it was far from being the worst, either. Sideswipe stiffened as he was pushed over that edge with one more entry of his twin’s servo, his valve clamping down until Sunstreaker had little hope of pulling back. Sideswipe moaned despite his attempt to keep silent–

Then there was a surprised gasp, from Sunstreaker.

Megatron had shoved his entire length up his brother’s empty valve without warning and that, that hurt. There was no lubricant to speak of, he hadn’t been prepared for it in any way…

But they still felt the sorrow over the fact it didn’t hurt as much as it once had.

Sunstreaker removed his servo once Sideswipe’s valve relaxed enough, and Megatron chose that moment to start moving in and out of his frame at a leisurely pace. “Sideswipe,” he said, and the twin tore his optics from the ceiling to glance down at him. “Get under your brother. On your back, helm to me.”

Now what? But Sideswipe moved regardless, turning around and sliding under Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker made the room for him, ending up straddling his shoulders, his servos propping him up on either side of Sideswipe’s hips.

They didn’t have to wonder what this was about for long. Megatron continued to rock into Sunstreaker, not so hard it would’ve been unbearable—nothing like he had earlier in the day—but it was far from comfortable either, no matter the lubricant that was slowly starting to gather in Sunstreaker’s valve–

Then, “Lick my spike, Sideswipe.”

...He was in the perfect position to do that, with Megatron’s spike disappearing into Sunstreaker’s valve right above his face.

He didn’t really want to, though. Pits, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to pleasure Megatron, and he didn’t want to be this close to Sunstreaker’s equipment either.

And he sure as pit didn’t want a front row seat to Megatron fragging Sunstreaker.

He hesitated for too long. “Lick mine or your brother will suck yours.”

Sunstreaker flinched at the thought, and at a thrust that jabbed into one of the recent welds of his. Megatron knew as well as they did how despicable the thought of doing that was to Sunstreaker, and… Sideswipe couldn’t put him through it.

Not again.

Sunstreaker did his best to keep him safe. He could return the favor. Sideswipe lifted his helm enough that his nasal ridge nearly brushed against Megatron’s groin and extended his glossa, letting it rubbed against the underside of Megatron’s spike on every pull out, every push back in. When Megatron’s engine rumbled a displeased note, he applied more pressure, moved his glossa a little more, put in a bit more effort just so nothing would happen to Sunstreaker—and that earned him a rev from the tyrant.

Good enough, it said. 

He kept it up even as Megatron’s pace increased as he neared an overload, and… When he overloaded, he pulled out entirely, his come splashing on the outside of Sunstreaker’s valve and dripping onto Sideswipe’s face.

He hoped it was over at that, but it wasn’t. “Open your mouth,” Megatron said, and there wasn’t much question about who he was talking to.

And not too much question over why the order was given, either.

He didn’t want it, so Sideswipe shook his helm in denial. His quiet no, never spoken out loud.

It went completely ignored. Megatron shoved Sunstreaker off of him, his brother landing onto his side on the berth beside him, and then one of the tyrant’s servos came down, yanking his jaw open. Before Sideswipe could do more than squeak in surprise, Megatron had already aimed and thrust his spike into his mouth, down his throat.

Sideswipe’s wail was muffled even before the intrusion constricted his vocalizer into silence. It hurt. His valve might’ve gotten a little more used to things; his mouth, not so much. And Megatron didn’t go easy, he didn’t take his time, didn’t wait for him to adjust in any way before he was moving in and out of this throat too fast.  

Sunstreaker moved to do… Something, anything, but Megatron merely backhanded him hard enough that his brother collapsed back onto the berth. Tears streamed from Sideswipe’s optics, not just over the treatment his frame was suffering, but also over the treatment Sunstreaker received, and the… Helplessness. There hadn’t been and there still wasn’t anything they had done that would have worked against Megatron. Megatron only got his way, every time. He got his pleasure as it suited him, he made them hurt just as he wanted to.

And they were powerless in the face of it all.

Bear it. Sideswipe tried, even as his frame arched off the berth, fighting with himself to not let every entry down his throat get to him... And he only succeeded because Megatron chased his completion fast, and reached it quickly. Before Sideswipe lost the battle with himself.

Before he would have expelled everything in his tanks like he already had too many times before in the past orns. Instead there was a spurt of transfluid that headed for his tanks instead of out of them, although Megatron pulled out before he’d finished coming, and most of the transfluid his spike was pumping out landed on Sideswipe’s face to join what there already was.

But… Nothing more came after that. Megatron left them laying there, used and abused while he moved to the edge of the berth and wiped himself clean in swift motions. “Return to the harem,” he instructed them, and then… Left, without a backwards glance, and despite the late hour.

Then they were alone, in Megatron’s berthroom, except this time they were together.

Sideswipe rolled onto his front, got on his knees, reached for Sunstreaker. His brother was dazed, dented, and he wasn’t sure about the continued integrity of some of his welds, but he was mostly fine. Physically, anyway.

In every other way… Sideswipe tried not to think about it. Not before they got the pit out of here, anyway. “Come on,” he said quietly, tugging and pulling until he had Sunstreaker to the edge of the berth and they both dropped down to the floor, then out the berthroom, through the lounge, into the hallway, and to the doors that opened to them for once. Skywarp was waiting on the other side, waving at them in greeting.

“Hope that went well. Do you need to see Knock Out?” he asked, giving each of them a once over, his gaze lingering on the side of Sunstreaker’s helm.

“Would probably be best to, just to be safe,” Sideswipe answered quietly, glancing at Sunstreaker. There probably wasn’t anything too dangerous going on, but it’d be nice to have a confirmation of that.

Skywarp nodded at that before he turned to lead the way back to the harem wing, the twins trailing behind him

“This is progress,” Knock Out noted on their injuries once he’d had a look at them. “So minor! My, if only you gave me this little to work on more often.” Sunstreaker growled at the suggestion behind the words, and Sideswipe couldn’t say he appreciated them a hell of a lot either. Do as they were told, please Megatron, and they wouldn’t get slagged every damn time. 

“Wouldn’t you be out of a job if we did?” Sideswipe asked just a little sharply. Hadn’t Knock Out said that earlier?

...How much earlier was it? Pits, it was hard to keep track of time. It felt like an eternity with so much happening, but it couldn’t have been that long.

“True, that,” the medic conceded.

They were sent on their way once everything was back in order and they’d had a cursory cleaning. It was late, so the berthroom became their destination and they crept past the cots, many of them already occupied by recharging mecha. Some of the mates were still awake, and they got a few waves of greeting that Sideswipe returned before they made it to the very back of the room.

In mutual understanding they laid down on their joined cots, Sunstreaker onto his back, and Sideswipe stretching up along his side, pressing the side of his helm to Sunstreaker’s shoulder and letting the sounds and vibrations of his brother’s frame surround him. 

That had been one of their most pathetic showings with Megatron. They’d barely even resisted, but… Primus, it was getting hard to keep up the will to fight, knowing it was futile, that Megatron was inevitable in everything he did… And knowing they’d get hurt, one way or another, every time they didn’t do as they were told. Not always physically, but the emotional hurt could be just as potent, if not more so.

And Megatron had apparently never even heard the word “mercy”. He had none to give in any damn situation. 

But if they did as they were told… It wasn’t tolerable, it would never be fucking tolerable, but it wasn’t as bad. Was that the best they could hope for in this situation? Not as bad?

It felt like that. 

They were going to get out eventually, it was just a matter of time until they found the way, but until then… Would it be worth it to not earn themselves as much pain? Go a little easier on themselves?

Even if it meant… Even if it meant pleasing Megatron.

But it was only temporary. This was only temporary. They’d have the last laugh still, when they walked out of here, ran away. Back to the freedom they deserved. The other mates, they might’ve been so brainwashed they were fine with this, but him and Sunstreaker would never be. He didn’t understand how the others had ever gotten used to all of this, how they’d grown so desensitized to it, but it was easy to count on himself to never gain that understanding.

This was just… Too fragging awful to ever get used to.

Not forever. They wouldn’t be here forever.

They just had to stay strong and rely on each other until they found their way out of this fucking hellhole.

Easy, right?

They could do it.

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

There were a few quiet days again, time to rest and recuperate and… Try to put everything behind them for a while, even if they knew it would come back to haunt them still, somewhere in the not too distant future. 

Three days later, it did.

They were in the entertainment room again, Sunstreaker drawing and letting the curious gawk his work over his shoulders, Sideswipe playing some manner of shooter game with Runamuck and Runabout.

They really loved their shooter games. Sideswipe’s argument was that you couldn’t beat virtual violence. It was a good way to work out their frustrations too, in a very bloody manner.

Those games were too damn realistic for anyone’s good, the next thing he knew his brother would be a trained soldier. Great entertainment, though.

The peace of it was broken when there was the faint sound of the main doors opening and closing coming down the hall, followed by unmistakable pedesteps. Starscream left the entertainment room to greet their mate even as the twins’ fuel pumps froze.

They hoped, ardently, that Megatron was here for someone else, that he just wanted to disappear into the room at the very end of the hallway with someone that wasn’t them. The chances would’ve been good for something like that, right?

But they weren’t so lucky. Megatron walked to the entertainment room’s door, had a look around, confirmed they were both present, and called them both by name.

Just so there was no question or misunderstanding of who he wanted.

Like last time, Megatron sat down on one of the couches where everyone could see him.

Then came the order. “Come here.”

Sideswipe swallowed hard, clutched onto Sunstreaker through their spark, but… Disconnected from the game he had busied himself with and slowly walked over to the tyrant. Sunstreaker set down his drawing tablet, cycled several steadying ventilations, and followed Sideswipe—holding just as tight onto him as he was being held onto, even if not physically.  

Moment of truth, wasn’t it? They had displeased Megatron last time. What about this time?

Starscream was standing in the doorway, wings spread, arms crossed, watching it all sharply. The other mates didn’t have the same scrutiny about them, but they were all watching, all as eager for Megatron’s attention as ever, and… Curious. Over how this would go, most likely. Last time hadn’t been so great, not to be on the receiving end of, and probably not so fun to witness either.

It was in their hands how this time would go. What would Megatron ask of them?

They came to stand in front of him, Sunstreaker meeting his burning gaze, Sideswipe staring at his pedes. Their spark was spinning wildly no matter how Sunstreaker tried to calm it, but he couldn’t exactly deny his own distaste and nervousness of the situation. How bad would Megatron make this?

“Sideswipe,” Megatron said, patting the space next to him. Sideswipe hesitated for a few precious seconds, but the moment Megatron’s optics began to narrow, he hurried over and sat on the couch next to the tyrant, stiff as they came. 

Next, “Coax it out.”

Sideswipe started crying on the spot. Not out loud, he made no sound, but tears began to run down his cheeks. “How?” he asked for clarity’s sake despite that, even with the risk of Megatron taking it as too much dallying.

He didn’t. “As you see fit,” was the answer he gave. Sideswipe nodded silently and reached over Megatron’s thigh to press his servo to his codpiece. More tolerable than using his mouth, and easier with the angle he was in, unless he wanted to get between Megatron’s thighs. But that wasn’t where he’d been told to go, and he wondered why–

–Up until Megatron addressed Sunstreaker. “Prepare your brother for me. Take Topspin’s cue.”

Using his mouth, in other words. And then… Sideswipe would get to take Megatron’s spike.

Their spark fluttered with utter desperation, but there was no way out of this, was there? They could refuse, like they had last time, and then Megatron would hurt them all over again… Likely find even worse ways to do so, either in public, or in private.

Or they could just do this, get it over with, and not suffer through any of that.

Indignity and crushed pride, or defiance at the price of pain and suffering. 

Sunstreaker’s next exvent shuddered, but under the optics of what felt like absolutely everyone, he got on the couch behind his brother. Sideswipe was shaking, as much as he didn’t forget to stroke Megatron’s spike cover just to keep him satisfied… But he lifted his hips for Sunstreaker and retracted his valve cover.

It was just Sunstreaker. No one else.

They could do this. It was better than the alternatives.

Sunstreaker knelt there, between Sideswipe’s legs, and brought his mouth to Sideswipe’s valve. He hadn’t done this often—had he ever?—but he relied on Sideswipe’s memories and his sensation to guide him as he slipped his glossa into the opening that felt like it was perpetually gaping now, and hunted for sensors the same way Topspin had. He didn’t have the experience, but feeling what Sideswipe felt… He found his way, and slowly but steadily lubricant began to gather in his brother’s valve.

He would be as prepared for Megatron as Sunstreaker could make him, if that would just ease the second part of this even some. 

But it wasn’t just him. Sideswipe was shuddering, but he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted from his task of getting Megatron’s spike out. He’d gotten the cover to open for him with enough teasing of its seams. Part of the tip had revealed itself too, by now, and he worked it in his servo diligently, in all the ways that had… Pleased his past partners.

The partners he’d had in the life he would still get back to, one way or another.

This was just another step on the road to that end. He worked the spike until it had reached halfway out of its housing, at which point Megatron told him to get his mouth in there. That was… Actually sort of doable now with enough of the spike out in the open, even though he had to lean over Megatron’s thigh to do so.

But he did, even as his hips began to move on their own, hitching back against Sunstreaker’s glossa, his mouth—as Sideswipe took the tip of Megatron’s spike into his own, as he licked along the length of it, still worked his servo around it…

Until it reached full pressurization. “Enough. Get on your back,” Megatron said at that point, and Sideswipe pulled away to force himself to lay down on the couch, even knowing what was coming.

He was crying, he was terrified. Did he have any good reason to be? But Megatron was… He was evil, just plain evil. What he could do if he thought he was given a reason…

He’d have bad memory purges of that for the rest of his life. Wasn’t it reasonable enough to fear him?

But he laid down and let his legs be spread when Megatron’s servos landed on his thighs. One of the tyrant’s pedes went to the floor again, like he’d done with Sunstreaker, and would he do it again? Destroy his internals because he could, despite them doing as he wanted?

He didn’t. Megatron’s spike pushed into his valve, surprisingly slowly. There was some stretch, his calipers forced apart by the massive length, but there was also plenty of lubricant.

It could’ve been… A lot worse.

Even when Megatron started to move, his pace wasn’t hurried in the slightest, and it didn’t start hurting—wouldn’t stop feeling good.

Was that better than pain, though?

“Sunstreaker.” The golden twin looked up from his trance of watching Megatron’s spike disappear into Sideswipe’s frame time and time again. “Straddle his chest.”

He did, carefully climbing on top of Sideswipe.

What then? “Get his spike out and pressurized.”

Sunstreaker looked down at the closed cover, but Sideswipe opened that one for him too. His spike pressurized partially on its own, because it wasn’t as if his frame wasn’t responding to Megatron’s use of his valve—that had, once upon a time, not too long ago, inherently hurt because of their sheer difference in size.

Not so anymore.

...Not so anymore.

Sunstreaker wrapped his servo around the emerging spike and tried very hard not to think about how much he didn’t want to be touching Sideswipe’s equipment. Instead… Focus on the task at hand. Stroke, brush his thumb over the tip, make Sideswipe feel good no matter how neither of them wanted to be in this situation.

He wasn’t left alone to it for long before one of Megatron’s servos came up, a digit hooking under his chin and tilting his helm up. He knew what was coming even before Megatron’s lips descended on his, glossa pushing into his mouth—taking his enjoyment from it just as he was taking it from Sideswipe’s frame. 

Sunstreaker’s touch faltered on his brother. Megatron noticed; there was a growl of warning that had him focusing back on what he was doing, and… Not on what was being done to him. 

Megatron picked up his pace until Sideswipe was groaning despite his attempts to stay quiet, but pleasure was building in his frame under the use of his valve and the touch on his spike. He was moving restlessly under Sunstreaker, hips tilting into Megatron’s thrusts and jerking up into Sunstreaker’s servo, up until he bucked with a strangled sound and came, spike and valve both. His transfluid landed on Sunstreaker’s servo, some of it onto his chassis, and there was no doubt in Sunstreaker’s mind that Megatron let himself be pulled into an overload by the clenching of Sideswipe’s valve, instead of being pushed into it involuntarily.

He painted the inside of Sideswipe’s valve with his own transfluid and bit down on Sunstreaker’s lip, but then… Then there was nothing but a possessive parting peck on Sunstreaker’s mouth before the tyrant pulled away, pulled out, stood up.

Tucked his spike behind its panel and left.

Sideswipe started sobbing the moment he was out of sight, a mess of transfluid and lubricant slowly leaking from his valve and his spike quickly depressurizing back into its housing. There were revving engines all around them, their brethren turned on by the show they’d received—and humiliation burned. Maybe it shouldn’t have. Hadn’t they already interfaced with this lot? Hadn’t all of them already seen them losing control of their own damn frames during the orgies?

But this was different. This wasn’t a signal turning them aroused beyond belief, and this wasn’t them forced into something.

This was them voluntarily giving Megatron what he wanted, voluntarily doing as they were told.

This was them giving up their fight in the sight of everyone else. It wasn’t them losing the fight in Megatron’s wing, out of sight.

It was them surrendering in public.

Sunstreaker glanced up when a shadow fell over them. Starscream met his gaze. “Welcome to the harem.”

( Next )

[madlymiho]

Hi!!! It’s me again! I’m so excited for this. And I’m here this time to fulfilled my from the last time!!! So would it’s be ok for you to make a scenario of NSFW fem!s/o with corason💕💕💕 like she was trying to take a bath with our little cute Law but he strongly refused(of-cause). So she took a bath later alone but then Corasan came in.....💕💕💕

Hello there... It seems someone is naughty?? 👀😉 Oooh darling, that was a pleasure to come back to my writing schedule with that tender and hot lemon thing! ~

Hope this will suit youuuuu ~ 🧡

Warning : NSFW

Words: 2180

Corazon Scenario : A moment with you (read after the cut)

“Name, are you in there?” He wishes he could say loudly. 

She has been missing for a little while. She didn’t show up to dinner, despite the general order to gather whenever they have a free time to share a moment all together. Corazon looked her empty chair with concerned eyes ; it’s not in her habit to miss that kind of moment. After some investigation, he also discovered that Law refused to bath today. The young boy gasped that it would be gross to have a shower with a grown-up, and since Corazon knows pretty much what kind of mother-like affection she has for him, he was sure that Law was mentioning you in his long speech about what an adult should or shouldn’t do with a kid. So when everyone left for their regular occupations, he quickly rushed to the bathroom and knocked on the door. 

When Corazon is finally there, waiting for an answer coming from inside, he makes sure that no one around is there to hear him ; after all, all the Donquixote’s family, except Law and her, doesn’t know about his secret. When he’s certain that the corridor his empty, he clicks his fingers, creating an invisible bubble to cover his voice, hoping that despite the wall, she would hear him.

“Name?” He tries again, unsure. 

He puts his ear against the door and eventually hears some quiet splashing coming from inside, but no one is inviting him in. Slowly, as he clears his throat, he opens the door. He immediately smiles, noticing her sleeping face in her bubble bath, eyes shut, and breathing heavy. He enters and closes the door behind him, making sure that he’s not too noisy ; he doesn’t want to wake her up from her well deserved nap. Yet, he can’t help but let his stare wandering on her body, her soft and appetizing curves hidden under the milky water as a silent invitation for him to come closer. It’s enough to give him a naughty idea ; after all, the two of them need your moments, from time to time, and it’s the perfect occasion. 

Quickly, Corazon gets rid of his entire pieces of clothing, putting them on a chair, perfectly aware that two bodies in a bathtub could make some good damages in the room. Naked, he crosses the distance between him and the tub. He almost slips on the floor once or twice, biting his bottom lip not to let lose a powerful gasp. Fortunately, it seems that she’s too heavily asleep to notice his everlasting clumsiness. Eventually, Corazon digs into the tepid water, placing himself behind her, his large hand fondling her belly. He feels that her skin reacts to his presence, covered in goosebumps, perhaps also because it’s a bit chilly inside the tub now. Carefully, his extends his large hand to reach the tap, purring hot water to warm the bath. 

“Mmmh…” She moves slowly, cracking on eye open to look up and notice that she’s not alone anymore. “Cora?” 

“Hello there…,” he answers with his eternal reassuring smile, dropping a tender kiss on her nose. “Seems like someone was too tired to join us for dinner.” 

His voice, husky, but soft like honey, makes her shiver from the top of her head to her tiptoes. She nods, her fingers brushing his forearm.

“Law didn’t want to bath with me earlier, so I waited to have some calm to wash myself, and… Well.” She shrugs, and presses her head against his large torso. “Did you miss me?” 

He chuckles, his free hand brushing her jawline, his thumb coming up to wander on her upper lip for a moment. 

“I miss you all the time when you’re not around, Name.” 

Somehow, his voice sounds deeper, urgent. She blinks for a second, her irises meeting his brown eyes, ; it’s enough to sets her mind on fire. Slowly, she moves, putting herself on her knees as she faces him, revealing her naked breasts, the soap lazily slipping on her wet skin, her bottom remaining the only part of her covered by the water. Corazon hums, his stare following her features, until both of their eyes meet again, this time, the same lusty spark gleaming in the back of them. He clicks his fingers again, her stare already telling him that she understands what he just meant with this particular gesture. 

“Cora…” She whispers with a desperate voice, feeling his hand sliding down on her neck, until he grabs her nape and pulls her into a tender kiss. 

One hand resting on her hip, the other one maintaining her neck, Corazon kisses her hungrily, opening his mouth to feel her tongue and dance with it. He feels all his blood suddenly boiling inside his veins, her presence alarming every of his sense. He needs her. Cruelly. He wants to feel everything from her, but he also knows that he needs to remain careful, and not too hurry. She’s not that tall, she can’t stretch herself to the infinite despite what she’s sometimes assuring… She needs to be prepared for him, and for that, Corazon has always been the most patient man in the world. So with his everlasting easy pace, his hand resting on her hip moves and comes between her legs, tenderly massaging her core. 

“Cora… God…” She desperately breathes as she parts her lips, her fingers catching his wrist to escort his movements. 

He smiles and hides his face in the crook of her neck, his thumb pressed against her clit, two fingers brushing her entrance. He knows exactly where to find her weak spot in her neck, that sensitive part on her skin that makes her shiver strongly. She makes a step forward, her legs slightly quivering, her fingers playing with his golden and messy locks. He abandons her neck for a second, looking up to see the ravages on her features, and the beautiful complexion created by her pleasure. She smiles, her mouth slightly opens, as she slides her fingers against his cheek to erase his makeup. He lets her reveal his real identity, forgetting everything about Corazon, his role and his mission, his digits still tenderly preparing her core, massaging her clit, until she entirely gets rid of his makeup. 

“You look so pure…” She whispers, gazing at his features. “An angel…” 

“Am I really that pure, to make you feel this way?” He growls with a little smirk, his fingers suddenly entering inside her core, his mouth sucking on her nipple. 

She trembles hard, so hard that she almost falls in the bathtub, her fingernails scratching his shoulders, Corazon’s pace increasing on her clit. He knows exactly how to make her feel good, so loved. He starts to scissor his slender digits inside of her, his free hand cupping her breast, his tongue expertly teasing her pointing nipple. He seems to be everywhere, and before she can control herself, she bursts into a deep and intense orgasm, her core twitching around his fingers, as he stills coming in and out of her pussy. 

“I like when you’re noisy like this…” He blushes furiously, realising her nipple in a wet pop. “I’m so lucky…”

He gently puts pressure on her hips, forcing her to turn around, his mouth travelling a little while on her back, his hands playing with her breasts. 

“What are your intentions?” She asks almost innocently, before she feels the pressure of his hands back on her hips. 

“Sit on my lap.” He orders tenderly, the both of them placing themselves in the tub. 

Once she’s secured on his lap, he rolls an arm around her shoulders, her back resting against his torso, his other hand parting her legs. More quickly than before, he slides three fingers in, his teeth nibbling her earlobe, before she turns her head to kiss him desperately. He opens her for a moment, too afraid to speed up their intercourse and hurts her with his massive cock. But Corazon feels that she wants more. She’s almost grinding on his hard cock, the head of it sometimes bumping against her entrance. Corazon parts their lips and looks at her. 

“You want it?” He questions with a husky voice, before he licks the tip of her nose. “I can stop if you don’t want to go any further, I know it’s late and you were already asleep…” 

“Of course I want it, idiot…” She blushes hard, her fingers brushing his hand down there. 

Corazon only growls, quickly grabbing his cock to guide it against her entrance, pushing on his hips to adjust their position, and eventually penetrate her. Despite the water, she’s perfectly wet, and it takes less than a second for him to enter her fully. He hums, nibbling her neck, her narrowness always so overwhelming for him. He starts to thrust, first adopting an easy pace, one hand grabbing her thigh to keep them apart, the other one playing with her nipples. She breathes heavily, eyes closed, always looking for his neck or his jaw to kiss it, encouraging to increase his pace with soft and comfortable moans. He has never hurt her before, but she feels terribly full with his cock, and she knows it’s better to keep it slow until she’s entirely ready.

“More…” She finally groans, the water waving dangerously inside the tub. 

Corazon doesn’t answer, he only slides his other hand under her other thigh, his thrust becoming slightly faster, and also harder. He almost slightly lifts her up, her position not allowing her to do anything but feel him. Each time, he buries himself entirely, his balls slapping lazily against her rear. Overwhelmed by the many feeling inside of his mind, Corazon starts to take her more wildly, her back entirely pressed against his torso, and she can do nothing but suffer from his hard yet careful thrusts. 

“Yes…!” She cries, eyebrows furrowed, the water now sliding out of the tub, as Corazon sucks on her neck, increasing his pace. 

“You’re getting dry…” He growls, the conditions of their intercourse drying out her natural fluids. 

He suddenly moves and pushes her belly against the tub, exposing both of her core and rear, her hands grabbing the edge of it, his own palms resting on her hips as he kneels behind her. He rocks his hips harder, ignoring all the mess they’re creating because of their movements, her moans echoing hard inside the protected room ; with Corazon’s power, no one can hear her anyway. He takes her harder, and harder, his balls slapping against her skin, filling the room with lusty noises. She clenches her fingers on the tub, unable to think straight anymore. Corazon is large and long, and the way he’s taking her makes her lose her mind. 

“Rosinante!” She whimpers when she feels his slender fingers coming again between her legs, teasing her swollen clit shamelessly. “I can’t…” 

“Trust me…” He groans adorably, his eyes gazing at her wonderful wet body. 

He pinches it with tender and harmless gestures, perfectly aware of her sensitiveness down there. As he keeps sliding in and out of her core, he also massages her nub, her skin covered in goosebumps. She suddenly bites her bottom lip, and Corazon can perfectly feels her core getting narrower, literally sucking him inside.

“Your walls are squeezing me so hard!” He cries, kissing her neck, abandoning her over-stimulated clit to cup her breasts. 

“You’re so big… It’s so good…” She can only stutter, her eyes still closed, as she’s riding out her second orgasm, her hips naturally escorting his movements. 

It’s enough for Corazon to lose the battle against his own excitement. In a long growl, he bursts inside of her, long spurts of his seed plastering her insides, his breathing and his heartbeat erratic. He gives her a few thrusts for a moment, before he stops his gestures, catching his breath. Carefully, he pulls out, leading her back into the warm tub, hugging her body tightly. She hums, hiding her nose in the crook of his neck, her fingers tenderly brushing his skin. 

“I love you…” She whispers, placing a soft kiss on his wet flesh. “So much.” 

He smiles, feeling his heart swelling with the best feeling in the world. He presses his lips on her forehead, squeezing her body slightly more against his torso. 

“I love you even more.” 

She exhales, and then looks around. Indeed, the bathroom is an absolute chaos, soap, bubbles and water spreading on the floor. She giggles and shakes her head, massaging her eyelids for a moment. 

“It’s such a mess, here…” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Corazon shrugs and smooshes her wet hair with tender kisses. “We’ll clean up later. Now, you just have to hug me.” 

[twatd]

Getting TWATD at the Wake, ii: The Eulogies

Every month, two writers returned to this blog. They did an essay each. For five years. And now it’s all over.

The Wicked + The Divine #45 came out a month ago, and we’re still at the metaphorical wake. In this part, we pick out two characters we haven’t written much about, consider the paths their lives ended up taking, and write their obituaries. It could get emotional.

Spoilers for... well, for the entirety of WicDiv, I guess, below the cut.

Tim: Endings are bittersweet things at the best of times, and for a series as preoccupied with death and heartbreak as The Wicked + The Divine, we were never going to reach a conclusion without shedding a few tears. Still, there are many ways in which #45 is a happy ending for several of the characters – and that’s truer for Aruna, the god formerly known as Tara, than possibly anyone else.

Looking across the span of the series as a whole, she is a character who has suffered abuse, indignity and manipulation. But here at the end, Aruna is free from many of the troubles that plagued her life both before and during her time as a god. I don’t know if the Aruna we see in 2055 is living her best life, but it seems infinitely better than we could have expected after #13, the issue which gave us a painful glimpse into a character who had remained a mystery up to that point.

Pre-Godhood, Aruna had been made to feel uncomfortable in her own body by sexism and misogyny. That feeling was amplified by her divine transformation and the increased celebrity that came with it, culminating in her begging Ananke for the mercy of death. But Ananke’s manipulation accidentally set up Aruna to transcend the cruelties inflicted upon her. As a miraculously preserved head, she was free from the burden of her body, and free to reinvent herself.

With the help of Jon, Aruna she was able to reject a new form when she wasn’t ready for one – and, once she was, to create one that existed beyond the constraints of traditional biology. Her story touches on themes of transhumanism, not an area that WicDiv has traditionally dabbled in, but one that has some interesting connections with the themes of people seeking immortality. As you might expect given the ideas of gender and bodily autonomy at play, it’s also easy to read through a queer lens.

I’m glad that, while it’s clear Jon and Aruna have developed a close partnership over the years, Gillen and McKelvie chose to leave the exact nature of their relationship open to interpretation.

Aruna’s previous discomfort with the spotlight, and Ananke’s subsequent exploitation of that fact, also ended up benefitting her in other ways. Her distance from the rest of the Pantheon meant she avoided jail time after the events of #44 (it probably helped that it’s hard to handcuff someone when they’re just a head).

You could also maybe draw a line between the sudden outpouring of appreciation following Tara’s death and the way she was able to successfully campaign for the Pantheon’s early release, performing benefit concerts and raising awareness. This goes some way to colouring the previously devastating ending of #13 in a new light, as the insincere chorus of Twitter observers become a platform Aruna is able to use for good.

There’s an important distinction, though – this time around, she was able to approach a musical career and fame on her own terms, as Aruna rather than Tara. Also, the fact that her ‘death’ wasn’t a permanent one doesn’t take away from the tragedy of it, or how the comic made us complicit in the culture that led to it.

Aruna’s story following her ‘death’ could be called WicDiv’s ultimate triumph. The old truism about suicide being a permanent solution to a temporary problem feels especially apt here. Ananke took someone who was miserable and vulnerable, and proceeded to place them in a situation that they couldn’t cope with. Ananke became Aruna’s sole source of ‘support’, isolating her from the other gods, amplifying her insecurities until Aruna felt the only solution was to take her own life.

Strip away some of the details, and the story starts to take on some truly dark parallels, but unlike so many real-life stories, there is a second act to Aruna’s tale.

Once the true nature of Ananke’s plans are revealed, Aruna is eventually able to escape her role in them, retake control of her life, and eventually thrive on her own terms. WicDiv may be a story that largely approaches death as a firm reality, but by giving Aruna a reprieve from her seeming demise, it allows us a glimpse of a real happy ending, in amongst the more complex feelings the final issue evokes.

Alex: Aruna’s story is a happy one because she escapes the cycles that life locked her into. But the god I want to talk about, I’m not sure they ever did. Which might not be a terrible thing – it was always a little different, with Dionysus.

We don’t get much time with Umar before he goes all Olympian, but the moments we do get suggest there’s less of a gap between his two identities than there is for most of the other gods. He’s the guy who drives his friends down to London so they can get wasted on the way, who asks sensitive questions of strangers.

When he becomes Dionysus, the difference is mainly a question of scale. The group of people he’s trying to do right by gets bigger and bigger, and that makes this behaviour unsustainable. That first time we meet him, in issue #8, we get pretty much the whole Dionysus story. Dude takes on everyone else’s troubles, exerts himself to make them feel better, and makes it look breezy – only occasionally cracking and showing the weight of it all.

I’m not sure that ever really changes for Umar. He keeps using his powers to make people happy for a night, even as it starts to take a toll. He waits in the darkness, lets The Morrigan attack him, just to be there for Baphomet. He has faith in the power of the crowd, even as they crush him. He just keeps giving and giving, and it lands him in a coma.

This is Dionysus’ hamartia – the fatal flaw built into every one of WicDiv’s gods, the thing that ensures their downfall. As these things go, it’s not a bad flaw to have.

It marks him apart from the other gods. Gillen has talked about the Pantheon all being aspects of himself, his own flaws built out into characters, people he’s trying not to be anymore. But Dionysus’ flaw actually makes him someone to aspire to.

A spare Gillen quote from my Polygon interview that didn’t make it into the final article: “Umar is someone I'd love to be now… But Umar's a fictional character. Therefore, it's easier for him to be Umar than for Kieron to not be a shithead.” Even in the comic, we see how Dio’s behaviour is unsustainable – but to try and live that way, all of the time, in real life? It’s impossible.

I say this with authority, because in many ways I spent my twenties trying to be a Dionsysus. I’m an Inanna by nature – a pleasure seeker who tries to be kind but can sometimes forget that having the best possible time can have consequences on the people around them. (And, sidenote, it’s a fascinating twist on the archetypes that the god with these traits isn’t the one who, y’know, gave us the word bacchanalian.)

But, to be uncharacteristically nice about myself for a second, my idea of having a good time does tend to include bringing as many people along with me as possible. The version of me I like is the one who always opens up the circle on the dancefloor to sweep up strangers and stragglers. Or spot someone who seems left out and work to change that. Or pour hours into a project that’ll be seen by just a handful of friends, or just one.

I kind of buried that person this year.

This wasn’t an active choice, or something I was even conscious of doing at the time, but looking back I can see the reasons behind it. Firstly, because it’s not always clear whether people actually want these things done for them, or if it’s an unwelcome overreach, and that thought makes me to want up curl into myself and just die. And second, because I’m not good at knowing how to apportion effort, meaning it can involve frankly life-damaging amounts of preparation for very little payoff.

It’s not a sustainable way to live. Dio might be the best possible version of the WicDiv god, but he’s still someone sacrificing his self to become an idea. It kills him, eventually, and #37 shows how he’s remembered for it by the public, the people he gave everything he had to: ‘that guy on drugs’.

But eventually he is repaid by one of the recipients of his kindness, as a little bit of that selflessness rubs off on Baphomet. And Umar joins the rest of the Pantheon as they step back from their defining flaw, allow themselves to become more than an archetype. “I thought it was my job to save everyone,” Dionysus says, and I cry my little eyes out.

Maybe that was the moment I started to realise I’d been stepping back from that version of myself. Or maybe it was talking with Tim (my other, non-fictional model for the sort of person I want to be) about issue #45, when he explained how he read the older Umar: someone in whom all that kindness turned a little bitter. Aged like vinegar, not wine.

My reading is more hopeful than that, I think. The final issue trades in hints and suggestions of lives, but with Umar more than most. And personally, I fill in that blank with a different story: someone who has tempered his need to always put others first, and become more judicious about when and how and to whom he gives himself. And that? That is someone I’d really like to be.

[jamlally]

Reindeer Games

This was written for the 25 days of Christmas Challenge that is hosted by  @panicfob .  The Day 15 Challenge prompt was Reindeer

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Tony Stark x OFC (Belle Porter), Loki

Summary: It can’t be Christmas without a Reindeer

The darkly handsome man that strode across the room had SHIELD Agents scrambling, had Nick Fury pilling a side arm that she hadn’t seen, and had Tony absolutely furious

“You think that I came here for this ….” The way he looked around was somewhat disdainful “party of yours.  You think too highly of yourself Stark, on Asguard this party would be put to shame.  A mere Childs entertainment, nothing more”. 

“Well don’t let me the one to stop you leaving” Tony was tense in a way Belle hadn’t seen before and looking around the room, it seemed that everyone else was as well.  It was he thought, understandable as where ever this man went trouble seemed to follow in his footsteps

“Ah the man out of time and his one armed friend.  I’’m afraid that I have no desire to stand too close you just now”. 

In just seconds Belle watched as Steve and Bucky tried to approach fro behind Loki, only to have the god of mischief simply disappear - the slight breeze by her shoulder gave her a moments pause before she pivoted slowly on her heel

“But this morsel is far more to my taste.  You even dressed her in my colors, a gift perhaps?”

“Move away NOW!” Tony’s voice left no room for debate “FRIDAY initiate lockdown”

Things were starting to spiral out of control but Belle didn’t move, there was something about the way the Asguardian looked at her that reminded her of a snake looking for dinner. He sotted there looking all pretty and relaxed, one elbow on the bar, but his eyes were fixed on her in such a way that she had the feeling that one wrong move and he would strike. Squaring her shoulders she gave the man a small tense smile

“I’m afraid that any matching in our outfits tonight is simply a coincidence, but seeing as you are here can I get you a drink Mr Odinson?”

“It’s Laufeyson actually”

“Ah my apologies Mr Laufeyson.  So a drink?” Belle may not have met the man before but she had read all about him in the files they held.  The one thing she had been able to pull from the files was that he didn’t respond well to aggression 

“Hmm that may help pass the time, why don’t you choose something Miss…” He smiled showing slightly too many teeth 

“It’s Agent actually - Agent Porter” Belle looked over at the bar tender “Please get Mr Laufeyson a glass of the best Scotch we have”  She heard Tony scoff a little but didn’t turn around - her brain was very clear that you didn’t turn your back on the predator in the room 

“Oh how disappointing you’re an Agent.  I didn’t know that they came as pretty as you.  You really waste your time with these people.  Someone as pretty as you could happily wait on Kings in Asguards halls”

Belle let out a snort “I think that I will need to pass, as much fun as I am sure it is to wait on Kings I’d much rather spend my time telling Hero’s what to do”

Her response had Loki raising an eyebrow and she was fairy sure she heard Natasha snort.  

“Now” she slid the drink over that the bartender had pushed her way “As much as we appreciate the dramatic entrance care to share with the class why you’re here?”

Loki sipped at the drink before taking a larger swallow and gesturing for more “I need to speak with my brother, and for some god awful Eason that only he understands he will insist on coming here and socializing with you mortals”. The disdaining tone was back “He goes ff galavanting promising wonderful new things to celebrate the Yule but thus far he has shown us nothing! “

“You know we have phones you could just have called “ Tony snarked at the God as he wrapped his arm around Belle’s waist,  He wasn’t happy that she stood so close to the lunatic 

“We don’t have such a reliance on your frail human technology in our halls.  Thor should be with his people ensuring the we can have a fruitful spring, not galavanting around with all this sparkle.  I don’t even understand what the sparkle is, but it seems to get on everything “  his nose wrinkled and Belle gave a small giggle before resting her hand on Tony’s forearm

“The glitter can be a little frustrating but it does make things shine so beautifully and I think sometimes that we like it because in the dark of the winter, when everything is fallow we look for something to bring us light”

Loki snorted “There is much to be afraid of in the dark, but darkness comes no matter the season Agent Porter.  Tricking yourself into believing that the darkness isn’t there doesn’t keep bad things away” he was, she thought, sounding melancholy “You are all so far removed from how life was you forget that the cold is needed to allow the earth time to heal from all it gave over the rest of the year to sustain you, to fill your bellies and give fuel for your fires”

Belle watched as Loki peered into his glass lost in what ever thoughts he had.

“So you celebrate Yule on Asguard then?”

“What, oh yes, there are many grand parties and we give thanks for the good year we have had.  It os a very grand thing,  We celebrate the season of the land being fallow as it builds its energy.  Usually the King would lead the celebrations but he is” Loki gestured widely with is arms “No where to be found, and that is somewhat problematic”

“What’s the  matter, not man enough to manage without your brother” Fury was obviously pissed off but antagonizing a God seemed like a bad idea 

“Don’t show your lack of vision so readily Director” Loki’s tone was scathing “My brother took on the mantle of King and as such he has duties to perform.  I would more than happily taken on the role but it was not mine to have, that has been made more than clear. That is not actually of import.  The start of the Yule celebrations requires my brother to be there to symbolize the spark of life that comes after Yule when the land starts to come back to life.  He is the only one who can perform the task and yet he isn’t there and the people become restless”

“Forgive me Mr Laufeyson but why does Thor need to be there for that?  He is the god of Thunder…. Oh is it because the lightening is the spark?”

Loki laughed “Close but not quite.  Yes my brother is God of Thunder but that is not his only title - of course he doesn’t like to shout so much about the other one.  My dear brother is also a god of fertility and the strike he brings down brings with it the power for a bountiful year.”

Belle heard the snickers of the others and felt Tony smile his lips hidden against her neck

“Ah I understand.  It makes sense then that you would be brothers, two sides of the same coin”

“I am nothing like my brother Agent Porter”

“Maybe not identical but without the pair of you there wouldn’t be life.  You are the winters bite and he is the first flash of life”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose as Loki brought all of his attention to her.  His eyes were dark and calculating and it seemed that he was assessing her in a new light

“Release the woman Stark.  If I wanted to take her from you I would have done so already.  Agent Porter come and share a drink with me.  Stark see if you can find my brother” 

Belle turned and kissed Tony gently leaning in to speak softly in his ear “It’s fine Tony, I will stay here - you see if FRIDAY can track down Thor”

She moved to take the seat next to Loki “Can you please refill Mr Laufeyson’s glass and I’ll have a Peppermint White Russian, thank you” She turned to Loki “So tell me more about your Yule celebrations”

Loki flirted and laughed with Belle and Tony felt his frustration rise.  The Asguardian was a perennial pain in his ass and now here he was ruining his plans for the night.  

“Care to tell me what the hell is happening “ Fury glared through his one eye at Tony

“Well right now Im trying to track down a large muscled God so that he can take his pain in the ass younger brother home because it turns out the God of Thunder is also the god of babies, who knew, and to add to the joy he’s currently drinking my best scotch with my girl.  Merry fucking Christmas to me.  Now I am pretty sure you don’t know where Thor is, so why don’t you let me get on with my work while you make sure that your Agents don’t do something stupid that results in people getting hurt”

“Agent Porter isn’t cleared for dealing with threats of Loki’s level”

Tony rolled his eyes in annoyance “Yet here she is dealing with precisely that threat.  She deals with God’s, Super soldiers, Spy’s and  my ass on a daily basis.  Reindeer games doesn’t stand a chance now if we’re done …” Tony walked away “FRIDAY, have the Hawk keep an eye on Fury - I don’t want him causing issues “

Loki was actually a lot of fun to hang out with.  Belle made sure to keep the drink following for him, while nursing along her own.  The Asguardian was in the middle of telling her a story about  the time he had changed into a snake to scare his brother when another booming voice broke the tense peace.

“Brother! What brings you here?  Is all well at home?”

Loki rolled his eyes before leading closer to Belle “The man has never  been capable of entering a room without making a fuss”. 

Belle laughed, It was true you always knew when Thor was in a room 

“Things progress as planned, but our people grow nervous that their King is not present.  They fear that the Yule rights will not be completed”

“Ah brother they worry for no reason.  I have learnt many things while here.  I have skated on blades and have partaken in many of the festive activities.  My Lady Belle, I thank you for keeping my brother company” Thor reached out and lifted Belle’s hand to his mouth for a kiss

“Of course Thor is was my pleasure.  Mr Laufeyson, thank you for your company”. She nodded to the Gods as she stood. 

Loki rose to his feet, copying his brother and kissing the back of her hand “Agent Porter, it was a pleasure.  Perhaps we will talk again in the future”

“That seems unlikely Reindeer Games. Thor - if you could make sure your brother gets home safely.  Agent Porter and I have things to be getting with”. Tony took Belle’s hand and lead her away 

“Well that was an unexpected turn of events.  Tell me what did you spend nearly 2 hours talking to the God of mischief about?”

“I’d like to know the answer to that too” Fury broke in heading over to the couple 

“We spoke about the traditions on Asguard and Loki told me stories from when he and Thor grew up.  It was actually very entertaining, you know I think he was lonely”

“Lonely?” Fury scoffed at the idea

“Yes lonely.  He feels out of place and when his brother isn’t there I think as much as they don’t get on he misses him.  If he meant to cause trouble then he could have done so without any problem.  He didn’t through - he just wanted to talk and spend time with someone”

Tony looked back at the brothers who both seemed pleased to be with each other.  Maybe Belle was right.  He knew that at his lowest people would have called him an asshole and he would have deserved it, was Loki in the same boat.

“Well I suppose it wouldn’t be Christmas without reindeer, now you and I have a plan to enact my lady and I think you’ve had your drink so now we can move onto other things”

Belle laughed, head thrown back as Tony pulled her from the room.